He was never quite sure whether to count it as the one single overarching dream or as a series of interconnected dreams, each displaying a different scene, each twisting his stomach in a different way. Because some nights, it really did feel like a series of dreams. On those, he only had some of the scenes as appear in his mind, not all of them. But what about the nights where all the scenes came at once, one after the other, culminating in that familiar breathless awakening? For nights such as the one he just had, wouldn’t it make more sense to talk about the one dream?

  The one with all his faults and mistakes bared for him to witness forever more. His regrets, past failures, brought back to life. His fears, potential failures, brought to the illusion of reality. It was a singular experience in his life, nothing came close to it. The nights where he had some of the dreams would fade away in a manner of hours. A night where he had the dream always left a mark on his mind for weeks to come. There was nothing quite like reliving your greatest fears, your greatest mistake, to make an elf’s mind rattled.

  Slowly, Farris opened his eyes. The familiar, comforting ceiling of his office at Bergvazhe greeted him. Maybe he should go to a therapist, one of those modern, Terran trained ones, to help him get to the bottom of the dream. Or maybe he could simply keep a short journal to track the events in his life at the times when he had the dream. But what was the point with either? He knew where the dream came from; he faced its origin every single day. And he knew when the dream would come; he didn’t need empirical evidence to tell him what he already knew. Times of stress, worry, fear, when he had to make momentous decisions, when he had the chance to fuck it all up again. What was the word? Triggers.

  He started floating towards the bathroom, letting the blanket fall halfway to the floor and keeping to his sleeping position until he had to right himself in order to fit through the door. With a sigh, he picked up the razor and stepped into the shower. So what was the trigger this time? He wondered as he turned on the water and brought the blade to his cheek while staring at the small mirror.

  He didn’t have to shave. He could’ve long ago imprinted a simple pattern and never bothered with the act ever again. Even now, he could run an incredibly minor tracing and get it done in under a second. Hell, he could command his body to change and get it done immediately. But he liked shaving. It gave him something to do in the shower. He also didn’t have to shower. But he liked showering. It gave him something to do in the morning. Plus, a little stubble goes a long way to supplement the authority of the modern commanding officer. At least, that was what Old Manak had told him and Jaril back when Farris was still the most talented elven teenager in history and Jaril was still an Adargid.

  He rubbed his eyes. Even without the dream, it’s not like he had expected to have a fruitful sleep before he when laid down his head. He had enough on his plate to cause even the most mentally stable person a restless night. Yesterday, he had finalized his draft of the Terran Reform Plan with Basil. An ordeal of almost ten years was drawing to a close. All that was left was the last discussion with Lieutenant General Asun and the summit with the Terran high command. Besides those, it was all politics. Petty, meaningless politics. A headache for sure, and still a ton of work for him and his subordinates.

  But he wasn’t worried about that. Any political mistake he might make, any fallout that he couldn’t, or wouldn’t want to handle, would be cleaned up by his sister. He was sure there would be many more than usual this time, but she had always expertly managed before. And any trouble from the Terran front would be just as easily handled by his contacts and allies in the civil service and ruling coalition. Not that he expected much trouble to come from New Terra. After all, the only organization more favorable to him than the Terran government was the Terran military.

  It was a hell of a joke, enough to make him laugh (even though, as a good brother, he shouldn’t have). The Terrans’ high approval for the foreign general who had de facto control of their military only served to further embolden those elements in Sarechi society who thought that the monarchy’s attitude towards these new humans was wrong. That the Supreme Commander of the Sarechi-Terran Armies in the East shouldn’t treat his Terran subordinates as though they were equal to his Sarechi. Not to mention that he shouldn’t let the Terran military model influence the already model Sarechi military, and especially not as much as he had.

  It was that very same Terran military model that took up so much of his time over the last few months. But that wasn’t the full reason why he felt bad enough to be… triggered into having the dream last night. Because it wasn’t just the Terran military that worried him. Despite certain nobles’ moaning, Farris was still chiefly occupied with his command of the Sarechi armed forces. And despite their foolish prattling, it wasn’t just the Sarechi military that changed due to the contact with the Terrans. Both militaries had changed, were changing, would and should change. No, not just both, all militaries had changed, had to change. And it was Farris’ job to not fuck up the change in the two militaries over which he was in charge.

  So it wasn’t just the planned reforms in the Terran military that had him worried, stressed enough to relive Shallenet, and stretch that memory into a dream that thankfully never happened, and hopefully never will. And it wasn’t just that those reforms obviously didn’t extend only to the Terrans, that they included changes to do with his own military, and even minor ones to the deshars’. It was the fact that this was it, the first real step in his plans to modernize the Web’s forces. Ten years in the making, this was the first real meaningful change that he had managed to bring about in the Web’s ability to fight against the Epiraks.

  The worst thing that could happen if his plans should prove wrong, if his greatest fears were to come into fruition, wasn’t that they would somehow lead to the collapse of the front and the Epiraks’ triumph—he had long grown from bring this insecure and anxious about his own abilities and the results of his actions.

  What he feared was simply that the reforms would not prove beneficial. That they would be meaningless. That the Terran generals and Rulers would look at what he at told them to do, the changes he had ordered them to bring about, and shrug their shoulders, wondering what was the point of it all. That his efforts to change the Sarechi military would be stalemated for as long as he remained in its command. If not rolled back due to the growing confidence and sense of righteousnesses of so called “traditional” officers, whose only thing traditional about them was the fact that they got their position due to tradition.

  That the deshars would remain content to keep as they are, not realizing that the only reason they had survived Shallenet without a breach was the Chosen, who was, officially, not in active command of any military forces. And worst of all, that the Imperials and ningani keep to their petty squabbling over where was the imaginary line was that split the allocation of their barely modern armies.

  Farris was only a Ruler. He didn’t understand what the Epiraks were and what they wanted, like his mother did, much less like Devoha seemed to. He didn’t know the full extent of their strength, the intricate details of their battle plans and their strategy for victory. He only had one job, to do all in his power to prevent the Epiraks from being able to carry those out and emerge victorious. And to do that, he had to make some changes. Some might call him a pessimist for dreading that final, ultimately devastating Epirak push, but they would be wrong for twofold reasons:

  First, despite the breadth of his ignorance about the enemy’s capabilities, despite his overabundance of caution when dealing with them, he didn’t truly believe that the Epiraks would be able to destroy them. The sort of defeatism that some old Rulers, or fame-hungry young staff officers, liked to tout and wave about to bring the spirits in the room down. Like his mother claimed that her closest confidante sometimes seemed to display in private.

  And second, because he believed quite the opposite, it wasn’t just not bringing about their defeat that he was concerned with; it was being able to bring about their victory. He hadn’t spent the last ten years working to preserve the status quo; he hadn’t slaved over the tiniest details of the Terran military’s operation in order to make sure Koshed would never need to evacuate again. It wasn’t the fear of a second Shallenet that drove him, of a Shallenet that they could never recover from. It was the fear of not revenging Shallenet; the want, the need, to make the Epiraks pay for what they had done to him, to his family, to the entire Web, in the carnage that they had wrought in their two hundred years of war.

  “Tsk.” He frowned at the mirror as he completed the last pass of the razor. “I don’t think these long showers are good for me. At least not when I’m feeling like this. Maybe I should get a screen in here. Might help keep my mind occupied instead of running in these well-treaded circles.”

  He didn’t bother rechecking his handiwork before he stepped out of the shower. It didn’t matter. He had an important meeting today and both his mother and sister liked him fully shaved for those. Instead, he simply ran a tracing to get rid of whatever facial hair he had missed, concurrently with a tracing to fully dry his body.

