A week had passed since Eleanor introduced Owen to his new attendants.
The morning was already well underway at the training complex. Owen stood on the reinforced strip opposite Edith, while soldiers worked through their exercises all around them. Practice weapons clashed in the neighboring yards, and an instructor was calling surnames from a roster and ordering soldiers into position. Farther down the grounds came the heavy thud of conditioning equipment.
Owen had spent the past week cultivating and training under Edith whenever her duties allowed. Most of that time had gone into his control of Steel Reinforcement, especially extending it onto his hands and forearms while he kept using his sword.
He could hold the technique far more consistently now than when she first taught it to him. Combining it with sword changes and fire still took a great deal of concentration, though.
Edith watched him finish adjusting his stance.
"You’ve been working hard this week," she said. "It shows. You don’t lose the reinforcement on your free hand every time you change the angle of your sword anymore." She tilted her head. "Your transitions still aren’t smooth, but they’re better."
Owen felt a small flicker of satisfaction. He had grown used to Edith answering every improvement by making things harder, so hearing her acknowledge one without immediately pointing out the next mistake was a pleasant change.
"I’ve been trying not to give you the same mistakes to correct every morning," he said.
"You haven’t," Edith said. "You’ve just been making different ones."
"That’s still progress."
"It is," she agreed, which surprised him a little more.
Two soldiers were passing the neighboring strip, and Owen caught the edge of their conversation.
"Is the General sparring with the younger Ferrers son again?"
"Looks like it. I saw him the other day with his whole hand covered in metal."
"Harlow! Benton!" their instructor shouted. "Back to your exercise!"
Both of them hurried off.
Edith stepped toward the center of the strip. "Ready?"
"Ready."
Owen summoned his longsword. The familiar dark blade settled into his grip, and a faint grey sheen spread across its surface as he activated Steel Reinforcement.
Edith watched it take hold, then summoned her own longsword. Its Metal property gathered along the blade as she shifted into her stance and raised it.
Owen settled opposite her, measuring the distance between them, and prepared to make the first move.
Mercer walked through the corridors of the residence with a sealed letter in his hand.
It had arrived from the Imperial Court earlier that morning. The household was going about its usual work around him. Two maids carrying freshly folded linen stepped aside to let him pass.
"Good morning, Captain Mercer."
He gave them a brief nod and kept walking. Farther along, a servant came out of a side room with a tray of empty cups, and the smell of polished wood and fresh tea hung in the air of the residential corridors, as it did most mornings.
He had served Edmund long enough to know which correspondence needed his attention straight away. Most of what came to the Grand Duke was routine, from subordinate nobles, merchants and military officials. This was different. It carried the imperial seal.
Mercer had no idea what was in it, since the seal was still unbroken. But he knew better than to let anything sent directly from the Imperial Court sit on a tray.
As he approached Edmund’s study, he heard voices inside. Edmund was speaking with Gareth.
Mercer knocked. "Captain Mercer, my lord."
"Come in."
He opened the door and stepped into the familiar room. Daylight came through the tall windows behind Edmund’s desk and fell across neat stacks of correspondence, reports and documents bearing the Ferrers crest. The study smelled faintly of paper and ink.
Edmund sat behind his desk, and Gareth was in one of the chairs across from him. Several papers lay spread out between them. Mercer knew they concerned the assignment Edmund had recently given his eldest son.
Gareth turned as Mercer came in, and Edmund set aside the document he had been reading.
"What brings you here, Mercer?"
"My lord. Young Master." Mercer inclined his head to each of them. "An official letter has arrived from the Imperial Court."
Edmund’s eyes went to the envelope. "What does it concern?"
"I don’t know, my lord. It bears the imperial seal, and it hasn’t been opened."
He crossed to the desk and handed it over.
Edmund examined the envelope before breaking the seal. The paper was thick, high-quality ivory, carefully folded and enclosed in a matching outer sheet. The crest of House Staufen had been pressed into the dark red sealing wax, unmistakably the emblem of the ruling dynasty. The formal script and the quality of the materials alone set it apart from ordinary administrative correspondence.
Edmund unfolded the letter and began to read. Gareth watched with some interest, while Mercer waited beside the desk.
"It’s from Princess Adelaide Staufen," Edmund said after a moment. "The Emperor’s eldest daughter."
He read on. "She’s hosting the Empire’s annual royal ball. The sons and daughters of noble families from across the imperial territories are being invited, so that the younger members of each house can meet one another and make connections beyond their own lands."
He looked up. "Both of you have been invited. Gareth, and Owen. It’s next week, at the Imperial Capital."
"The annual ball," Gareth said, and rubbed the back of his neck. "I’d almost forgotten it was coming up."
