It’s FrInnDay again, and the Trial of Talent is over. There were smotherings done in poor taste, beautiful dancing, poetry, and harsh lessons in underestimating your opponent. One must never listen to Caldenia unless one is absolutely sure she is on their side. Was Kosandion impressed with the candidates? Did he appreciate his aunt’s schemes? After all, she did murder his father. Who knows the heart of the Sovereign? It is a mystery wrapped in an enigma, beating in a rather muscular chest. Let us see what happens.

As the delegates filed out of the arena, taking the tunnels to their respective quarters, Kosandion leaned toward me and said, “I’ve heard my aunt takes frequent walks.” I confirmed that, indeed, Her Grace enjoyed her daily stroll, to which he said, “I should like to walk as well. It’s good to stretch your legs after so much sitting.” I nodded, stepped away, reached out through the inn, found Caldenia, who was on the way to her quarters, and quietly shared Kosandion’s newfound love of moderate exercise with her.

Now Kosandion pondered the trees by our pond while I waited a few yards away, watching over him, and Caldenia, who had taken an opportunity to change clothes, was moving through the inn toward us.

Sean stepped out of the bushes. He was taking the whole “traverse through walls” thing to a new level. It was honestly easier to just use an established door, but popping out of random places appealed to him for some reason. I held out my hand, and he quietly squeezed it.

“How is Surkar?”

“Healing. I sedated him.”

“Should we worry about him retaliating?”

Sean shook his head. “He knows when he is beaten. We talked before he passed out. He is coming to terms with it.”

“I don’t understand why he opened with such a straightforward attack.”

“Because it worked for him many times before. If you give an average person a gun, and someone of Surkar’s size charges at them with a sword, most people will forget about the gun and try to get out of the way or throw their hands up to protect themselves. It takes training to overcome that instinctual response. Even if Kosandion had a shield and tried to block, the power differential is too high. Surkar would have broken the shield and Kosandion’s arm.”

“Kosandion clearly has training.”

Sean sighed. “As Surkar found out. I asked him if it ever occurred to him that a person of the Sovereign’s status, with genetic modification and unlimited resources, would have access to the best combat trainers available.”

“What did he say?”

“He said, ‘Why would he need them? He has an army and bodyguards. He doesn’t look like a fighter.’”