  Staring at the much wider mirror above the sink, he got started with the old familiar training regimen; he opened his Threadsight. Erianna might like to keep her Sight open for days at a time, even though he had told her repeatedly that wasn’t helping her, but he had long grown past that. There were plenty of other Rulers to keep watch of Maynil’s threads. There was his mother to keep watch over the wider Web; all the worlds of the kingdom and the republic. There wasn’t any reason for him to gaze at the bare fabric of reality when he wasn’t working, fighting, or training. But old habits die hard, and one of his oldest habits was the same simple exercise that his mother taught him after he had reached level 1, and could mange using the Sight for more than a couple of seconds, and that he taught Erianna after she had reached that same stage.

  Open your sight, look at yourself, see your threads stretching ever onwards and outwards, to other people, to other worlds, to the Web itself. Start by knowing yourself, understanding your own threads, what they are and where they lead to, before you try learning anything about any other threads. Of course, there was nothing left for him to learn by doing this, and, obviously, nothing new for him to find in the threads stretching across Maynil. His mother was a beacon over in the palace, manifesting almost as strongly as the world itself. He quickly found the rest of his family in the same vicinity. All except Marin, that is. He couldn’t see the thread connecting them after it exited the world and continued on to Pyllan. Pointedly, he ignored the thread from his would-be family member, which followed the exact same path as the thread to his nephew.

  “My fault for choosing to wake up before the children.” He chuckled to himself.

  Turning his eyes away from himself and the threads of those closest to him (in both senses of the word, considering the man who had been sleeping in his office), he tried taking in the whole of Maynil in an instance. When that understandably failed, he started following the usual checklist. The portals were still up, directed, located, and calibrated correctly. The defenses, as far as he could discern from a brief glance, were the same as they were yesterday in the many days before.

  Not that his brief glance was even necessary. The same Rulers who were on-world yesterday were still here; those amongst them whose job it was to tell him if something went wrong would’ve already told him so if it did. And if those individual stopgaps failed, a Ruler or two derelict in their duties? Nothing to worry about. It was the conventional military, countless officers, and NCOs that made sure the defenses of Maynil functioned. And he didn’t need his Threadsight to know that they were performing up to par. He had spent his whole life making sure they would.

  Spend the rest of my life as well, probably. He yawned as he turned off the Sight. The exercise called for a couple more minutes of training; some threads identification, comprehension, and so on. The sort of things you teach really lucky fifteen-year-olds or really talented twenty-six-year-olds. He was way beyond that, having been both.

  “Still…” he muttered to himself as he started getting dressed. “Maybe I should start exercising more. Or learning something new. Something useful to distract me from the monotony of bi-national military reforms. Maybe take a course with Erianna?” He laughed. “Or sit down and teach her one? Pretty soon, I could afford to spend some more time on her studies. I sort of floundered in my duties ever since she started attending the academy. Not like there’s anything I can teach her that they can’t, though. At least not now. But it could be fun. And maybe hearing about some of her courses will give me ideas of my own. The sort of stuff they teach these kids nowadays…”

  He stretched before bending down to put on his shoes. “Which reminds me, I need to check how my little attaché in Pyllan is doing. Oh well, he’s still got half a year until he needs to start writing me reports. I’ll schedule a call with him before then. Give us a chance to go over what I want him to focus on once more.” He tapped his temple, an unnecessary gesture, while writing himself a mental command to be reminded about Marin’s survey of the Imperial educational system at large, and the Order’s in particular. Then he made a regular mental note to reread that paper again. And commit that inquisitor’s name to memory. Little chance they wouldn’t be running into each other regularly in a couple of years.

  He straightened his posture as he stepped out of his room, and soon enough, everything else about his demeanor and appearance slid into place. Even on days like these, when a cloud hung over his mind and distorted his usual jovial nature, his facade wasn’t really a facade. It was just that his trademark look, his familiar smile, his usual mannerisms and behavior were a little more forced than usual. A bad dream wasn’t a reason to forsake them. And just because he didn’t feel as happy as usual, as stress-free and confident as most days, didn’t mean that he wasn’t happy and confident. He wasn’t lying to anyone, least of all himself. He was just making sure no one had any reason to worry. Not about him, not about themselves, and not about the Web. They could all rest easy knowing that the Hero of Shallenet was still the same as he ever was.

  He quickly crossed the short hall connecting his bedroom to his office. The door automatically locked behind him, and, of course, the lights were already on, so he simply walked over to sit at his desk. He just finished putting in a breakfast order for two when his second in command stepped out of the much smaller office bathroom.

  “You know…” He smiled at Basil. “I bet that when they built this place, somebody said that having a shower here, when there is already a magnificent shower in the resting quarters themselves, was completely unnecessary, a waste of time and money. Luckily for us, that perfectly reasonable comment was shut down.”

  “I had a lot of work to finish last night,” Basil said as he took a sit opposite Farris. Dressed and groomed impeccably as always, you wouldn’t know he had spent the night sleeping on one of the offices’ couches. “Wouldn’t have made sense to go back home by the time I finished.”

  “I’m willing to bet that working as late as you did also wouldn’t make much sense to the average person. Or average staff officer, at least. But you know what would make sense? Moving in. We have plenty of free rooms.”

  “I’m afraid that’s off the table. Ryan wouldn’t like that.”

  Farris held up his hand. “Let’s make one thing clear. The only reason Ryan wouldn’t like you two moving in here is because he knows you’re just going to use that as an opportunity to work even more. Don’t try and pin this on your husband. He and I do talk from time to time, you know.”

  Basil shrugged. “Whatever the reason, us moving in here is not going to happen. So I will be forced to continue availing myself of your office’s comforts when my duties keep me here long into the night.”

  “Sure, sure. But we can still find ways to cut some of those duties short, can’t we? Or to make it less… nonsensical for you to go home, even after a very late night.”

  Basil drummed his fingers on the desk. They’ve been over this plenty of times before. Basil knew what Farris was going to say next. Farris knew how Basil would retort, and they both knew where it would end. Nowhere; with the status quo triumphant. Well, that was fine. The current state of things served them both fairly well. Even Basil’s and Ryan’s relationship was not so disadvantaged by it, as Farris often claimed. Both Basil and his husband were stoic creatures at heart. They saw nothing wrong with not seeing each other as much as other married couples living together would’ve. Still, Farris knew that the status quo could not last forever. Eventually, Basil would have to take the step forward and the stage upwards.

  “So you haven’t had any change of heart since we last talked about this?” Farris asked.

  “No. As soon as the business with the Terran military ends, I’ll be back to my usual workload.”

  “I doubt it.”

  Basil ignored him. Both of them would have to wait and see which one was right. “So there is not much reason to further delegate my responsibilities.”

  “And what about having the ability to fly back home after a hard day of work?”

  “Same as before. It’s not necessary for me. The only benefit to becoming a Ruler would be needing to sleep less. But as our mental experts regularly say, it would not be beneficial for me to sleep less than I already am, even if I’m physically able to. You sleep just as much as I do, after all.”

  “If not more.”

  “Exactly.”

  Farris shook his head with a smile. “Let’s not retread the other benefits of you becoming a Ruler. We both have a busy day ahead of us. I’ll just remind you that I’ll need you to become one by the time The Muster starts. And if you won’t do that of your own will by then, then I will simply order you to.”

  “I’m hoping that you’ll change your mind by then.”

  “You’re hoping in vain. It’s an obligation I can’t get out of. Nor do I particularly want to. And on those days that I’m not here, holding the fort, I want you to be to here instead of me, as a Ruler.”

  “May I remind you that there is no practical difference between me being a Ruler or staying level 10? Not to mention that your ability to command won’t be hampered in the slightest during The Muster.”

  “Optics, Basil. It’s all optics.”

