Michael balanced carefully on the white stallion he’d been given. The steed was beautiful, but far less even tempered than what he was used to. He still lacked skills as a rider, a deficiency he wasn’t sure he’d ever be able to make up for. Ollie sat on a black stallion next to him, much more confidently balancing in the saddle, smirking as he watched Michael adjust for the tenth time.

  “Gods can’t help you with that?” he asked.

  “No. Horses are apparently at the edge of their expertise.” He gave the stallion a firm pat on the neck that seemed to settle him a bit. He was just ready to go, Michael couldn’t blame him. He looked at the rest of the parade, a number of men and women in full armor wearing capes of grey-blue and a dozen standards being carried to represent those that came from noble houses. The knights all carried lances with banners hanging from them that were meant to trail behind them as they rode. Along with the knights were soldiers that had been given laurels with flowers mixed into them, and sashes of a grey-blue that matched the capes on the knights. Michael recognized a number of faces as men and women that had fought with him in Lataxia. He could think of a number of others that should be honored as well, or that he would prefer could take his place. Unfortunately as he, Lance, and Ollie were the centerpiece of the parade that would’ve been impossible.

  He glanced back at his banner, being carried by a young squire. He smiled at the sight of the two headed eagle, and the memories it brought up of Gabriel. He could feel Veras’s touch as images of his son flooded his mind. Him shoving mashed potatoes in his mouth by the handful, burying his head in books of history Michael had never expected any of his children to take interest in, pulling into the driveway singing along to the radio loud enough that Michael could hear it, though he’d never tell him so.

  He blinked away the wetness that gathered in his eyes, unable to actually wipe at them with his visor in the way.

  “I bet the boys are jealous,” said Ollie with a smile.

  “I don’t know. I feel like Marcus wouldn’t be the biggest fan of this. Pyotr would probably enjoy the pageantry though. The man loves the stage.” He adjusted the clasp on his orange cape, meant to match his banner. “In a perfect world they would be here. Imagine how much easier everything would’ve been with them alongside us for everything.”

  “Eh, maybe ten percent easier. You and I make up about ninety percent of the power here.”

  “Why didn’t they come with you?” asked Lance, chiming in for the first time on his own white stallion.

  “Marcus can’t take proper advantage of his title if he isn’t fighting other people with titles and deeds. Pyotr-”

  “Pyotr wanted to get laid.”

  “Pyotr had started a relationship with one of the aelven mercs, and also I think he wanted to keep an eye on Marcus.”

  Lance nodded. “There are worse reasons than love and friendship.”

  Michael nodded in agreement, and went back to waiting for the signal to move. Luckily he didn’t have to wait long.

  A horn blew a long and clear tone that set Michael’s bones to shaking and with that the main gate to the city was opened and the parade made its way forward. It wasn’t dark before the gate was opened, but the sudden break in the shade into the brightness of day had Michael squinting through his visor. He recovered from that quickly enough, but then it was the roar of the crowd that took him off guard. He had known that their reception was going to be great, but he’d underestimated just how many people would be out.

  He pushed his white stallion forward. He was near the center along with Lance and Ollie. The front was taken by a knight in black armor to represent the glorious fallen, an old local tradition, and behind him were a number of musicians that played as they moved, followed by dancers, then came Michael and the others. The roar of the crowd was great, but when they saw Michael, Ollie, and Lance they exploded.

  Men, women, and children threw flowers, colored paper scraps, and cast small firework spells in their direction. He waved along with Lance and Ollie, but as they moved he decided he’d do more than that. He raised his hand up and it began to glow gold, the feeling of his wife’s hand on his making him feel for a moment like she was with him in the parade. The glow made the crowd roar louder, but that was only the beginning. He wasn’t just doing it for show, and began to spread his healing around as far as he could. He healed everything. Scraped knees, small cuts from cooking, aching knees, old painful injuries, hernias, missing limbs, blindness, all of it. Everyone from the screaming people in the front to those stuck far back and unable to see received his healing.

  He kept it up as they moved, healing those all along the path as they passed, and soon Michael could no longer even hear over the din of the crowd. He was vaguely aware of Ollie yelling something about not being outshone along with some choice phrases regarding a peacock. After that the mage raised his hands and sent out a massive burst of magical fireworks along with a lightshow that seemed to have been copied exactly from a Led Zeppelin one Michael had seen back when he was young on Earth. If he played The Immigrant Song in his head it matched up perfectly.

  You might be reading a pirated copy. Look for the official release to support the author.

  They kept up their healing and light show all the way up until they reached the stage where the King was waiting, though Michael only stopped when he was certain he’d healed everyone.

  As they approached the stage, they all leapt from their horses. Michael somehow managed to do so gracefully, his armor clanking as he landed. They approached the stage in a neat line, and climbed up the steps toward where King Marlo stood.

  He was looking much better than when Michael had first arrived. His cheeks were starting to fill out again and his eyes weren’t so sunken. He’d likely never be the picture of health, but that he was much restored was evident, and Michael took pride in being the one that had made it happen. The King had traded his more simple clothes and crown he wore within the inner chambers of the palace for an ornate outfit of blue-gray trimmed in silver and a crown of gold.

