The invitation arrived less than an hour later, appearing in his hands the moment the messenger handed it over. Zeke caught it without looking up from his preparations, the council's seal already familiar to his touch.
Emergency session. Sunset. Mandatory attendance.
He frowned at the timing. When the Empire shattered decades of precedent by deploying an Exarch, he'd expected the Merchant Lords to convene immediately. Instead, they'd scheduled it for evening, nearly eight hours away. The delay nagged at him, but he pushed the concern aside.
He had his own preparations to make.
"Is it ready?" he asked the empty air.
[Answer]
The ritual circle has been inscribed in the secondary workshop. All components are in place. The modifications you requested have been integrated.
Zeke set down the delicate gear he'd been pretending to examine. His hands had been moving on autopilot while his mind churned through the implications of what he was about to do. The Honor Guard ritual, the same binding he'd used on the Frostscale warriors, would soon claim its first human subjects.
Children, technically. Barely awakened Mages who trusted him completely.
His jaw tightened. The world had forced his hand, but that didn't make the decision sit any easier.
"Summon them."
[Acknowledged]
Interrupting educational session. The twins will arrive momentarily.
While he waited, Zeke moved to the secondary workshop, a smaller chamber he'd had carved from the bedrock specifically for sensitive magical work. The ritual circle dominated the floor, concentric rings of precious metals inlaid with crystallized mana, the lines between them filled with an alloy that had cost more than most merchants saw in a year.
The design was virtually identical to the one he'd used beneath Winter's mountain. Only minor adjustments had been made, refinements suggested by months of theoretical study. Where the original had been crude but functional, this iteration approached true artistry.
Footsteps echoed in the corridor outside: one set measured and precise, the other slightly quicker but trying to match the first. The twins entered together, as always, though their lesson with Akasha had clearly been interrupted mid-exercise. Kieran still had a faint sheen of sweat on his brow from mana circulation practice, while Kallen's fingers bore the telltale of copying magical scripture.
"Master," they said in unison, offering shallow bows.
The synchronized gesture might have seemed rehearsed from anyone else, but Zeke had observed the twins long enough to know it came naturally to them. They moved through life like two halves of the same whole, each instinctively aware of the other's position.
"I have something important to discuss with you." He gestured for them to approach but stopped them just outside the circle's boundary. "What I'm about to offer will fundamentally change your relationship with this house. With me."
Kallen's dark eyes sharpened with interest, while Kieran's expression grew thoughtful. Neither spoke—they'd learned quickly that he preferred they listen first.
"You've been studying magical theory. Tell me, what have you learned about advancement?"
The twins exchanged a glance before Kieran answered. "That power comes slowly. Years of meditation, careful cultivation, and gradual expansion of the Core. Most take decades to reach Grandmage level."
"Most, yes." Zeke began to pace, careful to keep his movements measured despite the energy thrumming through him. "But I reached it in less than two years after leaving the Elementium."
Their eyes widened, not with surprise at the fact itself, which was common knowledge, but at him acknowledging it so directly.
"That wasn't talent alone," he continued. "I discovered—developed—a technique that accelerates Core cultivation beyond anything the noble houses know."
He paused, letting the weight of that settle. In the corner of his vision, he caught Kallen's fingers twitching, a nervous habit she was still learning to control.
"I'm willing to share this technique with you. To give you the same advantage I used. But it comes at a price."
"…A ritual," Kieran said softly, his gaze dropping to the intricate pattern carved into the floor.
Smart boy. Of course he'd put the pieces together.
"Yes. This binding will ensure my secrets remain protected. It's similar to the oaths other houses use, with some key differences." Zeke met their eyes directly. "First, it can be reversed. If you ever choose to leave my service, the bond can be broken. In exchange, the binding goes much further than any oath you will ever swear in your life."
He let his expression soften slightly. "Furthermore, if you do choose to leave, everything you learned while bound: every technique, every secret, every memory of privileged information, will be wiped clean. You'll remember your time here, remember me, but the knowledge itself will vanish like smoke."
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The twins stood perfectly still, processing. Zeke could practically see the thoughts racing behind their eyes, weighing opportunity against obligation.
"You don't have to decide immediately—"
"We accept."
The words came from both simultaneously, without even a glance between them. Zeke blinked, caught off guard by the speed of their response.
"You didn't discuss it."
Kallen tilted her head slightly. "What is there to discuss? You've already given us more than we dared hope for. Our lives, our futures, everything we might become, we owe it to the house and to you."
"…And this protection works both ways," Kieran added. "If someone tries to force your secrets from us, we couldn't betray them even if we wanted to."
The pragmatism in his voice was unsettling from someone so young. But then, the twins had always been mature beyond their years—a product of growing up in a family that saw them more as future assets than children.
Still, Zeke felt compelled to press. "You're certain? Once this is done, there's no taking it back lightly."
"We're certain, Master." Kallen's voice carried quiet steel. "You promised to make us Grandmages by twenty. This is the path to that promise, isn't it?"
He couldn't argue with that logic. With a slow nod, he gestured them forward. "Then step into the circle. Stand in the secondary rings—yes, there and there. Face each other."
They moved without hesitation, taking their positions with the same unconscious synchronization they brought to everything. The ritual circle began to glow faintly as it sensed compatible subjects.
