The third exception is used only in the most solemn of circumstances, behind closed doors or upon the battlefield, where the weight of authority must be absolute. This rule relates solely to the ranks of the Order and those who bear its power and legacy.

  All those aspiring to become members, begin as initiates. Some as young as five, and depending on the region and country from which they came from, each aspirant must first satisfy the educational and martial standards of their homeland.

  After a period of tutelage—often spanning two years—they are formally recognized as neophytes. Upon reaching the age of eighteen (sixteen in ancient times), having endured trials of both mind and body, they are inducted as full-fledged members of the order.

  Though all of the regions have different practices, one truth, persists: the hierarchy of leadership. It is in this hierarchy that the exception finds its meaning.

  Common members retain their anonymity, and are known only by given names when among others, preserving that subtle veil that shields them from undue attention. Yet, for the chosen few, that veil is lifted when these titles are bestowed.

  Though their names have shifted with time, the custom endures. The titles they bear are the heirs of a long tradition, direct descendants of the ranks of something old, ancient, and unbroken, altered only in form, never in essence.

  The first of these are the Archons. Twelve in number, selected for their cunning, their strength, and their wisdom. They move in pairs, as tradition dictates, though each may act alone when necessity demands. Above them stand the Tetrarchs, four in command, guardians of the region and arbiters of its laws.

  At the peak, the crownholders reigns supreme.

  The Lexarch, who governs with measured authority. The Dominarch, the unwavering right hand; and the Primarch, the ultimate sentinel and head of a region.

  Thus is the Order structured: a chain of responsibility, honor, and power, preserved through generations, where the courage of the individual is matched only by the authority of the title they bear.

  -excerpt from the personal lecture notes of Rami Abdallah, Teacher, and member of the Order.

  ========================================================================

  BAAAAAM!

  CRASH!— tinkle-tinkle-tinkle!

  “AEEEE!”

  Déjà vu?

  And last time I checked, I told Kat last night that I didn’t want the portrait there.

  “Ae, wake up already!” Reika’s voice sliced through my drowsy haze—right before she yanked the blanket off me.

  A few seconds after waking up, I did my routine morning stretch.

  I curled up tighter, as tight as I could make it to get the spine cracking. But another pair of hands, much stronger, grabbed me by the ankle and pulled. I turned and looked at the frowning face of Mochizuki, Shizuku. I felt the need to say her complete name weirdly enough.

  Both she and Reika were already dressed. I, on the other hand, couldn’t remember why. Something about a trip? My brain refused to load that file.

  “Why are you frowning this early in the morning?” she asked with an unapologetic frown of her own.

  “I could ask you the same thing,” I retorted before rubbing my eyes. “What time is it?”

  “A quarter to seven. The bus leaves at eight,” Reika replied, flinging the curtains open and flooding the room with light.

  I raised my hand to shield my eyes from the brightness. Why was it extra sunny today?

  “Hurry up Ae,” she called again. I managed to crawl out of bed and staggered into the living room—

  —only to collapse face-first into the sofa.

  After my morning stretch I usually like to hype myself up mentally. It’s all in the mindset.

  “Urgh, my head,” I groaned, pressing both hands on my head while lying face down.

  Last night was something. Dinner was unexpectedly fun. The two nuisances were nowhere to be seen. The girls told me the two were eating with my parents along with the scion of crazy house. That whole thing probably is somehow vaguely related to me. Possibly.

  The girls were also giving pointed looks which is also another matter I gracefully side-stepped. But the two new-comers introduced themselves as Karin and Akane. One was alright the other was mostly silent. No clue about that, but they were polite.

  Me and the boys after eating, went back here and played our asses off. Laughing and joking till, around midnight when they decided to sleep. In my case I, forgot the time I slept.

  “Hurry up,” Shizuku said in an unnecessarily loud voice. “It’s time to eat.”

  “Ae, sir Konrad said that you’re going to have to see us off,” Reika intoned in an equally loud voice.

