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Rise of the Archon: Book 3, Chapter 31
🕑 Added 2026-01-13 09:09:47 +0000 UTCAmelia wasn't sure why she'd come to this banquet, but she was quickly regretting it.
Well, that wasn't entirely true if she was honest with herself. She'd come for two reasons, both of which had caused her no shortage of irritation.
First, Julian had insisted she attend. He'd reiterated time and again that her attendance was all but mandatory and that skipping such an event would reflect poorly on herself, her family, and the Academy. She wasn't the strongest third-year apprentice; That honor remained with Sophia Estton, but she was close enough that her absence would stick out.
The second was Leon.
They'd grown close over the years. Too close, even. Leon was handsome, charming, kind, intelligent, and had grown more mature and driven these past few years. Some of his good nature had dulled, but in its place had arisen a focus he'd not possessed when she first met him. He'd made no secret about his interest in her, and she knew a relationship with him could be good. Hell, it might even be great.
But it had never felt quite right, despite her best efforts at convincing herself otherwise.
The two of them stood on the third floor, drinks in hand, as they took a break from socializing. They'd been forced to intermingle, something she didn't usually find quite so irritating, but lately it was stiffling. Still, as with so many things, it was expected of her.
She'd had dates to events such as these before, but a part of her thoughts went back to the banquet she'd attended in her first year. Vayne had been...different. Not always good, but different still. And, even if it didn't make sense, she'd been drawn to him in a way that she just wasn't with Leon.
"Want to dance?" Leon asked aloud, jarring Amelia from her thoughts.
"What?" Amelia said. "Oh, ah—"
"There you are!" a voice said from behind them.
Amelia and Leon turned to see Simon walking towards them with Sophia just a few steps behind. The Estton heiress had the same flat, disinterested expression as usual, but Simon seemed torn between anxious and happy.
"Simon," Leon said with a smile. "Sorry, I know you wanted to stick together, but duty called. How's your night gone?"
"You guys didn't hear?" Simon asked.
"Hear what?" Leon said.
Simon opened his mouth to reply, but before he could, his gaze wandered over a nearby railing and down onto the main floor. His eyebrows drew down, and he muttered, "What the..."
Amelia followed his gaze and, in seconds, found the source of his confusion. A group of apprentices, maybe fifteen in total, was leaving the ballroom. They ranged from third to fifth years, and she recognized several as prestigious, talented, and powerful mages with bright futures ahead of them. Why would they leave, and why so many at once?
"Now, isn't that a sight?" Leon muttered, turning towards her. "What do you think that's about?"
Amelia shook her head. "Not sure. What's say we go and find out?"
Leon smiled, and he nodded once. The two of them made for the nearest staircase, followed closely by Sophia and Simon. The latter continued to try to speak to them, but as they descended the stairs, the swell of music made casual conversation impossible.
The fourth of them exited the ballroom to find the group of apprentices far into the distance, making for the entrance hall. They followed the mages-in-training as they left the Academy entirely, then diverted right, walking to the rear of the building.
The night was warm and humid, just a little too much of each to be comfortable for long, but pleasant enough. Amelia cursed herself for wearing heels as her shoes sank into the soft grass and dirt, and she pulled a trickle of ice mana from her core to firm the ground beneath her feet.
In the distance, Amelia saw that someone had conjured dozens of floating golden orbs. Each was a near-perfect construct the size of her head, and the sheer light they cast off illuminated a massive section of the fields enough that it looked nearly daytime.
The four of them reached the edge of the group, which they now realized must have only been the latest to join whatever private event was occurring. Amelia tried counting, losing track after around thirty, and found herself wondering more than ever what the hell had drawn so many people.
Leon must have felt the same, as he walked to the nearest apprentice, a fourth-year named Duncan something or other. Amelia couldn't remember what, but knew he was a friendly enough, if somewhat lazy, man.
"Duncan," Leon said. "What's going on?"
Duncan grinned. "Flynn Sion."