  “And what about the optics of having a Ruler who’s always away from the front line?”

  “What about it? If we can afford to keep my sister, as well as her bodyguards, away from any combat, we can surely afford to keep you in solely strategic capacity, Ruler or not.”

  “Please don’t compare me to the queen.”

  “Why not? You both serve the same function as far as I’m concerned. Saving me from unnecessary headaches and letting me concentrate on my job. My sister’s ability to do that is greatly served by her being a Ruler. Same as yours would be. But like I said, we’ll leave the usual discussion for another time. I’m not in any hurry, after all.”

  Basil sighed. “Very well. I’ll make sure to talk about this with Ryan before too long.”

  “You think he’s going to change your mind?”

  “I think I will have to change his before I reach your deadline.”

  “He’s opposed to you becoming a Ruler? You’ve never told me this before. Why?”

  “Why I haven’t I told you? Or why doesn’t he want me to become a Ruler?”

  “Both I guess.”

  Basil shrugged. “There was still plenty of time before. But now The Muster is going to start in less than two years. And it seems pretty clear that you’re not going to budge from this. As for Ryan… he’s simply worried. He doesn’t want me to fight. He thinks that if I’ll become a Ruler, I’ll have to go to the front lines.”

  “That’s ridiculous! We’re not the Terrans. We’re aware of the concept of noncombatant Rulers. Hell… even the Terrans are aware of that. It’s just that their most obvious prospect for noncombatant Ruler is the one type of noncombatant that we definitely want on the front lines.”

  “He’s not a military man. For him, Rulers mean the best fighters. And if a Ruler isn’t on the front line currently, then he will have to be someday.”

  “What about the queen?”

  “I’m not the queen. I can’t use her as an example for Rulers who aren’t combatants. And who can I use? Most people in my line of work don’t bother making it all the way to level 10. They reach level 8 by just following the inertia of the military lifestyle, and stop bothering with cultivating and training afterwards. I only bothered because I wanted the help I could get from the two patterns.”

  Farris waved him off. “There are plenty of level 10s in your position. In our military alone. Even the Terrans have plenty of strategic officers at those levels. And Ryan is all for us becoming more like the Terran military, no?”

  “You said it yourself. The Terrans don’t like the concept of noncombatant Rulers. So most of their high-ranking generals aren’t level 10. If you make it to level 10, then there’s the expectation that you’ll also try and make it to Ruler. And if you can’t, that might hurt your career. Not worth the risk. Take Dan Ritter, for example: For a layman like Ryan, he and I are in the same position, no matter the fact that he had made it to level 10 a dozen or so years before me. But even as ‘only’ a level 10, he’s at the front—Well, he was at the front. I just got a report yesterday that he went back to New Terra for some reason.”

  “I was wondering why you brought him up.”

  Basil shrugged. “He’s a famous Terran. Ryan knows him. When he thinks of level 10s, that’s one of the few people he can name. As far as Ryan is concerned, the only reason I’m not at the front right now is because I’m not a ruler. If I were a Ruler, then I would have to be at the front. Because that’s what Rulers do. That’s what all Terran level 10s do.”

  “If I knew that directive was going to harm your relationship, I would’ve advised the Terrans against making it ‘official.’ It seems the only people who it actually affected are the civilians who believe it to be that rigid.”

  Basil shook his head. “The promotion amongst the civilian sector may have been faulty. But from the Terran reports, and some of our own assessments, it seems like the directive has been doing its job. The positive psychosocial aspect they were looking for is definitely there: level 10s are more motivated in their training; they’re requesting fewer leaves; more personal tutoring; more training time, and so on.”

  “And if they knew there was a level 10 in Larsus who was more than capable of advancing to Ruler whenever he wanted, but simply chose not to, that would break their hearts.”

  “I’ll talk with Ryan.”

  “Take your time. Feel free to involve me if you feel like it would help. I can give him all the assurances he wants. And so could Lera. You know how much she adores him.”

  Basil nodded. “I’ll take you up on that. Unfortunately, I don’t think he and the queen will have a chance to talk anytime soon. You remember the headlines from last time?”

  “Ah, yes. ‘Queen entertains wackjob Terran professor who claims our world doesn’t make sense.’”

  “It was something along these lines, yes.” Basil smiled. “So you see why it’d better be a long time before the queen ‘entertains’ him again? She’s going to have enough on her plate in a month or two.”

  “So you’re aware of those kinds of optics, but you’re somehow blind to the optics of you being a Ruler…” Farris laughed. “Alright, never mind, we’ve wasted enough time. When’s our call with Sakina scheduled?”

  “Six in the evening. I’ve already told Ryan I won’t be coming home tonight as well.”

  “Makes sense. I don’t imagine we’ll be finished before the day’s over. Did you look at what she sent over last night?”

  “Yes, it’s nothing urgent. Some suggestions of further steps once the initial reforms are completed. Most of it was reports and unofficial assessments by mid rank deshar officers. She’s after a bit of political maneuvering, I suppose, to make further integration easier by adopting or approximating some of the deshar training methodology.”

  “Really? Training, of all things?”

  “She seems to think that some of their new methods have more merit than official Sarechi and Terran assessments have held. Mostly from a combatant-commanders perspective. I’ll have another look at what she sent. Run it by some of our staff. Send it to Lord Keeper Latteras as well. See what he thinks. But like I said, it’s nothing urgent. I think that Sakina’s simply getting ahead of herself a bit. She thinks our current project is already a done deal, so she’s racing off to start planning for future reforms.”

  Farris nodded. “Hm… Still, send me a summary of what she wrote. If it is as non-urgent as you’re saying, then I’m going to have to say something to her about it. We need to focus on the present. Just because we’ve come to a general agreement on what goes before the dotted line, doesn’t mean that line’s already signed. Not to mention that the document isn’t even printed yet.”

  “No problem. Shouldn’t take me more than fifteen minutes. But we’re not going to get our own analysis of her claims before the meeting.”

  “That’s fine. Even if it does turn out to be relevant to our current discussion, we’ll still have plenty of time to slot it in. I’m not calling the summit in the next couple of days, after all.”

  “And do you have any ideas for when you’re going to call the summit?”

  “Some. Sakina’s proposal makes the most sense, but I still have to discuss it with my sister. And my mother, I suppose. Luckily, I’m meeting both today. So we should be able to finalize a date as part of our discussions tonight.”

  A knock at the door caused Farris to instinctively flare his Sight. Their breakfast was here. And now that he was looking, he saw that his niece was just a few minutes away from sitting down to eat hers. “You fine with eating alone?” he asked Basil, who just raised an eyebrow in answer. “Figures. I’m going to drop by on Erianna, maybe rouse Alan as well, been a long time since I ate with them. I’ll be back in about half an hour.”

  “Not going to stay at the palace?”

  “What for? I’m a Ruler. It’s only a few minutes’ flight.”

  He took his meal from the soldier on duty with a thanks, keeping it in the cloche for ease of carry, before depositing it in his storage artifact, barely registering the look of wonder that appeared on the sergeant’s face. He must’ve been new here to be this excited by that disappearing act. To his credit, though, he quickly straightened his face before saluting Farris and Basil and taking his leave. Farris kept his Sight on him for a few moments longer. Huh, he isn’t that new. Just easily excited, maybe? Well, we’ve all been there. At least all of us who didn’t grow around Rulers. He’s not a noble, so the chances that he did are slim.

  “Bah.” He shook his head.

  “Another reason why I don’t want to become a Ruler,” Basil said as he took a bite. “You get used to spying on people.”

  “That’s not a reason, and you know it. Besides, a man in your position should be glad to have all the information he can about the people he meets. Also, just because you’re a Ruler, it doesn’t mean that spying is as easy for you as it is for me. And I’m distracted today. Otherwise, you would’ve never caught my spying.”

