“What are you doing here?” Dallion retained his composure.

“What am I doing here?” A mocking smirk formed on Tors’ face. “I’m the one who backed your invitation. Did you imagine these things just happen?”

That was a surprise in more ways than one. Tors never hid his disdain of Dallion. The only reason he was even engaging in conversation was because of their title difference. When Dallion was a baron, the noble took every chance to degrade him. Now that the otherworlder was a count, his opinions hadn’t changed, but he was savvy enough to create the appearance that they had.

“I didn’t know you were a member of the Twelve Suns.” Dallion made his way further into the room. The door closed behind him, disappearing beneath a layer of illusion.

“Knowing our great-grandmother, how do you think I became her favorite grandson?”

“You don’t have twelve skills.”

“That rule went out of fashion centuries ago. Nine skills are enough now.”

There was a touch of irony that the Order of the Twelve Suns had started admitting members with nine skills. There was no denying the practical need. Now, Dallion fully understood the difficulty of the second trial. For all intents and purposes, that was the final step to be acknowledged as a proper candidate—perfect mastery of eight skills, and knowledge of one or two more. After the Green and Purple Moon had hidden their faces away from the world, it must have become incredibly difficult for someone to have the full set of twelve. As far as Dallion knew, other than himself, only the emperor had such a mastery.

“And the young duchess?” Dallion asked.

“She’s crippled.” Cruel joy emanated from the Tors. “Her music skills are the best the family has seen since your grandmother, I believe. And yet she had the simplest skill blocked upon awakening.” He made a sign for one of the waiter golems to serve him a glass of glowing amber liquid. “A complete lack of athletic skills.”

I was nearly the same, Dallion thought.

Although circumstances were different, he too had considered forsaking attack skills once his first skill choice was offered. If necessity hadn’t forced him, he would have undoubtedly preferred forging skills, turning him into a valued crafter with a very limited combat ability. There was every chance that he would have remained in Dherma village, raising a family, joining the elder council… at most, he would have traveled to a few of the neighboring settlements.

“But enough about her. With you, our house has two members in the inner sanctum.” Tors took the drink from the platter and downed it in one gulp. “As a matter of fact, your timing is perfect. I’d like to introduce you to someone.”

Returning the empty glass, the noble stood up and turned towards the section with a view of the east waterfall. Dallion followed. He could see why his cousin believed he had a valid chance to take over from the old duchess. Despite his terrible character, he was rather skilled as well as a domain ruler. Being a member of the Twelve Suns was more than a secret society. It provided a direct link to the emperor. That was also the reason Tors was so fearful of being replaced for the position—with his twelve skills Dallion was well ahead.

Three people were standing at the edge of the vast opening, observing the waterfall. One of them was a mage—Dallion could see the difference in magic threads even from this distance. The remaining two had to be skilled as well, but were wearing artifacts that kept Dallion from taking a peek at their trait levels.

“So, what happens in the inner sanctum?” he asked casually. “Sitting around, talking about otherworlders and the good old days?”

“That’s for those in the other rooms. As members of the Order, we’re discouraged to speak ill of them, but they’re just a façade. Don’t get me wrong, they have skills and some of them I could even call friends, but they’re members only in name. Back when the Zenith building was first constructed, the rooms were reserved for candidates. Here’s where the real decisions are made.”

Funny you could say that with a straight face, Dallion thought. From what he could gather, in a different time, Tors and all other sub-twelve skill candidates wouldn’t have moved beyond the common room.

He’s here, an item guardian whispered. Yet, the comment wasn’t meant for Dallion.

“Abla, Pierce,” Tors shouted once fifty feet from the end of the room. “Look who I brought.”

Two of the people turned around. The third one remained staring in the distance.

“With this, I won the bet.”

Dallion would have very much liked to call his cousin a sniveling ass-kisser, but based on the emotions emanating from the people, they held each other with a good degree of respect. Reading into the bouquet, it could be said that Tors was considered the new kid on the block.

“Dallion?” the mage asked. Clearly, titles weren’t a thing in the Order of the Twelve Suns.

“Yes, sir.”

“Pierce,” the other said.

Looking at him, he could pass as a caravan assistant. His clothes were normal to the extreme, though practical. There were no illusions cast on them, no gem threads or precious metal decorations. A person with such an outfit could last months in the wilderness and not cause a fuss.

“And no “sir.” The mage smiled. “That’s for those up to the uncommon room.”

“Astra.” The person beside him said. The only lady present, her outfit too, was more manly than one would expect for the capital, although she had allowed herself a few purely aesthetic modifications when it came to the shirt and vest. “You cost me a few favors.” She gave Tors a quick glance. “Given your lifestyle, I didn’t think you’d bother to join the Order, let alone make your way here.”

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“My lifestyle?”

“He’s a hunter,” Pierce joined in. “You can’t expect him to remain cooped up in one place. We’ve got a few of those, by the way.”

“Noble hunters,” Astra added with a note of disapproval. “Skilled, experienced, but never there when you need them.”

That made sense, but also warned Dallion not to underestimate the people in this room. Although in the capital, these weren’t the sheltered types. If it came to a fight, there was no telling who’d end up victorious. Despite his reluctance, Dallion also had to reevaluate his opinion of Tors. It was possible that ten levels ago he could have defeated Dallion in battle, potentially even killed him.

The prodigy finally arrives, someone said, though not an item. Slowly and with gravitas, the last person turned around. His clothes were markedly more expensive than everyone else’s here, yet he didn’t give the appearance of someone who wore them to show off. Rather, he gave the impression of having nothing else available. A gold circle was visible, embroidered on the right side of his very finely crafted diamond thread shirt.

