Sophie: "What was the Dark Council chamber like?"
Clara: "Dark. Poorly decorated. The whole place had this heavy, oppressive feel. There were about half a dozen rune portals. Fergis disabled five while Cane sealed the doors. Dhal and I gathered intel."
Sophie: "Was that scarier than Terror's tent?"
Clara: "Yes. We were deep in the Zuni Empire. We figured Tyrant Bex's old portal was our best bet out—and ended up in Vesh. Fergis overloaded one of the other portals on the way. That's pretty much it."
Sophie: "Are you excited to be Knighted?"
Clara: "You bet! My mum and da are going to be so happy. Can't wait to see the looks on my brothers' faces."
Sophie: "Something a little more personal—are you seeing anyone?"
Clara: "Nope. Not for lack of trying, though. It's probably harder now that I know Cane and Fergis. They've become my measuring stick. But hey, I'm worth it—so do your best."
Sophie (laughing): "What kind of things do you like?"
Clara: "Besides snacking and napping? I love animals—dogs, cats, birds, horses. Cane has this guard dog named Spud. Oh man... cutest thing ever."
Sophie: "Last question. Best moment at the Academy so far?"
Clara: "One night our whole group went to the beach. Cane made these fruit things—soaked 'em in rum, cooked 'em just right. Delicious. But it wasn't just the food. It was the feeling—being with friends, no pressure, just... in the moment."
Sophie: "Thank you for joining me today, Clara. This is Sophie Sweetwater, wishing everyone a sunny day."
Cane held the cloth steady throughout the broadcast, but by the end, his concentration was fraying.
"You can relax," Chanzi said gently, reaching out to retrieve the cloth. "What I showed you today is actually a pretty advanced drill. Holding a light touch that long is harder than tossing heavy stuff around."
"Sure," Cane nodded, rubbing his temples. "But it's not nearly as cool."
"You're right," she said with a rare smile. She stood, brushing off her skirt. "That's it for today. Try to practice it daily—it's one of the most effective ways to train control."
Cane walked her to the door as she slipped her shoes back on.
"See you in class, Professor."
"What's going on?" a familiar voice called.
Cane turned to see Fergis leaning against the doorway.
"My psi instructor stopped by for a tutoring session."
Fergis's eyes landed on the food cart. "Can I have some? Missed lunch."
"Help yourself." Cane grabbed another plate and sat back down.
A knock at the door made them both pause. A young man in a crisp imperial uniform stood at attention.
"Sirs, is one of you Sir Cane Ironheart?"
Cane raised a brow. "That's me."
"I have two messages for you." The man entered, handing over a golden envelope and a folded slip of parchment. "Good day to you, sir."
Fergis stared as the man left. "That was an Imperial messenger."
Cane unfolded the parchment—it looked blank. He held it to the light. "Must be from Commander Moriwynn."
"The elf? Is it invisible?"
"Kinda. Last time, I had to merge with it to hear the message."
Cane turned his attention to the envelope, carefully tearing it open.
"It's an invitation," he said.
Fergis glanced up mid-bite. "To what?"
Cane's eyes flicked over the contents, then met Fergis's.
"To join the House of Lords."
[Kra'lor City – Zuni Empire]
To call it rubble was generous.
It was a crater.
The epicenter had been vaporized—buildings, people, everything—gone without a trace. Surrounding structures were flattened for blocks in every direction. Troops and civilians picked through the wreckage, scavenging for valuables—or survivors.
High above, two figures hovered in the air.
They looked like opposites.
Archmage Lago: bald, skeletal, with pale skin stretched thin and black, bead-like eyes that missed nothing.
Beside him, a ray of sunshine: Sera Fen. Spun-gold hair, sea-blue eyes, and a figure designed to distract. Even merfolk might pause to stare.
But beneath the surface, they were the same.
Corrupted. Decadent. Drenched in bloodshed.
Lago's thin lips curled back, revealing sharp teeth. His voice rasped like bare feet over glass.
"What do your spies say?"
