It was not historically expected for Princes of the Bull Kingdom to become warriors, but after the civil war of their youth, Leon wasn’t surprised to learn that August had ensured that his daughter Aelia and her son Trajan were properly trained. Indeed, it wasn’t long after accepting August’s request to meet with his grandson that he saw it for himself.
“How old is he, exactly?” Leon asked as August, Cristina, and a small host of the Bull Kingdom’s Royal guards led him through the private wings of the Bull Kingdom’s Royal Palace. Serana was still with him, too, somehow managing to look both curious and bored with what they were doing, and had steadfastly remained quiet since August and Cristina met them in the Royal cemetery.
“He turns twenty this year,” August said proudly. “He’s been training under Roland almost since he could walk.”
“Started early, then.”
“Aelia insisted. That girl… she’s sweet, and my wife and I did our best to ensure that she was raised properly, but… she still thinks that we were too soft on her. I say that we were exactly as tough on her as we should’ve been for her age, but she still disagrees.”
Leon smirked. “So long as the body can move, then there can still be more training.”
A loud, decidedly unprincely laugh burst from August’s lips, while Cristina lost her own composure a moment later.
“Ah, Leon! I sometimes forget what kind of man you are!” August clapped him on the shoulder and said no more. This was hardly surprising, though, as Leon could hear the resonant song of clashing steel coming from the arched doorway ahead of them.
Moments later, they emerged from the palace into the light of a small, intimate courtyard, gazing upon the courtyard’s floor from the second-floor gallery. The floor itself was largely tile, though a sandpit had been installed in the center, large enough to allow for training at a relatively low level. It would be insufficient for even a seventh-tier mage to properly train, but given how rare mages of such power were in the Bull Kingdom, it was unlikely to be that great of a problem.
Two men were rapidly clashing in the center of the sandpit, one older and the other younger. The older man was easy enough for Leon to recognize: Roland, looking quite middle-aged with his salt-and-pepper hair and beard and slight softening around his midsection. His seventh-tier aura, however, was energetic and robust, making it clear that he was still strong and a force to be reckoned with.
The other man, however, was not so strong. He was tall, broad-shouldered, and well-built, but he was clearly young, and only fourth-tier—a respectable tier, which incidentally made it clear that his bloodline had been awakened. This was clearly Trajan, and he looked to be taking after his namesake in appearance, with rugged features and a large frame. Though he was twenty, he was nearly seven feet tall, and his Sacred Bull bloodline could give him a bit more height to work with before he fully stopped.
Trajan moved well, remaining light on his feet with a solid defense, dodging and deflecting in a way that had Leon start to smile as he stared down into the courtyard. It was much like the style that the older Trajan had used when teaching Leon all those years ago in Ariminium. The younger Trajan wore an expression of great concentration, which stood in contrast to Roland’s relaxed attitude—so focused was he that he didn’t even seem to notice Leon and August’s group arriving to see the end of this bout with Roland.
Leon could see that Roland was pressing just enough to keep Trajan pressured, but not enough to completely overwhelm him. Their blades met again and again, sometimes singing beautifully, sometimes shrieking as steel scraped against steel. As more blows were exchanged, Leon wondered if Trajan had the proper mindset to become a warrior since he seemed like he wasn’t going to try and seize the initiative, but in this, Leon was wrong.
A song of violence was sung by both combatants’ weapons as Roland brought his sword down in a powerful cleave. Trajan met him over his head and was able to deflect the Paladin’s weapon, leaving his training sword at the perfect height to slash at the defenseless Roland.
Another clang rang out as Roland used his greater speed as a light mage to bring his weapon back in and block Trajan’s strike. But from there, Trajan pressed, locking their weapons together and keeping both of them from retreating. Roland could fight him off easily, given the disparity in power, but Leon noted him allowing Trajan to push forward with his plan.
Trajan darted forward, hoping to connect with Roland, only for Roland to suddenly change direction and thrust with his blade, almost tearing Trajan’s own sword from his hand in the process. With one flick, the match was over, Roland’s training blade ‘slicing’ into Trajan’s midsection. The younger man cried out and collapsed, leaving Roland the ‘victor’ of the match.
Roland offered Trajan a hand up, and to Leon’s pleasant surprise, Trajan took it with no obvious signs of arrogance, showing that he was above such considerations. The two spoke in low tones, Trajan apparently still not yet having realized that Leon and August’s group were watching.
As Leon was about to focus on what they were saying, August leaned over and whispered, “What do you think?” A proud smile coyly danced across his face in a poorly-disguised look of excitement and anticipation.
“He’s skilled,” Leon said. “Though he lost the fight, he didn’t lose his mind over it. Still too early for me to make any concrete judgments, but this is a promising start.”
Cristina giggled softly. “My grandnephew acquits himself as a Prince should, and you call this a ‘promising start’. I’ve never been so skilled with a blade myself; either young Trajan or fair Aelia would leave me in tattered ribbons if we ever found ourselves in conflict.”
