The ambition of the forgotten prince knows no bounds. He seeks to rise above his foes, and he has the might to crush us with his sorcery. We must seek the insight to discern his plans from the shadows and trust our guile to outwit him. We must be relentless in our pursuit of victory, even in the face of inevitable defeat. His power has a limit, and we will find it.

  Archdemon Shacharka

  instructed her loyal children as they possessed captured miners

  deep within the Cavern of the Void, Pacryle

  Solomon looked around as the soldiers brandished their weapons at him threateningly. Yet, he knew they were unlikely to make a sudden move. The stench of fear was ripe in the courtyard, a foul odour of piss and sweat. Each of Nathair’s warriors clutched their swords and spears so hard that their knuckles whitened with the strain. Except for Robert.

  “I am aware,” Solomon said, moving tauntingly forward. Robert was nearly quivering with eagerness to strike out at him. “I disobeyed King Nathair’s explicit instructions to let his daughter die after all. How was guarding my room while I was away doing your job for you?”

  “What?!” Emily said, fury and fear contorting her face. “My father ordered me abandoned?”

  “Do not listen to this child of worms, princess,” Robert said with a sneer. “He merely twists the facts to his own benefit. He was ordered to stay confined to his quarters until further notice. Our soldiers were out searching for you.”

  “His own benefit?!” Zaria said, gasping in disbelief. “Solomon is the only reason any of us here were able to return alive.”

  “That child of worms rescued my life. Without Solomon’s intervention, I would not be here now.” Emily added. “He infiltrated an enemy camp on his own, retrieved me, and escorted me to safety. He then removed the orcish threat – permanently, I think – and carried me most of the way here.”

  “The king’s orders,” Robert started to say.

  “Blast my father’s orders!” Emily said, snarling at the gasps from the soldiers. “I may not be able to countermand them but hear me now: if any harm comes to Solomon against my wishes, that individual will rue the day.”

  “Thank you for your words, princess,” Solomon said. “Unless you object, Robert, shall I return to my room? Or would you prefer for me to head to the dungeons?”

  “The law states that those accused of the heinous crime of treason against the king or the kingdom are punished by swift and immediate death,” Robert stated calmly. “Sheltering or preventing those who have committed treason from facing justice are also considered to have committed treason. That can include you too, little princess, if you choose to interfere with the kings’ order.”

  “I am not preventing anyone from delivering the kings’ justice,” Emily said. “Feel free to kill him, any of you, and I will make sure to follow up.”

  The princess walked haughtily through the guards and into the castle. Several of the king’s soldiers exchanged nervous glances as she left, not knowing what to do or where to look in this situation.

  “She shall grow into a feisty queen one day,” Solomon noted. “Anyways, Robert, what do you want to do? I am happy to fight and kill you all if that is the direction everyone prefers, but I am tired. I would like to get clean, remove my armour, and rest for a moment before the next person who wants me dead shows up.”

  A moment passed in silence, and then another. With a shrug, Solomon walked forward through the soldiers. He was quickly followed by the others in his group. The soldiers glowered malevolently at them as they made their way past. But not one approached or moved to halt them as they sought the refuge of their respective rooms. Solomon and Cortana quickly found themselves alone on the walk up to Solomon’s chambers. As they approached the door, they could see the effects of Robert’s rage when he realized that Solomon had somehow slipped out. The stone walls had slash marks from Robert’s blade, his sword’s magic powerful enough to cut through the stone with impunity.

  “Looks like he lost his cool,” Cortana said.

  “And then some from the looks of all this,” Solomon said, moving to open the broken door. On the threshold of the door, he took in the damage in the room. All the furniture had been tossed aside and hacked apart. Solomon closed his eyes with a hefty sigh and used his magic to restore the hallway, door, and furniture. “Good enough, for now, I guess.”

  “Hmm,” Cortana mused as she slipped through the doorway, leaving Solomon to close it behind them. “I think you should have left the damage for later and focused on repairing your armour. You will likely need it in short order, and your energy is not infinite.”