  “Something I should know about?”

  “No, of course not. Just some bad dreams.”

  Basil nodded and went back to his meal. Bidding him farewell, Farris stepped out to the balcony before stepping off of it and into the Larsus skyline. In theory, every Ruler had free rein to fly through any unrestricted airspace as they wished. In practice, custom dictated that most Rulers gave a courtesy call to Aerial Security when they set for the skies. Farris was not bound by such customs, nor by being restricted from any airspace in Maynil, so he made much more frequent usage of his Ruler-given abilities than most Rulers on-world. Nothing drastic, of course, notifying the relevant authorities didn’t take Rulers more than a couple of seconds (unless there was actual cause to refuse them flight), but it was those couple of seconds that meant that most Rulers wouldn’t jump off the roof just to get to a conference room a couple of floors down.

  Farris smiled. Even though he frequently complained about his position and duties, it was hard to argue that it didn’t come with any benefits. Such as being given a straight road from birth to being able to fly. Who knows where he would’ve ended up if he wasn’t born the second child of the reigning monarch? Sure, the question was meaningless. He wouldn’t be himself. But it was still important to remember that, talented as he was, he didn’t get to where he was based solely on his talents.

  Of course, he also didn’t get to where he was based solely on his birth. His sister wasn’t anywhere close to being as good of a flier as he was, even though it was the one aspect of Rulerdom that she truly enjoyed. He had worked hard to be able to soar through the skies faster than all but two other Sarechi Rulers (and in his opinion, with much more maneuverability than them). And by the Drowned, it was worth it. Forget about the time saved. Just the pure, unadulterated joy of seeing an entire city passing beneath you in the blink of an eye. Of seeing the whole world stretched before you.

  Bare before you, because, of course, you had to fly with your Sight on. Even though Larsus’ aerial traffic wasn’t anything close to Transit’s (or most other major Terran cities, really) it still had enough to warrant caution. Birds were the most common irritant, but there were still helicopters and smaller aircraft (as the airport was well outside the city) to be wary of, and of course, the ever present danger of other Rulers. The reason why all the nations in the Web already had aerial monitoring and defense units even before the Terrans introduced them to the concept of universal flight.

  So in order to avoid collision, Farris had to keep watch over thousand of threads at every given moment, changing, moving, disappearing, joining. He had long ago grown proficient enough to discard all the unnecessary information, and only take in, and comprehend, what was relevant, but it was still annoying. Not annoying enough not to fly, of course.

  Soon enough, the buildings started growing larger and more spaced apart. And shortly after that, he had made it to the palace walls. The palace security was more than familiar with him, so he didn’t even have to slow down as he crossed the ground towards Erianna’s quarters. He landed on one of the palace’s many balconies and nodded to the guard on duty before starting the follow the thread that told him his niece had just sat down. Two seconds before he knocked, it told him that she finally saw him. Hm… It’s a very good result, but I bet that if told her when I got here that she’d be disappointed with herself.

  “Come in,” she said after his third knock.

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  “Good morning.” Farris smiled at her before retrieving his meal from storage. “May I join my favorite niece for breakfast?”

  She snorted but gestured him to sit down. “Are you planning to keep this joke going all the way until Alan and Phiya marry?”

  “Give me a break. It’s one of the most common jokes out there. Plus, not like it’s going to change even after they marry. Don’t worry, though, I won’t say it afterwards. So… what’s the occasion?” He nodded towards her very many, and very full plates.

  Erianna sighed and rubbed her temple. “I’m gorging myself for Tuesday.”

  “What’s Tuesday?”

  “I need to fast. Mom’s forcing me to hold a… vigil. So I only have a couple more minutes to get all this food in my stomach before I’m not allowed to eat for four days.”

  “I see. And don’t worry, I’m more than fine with carrying out your part of the conversation as well.”

  She laughed. “So what’s up? You’re here to check on me before the vigil and you’re just acting as though you knew nothing about it?”

  “No, I really didn’t know about it. Criminally negligent, I know, but you must forgive me this time. I’m here because, just as I was about to sit down and eat breakfast with Basil, I saw that you were planning to do the same. So I figured I might as well join you. It’s only a short flight, after all.”

  “And you just left poor Basil to eat by himself?”

  “Yes… woe is him. His fault, though, for not being a Ruler.”

  “Not everyone can match up to your high standards.”

  “I know. I only met two people that could…”

  She kept her gaze and focus completely on the plate.

  “The first one’s me.”

  “I got that.”

  “The second one’s you.”

  “You should get out more. Maybe you’ll find someone if you look beyond your immediate family.”

  “We’ll see, we’ll see. I doubt there’s anyone that quite matches up to your levels of inborn talents. But you’re right, that’s only half the battle. You also need—”

  “Yes, yes, I know.” She groaned. “No need to repeat yourself for the hundredth time. Especially not when it was already so annoying the first time.”

  “My apologies.” Farris smiled. “I forgot how irritable you can be when you’re hungry.”

  “Very funny. So you’re just here for a chat?”

  “Yeah, pretty much. Would’ve liked to have Alan join us as well, but… he’s still not up. So it’s just you and me.”

  “You don’t have to sound so disappointed.”

  “Well you know how much I like your brother. He’s my favorite nephew.”

  “I swear, if I get ever married, it’ll be so that you won’t be able to tell that joke at all.”

  “Oh come on. Surely I’d still be allowed to say it. After all, am I expected to love the man who stole you away from us as much as I love your brother? That’s just not realistic.”

  “Stole me away? What kind of shitty books have you been reading?”

  “You know exactly where I learned that phrase. Oh, and speaking of books, let us get down to business. How has the new semester been treating you?”

  She rolled her eyes. “Smooth. So you are checking up on me?”

  “Only as a loving uncle, though. Not as a loving mentor.”

  “I don’t think those two words belong together.”

  “I think it depends on what kind of relationship the mentor and mentee have.”

  “I think the way you just said it made it even worse.”

  “I think you’re right.” Farris laughed. “But seriously, everything’s alright?”

  “Pretty much. I’ve got nothing to complain about. Besides the vigil, at least. You don’t read the reports anymore?”

  “Not since the semester started. Which makes it sound worse than it is, because it was only the one report. Which makes me sound a bit lazy, though. Like I said, I’ve been busy lately.” He sighed. “Don’t worry, I’ll get to it in a couple of days.”

  “Take all the time you need. It’s not like I’m sixteen anymore. I don’t need your constant monitoring. I’ll have enough of that in a year and a half anyway. Besides, if you can’t trust the best educational institution in the kingdom to prepare me for the front, then who can you trust?”

  “Only myself. Only myself… I’m kidding, I’m kidding. I’m just worrying as a family member. I’m not trying to involve myself with your current education. Not all that much, at least.”

  “It’s kind of like when Mom asked me if I wanted any help with my homework when I was a kid.”

  “You’re still a kid. And your mother is still a very smart, very capable Ruler who could help you a great deal.”

  “Sure she can. But so can other people. Only their time is worth much less than hers.”

  “So what does you being fine with getting help from me mean?”

  “Maybe you could help me more than she can. Besides, I said that you’re like Mom, didn’t I? There’s no real reason for you to involve yourself in my studies as much as you do usually. No practical reason, at least.”

  “Mhm… Could be we just want to spend time with you, you know? We’re just worried about our little Er Er.”

  She rolled her eyes with a laugh. “Don’t call me that.”

  “And we know how hard you find it to make friends.” Farris smiled.

  “Asshole. Like you’re any different.”

  “I have plenty of friends.”

  “How many of them are your subordinates?”