  When they were in front of him, the three of them kneeled in a line.

  The King allowed the cheering to continue for a moment before he raised his hands, causing it to die down gradually.

  “The Kingdom of Hume has endured.” he started, his voice magically projecting out into the crowd. “It has been broken into pieces, but endured. It has been besieged by rifts, but it has endured. It has been attacked by enemies beyond our world, but it has endured!”

  Michael felt like those last two were much the same, but decided it wasn’t the time to bring it up.

  “I do not want us to just endure though. I want us to thrive. I want Hume to become the jewel it once was. With you, the people, I believe this is possible!”

  The crowd cheered until he raised a hand to quiet them again.

  “The rifts that have plagued us, that have kept us from being what we were meant to be, the end to them is now in sight. It will not be a quiet end. It will not be an easy one. But when it is done, we shall be stronger than ever before and finally able to lead our lives in peace.”

  He paused for a moment, not for cheers, but to take a breath.

  “These three men in front of us, Heroes of Lataxia, Champions of the realm, are being honored today not only for their courageous actions in battle, but also for the contributions I know they will bring once the realm is at peace.”

  The King turned and was handed, not a sword, but a silver scepter with a sapphire the size of a fist at its tip, by Bren. He raised it high into the air for a moment, then he walked to Lance, standing in front of him.

  “Lance Kreg came here to Hume with nothing. A forsaken knight abandoned by his homeland. Here, he has fought every day to improve the lives of others and has become a shining example of a knight of Hume. Today I honor him by naming him Count, Lord of the Crystal River, master of the Southwestern Lowlands.”

  He placed the tip of his staff on each of his shoulders as he spoke, then he moved to Ollie.

  “Oliver Mason is a taker. A man who owes no allegiance to our kingdom, nor our world. In spite of that he came here to lend aid. To use his powerful magic to help us turn the tide against the enemies that are set against us. Today I name him a Count, Lord of the highest peaks and the Southeastern Highlands. I also name him the highest of court wizards.”

  King Marlo repeated the gestures he’d made on Lance and then stepped over to Michael.

  “Michael Mann is a taker like Ollie, and like him he is so much more than just that. He has sealed more than a hundred rifts in service to Hume. He has healed thousands of our injured, our sick, and maimed. He has fought hundreds of battles, throwing himself into the front every time and even willingly sacrificing himself to save a dozen people of Hume without a second thought. As such, I name him the Count of the old Capitol, lord of the southern coast.”

  He placed the scepter on each of Michael’s shoulders, then paused.

  “Though he has served us nobly, he also serves something aside from Hume. He serves the Gods. It is through their influence that we’ve been able to turn the tide of the rifts, that we are close to ending them as a threat. In the times before the cataclysm there were many roles the king granted to those that acted as his connection to the divine. For those that served the divine as holy warriors, there was one Title that was beyond all others.”

  The King looked down at where Michael was kneeling.

  “I name you my Paladin. Representative of the gods and their divine might.”

  The crowd roared, and the gods sang in his ears as words of gold settled upon his shoulders.

  …

  Michael peeled off his helmet and sat on a bench within the palace. He wasn’t tired physically, but the parade had drained him in other ways. Back on Earth the biggest meetings or presentations he’d had to run only numbered in the low hundreds, nowhere near what he’d just experienced. He took a few deep breaths to steady himself, closing his eyes to focus on the rise and fall of his own chest.

  He heard footsteps approaching quickly and opened his eyes to see Ernst, the Herald, approaching him with a book in hand.

  “Good afternoon, Lord,” he said with a small bow. Michael would have to get used to that.

  “Good afternoon, Ernst. Can I help you with something?” He’d prefer to stare blankly at a wall for a while, but that didn’t seem like a possibility at the moment.

  “Well, Lord, it’s a bit of an oversight on my part. A rather problematic mistake, and I’d hoped to catch you before the parade to save you the embarrassment yourself, but uh, well.”

  “Whatever it is, I’m sure it’s fine. I won’t ask that you’re punished for it,” said Michael in what he hoped was his most reassuring tone.

  Ernst steadied a bit at hearing that. “Well, it appears that the heraldry you have chosen is actually an exact match for that of someone else.”

  Michael sat up straight and leaned toward the man quickly. “How exact?”

  The man flinched a bit as Michael leaned toward him. “Well, heralds of other kingdoms sometimes send updates of their heraldry between one another as a matter of course and I had received this one more than seven years ago, but had not had the chance to properly look through it.” He leafed through the book in his hand and opened it to a page where an exact match for the heraldry Michael had told him of was looking back at him, even the Latin word not of this world was there, ‘Ingenium’.

  “Whose crest is it?” asked Michael in a tone that made the man tremble.

  “It’s the personal heraldry of the King of Burndan, Castor, from before he was crowned. I never considered it because personal heraldry like this is always superseded by the royal heraldry for kings once they take the throne, but-”

  Michael stood up and ran.