“There’s a great solution to that,” Leon said as he glanced at the Princess and gave her a cheeky smile. “Get better with a blade.”
Cristina scoffed. “If the situation is ever so dire that I have to arm myself, then we’ve already lost.”
Leon hummed noncommittally. Changing topic, he asked, “Did Trajan attend the Knight Academy, out of curiosity?”
“Of course not, why would he?” Cristina asked. “Enrolling him there would only put him in a position where others can fawn over him without proper supervision!”
“But it would give him some experience in command and help him to network with the very people that he’ll need to rely on when he’s King. Some of my most trusted and valued followers are people I met in the Knight Academy. I met Valeria in the Knight Academy!”
“Trajan, my favorite grandson!” August called out, drawing both Leon and Cristina’s attention away from their exchange before it could be brought to a satisfying conclusion. Leon saw that Trajan appeared to have seen them first, as he was already looking at them by the time that Leon focused on him down in the courtyard.
When Leon beheld him, he was somewhat amused to see Trajan’s eyes flickering between his father and him—though he went out of his way to not mythologize his actions, that didn’t stop some people from creating myths about him anyway. The boy’s aura was calm at a cursory glance, but Leon could easily detect the subtle chaotic pulsing within that indicated suppressed excitement and surprise.
“I’ve brought someone to meet you!” August continued, his eyes finding Leon beside him.
With a smile and not a moment’s hesitation, Leon placed a hand on the gallery’s white marble railing and effortlessly lifted himself up and over it. He landed on the floor of the courtyard with more grace than a cat, and he strode over to the young Prince.
“It’s a pleasure to meet you, Trajan,” Leon said with what he hoped was a friendly smile. “I apologize for not having introduced myself prior to this moment. I’ve had a lot on my mind, you understand…”
Trajan almost tripped over himself to say, “No offense was taken! None at all! Leon of House Raime… I’ve heard so much about you! Is it true that you killed a hundred dragons in the south? And carved out an Empire in the stars? And that you took a thousand goddesses as wives?” Trajan breathlessly ran through half a dozen more questions in a similar vein before Roland laid a hand on his shoulder, gently and wordlessly telling him to stop and get a hold of himself.
As Trajan fell silent, Leon answered, “In the south, it’s not dragons that are hunted, it’s wyverns. I’m… not the sort to hunt proper dragons, not at this point. As for building my Kingdom outside of Aeterna… Yes, I have been working on that. We’re soon to launch a great campaign to further expand my dominion, as it so happens. And as for my family… I have four wives, and only four wives, though I’m certainly comfortable calling all four of them goddesses.” Leon ignored all of Trajan’s other questions, considering them either unanswerable or simply too poorly phrased to expect a serious answer.
Trajan didn’t look at all put out that Leon was selective in his answers, but he also looked at a loss for words. He stared at Leon, seemingly locked up, until Roland stepped forward and offered Leon his training blade.
“Perhaps you should show this one some of what you can do? Let us see how a mage from beyond all that we can conceive of can do.” A challenging look was added, clearly meant to further entice Leon to take the blade and share in the blade song with Trajan.
‘As if I’d need convincing…’
Leon took the weapon without hesitation. “I’m not typically one to take it easy—”
“I can handle anything thrown at me!” Trajan insisted.
“—but I’ll make an exception this time. All right, Trajan, let’s see if you live up to that name…”
“I will!” Trajan declared enthusiastically as he assumed a defensive stance—a mistake that Leon intended to punish mercilessly the moment their spar began properly. “It’s an honor, King Leon!”
“Don’t think of it like that,” Leon said. “Though I am flattered. Let’s just get to visiting steel upon steel…”
Leon charged forth, moving swiftly enough that everyone else was practically frozen, but still slowly enough that most of the others could see him. If he’d gone all out right from the get-go, then he’d have been so quick that not even the seventh-tier August would’ve been able to visually track him.
As it was, he overwhelmed Trajan’s defense in an instant, relieving him of his weapon and nearly of his consciousness as he brought his training weapon up to his neck.
“Attack first,” Leon stated as fact. “Attack hard. The first punch can only be thrown once; be sure that it’s yours, and that you knock your opponent out before they can strike back. Now, let’s see you try again…”
---
By the time that Leon and Serana left the Royal Palace, he’d had a good few spars with Trajan. He found the young man excitable and eager, but still not sharp enough for what he thought a King needed. He seemed intelligent enough, to be sure, but he was missing something that Leon had growing up: a powerful killing intent.
No man could abdicate his responsibility to protect his home or to protect his kin and kith. Violence was inevitable, especially for those in positions of power. As a result, Leon thought that it behooved all those in power to prepare to meet that violence head-on, so that it could be protected against. Having a weak King unprepared to handle what he’d have to do was a recipe for disaster…
‘… Then again, August seemed pretty weak when we first met, and now look where he is…’
Leon pondered what that might mean for the Bull Kingdom going forward if Trajan couldn’t cultivate a good killing intent from the nostalgic living room of his old villa, where the rest of his family had holed up in for the duration of their stay. Serana was the only one with him, however, as his ladies were out in the city with Anzu, while his Paladins were visiting their own families.
