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Cataclysm Rising | Chapter 73: The Black Knight
🕑 Added 2025-12-24 03:12:42 +0000 UTCAylar did not need to look to know her people were watching her.
The Haelfenn Court rarely moved as one—not openly—but their attention aligned with a predator’s instinct toward survival when the hierarchy that defined them was threatened. Leonidas had crossed a threshold that could not be uncrossed, and by virtue of proximity, association, and her Royal bloodline, they would expect her to define where she stood.
It was the moment Aylar, Ceruviel, and Synthra had been waiting and hoping for.
Uriel himself stood unmoving, his judgment delivered and his role complete for the moment. The Duke of Morning did not look at her, and Aylar understood why. This was no longer a matter of law or precedent, which is what he had taken upon his shoulders as Dawn-Lord, but instead one of politics. Even his authority, effectively limitless as it was, could not decide how that force would be oriented. That responsibility fell to her, whether she desired it or not, as Princess-Royal—especially with Braedon absent.
That, though, was probably for the better. Her brother would have made a mess of things with his impulses.
Aylar drew a breath as her [Heroine’s Will] reinforced and strengthened her composure. Everyone was watching her now, after seeing the Haelfenn look to her, though it was the Terrans whose attentions were the most intense. Their gaze held no demand—not in the literal sense. It was an expectation instead, looking to her as the representative of Dawnhaven, they knew, was sympathetic to their views. They had already chosen Leonidas by force of will, and in doing so, they had implicitly chosen to support anyone who would stand beside him.
Or oppose anyone who stood against him.
Aylar stepped forward.
The motion was small, more symbolic than necessary, but it was enough to make her intention to speak clear. The subtle shift of silks accompanied her movement, and the announcement of her presence carried through the chamber.
“{As Princess-Royal of Dawnhaven,}” Aylar began with every iota of her Charisma Attribute displayed in her clear and unshaken voice, “{it is my duty to put to rest any uncertainty regarding this matter, so that you may know the view of the Crown’s bloodline.}”
She did not look at Leonidas when she spoke, though she felt his attention settle upon her. This was, despite what he might have believed, not for him—not directly. This was for the court, as a necessary check against the factions already forming among the various Haelfenn and even Nyrfenn present.
She needed to make the parameters of the upcoming political games very clear.
“{The [Knight Oath] we have witnessed today has been acknowledged by the System itself,}” Aylar continued, her voice carrying as she spoke from her diaphragm the way her mother had taught her. “{That fact places it outside the scope of rational denial. Whether we approve of its implications, people of Dawnhaven, is not the matter in question; it exists, it is valid, and cannot be refuted.}”
A murmur rippled through the Haelfenn nobles at that, though it was quickly stifled. It was not as if they could argue against what she said, even though she could see they were tempted to. To do so would be foolish at best, and ruinous at worst—nobody put themselves against the System itself without social ramifications.
Aylar pressed on before anyone could mistake her words for an invitation.
She was glad she did, because more than one half-open mouth closed when she spoke.
“{Leonidas Achilles has not declared sovereignty over Dawnhaven, nor has he claimed authority within its borders,}” she elaborated carefully, her steely gaze sweeping deliberately across the gathered aristocracy. “{To suggest otherwise, or imply some subterfuge in the act, would be disingenuous at best—manipulative and intentionally destabilizing at worst.}”
That landed where it needed to.
That’s right. Think about what I’m saying. Think, damn you, before you doom us all by your rash actions.
“{What he has declared is intent,}” Aylar said, her tone sharpening while she kept her thoughts hidden. “{Intent recognized by forces older and greater than any bloodline in this room. It is not rebellion, nor is it sedition. It is potential. However, potential, left unexamined, is what we must be wary of—what we must take measures to address.}”
She paused then, just long enough to let the words percolate, and let the court understand that she was not defending Leonidas blindly.
She was outlining the parameters within which they could navigate.
It was not within her authority, yet, to outright protect him—she could only do so much, and she knew it was certainly motivated by no small amount of self-interest. She needed him for the Rite of Ascension, now more than ever, and if this earned his gratitude, that was even better.
