“It sounds rather over-complicated,” I comment after a moment to process the whole thing. “There are lots of factors there – what if the competitors don’t even get to the Lost Continent because they can’t find a ship?”

  “Then that shows either a lack of resourcefulness, or a family who is unwilling or unable to support their kin even in the pursuit of a throne. Either would indicate that someone is not a good candidate for King – gaining the throne is one thing; keeping it is another. The Starblade line has not kept their power only because of their hereditary claims.”

  “And what if there are no candidates because they’re all dead? I mean, even from what you've just said, it’s clear that the whole thing is awfully dangerous.”

  Nicholas pauses at that one.

  “Then I suppose the King will have to seek another solution,” he admits. “But I think it unlikely. The majority of those who will be going will be the pride of their Houses, and will benefit from whatever resources their Houses can spend on them. Everyone knows that this competition will redefine the political landscape and few wish to be relegated to the midden.”

  I’m uncertain of what a ‘midden’ is, but I get his meaning.

  “Is that why you want your heir to at least do well in the competition, even if he doesn’t win it?” I ask, feeling the pieces click into place.

  “Indeed, though winning it is not actually ideal for my House’s purposes as it would then mean I’d lose my heir to the throne.” Nicholas sighs heavily, leaning back in his chair and looking up at the sky for a moment. Then, as if gazing at the heavens has given him the strength to continue, he looks back at me, his gaze frank. “I will be plain: while my House is influential, it is not well-liked. Titanbend has had a tumultuous relationship with its peers ever since my ancestor arrived, generations after the original settlers. That is why it is essential that my heir becomes part of this competition – and sets up a profitable and stable colony.

  “Ionith has always been a shrewd king, but here, he has outdone himself. As a result of the competition, if all goes as expected, Moriax will have several thriving colonies on the Lost Continent, and the enmities between many of the Houses have a battleground on which they can play out without damaging Moriax itself. The next king will, if Ionith chooses well, be a veteran of establishing and holding territory, resource management, and diplomacy of a sort – whether spear-point or table-top. And if, in the process, certain Houses which were not successful end up poverty-stricken, sidelined from alliances, and without influence, that is just the normal passage of power.”

  I think I get it.

  “So what you’re saying is that if your House doesn’t take part in the competition, or takes part but doesn’t do well, you might no longer be a ‘Great’ House?”

  “That is probably the best case scenario,” Nicholas grimly agrees. “In my case, I suspect that my enemies would seek to ensure that my House ceases to exist entirely, if they can.”

  Silence falls between us. Nicholas has revealed rather more than is advisable if he wants to bargain: he needs me far more than I need him. Although I don’t deny that it would be difficult to establish myself in a completely foreign culture without any resources, he’s facing the potential destruction of his House. And I get the distinct impression that ‘ceases to exist entirely’ isn’t merely a bureaucratic exercise. It puts me in a strong negotiating position – and he’s already admitted that he can be flexible about certain duties. I’m sure he could be flexible in other areas too, if I push it.

  There do certainly seem to be a number of downsides to accepting his offer, though, primarily among which are earning a number of enemies from the get-go and needing to take part in this ‘competition’. I’m definitely curious about why the House is unpopular, but there’s something I want to know first.

  “So, what reasons do I have to become your heir?” I ask him directly, seeing no point in beating around the bush.

  Nicholas gives another thin smile.

  “There are many. While we are not the most powerful house in terms of influence, as this situation has no doubt made plain to you, nor are we the richest of the Great Houses, we still have plenty of both. My territory contains multiple resources – rich mineral and metal deposits, forested areas, farmland, and coastlines which offer what we can take of the ocean’s bounty. We have trade routes running throughout the territory which means that accessing products from all over the continent is relatively simple. And as its Great Lord, I am entitled to a share in all this wealth, one way or another. I say these to showcase what you would stand to inherit if you become my heir in truth and are willing to dedicate your life to your new home. They also indicate the resources which you will be able to call upon while you are my heir, even if you do not choose to be such in the long-term.

  “After all, that is not entirely necessary. I need an heir for the purpose of the competition. It would be better for me if you remained my heir in perpetuity, but if you discover that it is too much for you, we can make sure that things are put in place for trusted commanders to take over whatever you build on the Lost Continent. I would still need an heir, but with the competition over, it would be less pressing. In that case, we could still easily come to an agreement over a lump sum to be given to you in reward at the culmination of the competition, or indeed a salary to be paid indefinitely – if that is your request.

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  “However, perhaps you will be swayed by what else I can offer you. Training, for one thing. You have not yet indicated how much you have learned or grown in the other world, but I know well the limitations of growth without instruction. The knowledge stones I gave you were but a stopgap measure, given to increase your chances of survival. But you will need far more than that if you wish to progress past the natural limits of being self-taught.”

