Chapter 45: Fate in Your Hands

  *Legatus, you damn bear. First you lure me with full transparency, then you beg me not to ask questions minutes later. You're going out of your way for Ariadne, and for what? So that she will be the one to tell me what happened to—how first Williams came back?*

  I took my sweet time thinking over this. *He's the one on the defensive.* Antonio, still half-sitting on the table, waited patiently. Cautiously. Like one wrong move could doom him. As though his office had turned into a tribunal, with me as its judge.

  *What can I get from him... There's one thing I really want. That huge armor that makes you tower over everyone, like a living fortress. That protects you.*

  I dropped “Sacred Armor” like a flashbang.

  The result was the same.

  Legatus blinked hard, stunned. He scoffed and clenched his fists. He marched to the opposite end of the table and back, eyeing Pylades and then me as if I’d offended his mother. But he didn't say no.

  Pylades held his jaw like he was solving an extraordinarily complex issue and shrugged. But he didn't say no.

  My hands were still trembling, so I pressed them against the cold window glass to steady them. The wind wailed like a lone wolf, filling Legatus's office with icy drafts seeping through the window’s imperfect seal.

  Legatus covered his eyes with his hand, held it there for a few seconds holding breath, then smoothed his face and exhaled deeply.

  "Do you even know what you ask for?" Antonio raised his voice — not in anger, but in frustration. "Priests of Steel can maintain them. Holy Knights can wear them. Everyone else? Even a touch can lead to death on the spot. No trial. The Holy Knight the only judge." He pointed to Pylades, who nodded.

  "It is sacred for a reason. We can't produce them anymore," Pylades said.

  "Fuck!" Legatus threw up his arms. "We can barely repair them! And that fucker Prometheus just waits in his shithole," he turned his back to me, slamming his hands on the table. The map shivered. A few quick waves ran over its surface, and the map restored its shape. "Waits until we lose the last one."

  I remained silent. Legatus breathed like a steam machine. After a long while, Antonio let out a final loud sigh and turned to me again.

  "Will you go to Ariadne's coming of age ceremony?"

  *That slick bastard, not going to let any chance slip by.*

  "And what if I refuse?"

  Silence.

  *More entanglement with her... Another 'party', this time public. I just have to be there... who am I kidding? It's like going into a lion's den. But I really want that armor. I witnessed its might in action.*

  "When is it? I’ll attend alone — not as her companion?"

  "Complete the Crucible first. Then go to Ariadne's coming of age ceremony. Just be there. One dance, that's all."

  *Another condition sneaked in.*

  Pylades raised his eyebrow. I did the same.

  *One dance. Nothing is easy with royals.*

  "Does the order of dances matter, An?Argus?"

  "The opening dance carries the most weight, so you—"

  "Last dance, after all the other peacocks. Deal?" I stretched out my hand. It was almost steady.

  "Yes, but one more thing. Every Holy Knight must take Fate into his own hands. I won’t break that tradition. I'll give you the Sacred Armor if you can lift it."

  *What is he, a poet? All I do is try to take my fate in my own hands. But everyone around me tries to do the same — take my fate in theirs. Whatever.*

  I lowered my hand.

  "Fate? What do you mean?"

  "My warhammer. It's heavy as f—" He grunted. "It's very heavy."

  I sighed and stretched out my hand again.

  "If I don't lift it, I don't go anywhere. Now. Agree, tell me about Williams, or we're done. Choose, Legatus Argus Antonio Williams."

  My formal tone clearly surprised him, and he seemed to sense he was nearing a point of no return.

  He fell silent, his expression turning serious.

  He took my hand after a moment of hesitation and gave it a firm squeeze. The itching in my palm intensified, but I held back a grunt.

  "Deal, Leonard." He smiled bitterly.

  *This better be worth it.*

  "You could dance first and claim her, my Leonard," Althea said, disappointed. "You can have her, you just—"

  "Silence, Althea," I whispered, then added normally, "Just my guide, sorry."