  I grabbed a sofa pillow and covered my head. A beat later, I was already getting my daily exercise of strength training when two pairs of hands were trying to grab my pillow. The tug of war match ended with my loss, unfortunately. It was two on one, maybe next time.

  “Okay fine!” I said throwing my hands up in defeat. “Let’s go down.”

  The two looked inordinately happy at their win.

  “At least brush your teeth,” Shizuku demanded before running a hand through my hair. “And comb your hair.”

  I turned and looked at her dead in the eye and smiled. “Sure mom.”

  For the next few minutes, I was getting my cardio on when she was chasing me around the room with a desk lamp.

  And Father said I needed to go jogging.

  Who needs to go out when you’ve got friends like these. Always motivating you to do your best. After following my newly self-appointed matron’s/ warden’s instructions, we finally went down to eat, though I neglected to change clothes.

  We managed to catch up with Arthur’s group along with my brother before we entered the hall.

  “Morning,” Arthur called brightly like he hasn’t slept for like six hours. Is this what they call children’s energy? “So, did you sleep like a baby?”

  “Why do you westerners say ‘sleep like a baby’? Babies wake up every two hours crying,” I replied, confused.

  “Isn’t that you?” Interjected Arthur which made everyone else chuckled. My, ignore bullshit skill must be maxed out at this point.

  “I want to sleep like a cat,” I continued like the joke never happened. “Twenty hours a day, zero regrets.”

  “My dude, what happened to your face?” Trayn asked innocently, though his tone betrayed his true motives.

  This content has been misappropriated from Royal Road; report any instances of this story if found elsewhere.

  “Nothing,” I replied casually.

  “Yeah,” my brother said mockingly. “And that vague hand shaped mark is?”

  “There was a hand shaped rock on the ground,” I answered while gently rubbing the left side of my face. The males snickered while the culprit simply looked forward as innocently as she can.

  I sighed internally and pushed the door open. Inside was unusually lively, everyone was talking animatedly, the clinking of cutlery overlapping with everyone’s voices.

  “What happened?” I asked Arthur who was once again behind me in the queue for the food.

  “Dunno,” he said with a shrug. “Maybe the announcement about the thousand-dollar prize? Or the tour. Take your pick.”

  The cheek of the reply—but fair point, yeah, there was that. My thoughts were already drifting back toward dreamland when the queue shuffled forward again and Arthur gave me a push.

  “G’day— Oi, ya drongo,” the attendant greeted in his usual enthusiastic Australian accent, then stopped when he saw me. Then he smiled like he’d seen a saint walking. “What’re ya doin’ up at this hour ya mad bugger?”

  “Grrrrrrr.”

  “Fair enough,” he said, chuckling and smiling. “So, what’ll ya have?”

  “Two burger patties and two eggs, and—two on the rice,” I replied while checking the selection of the food. I wasn’t in the mood for bacon or mashed potatoes today. Oh my god, they even have that unfortunate looking fish you see in every Japanese breakfast. I don’t know what it’s called, but it’s there.

  “I think that’s it,” I said satisfied at my selection. “Wait do you have any gravy?”

  “Ah, I see where you’re goin’ with there,” he said, grinning as he caught on to my plan. “Bit of gravy action and you’ve got yourself a Loco-moco!”

  I nodded before cracking my neck.

  “Nah, sorry mate, fresh outta—” he started, but the nearby doors burst open. Kat and Wei entered, each carrying a huge bowl of steaming gravy. They both greeted and saluted everyone before leaving.

  “Well, how ’bout that,” he said with a grin. Then he grabbed a ladle and dumped on about the amount you’d expect. “There ya go, mate. One flash Loco-moco.”

  I took my plate full of food, the smell drifting towards my nose. Warm, savory heaven. I smiled, plate in hand, when a hand clamped me on my shoulder. I turned around and saw Konrad fully dressed and beaming at me.