Zeke moved to the primary platform at the circle's heart. The moment his feet touched the raised dais, power surged through the carved channels. Light raced along every line, every intersection, until the entire room blazed with magical radiance.
"Do you swear to live and die by my will, submit in body and mind, and carry out my instructions faithfully until your death or release from this bond?"
The formal words felt heavy on his tongue. He'd spoken them before, to desperate Chimeroi who saw him as their salvation. But these two had genuine choices, genuine futures beyond his service.
"I swear," they said in perfect unison, without a moment's doubt.
"Do you understand that should you choose to leave this service, all knowledge gained under my protection will be forfeit?"
"I understand."
"Then let it be done."
Zeke released his hold on his mana, letting it flood into the ritual. The intricate patterns flared to brilliant life, each line becoming a river of power. The very air grew thick with magical pressure as reality bent to accommodate the working.
But something was different this time.
When he'd bound the Frostscale warriors, the process had been almost violent—their souls yielding to his with the desperate gratitude of the condemned. This felt more like... a negotiation. The twins' souls didn't surrender so much as step forward to meet his, maintaining their shape even as the connection formed.
Through his enhanced perception, he watched the bonds take shape. Where the Chimeroi had formed thick, rope-like tethers, the twins manifested as elegant threads—no less strong, but far more refined. The difference was fascinating.
[Notice]
The variation could stem from willing participation versus coerced acceptance, or it could be a difference brought about by the variance between Human and Chimeroi. The twins' souls maintain greater autonomy within the binding.
The ritual reached its crescendo, power crashing through the chamber like a tide. Then, as suddenly as it began, it ended. The lights dimmed, the pressure eased, and Zeke found himself looking at two figures who appeared completely unchanged.
No, not completely. There was something in their posture now, a subtle alertness that hadn't been there before. They could feel the bond just as he could, that gossamer thread between them.
"How do you feel?" he asked, stepping down from the platform.
The twins considered the question with characteristic thoughtfulness.
"Different," Kieran said finally. "Like there's a compass in my mind, always pointing toward you." Love this story? Show support at MV2LEMPYR.
"Safe," Kallen added quietly. "Like standing under shelter during a storm."
Interesting descriptions. The Chimeroi had spoken of overwhelming reverence, of his presence replacing their dead Progenitor in their minds. These two maintained their independence even while acknowledging the connection.
"The binding was successful," he said, more for their benefit than his own. "You're now members of my Honor Guard—the first human ones, in fact."
Something shifted in their expressions at that. Pride, perhaps, mixed with the weight of responsibility.
"What does that mean, exactly?" Kallen asked.
"It means you'll know things even my closest family doesn't. Secrets that David, for all his decades of loyal service, has never been told." Zeke moved toward the door, gesturing for them to follow. "It means you'll walk a path only I have walked before."
They fell into step behind him, and he could feel their curiosity like a physical thing. The workshop corridors had never seemed longer as he led them deeper into the complex, past storage rooms and half-finished projects, to a door that looked utterly unremarkable.
"Beyond this point," he said, hand resting on the handle, "you'll understand why the binding was necessary."
He opened the door.
The Mana Purifying Device dominated the chamber beyond. It sat like a crystalline flower bloomed from pure magical theory, its transparent panels revealing the mechanical perfection within. Two containers crowned the structure: one holding liquid darkness that seemed to drink light, the other pulsing with radiance that hurt to look at.
The twins stopped breathing.
"This," Zeke said softly, "is how I reached Grandmage in a matter of months."
Kieran took an involuntary step forward, eyes wide with wonder. "That's impossible."
"It's beautiful," Kallen whispered.
"It's both." Zeke moved to the device's base, running his hand along its smooth surface. "And it's the reason empires would go to war. The noble houses maintain their power through bloodline advantages and resource hoarding. This device makes both irrelevant."
He turned to face them directly. "A few hours each night in purified mana, and your cultivation will accelerate beyond anything traditional methods could achieve. But it requires absolute secrecy. If word of this spread—"
"…The balance of power across the continent would shatter," Kieran finished.
"Every nation would demand access," Kallen added. "Or try to destroy it to maintain their advantages."
Their quick understanding pleased him. They truly grasped the magnitude of what he'd shared.
"Your first session begins tonight, Kallen," he said. "But remember: this knowledge is now part of you in a way that goes beyond memory. The ritual ensures that. Guard it accordingly."
The twins nodded solemnly, still staring at the device with something approaching reverence.
As Zeke watched them circle the machine, asking tentative questions about its operation, he felt the weight of his decision settle fully on his shoulders. He'd bound two children to his service, made them keepers of a secret that could reshape the world.
But looking at their eager faces, seeing the brilliant futures now open to them, he couldn't bring himself to regret it.
The world was changing. The old rules had died the moment an Exarch's wind scoured an elven army from existence. If he wanted to protect what mattered—if he wanted to matter at all in the coming chaos—he needed people he could trust absolutely.
Today, he'd gained two.
[Notice]
Three hours until the council session. Shall I begin preparations for your attendance?
Zeke nodded absently, still watching the twins explore their new reality. Whatever the Merchant Lords had planned, whatever crisis awaited in that chamber, he would face it knowing his position had grown stronger.