  “I do not know if repairing my armour and other gear is possible,” Solomon said. He looked down at the remnants he was wearing. “Actually, I am surprised the soldiers did not try their luck against me, considering how it is more or less scrap. It will be faster to forge new gear, although I will need to rely on my magic to expedite the process. I guess that using magic to create my gear does not matter anymore – it is not like anyone will forget that I can wield magic.”

  “What do you need?” Cortana asked.

  “Raw materials, mostly,” Solomon replied. “Transmuting what I need from raw magical energies is too inefficient with my current proficiency. I can use magic to gather them from the environment if needed. Still, it will use less magic to gather the materials from the warehouse and treasury instead. I will need metal, leather, cotton, and charcoal; those should be relatively easy to get from the various storerooms. Harder will be the gemstones. They will be in the treasury and under guard.”

  “I can collect the materials for you,” Cortana promised. “Where will you be forging?”

  “I will make a small forge in the trees next to the pond where I gave Zaria advice on summoning and controlling her water elementals,” Solomon said.

  With their duties assigned, they went about their various tasks. Cortana exited the room and walked down the hallways to collect the materials. Meanwhile, Solomon walked to the stone wall and pushed a stone to unlock the hidden door and enter a secret passageway. He ran through the dusty corridors and dodged around cobwebs, making his way down narrow stairs. It was a short wander from the underground to a courtyard exit to the training grounds. The forested area of the stream was well chosen for its secluded nature. No guards would spot his work from within the castle towers or as they patrolled along the walls. The trees were close enough together to provide cover while not being at risk for fire.

  Solomon knelt on the soft grass and summoned forth his power. He needed to form a sunken stone forge with high walls and capped with a curved smokestack to retain heat and soot. Solomon started by creating the recessed soil and developed it into a polished stone surface over a meter thick and over two meters in diameter. He then raised eight stone pillars from the base, curving them to meet and twirl at the top while retaining an opening from which the smoke could funnel. Finally, he pulled fine strands of granite and crystal from the ground and heated them to molten temperatures. While the minerals were in molten form, Solomon quickly moulded them around the pillars with his magic… creating thick and temperature-proof glass walls for his forge.

  He had made the forge walls as transparent as he could, yet they glimmered with a multicolour radiance. Viens of different colour materials tinted the glass. Solomon needed to clearly see the materials as he manipulated the metals during the forging process with his magic. At the same time, Solomon would need to maintain reinforcement magic to prevent the forge from shattering. Solomon would have used his magic only to enhance his capabilities under normal circumstances. He would have heated the metal in a furnace and pounded it on an anvil so that he could truly feel the strength of the creation while also giving it a look and feel of being forged without magic.

  Unfortunately, the timeline for this task would not enable him the luxury of manual involvement. Speed and precision were vital to completing the new armour before King Nathair’s henchmen summoned Solomon to account for his actions. As Cortana approached, he wrapped up the forge’s creation, carrying heavy sacks filled with various materials. She moved quickly and efficiently to retrieve all Solomon had asked for. The maid placed the bags on the ground next to him and left to keep watch. Solomon summoned forth flame in the forge’s centre and waited for the heat in the furnace to rise. Slowly, the furnace’s ground became molten, and the embedded anvil glowed with the fury of molten fire.

  “Cortana,” Solomon called out.

  From the shadows, the maid seemed to materialize. “Yes, my lord?”

  “Please separate and sort the materials into piles. I will be working with everything using my magic, so it will be best if each type of material is visible near the forge.” Solomon said. “Once you are done, I would appreciate it if you would find and monitor Zaria for me – she is likely to try and find me.”

  “As you wish,” Cortana stated with ill humour.

  A few minutes passed while Solomon concentrated on manipulating the heat and flames within his forge. Once the forge had reached the right temperature, Solomon used his magic to pull the required material in – coal and iron to make steel. Using magic sped the process up substantially over traditional forging, creating an epic song of ice and fire. For two and a half hours, he worked until the task was finished. Solomon had forged his new armour.