"You usually look forward to it," Mercer said.
"I usually remember it’s happening." Gareth shrugged. "Between the academy and everything going on at home, I haven’t been paying much attention to the social calendar."
"Will you attend?" Mercer asked.
Gareth looked genuinely regretful. "I’d have liked to. There are people from other houses I hardly ever see outside the academy." He nodded at the papers on the desk. "But we were just going over my assignment, and it falls on the same dates."
"It does," Edmund said. "And it can’t be put off for a social gathering."
"I know," Gareth said, without any sign of complaint. Then he leaned forward and tapped the letter. "But it isn’t only addressed to me. Owen’s invited too. If I can’t go, he could go on his own and represent the house."
Edmund considered that.
"He’s only recently awakened," he said slowly. "But he’s already started taking part in things beyond the estate. He conducted himself well enough around the Mowbrays." He set the letter down. "The capital is different, though. He won’t be meeting allied soldiers in the middle of an operation. He’ll be among the heirs of a great many houses, and he won’t know most of them."
"That’s the point of it, isn’t it?" Gareth said.
"It would be a worthwhile experience," Edmund agreed. "He’s spent most of his life training inside our territory. This would give him a chance to meet people outside his family and the military."
"The academy did that for me," Gareth said. "It’s how I know William, and half the people who’ll be at that ball. Owen should have the chance to make connections of his own instead of depending on mine."
"He’s already seen the military side of travelling outside our territory," Mercer said. "But he’s never been to the Imperial Capital. It would be good for him to see another part of the Empire, and what its society is like."
Edmund was quiet for a moment longer. Then he nodded.
"He’ll attend as our representative," he said. "Mercer, see that the invitation is acknowledged. Preparations can begin once Owen has been told."
"Yes, my lord."
Mercer was already thinking ahead. A journey to the capital would need proper arrangements, but none of it had to be settled this morning.
Gareth looked pleased. "He’ll enjoy it, I think. He’s been interested in everything outside these walls ever since his awakening."
"He’ll be more interested in meeting unfamiliar awakened and looking at their armaments than in the dancing," Edmund said.
Mercer couldn’t help smiling at that. Having seen how much time the younger Ferrers son spent training and experimenting with that strange sword of his, he suspected the Grand Duke was right.
With the decision made, the room relaxed.
Gareth glanced toward the tall windows. From here, part of the distant training complex was visible beyond the residence grounds, and the muted sounds of military activity drifted in now and then through the open air.
"He’s improved a lot recently," Gareth said.
He didn’t list everything, and he didn’t need to. Mercer knew as well as anyone in the room how far Owen had come in a little over a month. He had gone from a boy who couldn’t manifest an armament at his ceremony to a swordsman who could change his blade mid-fight and run two powers through it at once.
"He takes his training seriously," Gareth went on. "And every time someone teaches him something new, he picks it up absurdly fast."
"The reports from the Mowbray operation said much the same," Mercer said. "He’s been getting a fair amount of attention in the barracks."
"If he keeps going at this rate," Gareth said, "he might actually catch up to me one of these days."
Edmund laughed.
Mercer knew Gareth was exceptionally talented in his own right, and that he had years of cultivation on his brother. But the way Owen had been progressing made the idea amusing enough that Edmund didn’t dismiss it.
"Then perhaps you should take your own training more seriously," Edmund said, "before he starts challenging you again."
"I’m hardly neglecting it," Gareth protested.
Mercer laughed with them. It was good to see the two of them like this.
Then Edmund leaned back in his chair. "He broke through to Resonant Trace, by the way."
Gareth’s expression changed. "Resonant? Already?"
"Already."
Gareth stared at him. "I’m Ascendant Brand," he said. "I’ve been working toward Crest for a while now. I’ve had years on him, and he’s already in the third rank after barely more than a month."
He shook his head slowly, then laughed in something close to disbelief. "He really is something special, isn’t he?"
Edmund looked very pleased with that reaction.
"He’s surprised everyone who’s had a hand in training him," he said. "Edith included." He didn’t say anything more about it, but Mercer could hear the pride in his voice.
"Well, the General certainly won’t let him get comfortable just because he’s advanced again," Mercer said.
Gareth snorted in a way that suggested he knew exactly what Mercer meant, and Edmund laughed outright.
"He’s closing the gap on me far too fast," Gareth said, still grinning. "I’m going to have to watch my back."
"You should both be watching your backs," Edmund said. "Edith is the one training him."
The three of them laughed together.
On the desk between them, the letter from the Imperial Court lay open, and the matter was already settled. Owen would represent House Ferrers at Princess Adelaide’s ball.