The wind sweeping across the southern grassland would have been pleasant if not for the acrid tang of ozone.
Nick drifted high above the undulating golden hills, letting [Tempest’s Eidolon] carry him without active spellcraft. He scanned the rolling landscape, sifting through the ambient mana with his senses.
He was searching for a very specific storm.
He found it five miles beyond the town’s outer markers.
A stretch of tall grass had been reduced to a scorched, smoking crater. In the center of the blackened earth stood Arthur, his obsidian longsword still spitting faint arcs of blue electricity.
Scattered around him were the charred, smoking remains of half a dozen razor-boars.
After checking that nothing else was hiding in the surroundings, Nick descended, touching down on the scorched soil without a sound.
Arthur turned, and he finally got his first look at the man since returning. The grizzled adventurer wore his usual leather duster over chainmail, his graying hair tied back with a simple leather cord. As always, he felt like a looming thunderhead, a constant pressure that warned of impending violence.
Yet now, with the heightened clarity granted by his new class, Nick could see the true depths of Arthur’s soul. It was a masterpiece of lethal refinement, a raging tempest of lightning magic contained within a forged vessel of few equals.
Even among Prestige warriors, he wasn’t to be underestimated.
I genuinely do not know if I could win. With preparation and time to develop counters, I might be able to, but out in the open… Well, hopefully, it won’t come to that.
Arthur’s sharp eyes narrowed as he took in Nick’s arrival. He ran a hand over his bearded jaw, his gaze drifting over the young man’s dark cloak and unbothered posture.
"You move quietly these days, Nicholas," he rumbled. "I felt a shift in the air, but no signature. And looking at you now…"
Arthur trailed off, his eyes widening. He took a step forward, probing the empty, bottomless void where Nick’s mana should have been with his senses.
“I completed my Path,” Nick replied, not bothering to keep the suspense. If things got tense, it would be best for the old man to know he wasn’t the little kid he’d once tutored, so he might reconsider his actions.
Arthur let out a slow whistle. He drove the point of his obsidian sword into the dirt and rested both hands on the pommel. A tired pride settled over his weathered features. "A Prestige mage. And barely out of your boyhood. Dorian owes me a cask of the good ale. He swore you would need another five years to do it. Eugene must be insufferable.”
"He took the news well enough when I saw him in the North," Nick replied with a faint smile. "But I did not fly out here to boast, Arthur. We have a problem.”
The warmth vanished from the older man’s eyes, replaced instantly with a calculating look. "The war? Did the dwarves break their word?”
“No, as far as I know, peace in the North holds," Nick said. He kept his voice low despite the isolation of the plains. "This concerns a more personal matter. Elia had a vision a while ago. A true sight. A King's Shadow will arrive in Floria within three weeks, seeking more about me.”
Arthur grunted, pulling his sword free from the earth and sheathing it. "A Shadow. The King is paranoid, but not stupid. A new Prestige mage emerging on the borders without a long career in the Tower warrants investigation. Give them nothing, kid. Smile, answer their questions, but let them leave with empty hands. We survived the scrutiny once; we’ll do so again.”
"The Shadow is not the problem," Nick said, holding Arthur's gaze. "The problem is what they will find when they search the town. Elia saw him learn about Rose.”
The casual posture dissolved. [Lightning Armor] flared to life without an incantation. A circuit of blinding white-and-blue electricity erupted across Arthur’s skin, tracing the veins in his arms and neck. The air in the crater snapped, the smell of ozone turning suffocating.
His obsidian sword reappeared in his hands, humming with lethal intent.
Arthur moved with blurring speed, closing the gap until he stood mere inches from Nick. His eyes were as hard as flint, the storm in his soul threatening to spill over and swallow them whole.
"Who else knows?" Arthur demanded, his voice dropping to a dangerous level.
Nick did not flinch because he had known the revelation would provoke an explosive response, and Arthur had yet to attack. He simply anchored his will, letting his own mana push back against the suffocating pressure.
The air between them warped as the two Prestiges filled a space too small for their combined presence.
"My mother already knew, so I assume my father does as well,” Nick answered evenly. "Marthas. Ogden. Elia saw the vision, but she does not know the full implications. Only that the Shadow intends to take the girl.”
Arthur’s jaw tightened. The electricity sparking across his skin intensified, crackling around them as it searched for a threat that wasn’t there. "I will pack our things tonight. We will head south, past the mountains, and into the City States. The Crown has no reach there.”
"You will doom us all if you run," Nick stated, his tone firm, cutting through the older man's panic. "You are the Roaring Fang, a pillar of this town. If you vanish just before a Royal agent arrives, they will look into it. Once they put the timeline together, they will assume treason. Rose’s presence is too well known, and even if you truly manage to leave before they find you, it will make my father look like he is cultivating a rival claimant to the throne, and you look like you fled to raise an army. The Army will march on Floria if the Shadows don’t put it to the torch before.”
This was the most difficult part of the plan. Nick could empathize with Arthur’s desire to get out before shit hit the fan. Hell, if he’d been in his shoes, he would have had the same thought.
But if Arthur truly wanted to leave, he should have done so the moment Eugene reached Prestige. It could have been said he’d waited long enough for Floria to gain a protector, and no one would have looked into it.