  Its appearance was like Solomon’s original gear, yet each piece was intrinsically more robust and elegant. Magic enabled Solomon to reduce the size of each chainmail link and thread cotton and silk throughout the weave in ways that were impossible for a regular human working by hand. Each armour link had been imbued with strength and fortitude during the forging process, resulting in more powerful enchantments than before.

  Kneeling, Solomon said a short prayer. “Kruonis, goddess of time. Give this armour your blessing that it may endure the rigours of time.”

  The voice of the goddess echoed within his mind. “It is so blessed.”

  Pleased, Solomon donned his armour. The armour fit snugly yet let his body breathe. Looking at his former outfit’s shattered rags, Solomon used his magic to pull the remaining daggers from it and place them in their new sheathes. He lacked time to forge a sword, so the smaller blades would need to do for the time being. Solomon could compensate by summoning Morgana in sword form if required. The sun had moved across the sky – the king would be after him by now. Solomon took a steadying breath and started to walk to the audience chamber.

  Chrysame and Telesilla met him as he entered the castle from the courtyard. Telesilla spoke first. “Cortana said that we would find you if we waited here.”

  “I see,” Solomon said. “What is with the solemn faces?”

  “The king has demanded that you face trial for your crimes,” Chrysame answered. “Lord Ulric has acquiesced to the request; the court is already in session as we speak.”

  Solomon nodded. Ulric was responsible for handing out the kings’ justice as a lord ruling over a sizable domain. Solomon was entitled to a hearing rather than a summary execution like an ordinary commoner due to Solomon’s relationship with Ulric and their shared history. Yet, Solomon knew that Robert’s earlier statement would hold true. The trial would be a theatre performance.

  “Let us not keep them waiting,” Solomon said.

  Together the three of them headed to the audience chamber. All of Ulric’s family and the king’s entourage were in the room. As they entered, Lord Ulric took note.

  “I have heard the evidence as provided by members of my own household, Zaldimere from the college of mages, the princess, and the lord general,” Ulric said. “Solomon, you are late, but how do you plead to the charges and allegations levied upon you? The penalty of your transgressions is death.”

  “I plead not guilty,” Solomon said nonchalantly. He was not concerned about what the charges were – he knew it did not matter. His existence was a nuisance to Nathair, and the king would influence any discussion toward his desired result.

  Robert huffed loudly from the room’s edge, attracting dirty looks from Zaria, Zaldimere, and Kastytis. Ulric let the distraction pass without comment.

  “The evidence is overwhelmingly not in your favour. Are you sure that you do not have anything to add?” Ulric said.

  “I do not,” Solomon said. “I demand trial by combat.”

  Gasps of surprise and outrage passed quickly through the onlookers. Trial by combat was rare, usually invoked by those poor desperate souls on the brink of despair. Nobles backed into a corner by their schemes falling apart were the most frequent invokers of the combat trial or those with no hope of winning a trial by court. King Nathair stood with unmasked anger and rage on his face for all to see, his hatred of Solomon clear. His archpriest Irving and archmage Incinera looked displeased, while Robert seethed with hatred that could rival Nathair’s.

  “I appoint Robert as representative of the crown,” Nathair said. “Do not fail me, Robert. Kill him before the eyes of the gods and eliminate the threat he represents.”

  “And who will represent you, Solomon?” Ulric asked, a hint of a smile gracing his face. He already knew what the response would be.

  “I shall represent myself,” Solomon said, flourishing his daggers.

  “Then may the gods grant their judgement swiftly,” Ulric said. “With both parties present for trial by combat, we will begin immediately. Clear the court of all but those who would witness the outcome.”

  “Incinera, create a portal for us – we are returning to the capital,” Nathair said. Incinera walked up to the door to the throne room and murmured a short phrase. The king continued, this time addressing Lord Ulric. “Lord Ulric, even if Solomon is proven innocent under his victory before the eyes of the gods, it is my wish that he be fined ten thousand gold coins with payment due within a year.”