Marcus, however, proved to be an exception to that, as Leon realized when the man himself was shown into the villa by the Tempest Knights outside. He looked troubled, with a morose look in his eye, but there was also a certain solidity in his aura, a sense of purpose that didn’t quite match his expression.
“Marcus!” Leon said as he stood up to greet his friend. “What brings you here?”
“Visiting you not reason enough?” Marcus asked, the smile he plastered on his face not quite reaching his eyes.
“It might be,” responded Leon with a searching look, “if you didn’t look like you were carrying the weight of the world on your shoulders. Come, what’s the matter?” He waved the other man in and had him take a seat.
For nearly a full minute, Marcus sat in silence, his façade cracking more with each passing second.
“Shit, Leon…” he finally said as he slumped down in the armchair he’d chosen to sit in. “I don’t even know how… How can I say this?” His voice cracked a bit by the end, but he yet retained enough self-control to keep his tone otherwise steady.
After another long pause, he said, “My family’s gone. Dead. Father feasts with our Ancestors. Mother is there with him. Uncle’s dead. Sister’s dead. Sister’s kids are dead. I still have some grandnieces and nephews, but… they’re strangers. Leon… I have… there’s nothing for me here… Everyone’s gone…
“I visited my family’s old seat at Aventino. Completely different now. With no stone giants to worry about, many of the fortresses we built were torn down to reuse the building material for other purposes. The fortress I was born in is now a mill. And… the people there… I didn’t recognize a single face…”
Leon remained quiet, not wanting to disturb Marcus when it seemed he had a lot to get off his chest. And he certainly did, as he was about to prove.
“I’ve been thinking for a few days now… What legacy of my family remains? We were once one of the premier military families in this Kingdom! House Aeneas was a respected name, with a long history of military competence! Now… now, those who are left are bureaucrats, scholars, and priests. It’s…”
His tone dropped, as did his expression.
“House Aeneas is different, now. And… it doesn’t feel like I belong. I feel like a stranger in my own House’s ancestral lands, a ghost of the past that’s irrelevant to the people living here now. I… shit, Leon, I…”
He paused again to steady himself with a long, deep breath.
“I have a request for you, my friend. It may be… strange, but I’m hoping you can at least consider it. If you turn it down, then… fine, I can live with the status quo, but… I have to ask.”
“Ask away,” Leon said welcomingly. “If it’s a reasonable request, I’m sure we can find a way to make it work.”
Marcus nodded. “Reasonable. Yes, ‘reasonable’.” He sighed again, then fixed Leon in a grave stare. “I want to resign as your Chief Inspector. If possible, I’d… I would like to be made your Paladin again. And for this upcoming push into the Great Strand of Rhea, I want to be a part of it. I want to live up to my family’s legacy, to show that there’s at least one Aeneas around who still remembers the glories of his Ancestors, and who can at least match, if not surpass them.” When he was finished, his gaze averted as if he were nervous about what Leon’s response would be.
But Leon didn’t need so much as a moment to contemplate it. “We can make that work.”
Marcus blinked in shock. “Really? I… I was expecting a bit more… pushback…”
“There’ll be some inconvenience, sure,” Leon said contemplatively. “Not enough to push back on, though. If this is what you need to fulfill yourself, then we’ll do it. I can find another Chief Inspector. I’m sure you have candidates in mind for replacements.”
“I do,” Marcus confirmed. “I’ll have a list by the time we return to the Nexus…”
“Good. Then let me formally confirm this: the office of Paladin is yours again, Marcus. I know that you’ll serve me well, as you have for centuries now.”
Marcus smiled broadly, the subdued anxiety in his demeanor bleeding away. “Thank you, Leon. Thank you.” He slumped back into the armchair again, but this time, it was more out of relief than anything else. “I’ll have to tell the others. And… well, we weren’t planning on telling anyone yet, but… it’ll be better for you to hear this from me…” He again turned his eyes to Leon, and though he was serious, it wasn’t quite to the point of just a few minutes ago.
“Helen and I are thinking of getting married.”
Leon’s eyes just about bulged out of his skull. “What? Since when?”
“We’ve been together for a few years, now,” Marcus admitted. “Took me a long time to approach her, but when I finally did, she… she received my courtship with encouragement, so I continued. I… I love that woman, Leon. And I think it’s time.”
Leon clapped his friend on the shoulder. “I’m happy for you. Both of you.”
Marcus nodded again, his smile now genuine beyond all doubt, while also threatening to split his face in half.
‘Seems there’s going to be some changes we’re going to have to make once we get back…’ Leon thought, though at least in this case, they weren’t as a result of death, destruction, or some other emergency. And that, as far as he was concerned, was a win all unto itself.
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