"Duke Sion's son?" Leon asked.
Duncan nodded. "Apparently, he got into a disagreement with some fifth-years. Don't know all the details, but he made a wager that they couldn't best him in a duel, and wagered that if any of them did, he'd let them take one thing from his family library."
"There's more than just fifth-years here," Amelia remarked, glancing around the group.
"Yeah. Word spread about this whole thing and, well, we all just kinda wound up out here," Duncan said with a laugh. "Couldn't miss this, you know?"
Amelia glanced around the crowd again, trying to find Flynn Sion. It took her only a few seconds, but she finally spotted him at the far edge of the group, maybe fifty feet away.
She'd heard rumors about the Sion heir, from his talent to his good looks. Amelia found the latter untrue. Sure, he cut an impressive enough figure with his bright golden hair, proud smile, and white clothes marked with the sword-and-sun emblem, but he was almost too polished. That, and she could all but smell the ego from here.
The former, however, undersold him if anything. Sion's light mana burned like a star, strong enough that she found it almost unpleasant to focus on his aura for longer than a few seconds.
Flynn Sion was speaking with two other nobles. One was a pale, black-haired woman, beautiful in a purple dress. Her mana hung like a looming shadow, and her face looked calm but edged with concern.
The other was a man dressed in black with dark brown hair pulled back in a short ponytail. He was facing away from them, revealing an emblem on his back worked in silver of a spear cutting across a crescent moon. She didn't recognize the sigaldry, but there were far too many families in Ferris to memorize.
Amelia reached out, running her senses along his mana, only to flinch away. His power was shrouded, enough that she found it hard to place his precise stage, but what she could sense was enough to detect that not only was he quite powerful, but, more importantly, he was familiar. Too familiar.
Flynn seemed to have finished up his conversation, nodding once to the others before sauntering off to stand in the center of the circle.
"Good evening, young mages of Ferris. Quite the crowd I've gathered. I invited only a few of you, but I can't say I didn't expect word to spread. Not every day you get a chance to measure yourself up against a Sion, I suppose!" Flynn remarked, his voice carrying confidence with a hint of mockery.
Several nobles shouted half-drunk comments, a few laughed, and one brave soul went so far as to cheer, as though Flynn had said something exciting.
Flynn waited for the brief clamor to die down before continuing, "Now, I promised you that if you won a duel against me, I'd allow you one selection from my family library. I intend to fulfill that deal, but first, I suppose I should make it clear why. You see, we Sions don't waste our time at the Academy. We prefer a personal approach to our training, one we feel has led to immeasurable success. You need not look any further than here to see the fruits of that belief, as I'm the strongest mage here by...well, a small margin, admittedly."
A few more grumbled at that, but no one openly disagreed. Amelia didn't blame them, as it was likely true. A handful of fifth-years might reach Drop, but not many, and she'd bet her life none could match up to the light mage. Just maintaining so many separate constructs at once without so much as batting an eye was already a feat beyond most adepts.
"I had initially decided to fight each of you myself, but then I spoke with my brother, and he raised a good point. He felt that it was too easy and that there was no point in holding an unwinnable challenge. But fear not, for he offered to take my place. As some added irony, he used to train here himself, though he left this school in favor of greener pastures."
The rumblings grew louder, and Amelia could feel the tension in the crowd. Their excitement had waxed at the suggestion of fighting Flynn Sion, but it was tinged with confusion. As far as most of them knew, he didn't have a brother.
But Amelia had started thinking back to Vayne's letter. She'd never read it. It had always felt too...she wasn't sure what. Yet now that she thought about it, she was pretty sure it had been sealed with golden wax and adorned with a familiar marking.
Amelia's eyes settled on the man in black, who was quietly speaking with the black-haired woman. He was the right build, and he was an Aether mage, but it couldn't be him, could it?
Flynn had begun speaking again, an insufferable smile on his face as he continued, "Now, just remember. All that stands between you and your prize is a single, solitary duel. It shouldn't be too hard to beat my brother. After all, he's only the second strongest mage here."