  “Good morning, Vi! Glad you’re awake!” he said cheerfully. His eyes dropped to my plate. “And thank you.”

  Before I could react, he snatched my plate, from my hands and preventing me from partaking in the juicy sumptuous food that is Loco-moco.

  “Wha—Tha—but he—,” I choked out, pointing between Konrad and the plate as everyone around us—even the attendant who I shall not name because he was also snickering at me— started snickering. I wasn’t about go back to the end of the line.

  “Another one please, Michael?” he asked sarcastically and mimicking my voice and answering himself. “Yeah, sure I don’t mind, Vi.”

  The moment I had my new plate fully loaded, another hand landed on my shoulder. This time, it was Diocletian, looking half-distracted like he was looking for someone.

  “Have you seen—” He stopped, spotting Konrad chatting with Suzu across the hall. “Oh, wait there he is.”

  And then—snatched my plate. “Thank you,” he said before casually walking away, my plate in his hands. That’s twice now people!

  “This is basically highway robbery!” I blurted out. The laughter around me grew louder.

  For the third time, a new plate was given to me. “Fill ’er up, Michael,” I said flatly.

  “I assume—the same?” stupid Michael said with a raised eyebrow. He looked one joke away from barking laughter.

  “Oh no, I am sleepy. I am pissed. And I am hungry!” I growled. “So, I will—eat!”

  “You mean, hangry,” Arthur japed.

  “I. Do. Not. Care!” I replied before I turned back to Michael. “Three pairs this time!”

  He obliged while he was grinning ear to ear. I got my plate and when I turned around—

  “Oh, you’re awake, good,” my mother said warmly before giving me a pleased smile. She then asked, “have you seen your father?”

  “No?” I replied slowly, before I glanced down at my plate. “Would you like this?”

  Her eyes softened and she looked touched. “Oh, thank you, we can just share this instead. When you see him, tell him I will be over there,” she said and took my plate before she went and sat down on one of the tables in the Philippine delegate’s side.

  Arthur leaned in, voice dripping with sarcasm. “You gonna cry?”

  “No,” I said, tears already sliding down my face.

  Michael was barely holding it together. “Hahaha! Tell ya what, mate,” Michael said as he loaded up another plate. “Reckon, fourth time’s the charm.”

  ========================================================================

  After what could only be described as an interesting breakfast, everyone began drifting toward the parking lot in a slow, but steady procession. The morning air was bright and sharp, the kind that makes you squint even through sunglasses.

  Just as I was about to follow them and to see them off, my mother’s hand caught my sleeve. “A moment,” she murmured, her voice low but firm. Father had already gone ahead where I could see him a few meters away, deep in conversation with Diocletian and Remy beside the enormous tourist bus waiting for us.

  It was big, a gleaming white, fifty-seater bus, with windows so wide they looked like mirrors for the sun. Even so, the glass was clear enough to make out the people inside.

  Arthur was introducing my brother to a tall stranger, his gestures animated, his grin casual but wide. Nearby, Taka was laughing with that lively girl, the one who had insisted on taking pictures the moment we arrived.

  Mother’s hand lingered on my arm, and the warmth of it pulled me back from the scene inside the bus. Whatever she wanted to say, I had the feeling it wasn’t small talk.

  “Well, about last night,” she began but I cut her off.

  “Are you that worried about my future prospects?” I asked tiredly. I already felt a headache coming along as well.

  She didn’t even blink. “Yes.”

  “Mommy you’re killing me,” I replied clutching my chest. “I am barely twenty-one!”

  “It’s not every day I get to tease you on your love life,” she said her eyes twinkling.

  “So that’s all this is? Just to rile me up?” I asked incredulously.

  “Half,” she said—and then her smile faded into something sadder. “I don’t think my father will last much longer.”

  Mother’s voice softened as she spoke, her eyes drifting somewhere far beyond the parking lot. She was talking about Grandfather. He had been a farmer all his life. The kind of man who measured the years not by calendars, but by harvests.

