After a visit to Dorthen's Circle, the two returned to Ironheart Estate just before the evening meal.
A young girl—barely in her teens—sat on a courtyard bench, tossing breadcrumbs at ducks lounging in the fountain. She wrinkled her nose when they scattered, then looked up.
"Cane!"
Long black curls bounced as Melina waved. Her bright blue eyes lit up with admiration.
Cane dismounted and offered a small bow. "Princess Melina."
She pointed sharply. "You're supposed to call me Mel."
"Am I?" Cane ruffled her hair, turning her frown into a smile.
"Guess what? I got my testing today!"
Cane blinked.
"In the capital, kids are tested for elemental affinity once they're teens," Fergis explained.
"Hmm..." Cane considered. His own attunement flickered. "Water?"
Mel's eyes went wide. "Yes! How did you know?"
"I've got a water attunement too."
"I have two! Water and psi." She looked up expectantly.
"A dual talent?" Cane grinned. "That's rare."
Mel squinted past him. "Hey..."
"Hmm?"
She darted off. Cane followed, syncing with his ringworld. He overtook her and plucked a shadowy figure off the path—a young girl in leathers, no more than ten.
She hung limp. "Am I in trouble?"
Mel caught up, panting. "What's your name? Are you a thief? What're you doing here?"
"Rorianna," the girl muttered. "I live in that cottage. With my mum and da."
Cane set her down gently. "Relen's daughter? I thought you were a rabbit."
Both girls stared at him.
"She doesn't look like a rabbit," Mel said.
"Not even a little," Rori agreed.
"Well, Rorianna, this is Princess Melina."
Rori curtsied despite her pants.
"Just Mel," the princess corrected. "I don't like being called Princess."
"Okay. Then just call me Rori."
"Come on, Rori," Mel said, already tugging her along. "I'll show you around properly."
With only a short time until dinner, Cane lay down on the soft bed in the master bedroom, trusting one of his friends would wake him in time.
But what came was not rest—at least, not the kind he knew.
This wasn't part of his bloodline metallurgy training, nor one of the ancestral memory visions Philas had warned him about. This was something deeper. Older. Final.
A man and woman stood on a distant hilltop, hand in hand, watching a crimson sky as vast rifts tore through the clouds, reaching all the way to the horizon. The earth trembled beneath their feet.
The man's skin shimmered with a bluish hue, metallic veins pulsing like liquid ore. The woman beside him was golden—her eyes a brilliant shade of amber that made her seem almost divine.
"Cartier, I'm scared," she said softly. Calm, but certain. "Will Philas be okay? I don't want to face the end without knowing."
The man—Cartier—was silent for a long moment. "I've seen it. He will live. And from him, others will rise. Our kind will return. The Ironborn are not finished."
"You've seen it?" she asked again. Her face didn't shift, no flicker of emotion breaking through. It was as if expression had been taken from her.
"I have," Cartier said gently.
"Then I'm content."
The rifts widened, and the world began to quake.
Still hand in hand, they looked into each other's eyes as the sky ruptured overhead. Aspects—massive, godlike beings—descended. The couple closed their eyes as their skin began to change. Harden. Shine.
Adamantium. Silver.
In moments, their bodies became metal—no longer flesh but monument. Two statues stood alone on the hill, glowing faintly as the sky fractured above them.
Cane woke with a sharp breath.
A weight shifted beside him on the bed. His arm brushed against someone soft—and then lips met his in a gentle kiss that made him smile.
"Hey," he murmured. "Sophie."
"I was supposed to wake you," she said, shrugging. "But you looked so comfortable, I figured I'd snuggle up instead."
"Does that mean we're skipping dinner?" Cane rolled over and lightly pinned her with a grin. "Think carefully before you answer. You might end up as the meal."
Sophie giggled. "Terrifying."
He kissed her properly this time, then released her. "What's for dinner, anyway?"
"In the back courtyard. They've been slow-roasting a grade six tusker for over a week. Still buried. Smells incredible if you get close enough.
There's fruits, vegetables, traditional breads, and ale too—brought in just for the festival."
Cane's stomach growled. "Now I'm hungry."
He pulled Sophie with him into the hallway, only to find Relen speaking quietly to his daughter, Rori. The girl looked down at the floor, clearly upset.
"Go on," Cane whispered to Sophie, then lingered behind for a moment.
"Young Master," Relen said warmly, pausing his conversation.
Cane nodded. "The children of my staff have guest privileges. It's fine if Rori eats with us. Invite your wife too—I've been meaning to meet her."