  His words bring to mind Martial Student of Life, an achievement which allowed me to learn my first weapons Skills. It had warned in its description that it would allow learning as a result of observation and practice, but that the learning would have its limits. Indeed, I think I might have hit them – none of my weapons Skills have gone past Initiate nine. From what Nicholas is saying, he could provide training – or trainers – who would be able to push me past those limits.

  “This will be offered whether or not you wish to be my heir in the long term as you will surely find it invaluable in the next five years. I will also provide the staff you will need to undertake the competition, and will personally aid you in expanding your group of Bonded – if such is necessary and desirable,” he adds, flicking his eyes over all of those behind me. I feel my Bound shifting slightly in response to his inspection, the more timid with unease, the more confident with irritation.

  That is a little bold of him to say, is it not? Hunter comments warily. Have you not proven that you are able to assemble a worthy group of companions beside you already?

  It’s just an offer. He can’t know how awesome all of you are, I respond, trying to soothe their ruffled scales and feathers – literally in the case of Bastet and Lathani. Hunter isn’t the only one who feels a little offended at the idea of Nicholas helping me to artificially increase my group of Bound. Or rather, Bonded as he seems to call them, something that makes me wonder why our vocabulary is slightly different when we’re now speaking the same language.

  And on the one hand, I understand where Nicholas is coming from – on a practical front, gaining more powerful fighters is good. However, on the other, I agree with my Companions. My current group, aside from the newcomers, is composed of those who have fought by my side and in doing so have built a bond of trust as well as a Skill-enforced Bond. Nicholas’ offer to help me to expand is uncomfortable and just feels awkward. I guess I’ll have to cross that bridge if we come to it.

  Nicholas doesn’t seem to be aware of our internal discussion – or if he is, he’s ignoring it – as he has continued speaking.

  “...already benefited from: the Class and Skills specific to my family’s line. On this note, I will expect a contract sworn on your life that you will not share the Class stone I have already given you or the Skills held within it with others, if you become capable of doing so – until or unless you become Lord of Titanbend yourself.” He is very serious here, his face set in forbidding lines and his purple eyes piercing.

  But I have faced more imposing opponents – both Raven and Kalanthia were far more frightening when they released their full domains in that willpower battle between titans months ago. I just recross my arms from where they had relaxed onto my lap and raise my eyebrows at him.

  “You made no such stipulations when you first gave me the stones,” I point out. “It’s a bit rich to try to impose them now.”

  “By the laws of this land, as the Class is my family’s inheritance, it remains property of my House, whether in a stone ready to be used, or a person.” Nicholas explains firmly. “I am not saying that I would expect payment of any sort for them as long as you agree to be my heir in the competition, but I do expect you to commit to not sharing them without my permission.”

  My eyes narrow as I gaze at Nicholas. It hasn’t escaped my notice that he added a caveat of ‘as long as you agree to be my heir’. Is this some form of blackmail? If so, I’ll be severely disappointed in him – he’d said he wasn’t planning on coercing me.

  “No stipulations were made as part of the initial agreement therefore none can be made now,” I refute again. I don’t want to provoke him unnecessarily, but no way am I going to be tied into such an agreement. Swearing on my life not to share them? No. I chose not to share Dominate with samurans in the village because I couldn’t be sure that they wouldn’t misuse it, and I don’t expect that I’ll be passing it or the Class out willy-nilly, but I refuse to commit to not doing it; not with my life in the balance.

  “Such stipulations do not need to be made,” insisted Nicholas. “As I said, that Class and those Skill stones are property of my House and under my control until or unless I relinquish it.”

  “Which, arguably, you have done,” I point out. “You sent them off to another world, for the use of someone you had never met in person and who you had no agreement with. For all you knew, I could have got killed before using them and someone else could have picked them up and shared them among all of their friends.”

  “The process of sharing Skills and Classes is not as simple as you seem to believe,” grumbles Nicholas, but I suspect that it’s a play for time to find a way to argue my point. I don’t give him that time.

  “The Class stone, Skill stone, and knowledge stones were gifts,” I emphasise, leaning forwards and placing my hands palms down on the table – that should be a sufficient mixture of confident body language without a sense of threat, I think. “No strings were mentioned in your letter describing them. You did not make any claim to them as property of your House. You did not say that they would only be given in perpetuity if I became your heir. You gave them to me to give me a better chance of survival. And for that, I am grateful – to an extent. After all, it was the fact that you neglected to tell me that I would be in a wilderness for a year that meant I was not prepared for it when I arrived,” I say in challenge. This complaint has been a long time coming.

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