Instead, he’d waited, convinced that nobody would notice his granddaughter because nothing happened during the first Shadow’s visit.
Arthur squeezed his eyes shut, the muscles in his neck straining as he fought to contain his own power, but Nick could see that he understood he was telling the truth.
Slowly, agonizingly, the white light faded from his skin. [Lightning Armor] receded, leaving the veteran looking older, his shoulders slumping under the weight of a secret he had carried too long.
"I took her from the gutters and promised her safety," Arthur rasped, leaning on his sword once more. "A street urchin fighting over scraps of bread, wielding power she couldn't understand. The King was purging the bastard lines then, getting rid of anything that could threaten the trueborn heirs. I smuggled her out in a cart of turnips and brought her here to give her peace and a home where she could grow.”
“She has had peace," Nick said, his voice softening. "Now she needs to survive. I have a plan, Arthur. A ritual to hide her class, something to fool even the Shadow’s senses, but I can’t do it without your help.”
Arthur looked up, searching Nick’s face with the desperation of a drowning man. “Can you truly do it?”
Strangely, he didn’t seem doubtful, just tired and shocked.
"Ogden is brewing the catalyst, and Marthas will provide the structure. It won’t be easy, but it can be done.”
Arthur let out a bitter laugh. "A dragon, a priest, and a little boy conspiring to hide a bastard princess. The world has gone mad." He sighed, running a calloused hand over his face. "What do you need from me?”
"I need your promise that you’ll let me do whatever I might need to," Nick said. "And I need to speak to her. It is time she understood exactly what she is and what she needs to do to survive.”
There was nothing else Arthur could do but nod.
The flight back to the farmhouse was in grim silence.
They found Rose in the courtyard near the stables. She sat on a wooden stump, a whetstone in hand, sharpening the edge of her sword. She wore a simple tunic and breeches, her hair tied back, sweat gleaming on her forehead.
She looked up as the gate creaked open. When she saw Nick walking beside her grandfather, her hands stilled. Her eyes darted to the ground, guilt over yesterday’s excursion into the Green Ocean evident in her posture. She probably thought Nick was here to report her recklessness.
Ah, if only that were all. I’m sure Arthur already knows if Mom does. That he allowed her that much leeway is a good sign.
"Put your sword away, Rose," the old man called out, his voice weary. "Come inside.”
She frowned, noticing the strangely defeated tone in her grandfather’s voice, but sheathed her sword and followed them in.
They were led into the sitting room, where, many months earlier, Nick had learned the fundamentals of achieving Prestige. It felt strange to be back here, though he dismissed the idle thought and refocused on the present.
"Sit down," Arthur said.
Rose took a seat, her gaze flicking nervously between the two men. Nick took his seat next to hers, while Arthur pulled up a chair opposite his granddaughter.
He stared at the hunting trophies on the walls for a while, struggling to find the words to dismantle the life he had built for her.
"You have always asked about your parents," Arthur began, his voice rough. "And I have always told you they were good people lost to the sickness in the Capital. That you are a descendant of a Royal Bastard, which is why you needed to hide your true power.”
Rose stiffened, her hands gripping the armrests. This was clearly a sore subject, one that Nick doubted had ever been fully explained to her.
That she already knew she was a descendant of the Royal Family somewhat surprised him, but then again, her power wasn’t subtle, and given how much stronger she felt now than when he’d last seen her before leaving Floria, Arthur had to tell her something.
"I never lied, but I didn’t tell the full truth either,” Arthur continued, looking up to meet her gaze. "Your mother was truly a seamstress in the lower rings. Your father, on the other hand, was a Royal Prince, a son of the old King who held a claim to the Throne. A man who preferred the brothels and the taverns to the trappings of the Court, yet nonetheless of the Blood.”
Rose stared at him, the words failing to register. She let out a small, breathless scoff. "A Prince.”
When nobody spoke and both men kept staring at her in grim silence, she seemed to realize they were serious.
"If I am the direct descendant of a royal," Rose whispered, her voice trembling, “why did I end up starving in the streets? Why was I left to die until you found me?”
"Because a bastard with the right Class is a threat to the throne," Arthur said brutally. "When the old King died, and the purges began, the current monarch sent the Shadows to slit the throats of every illegitimate child in the city. Your mother sent you away because she knew they could come for her, and they did. She saved your life by condemning you to that struggle.”
Rose shrank back, pulling her knees to her chest. The fierce, ambitious girl who fought monsters in the deep woods suddenly looked very small.
She didn’t stay like that for long. Soon, anger, hot and sharp, flared in her eyes. She glared at them. "Why are you telling me this now? If it is a secret, why speak it?”
"Because it might not be a secret for long," Arthur said, taking her hand. "A King's Shadow will arrive in Floria in three weeks. They are coming to investigate Nick as a new Prestige mage. But if they see your power, they will take you, Rose. And the Crown will burn this town to the ground for hiding you.”
Rose’s breath hitched. "Then I won't use any mana. I'll use only steel until it’s safe.”
Arthur shook his head. “It won’t be enough. Now that you’ve grown stronger, they’ll know at a glance.”
"Then what do we do?" Rose demanded, her voice cracking. "Do I need to run?”
“And that,” Nick finally said, “is where I come in.”