  Antonio and Pylades exchanged confused glances.

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  "She has her own opinions — a strong?willed spirit. Don’t mind her. Oh, right, you don’t hear her. But I do, and she distracts me sometimes."

  "Alright, I'm glad you spared me and didn't invite me, Argus," Pylades said, smirking, "but we should move."

  His chair creaked in relief as he rose to his feet. He locked eyes with Legatus, who, after a moment of consideration, waved him off.

  Pylades struck his chest in salute and marched out without looking back.

  I offered a quick nod and a casual "Goodbye, Legatus Argus," before turning away. Pylades was already outside.

  When I reached the door's threshold, Legatus's voice coming from behind halted me mid?step.

  "Leonard, reports say you're doing exceptionally well, despite the high compatibility and… well, everything that's going on. It must be a heavy burden to shoulder all at once. I… I meant it when I said to call me for assistance."

  *Do you now, Legatus? A silly test comes to my mind, but convenient.*

  Without looking back, I said, "Private baths every morning."

  He chuckled.

  "You don't need me for that. Nobody will oppose a Saint in the Crucible. But I’ll make sure everyone understands.

  "Now go.

  "And good luck."

  ~ ? ? ~

  The narrow and dim corridor leading to Argus' office had two shadows hiding. One near the door gave a "Centurion, Saint," with a fist to his chest. A second stood just around the corner where the corridor met the wider hallway. He nodded with a respectful "Centurion, Saint Leonard."

  With Pylades and my shadows — Idas close, Brutus lurking behind — we walked into the main hallway.

  It was brighter, with a brown carpet covering most of the floor. Thick columns supported the ceiling. A group of priests waited with my believers on the right. They gave us silent bows. Or just me — who would know. That day they smelled better. Not good — just better.

  "Pylades, can we train outside? I'd like some fresh air." I winked.

  "That's dangerous, Saint Leonard," Idas whispered behind me.

  Pylades glanced over his shoulder at him. His broad neck strained in that pose, taut like a twisted rubber band ready to snap back. Pylades exhaled loudly, as if gathering patience to give a polite "no."

  "Your shadow is right, Leonard." He gave my arm a heavy nudge with his massive hand. "But I could take my Sacred Armor for a walk too, give it some fresh air too." He returned my wink. "Probably got lonely in the Armory without me."

  Idas did something between a scoff and a pfft, terribly out of his ‘serious guard’ character. He muttered a timid "Sorry."

  Pylades and I shared a glance before he burst into laughter. My lips curved slightly. Pylades kept teasing Idas all the way to the Armory, despite his attempts to recover his ‘serious and dignified’ demeanor. Jokes were crude, sometimes not even that funny, but the way Pylades carried them brought a smile to my face. One tease after another, my lips curved more until the smile reached my eyes. Only then Pylades let poor Idas go.

  "You've got yourself a nice fan club, Leonard," Pylades said, nodding his chin toward the ceremonial procession behind us.

  "Pandora spoke to me." I aimed for serious, but my eyes still carried a laugh. "They follow a Saint." Pylades didn’t push further; he looked confused. I let it sink in. After a few steps, when the group behind us filled the silence with shuffling footsteps, I added playfully:

  "If you're good, I'll bless you."

  He smirked at last.

  "Say, Pylades — what do you know about Williams?"

  "I never paid attention in history class, to be honest. Smelled like politics. Sword swinging was more fun. I'm a black sheep, remember?" He eyed me with mock anger. "But more importantly — you just agreed to let the Princess tell her story, and right after we leave the Legatus’s office, you question me?"

  "Well, can you blame me, Pylades? He promised full transparency and in the same meeting deflected my questions."

  He sighed. "True. But when it comes to his niece, he’s not very rational." He grunted. "You know what? That was an understatement. She has him wrapped around her finger — he’d sing if she asked."

  We both chuckled. My imagination went wild with Antonio in a karaoke club — which triggered another memory. Veronica and I, singing together to some silly cartoon opening, using a toy that pretended to be a real karaoke machine.