  “That’s not fair. Most people I meet are my subordinates. I’m just saying, Er…ianna. You could use making some new, very close friends. Sure, OK, you’ll be reunited with Marin for The Muster, but at least replace Yvessa. It’s going to take a good couple of years until you can get her under your command.”

  “Sure… I’ll just go ahead and find somebody to replace my best friend who I grew up with. Wanting to do something like that is not psychotic at all. And I’m sure that I’ll have an easy time finding a replacement. I mean, how hard is it to find a person with whom you have so much shared experience and memories? And that you also truly enjoy their company?”

  “Was that a joke at my expense? I feel like it was.”

  “It was a joking insult towards you.”

  “Hmph! That’s what I thought. Very rude. Unfilial even. Anyway, if that’s what your psychotic mind is worried about, then worry no more. I’m willing to offer my services. I’ll help you find a replacement best friend. How hard can it be? We just need someone with whom you share a lot of memories and experience. They don’t have to be the same memories and experience. So maybe you read the same book and have the experience of growing up reading it.”

  “Sure, cause that’s how memories and experience works. And they still have to be pleasant company.”

  “That’s true… someone with your memories and experience being pleasant company is a tall order. Don’t worry, though. Your mentor is on the case. I’ll find you a replacement best friend in no time.”

  “Great. I can’t wait to tell Yvessa. Maybe if you find that replacement by Monday, I could bring them with me to the call, and introduce my former best friend to my current.”

  “I’ll see what I can do.” Farris took his last bite. Erianna was still halfway through her meal. “And what about Yvessa? How does she find New Point Academy? Life on New Terra?”

  Erianna shrugged. “Alright. She misses home. Mostly the pets because she can’t talk to them. But she says her studies are going fine. You already know who her friends are.”

  Farris nodded.

  “Honestly, I know that she has some stuff that she’s not telling me about. But I feel like she’s definitely happy with her choice. And if she’s happy… then I’m happy. I guess.”

  “You guess?”

  “I know I shouldn’t think this, but I still fear that she might… I don’t know, miss something by studying there.”

  “You’re right, you shouldn’t think that. Not only because it’s unsubstantiated and could very well indicate a point of view that we both know you don’t posses, but also because it is false. New Point is a perfectly fine institution. They’ve even got a leg up on the Royal Academy in some aspects. Honestly, the only thing that I’ll say the Royal Academy definitely has over New Point is the ability to teach about threads. And that’s not something that’s going to affect Yvessa.”

  “You’re right, I know that. But… speaking of threads, do your reforms have anything to say about the Terrans’ inability to teach their own Thread-Weavers?”

  Farris smiled. “I see where you’re going with this.”

  “I have no idea what you’re talking about. I just wanted to better familiarize myself with the changes you’re helping bring to the Terran military. I’m going to fight side by side with them in a matter of years.”

  “Now who taught you to lie by telling the truth? But no, my reforms don’t include anything different about the education of Thread-Weavers.”

  “Why is that?” Erianna made innocent eyes at him.

  “You know very well why. And it’s not because our military academies are better than the Terran ones. We only have the one academy that teaches Thread-Weavers.”

  “But it’s our best academy by far.”

  “That’s true, actually. A point against us because the gap between New Point and the other four combat academies isn’t that big.”

  “The Royal Academy is three times as big as New Point, though.”

  “That’s not necessarily a positive thing.”

  Erianna shrugged with a nod. “So why didn’t you make any changes to the education of Terran Thread-Weavers?”

  “It’s because the Royal Academy is much better than any Terran academy. So only we can be trusted to correctly guide Thread-Weavers.”

  “Alright, I get it. You know I was just joking. Well, mostly. It’s not like I can help being irrationally worried about my best friend. But what’s the real reason? Politics?”

  “A little. There’s not much political call in New Terra for a change. Especially when compared to the political call here against a possible change in the status quo. Eh… At the end of the day. It’s just not worth it. Thread-Weavers aren’t something to build your institution of elite combatants education around. They’re not worth the effort. We already have a functioning system for training Thread-Weavers at the Royal Academy. Any Terran Thread-Weaver that wants to pursue a military career should be more than capable of coming to study here. And I’ve shown you the figures before. How little Thread-Weavers actually matter in the grand scheme of things. You can’t plan around them.”

  “Still…” Erianna wrinkled her nose. “The republic has the highest population count in the Web. New Terra has the highest population concentration. Both those things should result in more Thread-Weavers than any other nation. I’m seriously asking here, Farris. Why not take the extra effort to help the Terran build their own system? In ten years, when I’m in your shoes, should I still hold back on helping them?”

  “Why don’t you focus more on eating your last meal and focus less on trying to learn how to perform in your future role in… what was it? ten years?”

  “Just answer the question.”

  “Alright, so we have to major arguments against changing the status quo regarding training Terran Thread-Weavers. Putting politics, as that can always be sidestepped, aside. The first one is a lack of ability to carry out adequate training. For example, the Terrans have no Rulers available to oversee the program.”

  “You don’t have to have Rulers teaching Thread-Weavers. We don’t have any directly teaching.”

  “No, but we have one in a supervising position. And two others in other positions in the academy that are less heavily involved but can still step in at a moment’s notice. Let’s say that, at the very least, a Terran program needs to have one Ruler. That’s not going to happen. Maybe in ten years, when they’ll have more Rulers, but not right now. And the lack of capability doesn’t end there. They don’t have the organizational knowledge of how to carry out this program out. They lack other personnel. Most Terran Thread-Weavers aren’t inclined to teaching and if we send our own people there… what’s the point?

  “And solving all of these problems is going to cost a lot. You can’t actually do this, obviously, but if you broke up our own Thread-Weaver program into costs and profits, you’d see that the margin is much smaller than with the ‘regular’ academy. As I’ve shown you, training Thread-Weavers costs a lot of resources, a lot of it upfront, and the payoff isn’t that great.

  “Which brings us to the second argument, what do we actually gain—us being the Web as a collective—from investing so many resources and personnel in creating a separate Thread-Weaver educational system for the Terrans? Not much. It doesn’t work like that in real life, but let’s assume some arbitrary allocation of Thread-Weavers per a number of people, averaging out all the other things like the type of Thread-Weaver. We’re still left with two ‘uniquely’ Terran problems:

  “First, the average Terran has the worst pathways in the Web. Research has consistently shown a direct link between the quality of pathways at Awakening and the likelihood of reaching higher levels. Obviously, that’s not a dismissal of the viability of training people with ‘bad’ pathways, nor of Terrans, but it is a problem. Thread-Weavers, on average, already have a problem with the quality of their pathways. Terran Thread-Weavers might be even worse off.

  “I say might, because I’m not sure. There actually hasn’t been all that much research about Terran Thread-Weavers. Because, at the end of the day, the Terrans are far from being able to utilize their population count for military, or just magical, efficiency. There are a couple of reasons for that, ranging from lack of institutions, investment and so on. But the most important for us, is lack of social will. The Terran public isn’t as interested in perusing magic as the other races. That applies to Thread-Weavers as well. So even after we’ve invested so much in setting up a program in New Terra, it’s not certain that we’re going to get the numbers to make that investment worth it.

  “After all, today, the number of Terran Thread-Weavers attending the Royal Academy is smaller than the Sarechi Thread-Weavers. And you can’t really claim that’s because the program is here, and not on New Terra. I mean, these people are vying to become future Rulers—at least most of them are—they’re going to fight in the front lines in the future. How the hell do you go from not willing to leave your home for your education, to being willing to risk your life? The way I see it, if there’s a Terran Thread-Weaver right now who wants to study threads, then for it to be worth training them, they should be willing to come here to study.