“{As such,}” Aylar continued while looking across them all, “{I will speak for my bloodline and support the Dawn-Lord’s judgment. While Leonidas Achilles remains within Dawnhaven, he will be subject to its laws, even if his eventual path lies beyond our jurisdiction.}”
The distinction mattered, and she saw several Haelfenn stiffen as they realized she was reinforcing Uriel’s ruling rather than contesting it.
Uriel had wanted to contain Leonidas, not make him capitulate.
Politically, it was the right move. Aylar knew that, and she supported it.
“{Furthermore,}” Aylar continued again, her voice hardening with resolve, “{as Princess-Royal, and the eldest child present of my Father the King, I recognize the legitimacy of his affiliation with House Latherian. That affiliation will be treated as binding, public, and politically relevant. Leonidas, the Black Knight of Terra, will be known henceforth as a Scion of House Latherian—as well as the legal heir of Duchess Ceruviel Latherian, should she consent.}”
At that, Ceruviel barked a laugh.
“{I consent, Your Highness,}” she said with naked glee. “{Fully and completely.}”
That reaction, more than anything else Aylar had said, shifted the balance.
House Latherian was not merely a lineage of storied standing; it was solely Ceruviel’s. To bind Leonidas to it as they had was to ensure that any move against him, great or small, became a move against one of the most dangerous Haelfar alive. The Haelfenn aristocracy understood that immediately, and Aylar saw the recalculations flicker across their faces.
It was one thing to take out an Apprentice, they realized.
It was another thing entirely to assassinate a Duchess’s legal heir.
“{This is my determination as Princess-Royal, and in the absence of a lawful Monarch, it is beyond contestation. Should any of you wish to petition a change in my stance, you may find me in the Palace at a later date.}”
With that delivered, Aylar stepped back and glanced not-so-subtly at Synthra.
Aylar had done what she could. It was the Sorceress’s turn now.
*
Synthra took a breath in when Aylar glanced at her, and then let it out again a moment later. The Princess-Royal’s words had set the stage for her nicely, weaving in a political blanket of protection for Achilles—Leonidas, she reminded herself yet again—that she could build off of. Ceruviel, when she had brought them together via Psi to discuss this plan, had been clear in her instructions: do not overcommit, but constructively exercise the Guild’s influence.
The Archon had promised to handle her Mother’s ire, in any case.
Sinalthria would likely find the entire thing hilarious anyway.
When the eyes in the room appraised her, Synthra found herself looking toward Achilles instead, weighing him with her eyes. She had hated him, then had been awed by him, and finally had found herself dreaming about him. Her mother’s words still resonated within her, as clear as the day she had uttered them in the privacy of their quiet discourse.
“{If he wants you, Synthra, make him earn it. Be the Dragon. But if he manages to conquer you…}” Sinalthria grinned in a way that made Synthra feel embarrassed just to see it. “{...make sure he knows exactly how lucky he is to have done so.}”
The words took on a deeper meaning, in that moment, than the carnal intention behind them—or perhaps she merely came to finally understand what it was her mother had been implying. When she weighed Achilles, she realized there was far more to her mother’s instruction than her initial supposition had deduced.
Lucky. Not because of her body, or her wiles, but because of her capability.
Synthra knew what she had to do.
“{My lords and ladies, merchants, citizens, and my fellow Adventurers,}” she began simply, not gifted with the eloquence of a Princess-Royal, but still more than aware enough of the verbiage needed. “{The Dawn-Lord has given his judgment, the Princess-Royal has stated the Royal lineage’s stance, and even in the absence of the Prince, I find no reason to doubt its veracity. Perhaps things will shift when Prince Braedon returns, but that is a matter of the Courts—a matter I, and the Guild I represent, have no interest in.}”
Her words drew attention at the end, when she mentioned representing the Guild. Several of the Adventurers in the room raised their eyebrows, the Nyrfenn, unassociated with the Guild, blinked in surprise, the Haelfenn nobles narrowed their eyes or frowned, and the Terrans watched her in silent appraisal. Cold. Considering. Weighing.
She had never realized how daunting the natives could be when they were silent.