  I went quiet, savoring the memory I’d just regained.

  Finally, I broke the silence. "What are we going to do today?"

  "Easy. We’ll just walk circles in the Armory," Pylades said.

  "You can make better jokes than that, Centurion," I said lightly.

  "Alright, maybe a few jumps too. We’ll see how it goes. Oh, the High Priestess is here, so we can start right away."

  Evadne was already waiting beside the door when we reached the Armory. She stood with her hands clasped, hidden by the long, flowing sleeves of her priestess robes.

  Vespera lingered near the doors across the Armory. She looked small, her shoulders pulled inward and her hands clasped in front of her. Her head was low, black hair covering her face, but her ears twitched in our direction.

  *She has no reason to lie low. Is it because of the High Priestess?*

  Vespera stole a glance at us and smiled, but her lips flattened again when Evadne spoke.

  "Welcome, Leonard, Centurion."

  "High Priestess." Pylades bowed, and I followed suit with equal formality.

  "Saint Leonard, good luck!" Vespera took a half-step forward, then hesitated. Her petite frame seemed even smaller with Pylades in the corner of my eye, heading into the Armory. His heavy footfalls echoed, making Vespera seem even more fragile.

  "Vespera." She fidgeted, as if forcing herself to stay in place. "Thank you."

  "And please"—I tilted her chin up—"look up. If anyone mistreats you, tell me."

  I glanced at the High Priestess. She turned away gracefully and followed Pylades.

  "I'm good, L?Saint, I hope you—"

  "It’s time, Leonard. Come." The High Priestess looked over her shoulder.

  "Goodbye!" Vespera said and quickly bounced toward the stairs without looking back. Her tail twitched playfully behind her.

  "She’s doing better. I’m glad."

  "Coming, High Priestess. I have a small request."

  The High Priestess looked at me suspiciously, a silent "Again?" written across her face. But she gave in to my plea for a walk quickly, and moments later we faced the door to the room with Sacred Armors.

  They opened with a silent hiss, revealing polished silver walls and chilly clouds crawling across the floor. Pylades entered alongside the Priest of Steel, both wearing solemn expressions. Marcus moved past the sentinels on display to the third, where the sword’s pommel glowed a bright red. He knelt before the armor, with Pylades kneeling behind him in mirror.

  They began a short prayer, and when it ended, Marcus rose with his head lowered. He began tracing his seal across the armor’s crystal-like lights on its limbs and torso, which lit up in response. The whirling noise and crystalline tone intensified until the armor’s eyes flared blood-red — then the noise collapsed into a steady hum.

  Then, still chanting a prayer, Priest Marcus stepped back and the armor stepped down from the pedestal, following his hand’s motion.

  Pylades circled the armor as its backplates opened with a magnetic snap, releasing a burst of air like a breath. The armor’s hands snapped forward, held open like sleeves waiting for a wearer. Pylades stepped inside — the interior unseen by me, with the Sacred Armor’s right side turned toward me.

  The armor closed shut, swallowing Pylades inside.

  After tapping the armor a few times, the Priest lifted his head and said with reverence, "Commence."

  The armor moved again — this time guided by Pylades — and reached for the sword embedded in the wall. He pulled it free with one confident motion. First a soft click, then the wall spat out a thick, dull blade half the size of a man.

  "Move," Pylades said, sending chills through my forearms.

  I stepped back from the entrance to the armor storage chamber, letting him pass. The gill-like vents on Pylades’s back glowed faintly, radiating warmth that washed over my feverish body.

  "Equip the conditioning unit," Pylades commanded.

  The Priest retreated from the armor storage room, trying hard not to turn his back on any of the titans. He laid out the conditioning exoskeleton on the floor in a human-like shape. "Saint Leonard, please lie down inside." He pointed at what resembled a cage more than armor.

  My heart pounded in my ears, and my breath became quick and shallow — like my thoughts.