Sera spoke as if discussing afternoon tea. "A team of cadets infiltrated Terror's camp. They rescued a prisoner, killed Terror, and escaped using his portal rune. They came here."
"Cadets?" A flicker of unease stirred the dark well inside Lago. "We'll need time to recover. Look into what Terror was doing—I don't believe for a second a team of random cadets killed him in his own camp."
"They weren't random." Sera Fen—the Dark Reaper, a name earned by burying entire cities—let the words hang in the air. "The team was led by Cane Ironheart."
"That name again," Lago spat. The black bile hit the ground and sizzled. He remembered Cane from Ferin Shaw's trial—how the cadet had boxed him into disavowing one of their own just to avoid exposing a War Pact violation. "He's behind the Alliance Navy's sudden superiority, too. Send someone after him. Someone expendable. Someone untraceable. If we're linked to it, Telamon will come calling."
Sera shivered at the name.
"Let's wait before getting personally involved," she said. "I'll inform the remaining Legion Commanders that Cane was behind Tyrant Bex and Terror's deaths. That'll be enough for a generous bounty."
[Magi Academy – Dorms]
Fergis blinked. "What are you gonna do about it?"
Cane shrugged. "Nothing for now. These kinds of invitations always come with strings. I'll let Telamon know—he can run interference."
"Kings, princes, and dukes can all elevate you to lordship," Fergis said, polishing off his plate. "It's got perks, sure—but it also plants you square in their faction."
He stood and stretched. "Cane, mind if I train in the ringworld?"
Cane nodded. "How long?"
"Same as last time. Three months." Fergis grinned and turned toward his room to pack.
"Hey, Fergis," Clara's voice echoed in the hallway.
"Gonna train—you know where. Back in a bit," Fergis called as he passed.
Clara stepped into the doorway, her bright smile lighting up the room. "Did you hear my interview?"
Cane nodded, stacking the last of the plates and glasses onto the now-empty cart. "You sounded like a hero."
"'Cause I am!" Clara breezed in, uninvited and completely at ease. "I've been cutting little chunks off the Living Wood tree all day. I must have close to a thousand by now."
"Let me guess—you want to plant them."
Clara beamed. "And I've got seeds too. Beets, corn, onions, apples, peaches, lemons... Let's figure out what can grow in there."
"Sure," Cane said. The zone of life inside the Ringworld was still limited—just a patch of dirt and grass under a steady sun—but it was something.
"How long do you want to go in?"
"Same as Fergis," she declared. "Oh, and Sophie's coming—she's gonna teach me how to ride the gryphon."
"Is Tor going too?"
Clara shook her head. "Nope."
"Okay. See you in a bit."
She bounded off, and Cane returned to his desk. For once, he reached for his History of Magic reading—intent on making the most of a rare quiet minute.
But peace didn't last long.
"Hey."
He turned, grinning. "I'm really popular today."
"I don't doubt it," Sophie said, stepping in. She rose up on her tiptoes, brushing a kiss to his cheek. "Mind if I fly gryphon with Clara for a bit?"
Cane laughed. "By 'a bit,' you mean three months?"
Sophie leaned closer, smiling. "It's only a minute to you."
"A very long minute," he murmured.
"Stay here and wait for Clara and Fergis," Cane said, already halfway back into the hall. "I'll fetch the gryphons."
A short while later, after ensuring the gryphons were in the Ringworld and sending off the trio, Cane returned to his now-quiet room.
With nothing pressing to do, he reached for the blank parchment left by the imperial messenger and immersed his senses.
The world around him shifted.
Moriwynn appeared—not armored this time, but barefoot, wearing a simple dress and a white ribbon in her pale hair. Still effortlessly regal. Still stunning.
Cane,
My brother suggested I contact you regarding a project you may need my help with. I'll be away from the front for the next month and would be happy to lend my assistance.
As before, this offer comes without strings.
–Mori
Cane studied the note for a moment, then tucked it into his Ringworld storage.
Finding the villagers... that would take more than him.