  “My king, that is a princely ransom,” Lord Ulric said, aghast. “Trial by combat should resolve the question of Solomon’s guilt, so why would we leverage such a fine against him?”

  “While the trial can absolve him of the guilt of his treasonous actions, that does not resolve all matters.” Nathair said. “The dead can pay no tribute, but the living can. I require this fine as a penalty for Solomon concealing his abilities without lawful registration. And for his actions that have brought harm down on our kingdom.”

  “The portal is prepared, my king,” Incinera said. The court mage stood next to the doorway as the door shimmered with the power of translocation magic. Solomon’s eyes eagerly devoured the intricates of the complicated spell. Seeing Solomon’s interest, Incinera said, “Do not bother trying to learn how to cast this spell through observation.”

  “Why?” Solomon asked.

  “It required preparation before us leaving the King’s palace,” Incinera replied. “This spell is known as a prepared or fixed teleport and functions as a tunnel of sorts between two known locations. An anchor is needed to bind the spell.”

  “So, you are the anchor here, and you have an item or gemstone active as an anchor in the palace?” Solomon said. “I wonder if you could replicate the remote anchor with spirit vision or remote eyes and bind the two portal locations. It would be useful for short-distance travel across difficult terrain.”

  Reading on this site? This novel is published elsewhere. Support the author by seeking out the original.

  “An interesting thought.” Incinera mused. “Few mages are capable enough to maintain two spells at once, though, let alone the strength to power the magic. Still, the military uses of such a spell structure are myriad. Once created, a portal requires very little power to maintain it.”

  “That would have been useful earlier,” Emily said to Solomon. “Then you would not have been so wounded during my rescue, and it would have been a simpler matter to use a magical gate to return.”

  “A little late now.” Solomon laughed as King Nathair stormed through the portal with Irving. He was quickly followed by the queen and princess as they were escorted through by the guards. Incinera hung back a moment.

  “Robert, when you wish to leave, just break the enchanted token you carry for emergencies. When you return from this duel, I will give you a new token.” Incinera said. “The token is bound to the throne room, so you will be brought before the king instantaneously to let us know the results of the duel. Try not to die.”

  Incinera walked through the portal, and the shimmer faded away. Robert looked peeved by the mage. The general readied his shield and drew his blade.

  “Lord Ulric, let’s get this over with,” Robert said.

  Ulric cleared his throat. “Solomon. By the laws of the land and the right of the king, you have been accused of treason and chosen trial through combat against the representative of the crown. The results of this trial will determine how you will pay for your crimes – death or a tribute of ten thousand gold coins, payable within a year. Is this acceptable to you?”

  “Do I have a choice?” Solomon asked. After a moment of harsh silence, he sighed. “I suppose not. I accept these terms with the goddess as my witness.”

  “Goddess?” Ulric said, momentarily surprised. “Although I consider you a valued guest, a dedicated ally, and stalwartly friend, I shall show you no mercy here before the eyes of the gods. Over the past few days, you have shown all of us your dedication to your duty and the strength of your arms. And a lack of foresight or intelligence in how to conduct yourself fittingly. May the gods judge you fairly.”

  Everyone except Ulric, Solomon, and Robert left the room. Zaria and Kastytis looked particularly concerned, whereas Zaldimere, Felix, and Caroline looked neutral. Many would benefit from Solomon’s death here.

  “I would ask for a moment to pray,” Solomon said.

  “Pray?” Robert practically spat the word. “I oppose. We should end your life now.”

  Ulric sighed. “It is his right, and yours as well, Robert, to offer a prayer to the gods before the trial. Solomon, you may pray.”

  Robert snarled, readying himself at one end of the room. He needed no time to pray, for he did not believe in any god other than his king and sword. Today was his day to be judge, jury, and executioner.

  “Goddess,” Solomon said, kneeling on his end of the room. “Guide my blades. Let me strike fast and true. Let my arms not falter. Let me be thy champion, thy avatar of vengeance.”