“Abla,” the man introduced himself. “I’m glad we finally met. Was getting boring talking to the furniture alone all the time.”

“You’re an empath.” Dallion felt a sudden chill. He had been hearing rumors of other empaths in the empire. Item guardians had sporadically mentioned it occasionally, some in the Learning Hall of the Academy itself. Yet, he had given up all hope of meeting the man.

“An eleven-skilled prodigy,” the other confirmed. “Though not a twelve such as you.”

“Don’t feel bad.” Pierce gave him a pat on the shoulder. “You just lucked out on magic.”

The atmosphere remained casual, even warm. For a moment, Dallion almost felt as if he were back in the Icepicker guild. At the same time, he knew fully well he wasn’t. Right now, he was in the presence of monsters, each having a completely different view of the world than the common person. What was more, he himself was one of the monsters.

“I hear you’ve been sharpening your skills every chance you get,“ Abla said.

“I try,” Dallion replied.

“Reached the hundred?”

“Skillwise yes, otherwise, no.”

“Hmm.” There was no telling whether the man was disappointed or impressed. “Try to reach a hundred if you can. The Order of the Sun might need you soon.”

The man seemed to take a single step, completely disappearing in the process. Those with high enough perception would see him move at speeds faster than an awakened fury. Dallion couldn’t say he was impressed with the speed itself. Rather, he was intrigued by the fact that at no point did Abla run. Rather, he just walked off, his motions hundreds of times faster than that of an ordinary person. This was no sheltered behavior. One could have only acquired it after years in the wilderness.

Archbishop, how in hell did you plan this? He wondered.

The odds of him running into the imperial duke were one in a million, and yet the archbishop had predicted them precisely to the minute. If he’d come any later, there was every chance that the meeting—and more importantly, the offer—wouldn’t have taken place. At most, Dallion might have gotten to have a conversation with the remaining two members.

“Don’t mind him, he doesn’t believe in wasting time on traveling,” Astra said. “I’m sure you’ll see more of each other. Tors,” she turned to the Elazni, “did you show him the shrine?”

“I have somewhere to be as well,” the noble said, clearly annoyed. “I’m sure our fabled prodigy will figure it out on his own.” Then he, too, vanished. The difference was that, unlike the duke, he was running.

“Might be just me, but I don’t think he likes you a lot,” Pierce whispered.

“Family issues,” Dallion said, remaining on guard. He didn’t like him and Tors being so close. Hopefully, the Order of the Twelve Suns had rules about members not attacking each other frivolously. “Nothing unusual. So, you have an awakening altar?”

“No. The Order of the Seven Moons have those. We have something a lot rarer, and for people like us—much more useful. Come along.”

Feeling like a stranger in a tourist trap, Dallion had no choice but to follow. Nine times out of ten, the great secret would turn out to be something completely useless but with a lot of historic significance. There was a brief moment in which Dallion was hoping to get a look at the forty-level altar, not that he needed it.

The room changed as they walked. Using his aether vision, Dallion was able to see as they went to one of the room’s walls, where another, less prominent door was placed. Three layers of illusion covered it, creating a majestic marble gazebo surrounded by veils of pure light.

“Just like the Academy,” Dallion muttered.

“I wouldn’t know.” Pierce pulled a curtain segment aside. “Please.”

A small altar slightly bigger than a water fountain became visible in the center. Wider than the awakening ones Dallion had seen, it was composed of familiar hexagonal prisms, although the central part was missing, as if someone had removed its heart long ago. To compensate, the hex prisms around it were not six, but twelve, each in a different shade.

“That’s the Sun Order’s altar?” Dallion asked, refusing to believe it.

“Magnificent, isn’t it?” Pierce asked. “It’s what separates us from the Academy, the Order of the Seven Moons, or everyone else in the world. We have the world’s only skill altar.”

The name alone was enough to impress anyone. If what was claimed turned out to be true, this was the only object that would allow a person to increase their skills at a rapid pace merely by completing shrine trials. No wonder a minor religion had formed around it. Being able to grow at such a degree was as miraculous as the standard awakening altars themselves.

“What’s the limit?” Dallion asked.

“The limit you are born with,” Astra said, effectively suggesting that there was none. “The only requirement is that you already have the traits. Other than that, the principle is the same. If you’re strong enough to defeat the creatures it sends your way you get to improve.”

In his mind, Dallion could almost see it now—a wide field, similar to an arena, surrounded by a ring of a hundred arches. With enough skill and dedication, one could go far. Of course, if it was like any of the other altars, asking for help was also possible. That was the real reason members brought their children—to acquire skills that they otherwise wouldn’t.

By the Moons, I did not expect that, dear boy, Adzorg admitted. It would have saved me so many troubles growing up.

It would have saved many people a lot of trouble, Dallion replied.

The existence of this altar virtually guaranteed that anyone in the capital could instantly be transformed into a nine-skill awakened. Hundred-level skills alone weren’t enough to defeat someone with high traits, but in large numbers they were perfect for creating armies. All of a sudden, the Azures didn’t seem like the greatest threat in the world. Rather, it was the emperor.

And caused just as many problems, Adzorg continued. I can understand why the Order of the Twelve keeps it hidden, but still. I was the archmage for Moon’s sake!

Yes, you were an archmage, but were never invited.

Well, I gather the emperor had a good reason. Anyway, what are you thinking? Ready to give it a try and boost those incomplete skills of yours?

That was definitely a good idea, but in the present circumstances, it wasn’t going to be enough. Against a force such as this, Dallion would need more.

I’m thinking I need an awakening altar of my own, he said.