  “Now… as for the other aspects of teaching and studying threads. There is actually more room for debate there. If the Terrans had a program for Thread-Weavers, that might develop into other avenues. Magical research, more Rulers due to more knowledge and experience with teaching threads, so on. But a Thread-Weaver program is for making Thread-Weaver into Rulers, first and foremost. Researchers, you’ll only get out of the program if they’ve flunked out. And I’m not really sure that having a program will have that much effect in making ‘regular’ level 10s into Rulers. At the very least, there hasn’t been any research to show that. Of course, don’t get me wrong, I would love for there to be more magical research coming out of New Terra, especially to do with threads. But the problem with that is that if you want to research threads, you’re going to have to be a Ruler.”

  Erianna nodded as she set down her cutlery, her plates emptied at last. “I figured as much. Just wanted to have you confirm my guesses. So did you actually have a discussion on the matter? Or was the topic decided automatically?”

  “A little of both. I’ve gone over the possibility of a Terran program two or three years ago. Not much has changed since then that would make it worthwhile to reopen the discussion. But like I said, in a couple of years, once the new crop of Terran Rulers start coming in, when the reforms start taking full effect, then we could talk.”

  “I’m not as knowledgeable about this as you, so I’ll concede to you on the lacking virtue of creating a new program. But I still think that you shouldn’t dismiss the status quo as adequate. Who knows how many young talents the Terran authorities are missing? Inborn Thread-Weavers who go below the radar and aren’t even aware that they have a giant advantage over most other people?”

  “That’s true. But that’s a lot more to with social domestic matters that aren’t my direct purview. Still, I think the Terrans are making good progress in that direction. Why, just yesterday I was told that there’s a new Thread-Weaver—” He frowned in thought. “No, it was two days ago, actually. Anyway, they found a new Thread-Weaver. Apparently he was at the hospital, so I’m guessing he’s an inborn one that just had his Awakening. But it’s not really the inborn Thread-Weavers that we might be missing. It’s the later developed. The ones that are, on average, worth more. And I can’t force either type to enlist.

  “But you’re right, there’d probably be a positive effect if the Terran had their own program; more initiative to join the military. So hopefully, we aren’t missing any ‘special’ talents this way. And by special, I mean people who will find the drive and willpower necessary for any would-be Ruler only after they joined the military. Someone that got nudged over the edge of enlistment because of the program, but then stays there, is probably not going to turn out to be a real talent.”

  “You never know,” Erianna said.

  “Undoubtedly. But we’re not God. We’re not omniscient. We can’t look at everyone alive and strip them to parameters that will tell us whether that person is worth training. We just have to go with the old trusted methods of making a wide net to catch, and a wide pond in which to train our catch in.” Farris smiled. “Then, all we have to do is make sure that if we caught a very special fish, to not let them get lost with the rest of the school. And that goes both for the normal curriculum and the Thread-Weaver’s training. So, even if New Point wasn’t as good an academy as the one you’re going to, it wouldn’t matter to your best friend because the system she’s studying in is built to make sure that, once discovered, talent like hers is properly cultivated.”

  Erianna sighed with a smile. “True. Good job, I’m not worried about Yvessa anymore. Now I’m just worried about finding and cultivating talent in the future.”

  “Don’t be. You’ll have people to do that for you. You can save yourself for the really special talent.”

  She groaned with a laugh before pushing herself off the table and standing up. “Alright, I should go train while I still have the energy to. This is going to suck.”

  Farris got up as well. Squeezing her shoulder, he said, “Look on the bright side: soon enough you’ll be from all of this bullshit. Still, want me to talk to your mother? Try and get you out of this?”

  “No, that’s alright. I should do this. It sucks, but I should. Thanks anyway.”

  “No problem. I probably wouldn’t have been able to convince your mother anyway. At the very least, I wouldn’t have been willing to make the concessions necessary to convince her.”

  She laughed and lightly punched his shoulder as she made her way out of the room. Putting his cloche back in storage, Farris escorted her out of the room and to the training ground. On the way there, he asked her in more depth about her current studies (while staying pointedly clear from the subject of muddling). A few minutes later, they parted, and he started flying back towards his office. The return flight was even more enjoyable, as the suns had fully come out.

  The rest of the morning passed in a flash. Most of it revolved around discussions about the planned reforms in some way or another. Most of those were just him and Basil, although they also involved some other officers in the process. It was only to ask for further clarification, or off-the-record opinion. Nothing major was going to change at this point. Nothing from a military perspective, at least. Because he still had to choose a date for the summit, and that was wholly political. Which is why he was going to eat lunch in the presence of his elder sister.

  “Alan not joining us?” he asked her as they exchanged a hug. The servants had already set the table and left them the two sole elves in the room. Mira, the queen’s bodyguard currently on duty, was a Ruler, and thus obviously able to listen in on them if she wished. But she wouldn’t. That didn’t prevent Farris from weaving some defenses as he sat down, of course. Such was the force of habit.

  Lera shook her head. “No, he already has plenty on his plate. And he isn’t as involved with your project as I am. I’m keeping him updated, of course, and I’ll have him take care of some of the fallout by himself. But there’s no practical reason for him to join us today.” She smiled wistfully. “You know how he is: he doesn’t like to sit in on discussions that he can’t affect.”

  “They grew up so fast.” Farris mimicked wiping a tear. “Especially in the twisted mind of their parents.”

  “Alright, alright. But it’s not that big of an exaggeration. Alan has more important things to do than to sit around and listen to us talk. And since we don’t have enough time for him to ask questions, I can just brief him later and save him the annoyance.”

  “What’s he doing?

  “He’s representing the throne in a today’s Chamber session.”

  “That doesn’t sound so important. Even less than the usual sessions. Today’s Saturday.”

  “It’s not. But the lunch recess and the after-session meetings are. I want him to help maximize the benefits from Erianna’s ‘sacrifice’ in three days. And most of the elected that bother coming to the Saturdays sessions are the people we want to influence at most. Strong opinion about foreign affairs, but not enough power to directly influence the government or the Privy Council.”

  Farris nodded. “Makes sense. Erianna told me about her vigil. We had breakfast together. Well, I had breakfast. She had a whole day’s worth of food.”

  “She needs to eat for four days. She’s a growing girl.”

  “She can cheat. We already have so much protection and obfuscation around her that I don’t think she’ll even need any new tinkering to prevent anyone from seeing whether she ate during these days.”

  “My daughter is not going to cheat. Even if she can.”

  “Yeah… it’s her parents’ fault for bringing her up so well.”

  “Maybe it’s also her uncle’s fault for always getting her to push herself harder, and telling her that she’s better than everyone else.”

  “Well she is better. By the way, her uncle asked her if she wanted him to try getting her out of it. She refused.”

  “I already gave her an out when I asked her. She’s a much more amenable political tool than you are.”

  Farris laughed. “Give it time. She’s still young. So are we moving to talk about politics now?”

  “We should. I don’t want to keep you too long here.”

  “Keep me long? Who’s the elder and family head in this relationship?”

  “Our mother. Besides, I know that look. You can’t hide it from me.”

  “I have no idea what you’re talking about,” Farris lied. He checked his threads. They were in immaculate order. His sister shouldn’t have been able to see anything without trying to force them apart, thereby letting him know of her attempts.

  Lera just rolled her eyes. “You checked yourself just now, right? Farris, I’m your older sister. I don’t need to see your threads in order to know how you feel. You’re a good actor. But I’m a queen. I’m much better than you at acting and reading people. The day I can’t tell when my favorite brother was having a bad day just by looking at him is the day I should abdicate and let my favorite son take over.”

  Farris leaned his head back and gave a laugh. Then he sighed, looked back at his sister and said, “You’re right. I was having a bad day. But you’ve just brought me straight out of it.”