  As Solomon prayed, he could feel the eyes of his goddess upon him, felt her breath on his nape, the pressure of her hands on his shoulders. All his fatigue and pain seemed to melt away as her power washed over him and refreshed Solomon’s resolve.

  “I am ready,” Solomon said, drawing a dagger to each hand. He had not had time to forge or repair a sword and was not about to ask for one now. His smaller blades would do.

  Ulric took stock of both combatants. “By the grace of the gods, begin.”

  Robert dashed forward without hesitation. His sword led his charge as he swung his blade at Solomon. Still kneeling, Solomon caught the downward blow with his daggers, locking the contestants together. Solomon felt the raw strength of Roberts’ impact and knew it would have been a decisive strike against most opponents. Robert’s face expressed his surprise as Solomon shrugged the strike to the side before launching a counterattack. Solomon battered Roberts’ sword to the side. He used his daggers to repeatedly strike the general’s blade and shield with great force, each strike causing a resounding thud against Robert’s guard. Robert’s shield started to show wear quickly under the endless punishment.

  Grunting, Robert pushed back against Solomon’s whirlwind of dagger strikes. Robert threw the ruined shield at Solomon and caused the inexperienced warrior to instinctively guard himself. Blocking the shield also blocked Solomon’s vision. Robert slashed at Solomon’s side in the opening, but his blade could not pierce Solomon’s armour so easily. Robert backed away as his shield hit the ground.

  “You are wearing good armour,” Robert said.

  “Forged it myself less than an hour ago,” Solomon replied. “I did not have time to make a sword, though, so I have a few regrets.”

  “Foresight. Impressive.” Robert said. He placed both his hands on his sword, edging to the side. Robert’s advantages were his blade’s reach, years of battle-tested training, and his opponent’s inexperience.

  Solomon was faster and possessed skills far more robust than Robert. Years of going against Kastytis in the training yard and exposure to wild animals and bandits in the woods had forced Solomon to adapt to any scenario. And Solomon could use an array of magic abilities that would likely challenge Incinera’s capabilities to hold him back. Given the opponent and the charges against him, Solomon knew that although offensive magic was traditionally not permitted during a trial by combat, it was not explicitly ruled out. Magicians also quarrelled, and the law needed to account for battles between magicians. If he leveraged his magical abilities, it would call into question the trial results, given Robert’s handicap in a mage duel. So Solomon would need to avoid the use of any invocations of arcane power. He needed to avoid association with further violations of either traditions or the king’s law if he wanted to live in some semblance of peace.

  Robert swung his blade at Solomon, rejoining their combative dance. The combat ebbed and flowed, their blades intertwining in a deadly steel weave. Ulric watched as each warrior gained and lost the advantage in their fight, reminded of his own fighting days alongside the Empress.

  Then something changed. Solomon started to gain ground without losing the advantage. Robert began to become out of breath and was favouring his left side. Solomon pressed his advantage with a burst of speed and thrust past Roberts’ guard to nick the general in his chest. Rather than exclaim in pain, the general seized hold of Solomon with one arm and took a one-handed swipe at Solomon with his free arm. He had faked his exhaustion and injury to draw Solomon out and trap him in this move.

  Fear and fury occupied Solomon’s thoughts as the blade closed in on his hand. He felt power flowing through his veins as Roberts’ blade struck the back of Solomon’s hand and glanced off without any sign of injury. He had once more managed to break through the curse that suppressed his dragonkin heritage. Solomon shrugged Robert off and reset his battle stance.

  Robert’s fear was palpable, his very stance tense. He huffed, out of breath and winded from the exchange. “How did you do that?”

  “Your angle was off,” Solomon said.

  The two faced off again, this time with Robert treating Solomon with considerably more respect. Robert hesitated to reengage the fight, and Solomon seized the initiative, striking forward with both daggers. Robert dodged Solomon’s left push and blocked his right. The force of stopping the blow nearly tore Robert’s blade from his hands. Robert grimaced but moved to advance. They each sought the advantage over the other, a whirling dance of steel and flesh. Soon Ulric could barely follow their fight as both fighters sped up – Solomon, with the innate power from his heritage and Robert from magical items he started to draw upon whenever the fight was going poorly.

