Paragon of Destruction

The first guests arrived just after midday, a delegation of some two dozen mages from the House of Swords.

Arran recognized several of them, but even without that, their House was obvious at a glance. It was common for mages from all Houses to wear swords, but these men and women all moved as if the weapons were part of their bodies — even the adepts and novices at the back of the group.

They were led by Grandmaster Solin, and the man immediately greeted both Arran and Brightblade with joyful enthusiasm.

"Congratulations!" he said. "To both of you! To think that just a year ago, we were one of the lesser Houses, not a single Elder among us. And now, two of our own have taken such positions within the Valley!"

Arran greeted the man warmly. Even if he had spent little time in the House of Swords, it was always good to see so friendly a face. And if the Grandmaster considered him a true member of his House, that was a good first step toward gaining more allies in the Valley.

"Of course," Grandmaster Solin continued, "we have brought you a gift as well, as a token of our continued friendship."

With a careful gesture, he produced a long, straight dagger. It was a vicious weapon, meant to kill, and Arran’s eyes lit up as soon as he saw it.

"It’s beautiful," he said as he examined the blade. Though it looked ancient, it was sharp as a razor, with several enchantments strengthening the steel.

"We would have given you a sword," Grandmaster Solin said, "but you already have several that match anything our House possesses. This should be more useful to you."

Arran nodded thoughtfully. Even if he had no use for it, he would have to find one.

But he soon noticed the group had gone silent, and when he raised his eyes from the blade, he saw an expectant look in Grandmaster Solin’s eyes.

It took him a few seconds to understand the situation, and when he finally did, an awkward expression formed on his face.

Yet at that moment, Jovan stepped forward, and he produced a long, slender sword from his void bag.

"Lord Ghostblade has had me procure this blade for you," he said. "It was forged over a thousand years ago by an Elder of the House of Creation, and its edge has claimed the lives of several Hunters."

With a slight bow, he handed the sword to Grandmaster Solin.

The Grandmaster spent some moments inspecting the word, and as he did, a broad smile formed on his face. "Excellent blade!" he finally said, visibly pleased with the gift.

"A servant will escort you to your table," Jovan continued, waving over a servant who was standing nearby. "Lord Ghostblade’s cooks have spent the week preparing a wide variety of dishes, so please, do not hold back in enjoying their efforts."

Arran looked at Jovan with a furrowed brow, and when the House of Swords mages were out of earshot, he asked, "Where did you get that sword?"

"I’ve had gifts prepared for all the Houses," the steward replied. "You wouldn’t want to insult them, after all."

At this, Arran frowned. Although he was more than a little grateful that Jovan had addressed the oversight, just the sword had already been a valuable treasure. If there were similar gifts for all the Houses, the cost would be staggering. "How did you pay for all of that?"

"The Matriarch provided crystals to cover both the banquet and the gifts," Jovan replied. "Though enough remain to cover your servants’ payments for the next half year." He shot Arran a glance, adding, "I told you about this a week ago, but you seemed preoccupied with your studies."

"Huh." Arran now vaguely recalled hearing something about Essence Crystals the previous week, though he hadn’t paid it much attention at the time. "I appreciate it, though. You really have a talent for all this."

Jovan shrugged. "It’s not so different from leading a group of bandi— mercenaries in the Empire. Maintaining good relations with the local nobility is necessary, if you want to work unhindered."

Arran didn’t fail to notice Jovan’s brief slip of the tongue, and he was not at all surprised to hear that the man had once led a group of bandits. If the man’s skill as a steward was any indication, he certainly would have been an effective leader.

There was no chance to further explore the matter, however, because as they spoke, the next group arrived.

If the group from the House of Swords had been easy to identify, this new group was impossible not to recognize. There were three dozen mages, each dressed in the deep crimson robes of the House of Flames.

At the head of the group was Elder Theron, and he was every bit as friendly in greeting Arran and Brightblade as Grandmaster Solin had been — perhaps slightly more so when it came to Brightblade, Arran noticed with a frown.

More gifts were exchanged — with the Elder bringing one for Brightblade as well — and Arran found himself even more pleased with Elder Theron’s gift than he had been with the dagger.

The House of Flames had gifted him a thick book filled with detailed advice and suggestions for learning various magic spells, and although it wasn’t quite as flashy as the dagger, Arran knew he would have no trouble finding a use for it.

After that, a series of other Houses followed, all of them bearing gifts for Arran. He politely thanked each of them, after which Jovan had servants guide the mages to the long rows of tables that filled the gardens.

Among the gifts were more than a few swords and enchanted robes, and although Arran accepted them with suitable gratitude, they did little to arouse his interest. Yet there were more unusual gifts as well, and among those, two immediately stood out.

The first of these came from the House of Fists. Their leader was the burly Elder had met before the duel, and the man had a proud expression as he presented Arran with a pair of spiked starmetal knuckles.

Arran looked at the weapons with both wonder and delight. They were as brutal as they were ridiculous, and on feeling their weight in his hands, he could not help but wonder how badly even a single punch with one of these would injure an enemy.

While he could not imagine these weapons ever being useful — not compared to a good sword, at least — some small part of him hoped he would get the chance to put them to use.

The second gift that stood out, however, was one he instantly knew would be useful.

Given by the House of Creation, it was a full set of enchanted steel plate armor, its pieces crafted to protect nearly every inch of the body.

It was something more befitting a warrior than a mage, but when Arran saw it, his eyes went wide with joy. While it couldn’t be casually worn — not without drawing the attention of every person who saw him, at least — he knew at once that it would be invaluable on the battlefield.

He was already difficult to injure, and with this additional protection, many enemies would pose no threat whatsoever no matter what they tried.

Yet there were more mages to greet, and for several hours, Arran welcomed the many guests as gracefully as he could. Jovan proved a big help with this, firmly but politely sending the more talkative guests off to the tables. Brightblade, however, had no such patience — after the first hour, she simply walked off, presumably toward the kitchens.

Then, at last, the final guest arrived — the Matriarch, accompanied by a group of mages from the House of Seals.

With a single glance, Arran could tell more than a few of the House’s Elders were missing, and he realized just how many of them had fallen to the Matriarch’s purge.

Yet despite the bloody work that still lay fresh behind her, there was only a warm smile on her face as she approached Arran. "It seems you’re managing well," she said. "But I hope you’ll forgive me for briefly interrupting the festivities. There are some announcements that need to be made."