  As a farmer, he managed to carry his entire family out of poverty through sheer grit, hard work and the stubborn strength of his hands and back. But not without a cost. He was suffering from one of the most common illnesses of farmers in the country. One was hernia due to him carrying heavy sacks of produce, the years of lifting and hauling had taken its toll.

  The other was something—heavier. He was a child during the world war and still carried the scars and torment of those years. When the nights stretched long, he dulled the memories with drink, enough, over the years, to carve an ulcer into his stomach.

  I felt my face twist into a frown, a quiet mirror of my mother’s grief. I had been keeping a close eye on his condition, tracking every symptom, every subtle decline. The fact that she could feel his time drawing near spoke volumes about their bond, something instinctive, invisible, and deeply human. From my estimates, he still has four years of life in him. If his illness doesn’t worsen.

  “I just wish, we could show him that we’re going to be fine,” she said before fixing me with a hard yet gentle stare. “That his favorite, incredibly smart, but completely crazy grandson will—"

  “Give me two years,” I replied resolutely before she could finish. Then I thought for a moment before adding, “and six months.”

  “That’s oddly specific,” she said, looking both confused and curious. She stared at me, like her eyes were trying to dig secrets straight out of my skull.

  For my part, I simply smiled nonchalantly which made her sigh.

  “I do hope this isn’t on the level of a child I don’t know about,” she warned, her voice rising. “But whatever it is you have planned, don’t make those two cry.”

  I laughed while raising both hands, even as a thought crossed my mind—it’s going to be worse than an unplanned pregnancy.

  Mother shook her head, though the corner of her mouth twitched like she was trying not to smile.

  “You always did have that look,” she said softly. “The one that says you’ve already decided something, no matter what anyone says.”

  “Runs in the family,” I replied, straightening my posture. “You, Grandfather, Father. Just so you know, stubbornness is hereditary. And that makes you half responsible.”

  She laughed lightly, but there was a crack in it—like she wasn’t quite sure whether to be proud or afraid. Her eyes lingered on me a little longer than usual, as if trying to memorize my face.

  “Two years and six months,” she murmured again, almost to herself. “I’ll hold you to that.”

  “Please don’t,” I said quickly. “You know how time likes to speed up when people start expecting things.”

  That made her laugh for real this time, a soft sound that eased the tightness in my chest.

  Around us, the other delegates were already climbing aboard, the chatter and laughter dying down over the hum of the engine. Father had finished talking with Diocletian and was now gesturing toward the bus, the same deliberate, composed way he did everything.

  She gave my arm one last squeeze before letting go. “I better not keep everyone waiting, hmm? Reika said she has a lot of stories for me today.”

  I could only groan at that piece of news. And with that, we started walking—her steps calm, mine dragging just enough to pretend I wasn’t smiling. Rin, I do hope you’re in a good mood, because, I think I made your life just a bit more difficult.

  ========================================================================

  “Don’t worry,” Konrad said from beside me while Diocletian was a few paces in front.

  The three of us stood there, watching as the bus rolled down the driveway and disappeared beyond the gates.

  “We’ve got Michael and Dietrich tailing them from the rooftops,” he continued calmly, placing a hand on my shoulder.

  I gave a small nod though my eyes were still fixed on the empty road. The morning noise had already subsided, swallowed by the empty parking lot—leaving only the faint whistle of the wind through the trees.

  “Your students are also providing support on the ground,” Konrad added, motioning for me to head back toward the hotel. “Remington and Yukihito are always in close proximity. Close enough to react if anything happens.”

  “Not to mention the old lady,” Diocletian said with a low chuckle as he joined us. “I doubt anyone would be foolish enough to take on that Primarch.”

  “You can never tell these days,” I murmured, raising a hand to shield my eyes as I squinted at the sun climbing higher above the city skyline.

  The cold spring breeze tugged at my shirt sleeve, carrying with it the faint echo of laughter from the group now far away.

  “I just hope nothing happens,” I said quietly.