The dark-haired man finally turned, and Amelia got a good look at him.
Amelia had always found Vayne good-looking, but he'd grown into himself since they last met. His features had grown leaner, his eyes sharper, but there was an edge of confidence there now. His hair was longer than most nobles kept theirs, lending him an almost careless air, and he walked forward with effortless grace.
Beside her, she heard Leon take a sharp breath. Sophia's mana twitched, as though she was about to cast a spell, but no one spoke.
Well, none but Simon, who muttered under his breath, "Damnit, Vayne."
Vayne walked into the center of the circle, looking around at the collected nobles with seeming disinterest.
"Who wants to go first?" Vayne asked. His voice was a hair deeper and noticeably colder than Amelia remembered, carrying something she might call disdain.
Several nobles shifted in place, but one stepped forward from the crowd after only a moment's pause. He wore the formal attire of a fifth-year apprentice, his mana burned with the power of a Cloud-stage lightning mage, and Amelia sensed that he'd already begun preparing for battle.
"I'll take you up on that," the man said, walking to stand across from Vayne. "My name is Osmond Valemont, son of Baron and Baroness Valemont."
"Fantastic," Vayne replied flatly. "Are they dueling for you?"
Amelia saw the lightning mage tense, his posture growing rigid, and he shouted, "Upstart little—"
The man caught himself, a nasty grin crossing his face as he took a few steps back. Vayne did the same, putting maybe thirty feet between them.
Behind him, Flynn Sion had begun casting a spell which, just a second later, settled around them, forming a protective field that would prevent errant magic from sailing wide and hurting someone.
"You can begin casting whenever," Vayne said, folding his arms across his chest.
Valemont blinked. "What?"
"Begin whenever," Vayne replied, waving a hand. "I'll let you have a head start. You'll likely need it."
Amelia frowned, uncertain why Vayne was acting this way. He'd always had a bit of a prideful streak, but this went beyond overconfidence. What had happened to him?
Valemont didn't need any more of an invitation. His mana rose as he began preparing a spell, likely a classic lightning bolt, judging by the feel of his power. Slow to cast but fast to strike and as powerful as, well, a lightning bolt, Amelia knew few mages of the same stage could stop one, and, as far as she could tell, Vayne was still a Cloud.
But despite the risk, Vayne's mana remained unmoving. He made no effort to cast a spell of his own or even drop into a ready stance. In fact, Vayne looked as though he couldn't be less interested in the duel.
This apathy only seemed to enrage Osmond Valemont further. Amelia felt the lightning mage reach the point where he could've cast his spell, only to keep pushing further. Fingers of orange and yellow crackled along his arms, joining them in a dense web of power. He gathered up enough mana to char flesh and scorch bone, yet still he continued to pack in more and more energy.
Finally, Valemont raised both hands high, poised to launch his spell. His face was twisted in rage, and he stepped forward with a roar to—
The lightning mage sailed back ten feet, crashing into the wet dirt and grass. Valemont slid across the ground, his spell loosed straight up to illuminate the sky a brilliant, sunny orange-gold before dispersing into diffuse motes of lightning mana.
It took Amelia a half-second to realize that Vayne had vanished, only to reappear directly in front of Valemont. He'd slammed his hand into the lightning mage's chest hard enough to not only knock him back but disrupt the spell at the same time.
And he'd done it in less than a second.
No one spoke for several seconds, save for Osmond Valemont, who let out a string of gasping curses. He pushed himself up to one knee, a hand pressed against his chest as he glared at Vayne.
"You struck me! What kind of noble strikes with their bare hands?"
"I didn't," Vayne countered. "I used a single bit of force magic. It's not my fault that you were so preoccupied with striking me down that you didn't bother raising a defense."
With that, Vayne turned and looked over the rest of the crowd.
"Who would like to go next?"
Comments
Diarmadhi
holy aura
Matteo
Now that is a fun reintroduction!