  “Anything you want to talk to me about?”

  “Of course not. We both have our jobs to do. We need to keep our heartfelt conversation to only those times where we can sit around and get drunk without worrying about the following day.”

  “Farris…”

  “I’m joking, Lera. I’m fine. Just had one of those days… One of those weeks. A lot of stress. A lot of decisions being made. You know the deal. Once I finalize the summit’s date and finish all the preliminary discussions with Basil and Sakina, I’ll get over it. Trust me, by Tuesday I’m going to be back to my full, jovial self.”

  “You better. Otherwise, I’m sending you off for a vacation. It’s been a long time since you surveyed the Western Front.”

  “You forget that I sent Lasari Zarev to the ningani after what happened three years ago. Seeing his beautifully sculpted mug for a couple of weeks is the furthest thing I can imagine from a vacation.”

  “True, I forgot about him. Then how about a visit to Pyllan? You can take in the sights. Check up on my nephew. Frolic in the archives and give an earful to the Imperial staff. You can even meet face to face with Tarshin Latteras. It’s been a long time, and I’m sure Her Excellency would be delighted to let the two of you scheme with each other.”

  “Mhm… provided she can listen in, of course. I’m telling you, I don’t know how she does it. Obviously the Imperials and ningani Chosen behave differently than ours, but she still puts all of them to shame. I mean, she attends court almost every week. And gives that hour long speech every Monday.”

  “She’s a politician at heart. She was brought up in the clerical half. Just happened to be very good at magic and fighting. She truly enjoys doing those things.”

  “Unlike me. Which shoots down your Pyllan suggestion. Way too much politics for a vacation. Face it, Lera, the only vacation in store for me is the couple of days that I’ll get to relax on New Terra while Basil hammers out the fine details of the reforms with the Terran General Staff.”

  “Then I hope you’ll use every second of it,” she said before taking a small sip. “So, shall we move on to politics? And the reform themselves? Like I said, I don’t want to keep you here much longer than the meal itself.”

  Farris leaned back, away from the plate. Half of it was still full but, for some reason, he wasn’t all that hungry today. “Alright. So where do you want to start?”

  “Basil gave me a report on the drafts last Wednesday. Anything major changed since then?”

  “Not really. All the major decisions had practically been made more than a month ago. Right now, we’re just finalizing everything; double checking, discussing implementation, edge cases, those sorts of things. The language, of course, that’s the biggest hurdle right now. Every bit has to be confirmed by either me or Basil. But the general outline is pretty much the same as it’s ever been. Including the same political considerations you’re already aware of.”

  “And the political constraints?”

  “Sakina assures me everything will be ratified in both houses. The government is going to give the military the green light to carry out its end the minute the summit ends, even before the new budget passes. And they’ll start carrying out their part once the legislature gives their approval. I’ve had other contacts in New Terra confirm the same. I’ve had your people in the External Ministry confirm it as well. You’re the politician, know anything I don’t?”

  “No, it all sounds right. New Terra is hungry for change, and they have no problem with you being the man to lead them to it. In fact, my opinion is that they might’ve been willing to go a step or two further, not overall, of course, but in some aspects of the reforms.”

  “Probably. But we can always take those steps in a couple of years. Plus, it’s not their willingness that I was worried about. If the Terrans increased their military budget even further, then you’d have voices yelling in your ear to do the same. And we can’t afford a further increase in the military budget right now. Not without compromising the state of the military. Or our position.”

  His sister smiled. “I should tussle your hair for such a sweet comment. Putting the military before our family. Uncle Manak would be proud.”

  “Our great uncle would’ve called us out for bowing to the pressure of the masses.”

  “Our great uncle didn’t have to deal with those masses possessing a Chosen of their own to represent their interest.”

  “Nah, don’t put this on Markos. It’s his family that makes trouble. As Mother would tell you, he mostly keeps to himself. He doesn’t care much for politics. No, our problem, as opposed to Old Manak, is that our family faces much greater opposition from the nobility than it did in his days.”

  “I’m sure that if he were here, he would apologize for making this mess.”

  “Eh… I wouldn’t call what he would do apologizing. Apologizing usually doesn’t involve the threat of violence and he definitely would’ve threatened some violence on some of the people Alan is currently meeting with.”

  “True.” Lera smiled, then raised her glass in a toast. “To Uncle Manak.”

  “To Old Manak.”

  “I never asked. Why did you guys start calling him that all of a sudden?”

  “It’s what he wanted us to call him. He said it made him feel like a character out of story.” Farris put his glass down. “You know, I really wish he was here. Not for any reform, mind you. Just so that you can stock up on coke in the palace. Any soda, really.”

  “It would still be my decision at the end of the day.”

  “It’d be four against one. Old Manak loved soda.”

  Lera upturned her hand in acquiescence. “So we were talking about political ramifications.”

  “No, we were talking about political constraints. Political ramifications are your field. I’m only thinking politically during the formulation process. Afterwards, I just do what you tell me to do.”

  “You’re making yourself to both sound better and worse than you really are. But alright, my field. So, is it safe to say that your formulation process is over?”

  “Pretty much.” Farris nodded. “After tonight, we should be good to go. Probably some few stray knots to untie. But nothing important. And it’s all going to be ironed out during the summit anyway.”

  “So if I told you to call the summit for tomorrow, could you?”

  “Yeah, I guess. In theory, at least. My part and people would be ready. But it’d take the Terrans a day or two to prepare for the summit. Why? You want me to call it for tomorrow?”

  “No, of course not. I just wanted to know what sort of time window I was looking at.”

  “Well what are your considerations? Are you ready for me to call the summit for tomorrow?”

  Lera stopped and considered his question for a few moments. “I suppose I am. There’s not much preparation I can do before you actually call for the summit.”

  “Hmm… Good to know.”

  “Still, you’re probably better off waiting for a few weeks. If not months.”

  “That’s the plan. Sakina suggested that we wait until Crane and Hatta transfer to New Terra. They’ll be sure to make their objection known during the summit. And since those would be unreasonable, it would weaken their position in New Terra. And since we would still deny them everything, that would strengthen our position against the Moon-Sworn.”

  “Makes sense. Well, in any case, from my point of view, you have the go ahead to call the summit whenever you want. Just make sure to prepare yourself for what comes after. Utilize your time on New Terra to the maximum.”

  “We still have stuff that we need to go over… You can’t just give me the green light like that.”

  She sighed and took out a stack of papers. “Oh very well. Even though we both know it won’t matter. I’ll spend the next twenty minutes listening to you go on about military nonsense.”

  “Very nice.” Farris shook his head with a smile. Until those last two words, she was quoting something he had said verbatim. “So the first and foremost, and most obvious, is the change in military budget. But what it actually means is more complex. First, we’re looking at higher salary, better benefits, recruitment incentives, everything necessary to increase the personnel in a voluntary military. But, while that still extends to entire armed forces, it is mostly targeted towards the regular forces. Straight to ITAD, as the Terrans like to say when they don’t call them trenchies.

  “Still, there are other aspects that are targeted solely at attracting potential officers, mainly combatant focused, but also tactical, which, while the Terrans currently have no lack of, they might develop one if the military size continues to increase. So we’re talking a significant budgetary increase to all branches of EDUCOM, but as you can see, it also involves a not-insignificant amount of changes. Certainly the smallest part of our reform plans—the Terrans know how to train an army—but still a fair amount. If you turn to the seventh page, you can see under the header for COTAR, that’s the combat academies, planned changes to the curriculum and…”

  Almost an hour later, as his sister finished nibbling from Farris’ plate, Farris finished his report. And barely. He had to rush through some things and skip over others completely. Lera massaged her temples with a sigh. “I wonder how much of that I will be able to retain.”