  After a particularly fierce exchange, Robert jumped back angrily and looked at his most recent wound. “You are using magic.”

  Ulric spoke up. “That is quite the accusation when you are leveraging enchanted armour consistently to gain an edge over him in combat, lord general. I can assure you; Solomon has not cast a single spell yet.”

  “It is just rigorous training,” Solomon mumbled, slightly nervous. If the duel was ruled invalid, he would be sentenced to immediate execution. Temporary imprisonment and fines were far more manageable than a death sentence and a life in exile.

  “Ridiculous,” Robert snarled. “No human can move like this.”

  The statement sounded in the room like the crack of a whip, a vibrant mix of triumph and doom. The king had done his best to purge the dragonkin bloodline from existence. Yet, they remained on the fringes of society, known only through whispered rumours.

  Robert surged forward once more, pouring his anger and frustration into each blow. In between each strike, Solomon steadily gained ground on his more experienced opponent. For Solomon, this battle was more than just a trial by combat to refute the charges against him. It was also a test of his own mastery over the curse that suppressed his powers. Solomon was better able to bend the curse to his will with each passing moment, accessing his innate abilities while maintaining his human form.

  “How many people have you killed?” Solomon asked Robert, dodging an overhead slash. “Hundreds? Thousands? I have yet to take the life of another human being unless you count my actions against other races. I may have accidentally committed genocide of thousands of orcs and similar races while rescuing the princess. Still, I have always done my best to save the lives of others with little thought of the consequences to my own life.”

  “I have killed many,” Robert said. “I do not know or care how many.”

  “And that is the real issue here,” Solomon said, blocking Roberts’ horizontal slash and slicing into Roberts’ sword with his daggers, ruining the edge of the blade. “Whether or not I am dragonkin never really mattered to you. The claim was merely an excuse to kill me off and prevent me from being a future threat.”

  “So what?” Robert shouted, throwing his ruined blade at Solomon. He yanked a scroll from a pouch at his side and activated its magic. A new sword appeared in his hand, perfectly honed and ready for continuing the fight. He ignored Lord Ulric’s protest as he whipped a small object at Solomon. Solomon instinctively blocked the vial, shattering it with his daggers.

  Roaring flames erupted all over Solomon, burning him alive. Gritting his teeth, Solomon disengaged from Robert to assess the damage. The deceptive attack would have likely killed him if not for the piece of Cortana’s soul he had consumed. The fragment had increased Solomon’s command over fire in all its forms and significantly boosted his natural resistances. Even in his human form, it had protected him from enough damage that he had managed to survive – even if he had been badly burned.

  Robert charged forward, closing the gap between the two combatants. Solomon weakly raised his dagger to block the blow when he felt his prayer to his goddess trigger. The damage from the conflagration vial disappeared, removed through a temporal rewind of the attack. Solomon pushed back, temporarily leveraging his full dragonkin strength to throw Robert to his knees.

  “Not using magic, eh?” Robert said, glaring at Lord Ulric.

  “You referring to the removal of the damage from your illegal attack with that enchanted vial?” Solomon asked. “Technically, that was not magic.”

  Robert sneered at Solomon. “What was it then?”

  “I prayed to my goddess at the start of this fight,” Solomon said. “Her blessing reversed your attack, healing me and refreshing my strength. It triggered automatically, needing no action on my part.”

  “Which is completely different to your usage of a magic scroll to replace your damaged weapon or that magic vial,” Ulric said to Robert. “This is a trial by combat before the eyes of the gods. Stop making the trial into a mockery.”

  Robert’s nostrils flared angrily, but he left his thoughts unsaid. He dove at Solomon, sword tip leading the way. Solomon dodged, weaving strikes back at the Lord General. Yet neither could gain the advantage over the other.

