Viviene stared at her son through her one good eye, waiting for him to take up his stance. Willem glanced at the greatsword without much enthusiasm, and then looked back at her.

  “A sword, huh? Quaint,” Willem began. “Not much my speed anymore. When I was younger… I thought war was a natural thing. I was an eager volunteer. The first to drill, the first to practice, the first to pull on my boots when the day came to fight the enemy.” He walked over to the greatsword and picked it up. “Now, it’s different. I’m fine being a civilian. I’m fine relying on others for my protection, like millions of others.”

  “Why?” Viviene asked, indulging her son’s story. “What happened?”

  “They drill into you all of this balderdash about how war is war, and about how snuffing out someone’s flame on the battlefield is a lot different than cold-blooded murder in the cities.” Willem put the tip of the wooden greatsword on the ground and leaned against it. “In the end, though, it’s all just pedantry, semantics. They’ll say what they need to. Anything to get you to swallow your fear, look a fellow man in the eye, and end him.” Willem looked Viviene squarely in the eye. “I’m not an idiot. It’s the same here as it was back then. Wars will come. It’s all tied up in the animal instinct of people to have, to own, to dominate.”

  “Then pick up your sword,” Viviene said. “All I want to know is that you can still hold your own, Willem.”

  “Like I said… there are plenty out there that rely on the knights—on people like you—to protect them,” he pointed out. “Are they lesser? Are they inferior? Are they without value? Is it so wrong to rely on them? Not every man needs to be an island. I focus on what I’m good at, on what I enjoy. And people like you protect people like me, often for cash, power, and authority. I’m fine with that. They provide value their way, I provide value mine. That’s the foundation of society, and markets. I’ve decided to make that trade. And if you think less of me because of it, then I think much less of you.”

  “Self-defense—”

  “Division of labor, Viviene. Every second I spend on training to fight is a second I could have spent doing things I actually enjoy,” he said fiercely, then looked at the sword. “This is beneath me. Time is valuable, and I won’t spend it on this.”

  Willem stopped leaning against the greatsword and let it clatter to the dusty ground of the dueling room as he put his hands in his pockets. A silence set in between them, Viviene not knowing what to say.

  “There are better ways to war. The self-interest of men and women can be harnessed toward more noble, productive, and civilized ends. People like you are necessary. I’m not denying that. But I’m not going to be one of you. I’m going to pay one of you to protect me with my soon-to-come fortune.” Willem joked, then held his arms out in a large shrug. “I’m not going to waste my time swinging a magic stick around when I could be focusing on something that I know will make life for everyone better.”

  “Better?” Viviene laughed. “Your only goal from the beginning has been enriching yourself.”

  “Do you know how grandiosely complex systems persevere, even in the face of desire for reform?” Willem clasped his hands together and pointed two fingers. “Self-interest. That’s how this kingdom stays together. That’s how the guilds of this city stay together. Each and every person within the hierarchy has their own selfish interests, and the perpetuation of the system benefits them more than its destruction. It’s only when the scales tip that systems fail.”

  “Beautiful analysis. How does that relate to the rapier in my hand?” Viviene returned, tightening her grip on her weapon in impatience.

  “The rise of business could easily fill the role of that grandiosely complex system,” Willem said. “When companies span the world, uniting disparate groups by virtue of trade and commerce, the need for war lessens. Once in place, they’re almost impossible to uproot. Rather than wars by land, wars of politics and finance emerge, with groups around the world tangling to secure dominance by way of superior governance and management. It satisfies all the human desires to fight and conquer, but without all the bloodshed.”

  Viviene stepped forward closer to her son, preparing to attack whether he liked it or not. “Big talk, but that isn’t the world that we live in, Willem.”

  “Maybe not. But I’m not going to spend my time perpetuating a stupid system when the opportunity for reform exists.” Willem shrugged, placing his hands back in his pockets. “I have confidence in my ways. They’re better. Better for me, better for everyone. I’m not delusional—people will still get exploited, and there’ll still be injustices. But for the average person out there, it’s a hell of a lot better to spend your life working for very little than it is to die in a war fighting for inane tyrants. Hope only dies when you do.”

  Viviene braced herself to lunge. “I’m sorry, son… but there are realities you need to accept.” She charged forth with the ferocity of an eruption, putting tremendous momentum and aura into the thrust of her rapier.

  Aura wasn’t an entirely voluntary force. It would manifest itself to protect from an attack whenever its bearer genuinely believed they were in danger. It was subconscious protection, something that couldn’t be denied. If Willem wouldn’t use it voluntarily, she would force it out of him. All she had to do was make him think that she would actually hurt him.

  A case of content theft: this narrative is not rightfully on Amazon; if you spot it, report the violation.