“{Leonidas Achilles is, as I am sure many of you are aware, a Bronze License Adventurer. He passed the Elite Slayer Trial as the final runner-up, and proved his mettle—as an Untempered, at the time—against the best new talents the Guild had on show. That is an achievement worth remembering.}”
Here her words inspired a chorus of murmurs, and some of the Adventurers turned to Leonidas with remembrance and respect, offering him comradely nods of recognition. She knew that would impress them, and that was important. If her plan, harebrained and crackpotted as it might have been, were to succeed, she would need the tacit agreement of the Adventurers present.
Ceruviel being Adamantine-ranked was also a very beneficial ace up her sleeve.
“{The Guild’s stance has always been apolitical. You all know this. We do not involve ourselves in affairs of state, bloodline, crown, or inheritance. That is for the Courts and the Authorities of whatever land or settlement we attach ourselves to. We do not pay taxes; instead, we offer our might in service to our host nations. The Terran Branch is no different in this way.}”
Another round of agreement from the Adventurers followed, along with some fledgling surprise from the Haelfenn nobles, though the shrewder among them still seemed suspicious. It was a miracle they had stayed quiet for so long, but Synthra knew their ilk; they were already calculating and dissecting, in-between moments of leering at her. Bastards.
“{What I have seen here today, alongside my fellow Adventurers, then begs the question of what we are to do with all this information. The Guild has always been a place that nurtured talent and, in place of it, raw determination. We had never turned aside someone who proved their mettle enough to join us, nor do we throw away or discard assets that could help us in our sworn duty to protect the citizens from the dangers that lurk beyond the walls they shelter behind.}”
Here, the Adventurers made noise at last, thumping their fists to their chests or stomping their feet in approval. It was undignified, by Haelfenn standards, but it was pure in its expression—more than anything else, it was them. Unorthodox, ill-mannered, brusque, and socially ill-equipped; but honest. So very, beautifully, sincerely honest.
“{In keeping with this tradition, and in recognition of the desperate needs for Dawnhaven’s future, given the escalation of severity the world will see in terms of Monsters, Dungeons, and foes as the Integration proceeds apace—I am making an announcement, and a determination in the act. One that is coming from my Mother, Guild Mistress Sinalthria, with my voice as her proxy.}”
That stilled the murmurs and brought about a more anticipatory silence.
Her mother’s reputation was ferocious enough to demand their attention.
Some of the Adventurers looked at her with faint amusement, but blessedly said nothing. They knew her mother would likely not have signed off on a damn thing, but neither were they foolish enough to try to fight that battle. If she wanted to piss off her cantankerous matriarch, that was her noose to hang herself with, in their eyes. In that moment, she loved them for that pragmatism.
“{Before we arrived here, on Terra, there was a system in place within the Guild to catalogue and track those that were considered to be of critical importance, not just to the Guild, but to the world at large and the safety of those within it. The Guild has always sought to watch over these individuals—to help them grow, evolve, and advance in Tiers.}”
She could see the realization dawning on some of them now, though a glance at Achilles showed the Terran watching her with something between mild confusion and wary caution.
He is so careful about not being under anyone’s thumb, she observed in her mind. No wonder Ceruviel values him so highly. He has a ferocious love for his freedom.
Synthra ignored the flutter of approval that was elicited from her primal draconic nature and forged ahead.
“{As such, given what has transpired in the Arena, as well as following the Dawn-Lord’s recognition and his political adoption by the Dusk-Lord, we of the Adventurers’ Guild are hereby declaring the Bronze License Holder, Leonidas Achilles, as a Strategic Keystone Agent. In keeping with that tradition, we will also formalize his title: Leonidas Achilles, of House Latherian, the Black Knight of Dawnhaven.}”
She ignored the immediate eruption of curses from some in the room, as well as the gasps and murmurs from both Adventurers and civilians alike, and forged ahead.
“{This classification, besides the official title, carries certain implications, as some of you may know. Guild members are now authorized, within the scope of our policies, to prioritize his survival during field operations. Any information regarding threats against him, or those in his party, will be escalated directly to senior Guild leadership—potentially the Guild Mistress herself. Furthermore, interference with his movements, access to supplies, or contractual freedom will be interpreted as a hostile act against the Guild itself.}”
The murmurs turned into a low rumble of discontent, excitement, and confusion all at once—but Synthra pressed on, raising her voice as she did and ignoring her racing heartbeat.