  Slowly a plan formed in Solomon’s mind. Since unleashing his full dragonkin power in the trial would not be advantageous, an alternative approach could be viable. Kastytis had taught him in combat that against an evenly matched or superior enemy, one could achieve victory by letting the other combatant have the advantage. Absent his magic and other advantages, Solomon could leverage his excellent agility to draw Robert in and then counter.

  Solomon intentionally started to move slightly slower as they wove back and forth. Each block and every dodge were increasingly off or late as Solomon, bit by bit, gave Robert the advantage. Finally, Solomon feinted overplaying his hand with a last-ditch surge attack, and Robert stabbed forward. The attack grazed Solomon’s side, but the younger warrior leveraged his agility to barely dodge the strike. A mere moment later, Solomon’s daggers were resting on Robert’s shoulders, perfectly positioned to remove the Lord General’s head.

  Robert froze as the edge of the two daggers drew a thin bead of blood from his neck. Resetting his stance, Solomon spoke up. “I think this match is over.”

  Robert snarled angrily and spoke bitterly. “Yes, I concede before your skill. The gods have seen that you are vindicated of the accusations against you. Yet, in mortal eyes, you have still committed wrongs under our laws.”

  “I am the judge of that under our laws.” Lord Ulric said. “Through trial by combat, Solomon, you have emerged victorious against the representative of the crown. Therefore, as a neutral representative of the kingdom, I, Lord Ulric Wolfsbane, clear you of the charge of treason – removing the death sentence placed upon you.”

  “Thank you, my Lord,” Solomon said.

  “That does not free you from the other charges against you.” Lord Ulric said sternly. “Under the kings’ rule, it has been established that individuals must register with the appropriate guild for training and pursue only a single specialty. The king has set a fine of ten thousand gold coins for failing to accurately register your skills with the appropriate governing bodies. The fine enforces the typical one thousand gold penalty per failed guild registration, five hundred gold to register you with the various guilds, and two thousand five hundred gold for your permit to train as a mageknight.”

  “That was not precisely the wording the king used,” Robert muttered, disgruntled.

  “You are right. It is not King Nathair’s precise wording but rather the closest interpretation I can have based on our laws.” Lord Ulric said to Robert. He turned to Solomon. “I believe I already know the answer to this, but do you have ten thousand gold coins?”

  “No,” Solomon said.

  “Do you have two thousand gold coins?” Lord Ulric asked.

  “No,” Solomon said.

  “Then let it be known that you are to be held in the cells in the dungeons here until you can pay bail of two thousand gold coins. This bail is set at a rate of twenty percent of the total fine. You are expected to pay the total fine within twelve months of sentencing, or a minimum of two thousand five hundred gold coins per three-month period.” Lord Ulric announced. “If you cannot pay the minimum rate, then you will be executed as per our laws. In the interest of impartiality, I am banning any member of my household from assisting you. This restriction is due to your close connection to my family.”

  “Less than ideal but sufficient for now,” Robert said. “Without help from Lord Ulric, there is little hope for a peasant to garner the needed funds from within a cell.”

  “Clearly, you have not met Solomon’s personal household.” Lord Ulric said. “I would not be surprised if Cortana’s help alone is enough for Solomon to pay the funds.”

  “What can one little maid do?” Robert sneered.

  “Quite a bit,” Lord Ulric said with a twisted smile. “I may have initially permitted Solomon to stay in the keep as a guest, but he started to pay his own way early on. Nowadays, it is thanks to his efforts that the area is flourishing. He is the primary donor for the orphanages and schools in the city – it is also why he does not have the coinage for bail. He brought Cortana into his household early on. She is an archmage-class fire mage, capable of incredible feats in her own rights. Cortana typically accompanies Solomon as a maid and guard while he leverages his skills to help those in need.”

  “Impossible. I doubt that Incinera would have missed such a powerful spell caster.” Robert said. “Wait, is she the one who taught Solomon magic?”

  “No,” Solomon said. “Lord Ulric’s phrasing was explicit. Cortana is an archmage-class fire mage only, and she cannot use any type of magic that is not rooted in some way to fire magic. That said, she is very creative.”