  “The same as you always do. Just enough to expertly make use of it.” Farris smirked at her.

  “Don’t worry. I’ll pay you back for this soon enough. In fact, call the summit next week. The sooner you call it, the sooner I’ll get my revenge.”

  “You don’t mean it. Think of the headache it’ll give you if you didn’t have ample time to prepare.”

  “I’m thinking that I could offload a significant part of it on you.”

  “Ouch. I’ll give you a couple of months, then.”

  “Give me however long you wish. Just make sure to play your part during and afterwards. And now be off with you. I’m having an ‘unofficial’ meeting with Ambassador Smith, and I want to freshen up a little beforehand.”

  Farris smiled and stood up. “Give her my greetings.”

  “Don’t worry, I’ll have you sitting with her before too long… Do you think I’ll talk so much about Alan and Erianna once they leave for The Muster?”

  “Probably. You’re both great at your job. You’re both great parents. And it just so happens that a part of your job is talking up your children. You can’t help it as parents. And you don’t want to help it as professionals.”

  “Luckily, I won’t have to talk up my brother.”

  Farris laughed. “No, he does enough of that for himself.”

  “And his mother helps a little bit.” Lera hugged him. “Good luck.”

  “I don’t need luck. She’s my mother.” He narrowed his eyes at her. “Unless you know something I don’t.”

  “I was talking about your mood, idiot. Besides, it’s normal courtesy to wish good luck before an important meeting. No matter with whom.”

  “Maybe I will need luck. She’s been keeping herself more shielded than usual today. Wonder why… Eh, I’ll find out in a couple of minutes. She’s probably training or studying something new. You’re seeing her later today?”

  “Tomorrow.”

  Farris raised an eyebrow.

  “She said to push it for a day. I didn’t inquire.”

  “Alright… I’ll keep you updated afterwards.”

  “Please don’t. Just let Basil write me a one-page summary.”

  “I’ll think about it. Good luck with Lady Smith.”

  “I don’t need luck with the mother of my daughter’s best friend.”

  “Well said.” Farris smiled at her before closing the door behind him.

  That’s half today’s work done, then, he thought as he started making his way towards his mother’s wing. Or is it only a third? Doesn’t matter. The day’s definitely not half over. It’s going to be a long night. Maybe I ought to just skip sleeping. Get a head start on tomorrow. He grimaced, wondering which part of him made him consider the possibility. Was it the part that demanded excellence and diligence? An unwavering devotion to his duties and role? Or was it the more selfish part that every elf, no matter how virtuous, had? That didn’t want to him to sleep, simply because that risked dreaming?

  Just as he was about to shake his head and dispel this pointless meandering, his defenses triggered, opening his Sight automatically. It was due to an in-world request for communication from Carai Shoga, the Ruler currently appointed with overseeing Web Communications. Someone was trying to call him? He weaved a hole in his defenses, guiding her threads through and allowing her to establish a connection. Only audio, though. He didn’t want to bother with expanding energy in order to maintain a constant, and non-headache-inducing, visual feed. Maintaining audio connection while moving was already annoying. It would be so much simpler if they all used phones, of course. The network was just as secure, built exactly like the one used by his Terran counterparts. But, unlike the Terrans, the Sarechi had Rulers to spare, so why not put them to work, right?

  “Carai?” he answered her magical query.

  “Greetings general. We have an incoming call from New Point Academy on New Terra. Colonel Dan Ritter requests a meeting with you as soon as possible.”

  “Ritter? New Point?” Oh right, Basil said that he returned. So is this good news? Or did he give up again? “Did he say what he wanted to talk to me about?” Farris asked.

  “No. Just that he was sure you would consider it urgent as well.”

  “That’s what they all say… Well, Dan Ritter doesn’t, actually. Alright. Tell him that I can’t talk right now, but I’ll call him back in a couple of hours.”

  “Yes sir. I’ll make sure they keep a line open in New Point.”

  With a meaningless nod, Farris disconnected the call. He had just passed the mark to his mother’s wing of the palace, as evident by the complete lack of any officials, servants, or guards roaming the halls. His mother liked to keep to herself nowadays. And she didn’t need any servants, as she could keep the rooms clean by sheer force of will. Nor she did need any officials, because she had no official position; no authority and rank that required receiving information or giving orders. That was bullshit, of course. The real reason was that she didn’t need any help in order to receive information or give orders. And guards were, of course, unnecessary. As the only other being that could threaten a Chosen was another Chosen. And an enemy Chosen that wanted to have a go at the Queen Mother would have to go through Bladestorm at Sourae.

  Even two portals away, Farris could sometimes see ripples of the Chosen’s presence. Markos Falvan had decided that life in the kingdom’s sit of power didn’t suit him in his advanced rank. So he retired to his family estate—family world, really—shortly after shocking the Web by becoming a Chosen. Farris couldn’t complain, and neither did most other Rulers (and government officials). The younger Chosen’s retreat had allowed both the civilian and military administration of the kingdom to function (mostly) without being affected by the inevitable power struggle that would’ve resulted by two Chosen hanging around Larsus (and for Rulers, having just the one Chosen to avoid looking at was already a hassle).

  He had no idea how the Imperials and ningani managed to get things done with multiple Chosen in the same world. Well, he had no idea how the Imperials did it, at least. Because the ningani didn’t get much work done. At least not as much as they should’ve. Of course, maybe he should be thankful that ningani history resulted in the creation of three competing great clans instead of just the one ruling clan. Who knows if he would’ve still been born a prince if the ningani hadn’t had infighting to go along with their spread south and attempted spread north. Still, they were getting better. Even the Chosen. By all accounts, Kasrak was positively tripartisan. Although, much to the dismay of his clan, apparently.

  A short walk carried him all the way through the empty corridors to his mother’s actual residence. If he was stupid enough to open his Sight this close to her, he would be able to see the patchwork system of artificial threads that were the only thing keeping this part of the palace in the acceptable condition for a place of royal residence. It was a win-win situation as far as his family was concerned. The monarchy didn’t have to spend the money renovating the area (originally built by Farris the Great, demolishing it was out of the question), and his mother got to live in the most secluded spot in all of Larsus. Farris also got something out of that. Fellow Rulers were much more amenable to dealing with just him. Approaching a Chosen was already a scary ordeal, approaching a Chosen who willfully chose to seclude herself from elven contact?

  He knocked on the great gem-studded doors and they opened without any of the creaks and grating that should’ve followed. They closed behind him just the same, leaving him in an empty reception hall. It was easy to forget that all aspects of elven life had to start in what the modern elf would call a primitive state. And even though Farris was much closer in time to his eponymous ancestor than Farris the Great was to the first elves, the architects of both periods would be considering complete idiots by today’s professionals. Or maybe that was just the result of a king giving his builders unlimited budget and no oversight. He knew very well just how idiotic today’s experts could be if given those two things.

  The much too long climb through the narrow, idiotically placed and completely unnecessary steps brought him to yet another reception hall. This one much smaller and almost functional. The door to his mother’s waiting room was already open, so he stepped in without a thought. That was a mistake. His mother seemed to be in the midst of one of her favorite hobbies, making high-level, combat appropriate weapons from scratch. She put the blade aside when he came in, letting it disappear a second later, and got up with her usual half-smile to greet him. It took Farris until the second step to notice that there was another person in the room.

  Sitting opposite his mother, drinking from a small, exquisitely carved ivory cup, was the real Hero of Shallenet, and quite possibly the most dangerous person on this side of the Web. He felt himself almost frozen in space as the eyes of Devoha of the Voice turned to regard him. As their gazes met, the Silent Seer’s lips curved, and she gave him a small nod, reclining her unadorned head before returning to her drink.