Relen looked momentarily surprised, then sighed and gently tousled Rori's hair. "You heard him. Be on your best behavior."
Rori lit up, beaming at Cane before dashing off.
"This way, sir," Relen said, motioning toward the side door. "We're almost ready."
Cane followed, the scent of slow-cooked meat and roasted vegetables already drifting on the breeze.
A few round tables had been placed strategically in the back courtyard, each surrounded by six chairs. As Cane stepped outside, a round of applause broke out, surprising him. Sophie led him toward their table, where the rest of the team stood waiting.
Fergis grinned and pointed to a goblet at the center of the table. "As host, you get the honor. Most of the staff are new—this is their first real job. They're proud to be part of your estate."
Cane picked up the goblet, glancing around. Jonas was seated with Zio, Nina, and Sophie's parents at one table. At another, Elohan sat with Brammel, Selene Morva, Rori, Melina, and a woman Cane didn't recognize—dignified, elegant, possibly important.
He raised his glass.
"Welcome, everyone. First, to the staff—thank you for your hard work and dedication. You've turned this place into something I'm proud to call home.
"As for my team—" He paused, eyes scanning his friends. "Most of you already know, but this group will be knighted next week. Each of them played a critical role in ending the Terror incursion and in destroying the Zuni Command Center. If even one of them had failed, we might not be standing here. So, raise a glass—to the best damn four in the Academy."
A warm round of applause followed as Cane sat back down.
Clara already had a utensil in each hand, ready to spring into action. "I'm starving. All we did was walk. And walk. And walk."
"You should've come with us," Fergis said casually. "Cane beat up a knight."
Every head at the table turned.
Sophie wrinkled her nose and placed a hand on Cane's arm. "What?"
Cane groaned. "I didn't beat anyone up. I just locked a spoiled noble in his armor for being a rude bastard."
Fergis burst out laughing, slapping the table hard enough to rattle their cups. "I'm very curious to see what happens tomorrow."
Sophie raised an eyebrow. "What happens tomorrow?"
Fergis leaned in, clearly enjoying the moment. "Cane demanded the guy's father show up and apologize. To his face."
He grinned. "Pretty sure there are, like, three people in the capital who could get away with that."
Elsewhere…
Klaude Badturgen's fists clenched the arms of his plush chair, the wood groaning under the strain. Across from him, a cloaked operative spoke in measured tones.
"Did Finroy or Fergis say anything?"
The figure shook their head. "After speaking to several witnesses, I've confirmed your son tried to provoke Fergis. But instead, he insulted Cane. Publicly."
Klaude cursed beneath his breath. "And the movement?"
"Unknown. Possibly a spatial artifact. But quick. Controlled."
A shout echoed from below, where several smiths were still working to cut his son free from the armor Cane had fused shut. The sound grated on Klaude's nerves.
He stalked to the window and looked down at the courtyard. Just one glimpse of his son—flat on his back, half-dressed and still stuck—was enough to make his blood boil.
"What would you recommend?" he asked darkly.
The figure didn't hesitate. "Apologize. Or whatever else he asks."
"He's not tied to any faction," Klaude muttered. "We could—"
"You could try," the operative interrupted. "But no one in your house would survive it."
They stepped deeper into the shadows. "Two elves. The King. Telamon. Fury Legion. I don't know what's happening on the new front, but Cane's name is on everything. I'd think twice."
Klaude was silent for a moment. "Thank you, Fraedi. I'll consider your counsel."
Outside, the clatter of hooves signaled new arrivals. Klaude's expression darkened as he spotted the King's Guard sigil.
A tall woman in shining plate armor dismounted with purpose. Her sharp gaze swept across the estate before settling on the commotion.
"Badturgen," she muttered, storming toward the metal workbench where Finroy lay.
Klaude rushed to intercept her, recognizing her instantly. "First Knight! Meya—"
"Klaude." Her voice was iron. "Good. I'll speak to you, not the idiot you raised."
He straightened reflexively, but her words struck harder than any blow.
"Be at the Ironheart Estate tomorrow morning. Apologize. In person. If you don't, the King will revoke your Royal Charter. That means no titles, no deeds, and no noble bloodline after your death. Your family becomes commoners."
Klaude went pale. "First Knight, my son already understands the magnitude of his mistake. He will bring a proper peace offering. And of course, I will offer my own apology—for failing to raise him properly."
Some of the fire faded from Meya's expression. "At least you're not a fool."