  “Should you not be in your cell?” Robert sneered.

  “I will head there shortly,” Solomon said. “Would you like me to open a gateway back to the palace for you? Or did you want to leverage Incinera’s token?”

  “Did you not pay attention to Incinera earlier?” Robert said. “There is no way for you to create such a gateway.”

  Solomon grinned at Robert, raising his hand and focusing on the doorway Incinera used earlier. Robert and Incinera were technically correct that he could not create a gateway to the palace from scratch. But nothing prevented Solomon from reopening the gateway using the traces of magic left by Incinera’s gateway. Solomon had the satisfaction of hearing Lord Ulric and Robert gasp as the gateway flickered back to life.

  “Feel free to return to your master,” Solomon said.

  With a hard look at both Lord Ulric and Solomon, Robert stormed through the portal. Smiling, Solomon closed it before any trouble came back through it. Both Lord Ulric and Solomon breathed a sigh of relief. Catching each other’s eyes, they both began to laugh.

  “That was well done, Solomon.” Lord Ulric said. “I thought you would die more than once during that fight – hell, every day that King Nathair was here, I kept thinking he would kill you off.”

  “I am glad to be alive,” Solomon said. “But I suspect my hope for a peaceful life is forever out of my reach.”

  “You could not be more right about that, I am afraid,” Lord Ulric said. “The fact remains that your skills are forbidden. And none of them will soon forget that you exist.”

  “I can understand that, especially after embarrassing both the king and the lord general. I will need to find a way to be lost from their view.” Solomon said with a sigh. “It seems that I will be an exile in principle at a minimum, despite winning my freedom from their death sentence.”

  “Speaking of your victory,” Lord Ulric said. “You are dragonkin, are you not? When his sword struck your hand, your hand was sparkling. Very similar to Empress Ausrine when she was in combat.”

  “Yes,” Solomon said quietly. “A curse placed on me helps to camouflage my true nature, enabling me to appear as a regular human.”

  “Interesting. I was sent here by the Empress before her death, and I was supposed to protect her children and possibly smuggle them out from the country.” Lord Ulric told Solomon. “In the event of an emergency, the Empress intended to use magic to translocate both of her children here. I waited, but no one appeared until I found you wandering the forest one day.”

  “What are you saying?” Solomon asked.

  “Nothing, I suppose,” Ulric said. “If anything, I am just voicing my own suspicions.”

  “I think I will head to my cell now,” Solomon said.

  “That will be much appreciated,” Lord Ulric said. “I am sure that you will not be there long… Prince Kruonis, son of Empress Ausrine.”

  Solomon shivered at the name. For some reason, it felt sacrilegious. He paused as he was leaving the room. “My name is Solomon, son of none.”

  The cells were more miserable than Solomon had anticipated. He had never been bothered with visiting the dungeons, but they were dark, damp, and cold. Even the guards were miserable down here and frequently took their frustrations out on whatever vagabonds were being held in the cells. The screams of petty thieves and bandits echoed in the hallways.

  “I do not understand why you are staying down here,” Zaria said. Nearly as soon as Solomon had picked out a cell and gotten the guards to let him in, Zaria came to visit him. “I would leave if I were you.”

  “You are technically correct. I could just walk away from this miserable situation and go into exile.” Solomon said. “What do you think the king would do to Lord Ulric and his entire household if I escaped or failed to adhere to the conditions the king has set down?”

  Zaria quieted at that. “He would probably kill us all, would he not?”

  “Yes,” Solomon said. “I would not put it past them to burn the entire city to the ground while they are at it.”

  “Stay safe,” Zaria said. “I will visit as often as I can.”

  As Zaria walked away, Solomon made himself comfortable in his cell. He knew that without divine intervention, he would be there a while. Thankfully, nothing about the cell stopped him from using his magic to make his cell more comfortable by drying the ground and warming the air. Nor did it prevent him from wandering in astral form and learning more about his power and heritage.