  Time seemed to flow in slow-motion as she neared Willem. His gaze stayed totally focused on her, but he didn’t even remove his hands from his pockets. She waited for the stirring of the golden aura she could sense within him, expecting to see golden embers at any moment. Soon, though, Willem was consumed by the deluge of her emerald aura… and not a hint of resistance had been mustered. She finished the thrust of her rapier, and…

  Viviene stood there, arm outstretched right past Willem’s head. His golden hair settled back in place, disturbed by the ferocity of her attack.

  “You missed,” Willem said, then jokingly karate chopped her neck. “Counterattack. Devastating blow. I win.”

  “Willem…” Viviene breathed an exhale of panic—she’d strained herself redirecting that thrust up and to the right. “Why didn’t you move?!” she demanded.

  “What were you gonna do, stab me?” Willem jested.

  Viviene’s breathing grew erratic as she considered what might’ve happened if she hadn’t doubted herself. “I nearly killed you!”

  “Come on.” Willem shook his head and smiled. “You brought me out here because you were concerned. There’s no chance you’d spear me.”

  His words hit Viviene with the full weight of realization. It was one thing to declare total trust—words were easy to give. But even as Viviene had thrust her rapier and the full might of her aura right at his head, never once had Willem thought consciously or subconsciously that she would actually hurt him. He trusted her. He trusted her with his life, even after these five years, even after her constant derision.

  His smile faded as he gently pushed her arm away. “Despite all your bluster… you still care about your kids. Must be rough, given how awful they all turned out.”

  Viviene closed her good eye, unable to muster words.

  “I don’t expect you to understand,” Willem said. “I can… compromise, I suppose, and hire a bodyguard if it makes you feel better. But one of my primary considerations for coming to Gent was the fact that it was so safe, so crime-free. This is a vitally important city on the supply chain. It’s well-protected.”

  “Gent is a safe city, I guess. And I’m here.” Viviene opened her eye and quickly wiped it before any evidence of a tear could be seen. “But I don’t understand this, Willem. You don’t need to forsake the martial path to pursue the one you’re on now.”

  Willem sighed. “I hope you don’t ever understand. I’m done playing the soldier. I gave it a try, learned what I needed to.”

  “It’s such a waste,” Viviene said quietly. “The boy that I knew, that woke me up in the early hours of the morning to demand to see my aura… that fearlessly rode his pony at ten… that hit his father with a rock, one time…”

  “The boy you knew is gone, I’m afraid,” Willem said. “I’m not sure what happened to him, but there’s only me now. Disappointed?”

  “Perhaps a little,” Viviene admitted. “But I suppose I can’t expect you to conform to what I wish exactly. That’s simply not how things work for parents.”

  “Well, I’m disappointed in you, too,” Willem countered. “Instead of preparing for the war that actually matters, you’re off here playing with metal sticks and conspiring to force me into battle.”

  “The war that actually matters?” Viviene repeated.

  “Gustav,” Willem said. “Guildmaster of the Soapers. He’s a clever one. He’s spotted my approach, and he’s locking down. I need a ruthless killer like yourself to help me plan an attack. This war could get very, very ugly… but the victor’s going to be sparkly clean, purged by soapy spoils. I want that victor to be us.”

  Viviene managed a laugh as she realized what he was talking about. “You haven’t changed in some ways.”

  Willem only gave a mysterious smile.

  “Still, Willem…” Viviene raised up her rapier, holding the blade in her other hand. “What’ll you do when someone comes after the things you own?” She looked at him firmly. “Because I promise you that the day will come.”

  “If I’ve done things right, they’ll have to contend with a lot more than only me,” Willem said simply. “I’m aware of the long-term necessity of private security. For now, come on. Let’s get back on track.”

  “You go,” she said with a shake of her head. “I have some things to think about. I’ll join you later.”

  ***

  Arend looked up at the sign hanging over the stately dockside office.

  Society of Assured Prosperity

  “Can you see him anywhere?” asked a woman covered in a white veil by his side.

  “We’re fine, Dorothea,” Arend responded. “It says that he’s out. But it’s definitely his place,” he said as he leaned over to view a smaller plate that read, ‘Proprietor: Willem.’

  “Then… this is it,” she said, her voice a meek thing.

  “Indeed.” Arend nodded, placing a hand on the pommel of his sheathed sword. “Justice.”

  “Much more than that…” Dorothea muttered, then grabbed his wrist. “Let’s visit the church.”

  “Ah. So faithful, so pious,” Arend praised. “Yes. Let’s.”

  The brother and sister pair walked down the streets of Gent, both of them relatively low-key—one in a veil, and the other in a cloak and hood. None of the guards seemed to be making special note of their presence. It seemed they’d slipped by the watchful eye of Dowager Countess Anne Claire.