“{To be clear,}” she clarified boldly, “{this is not a declaration of allegiance. This is merely a declaration of interest. Leonidas Achilles, the Black Knight, has crossed a threshold at which his removal would destabilize far more than a single House or Colony. The Guild will not permit that.}”
That was when the gravity of the situation actually settled upon the observers.
The Adventurers’ Guild could choke supply lines, withdraw talent, and redirect force without a need for justification at the best of times. It was beholden only to the Colony for so long as it chose to headquarter there.
The Guild did not need armies.
It was an army.
Synthra inclined her head slightly toward Aylar as the rumblings quietened down slowly, and consideration and calculation replaced them. She openly acknowledged the Princess-Royal’s authority, as agreed, without surrendering to it—a nod from an ally to another, not a subject to a ruler. The Guild stood apart, and always would. She could see from the sharp glances that the gesture was understood, at least by the Haelfenn.
“{The Guild recognizes the Crown’s position,}” she said in closing. “{We also recognize House Latherian’s new relationship with the Black Knight. Any attempt to isolate, undermine, or eliminate Leonidas Achilles will be treated as a deliberate move to sabotage Guild interests. Those responsible, when discovered, will have their contracts revoked, their support withdrawn, and their trespass answered proportionally and without apology.}”
Synthra cast her eyes about the room, then, and put the final layer on the strategic shield.
“{This is the word of the Guild Mistress, and is not open to negotiation. Leonidas Achilles now lives under the auspices of the Dusk-Lord of Dawnhaven, who holds the dual rank of Adamantine Adventurer—and so we, the Guild, defer all resolution of conflict as it relates to his imperilment to her judgment.}”
With that, Synthra stepped back.
Leonidas’ eyes followed her when she did, and she saw him offer her the slightest of smiles. Surprised, sincere, and warm. The Terran gave her a single, small nod and shook his head, as if disbelieving of the impertinence she had displayed, but being impressed by it regardless.
She tried not to think about the satisfaction that it instilled in her, gave him a flat look to hide her embarrassment, and turned to Ceruviel a little quicker than she should have.
Okay, Aunt. Your turn.
A wry smirk flitted across the Duchess’s face, and she stepped forward, bracing her armored hands on her hips as everyone—including Uriel—turned to watch her with the air of a flock being confronted by a predator.
“{The Dawn-Lord has given his judgment,}” Ceruviel stated in her usual no-nonsense, cutting tone. “{The Princess-Royal has spoken for the Crown bloodline, and the Adventurers’ Guild has made their stance clear. Leonidas Achilles, the Black Knight, is now my ward and Heir in addition to being my Squire, and the future inheritor of the Archon Order.}”
Here Ceruviel paused, and the smile she offered was cold enough that even Synthra felt a moment of uncertainty.
“{If any of you would like to challenge—}” the word was dangerously emphasized {“—my position on these matters, I invite you to speak now, and settle the matter in the old ways.}”
Ceruviel’s words killed the noise in the room, and as she roved her eyes over the collective, few met her gaze. Many stepped back on instinct, shame flashing over their features, while others watched those around them with quiet amusement.
Only the Terrans did not flinch.
“{Good,}” Ceruviel said with a drawl of self-satisfied amusement. “{Now, I have things to discuss with the Dawn-Lord and my Squire. You may all leave.}”
Blinks and confusion followed her words, and more than one person opened their mouth.
“{Now.}”
That was all it took.
Within minutes after she spoke, the Royal Box was cleared, with numerous Haelfenn nobles walking together hurriedly in deep, whispered conversation.
“{Well now,}” Leonidas said when it was just Synthra, Aylar, Ceruviel, and Uriel. “{That was certainly a prodigious spectacle.}”
When Ceruviel walked forward and smacked him upside the head a moment later, all Synthra could do was laugh.
Comments
Ser_Slothicus
Woot woot!
Not happy JAN
Thanks for the read!
