Blake jumped up. His wounds weren’t fully healed, but that didn’t matter. Not in the term he was planning on winning.

  He just needed a few good hits. Heron didn’t know what was coming.

  “Scum,” Heron said. He diverted his killing blow, aiming to split Blake’s skull in half, but Blake had other ideas.

  His Honour and Smite techniques left a binding residue, and if he hit it hard enough, conducted enough through with enough willpower, it had the potential to create a chain of lightning.

  Blake shifted to the side, striking Heron’s blade on the side with the tip of his staff and channelling a burst of black lightning up through it. It struck the sword. Where before, Heron’s mana had been strong enough to dispel the binding nature of the snake, Blake’s Honour now flooded it with overwhelming willpower.

  A set of concentric black rings appeared around the sword, eating away at the moonlight aspect mana and quelling the technique. It trembled, and the blade vibrated. Heron tried to push more mana through it, and it flared brightly for a few seconds.

  Had it been earlier in the fight, he might have had enough mana to break the binding. But not everyone was like Blake. Most cultivators could run out of mana.

  As soon as Heron’s mana lost the contest, as soon as the light faded from the sword, the binding burst, shooting bolts of black lightning out to the side and high up into the sky. They crackled into his Shaped crown, then into his clone, then into the floating orb of Shaped mana. All three shattered, dispelling the Shaping technique in a blizzard of silver sparks.

  Heron stumbled backward. He tried to swing his shield out, tried to create a wave of silver energy that swept Blake off his feet, but only a few sparks sputtered at the center of his shield.

  “You’re all out,” Blake said, marching forward. He limped and panted, and blood trickled down his shirt, which the runes quickly cleaned up. River’s healing ability had kept his organs alive, mostly functional, but he was still losing a lot of blood. He couldn’t keep this going much longer either, not until he got another heal.

  With an aftershock stored in his staff, he swatted the shield out of Heron’s grip. “Give up.”

  He remembered his promise to Mingel. He was to kill Heron.

  But first, he had to get the truth out to the world.

  “How?” Heron sputtered. “Monster! Demon!”

  Blake just laughed. “Sure. Sure, okay. I’m confident enough in my humanity and soul for this.”

  “What are you?” Heron spat. “Tell me, now! I command you!”

  “No, actually, I’ve got a few commands of my own.” Blake sifted through the wreckage of the fallen platform until he found his backpack, then reached inside and pulled out the talisman. “Tell me what this is.”

  “I—I don’t know!” Heron tilted his head.

  Technically, the duel wasn’t over. One of them hadn’t surrendered, and they were both alive. Heron could still try to backstab him, so Blake kept Heron firmly in the corner of his eye when he faced the crowd and held up the remains. “Untrue! He knows exactly what it is, because it has traces of his mana in it. He set talismans up like this around the Sceat Bowl, enhancing the Monarch and attempting to use it to kill Prince Arald. Now, so you don’t have to take my word for it, I’d ask the Path Paladins to come verify this for me.”

  It definitely wasn’t because he didn’t actually have the ability to sense mana traces. Definitely.

  The crowd parted, and the two Path Paladins marched up to the center of the plaza. Blake handed Reccán the talisman banner.

  Reccán assessed it for a few seconds, before nodding. “This is moonlight-aspect mana.”

  “So what? You found a talisman of mine?” Heron shouted. “That proves nothing! I don’t even know what you’re trying to prove.”

  “It’s got agitation runes on it, specifically?” Blake said.

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  “Well…” Reccán pressed his lips together. “Specifically, there is no such thing as an agitation rune. But this talisman emits a certain projection of intent imperceptible to men, but which can drive fiends and other monsters into an agitated state while also raising the quality of their mana.”

  “Lies!” Heron shouted.

  “The runes are fresh,” Reccán said. “It would explain the Monarch’s abnormal behaviour.”

  Blake pointed his staff at Heron. “He tried to kill Prince Arald. The Hunters and I saved his life. He tried to frame us, and settled for something slightly less convenient when it didn’t work. But make no mistake, this man is a liar!"

  Heron stomped a foot down. “Fine, then! I did it. Happy? I would’ve freed the king from his useless, spineless son. And my father, an appointee of the King himself, would’ve turned this region into an Empire. We could have turned this world into the most prosperous hunting ground ever seen!”

  Blake narrowed his eyes. “You’re beaten, Heron. Yield. Grant me my reward.”

  Heron glanced up at the Mergewatch Inn, at the balcony. Prince Arald stood, watching the entire debacle.

  “I know the punishment for treason,” Heron said. “But I can take this demon scum with me!” He snatched up his sword, charging at Blake with an unenhanced blade.

  Blake glanced up at the balcony where the prince stood, then back at Heron. The world slowed as Blake triggered the Serpent’s Cloak and flooded his enhanced body with Honour. He darted around the back of Heron and slammed his staff into the back of the man’s head, moving as quickly as he could.

  A burst of blood and bone sprayed out. In a single swipe, Blake smashed the man’s skull. Heron toppled to the side, lifeless.

  Blake leaned on his staff, panting, then looked out at the crowd. They breathed a collective sigh of relief, and more Honour rushed into Blake’s body. It was the best feeling Honour he’d ever felt in his life, like his channels were filled with the same sensation he got after a good workout.

  Before anyone else could converge on him, Prince Arald leapt off his balcony, soared across the plaza and landed in a crouch in front of Blake, his red cloak fluttering in the breeze behind him. He pressed his forehead to the ground and said, “You have my sincerest apologies.”

  Blake didn’t know how to react. He backed away slightly, holding his staff out. “Uh…thank you, my lord.”

  Arald stood up, straightening his cloak and coat, before facing Blake. “No.” He exhaled. “If I had just trusted my gut, if…I hadn’t listened to Silverbeard…” He rubbed the bridge of his nose. “The Hunters would still be alive. He razed your sect, didn’t he?”

  “He did, my lord.”

  Arald turned away, kicking the wood debris, then hung his head. After a few seconds, he turned back, a decisive look on his face. “Very well. I will do what I can to make this right. You were promised a reward in exchange for victory, were you not?”

  “Yes. It was—”

  Arald winced. “Apologies, but I do already know what it was. I observed your earlier skirmish with Heron at the last trade. It was a mostly rhetorical question.” He cursed softly under his breath, then whispered, “I am not awfully familiar with presenting myself as a public figure, you must understand…”

  Blake shrugged.

  Prince Arald jumped up onto a mound of wooden debris then motioned to Blake. “I hereby offer Bjarke Ekkson Blandi as an apprentice to the Silk Fan Traders of the Cohong. You will receive permission to board the manaship Iron Hide, and if the Silk Fan Trading Guild accepts you as their apprentice—which they should—you will have your new opportunity.” He jumped down, then marched closer to Blake. “It is a foot in the door, that much I can say. I do not expect you to stay with them for long. If your current trajectory is any indicator, you will rise above them.”

  Blake nodded his thanks, then gave a short bow. “Thank you, my lord.”

  “But that is not all. I wish to thank you personally for saving my life, for doing justice, and allowing me to restore honour to the crown.” He beckoned to Reccán, whispered something that made Reccán smile, then held out his hand.

  Reccán activated his storage ring and retrieved the Monarch’s core. He placed it in Arald’s hands and said, “Make good use of this—and the echo stored within.”

  Arald passed the core to Blake, and Blake tucked it away into his backpack for lack of a storage ring. “Thank you, my lord.”

  “But that is simply granting you the rightful rewards of a hunt. And I understand that Reccán was going to give you this regardless. So…” He reached up to his neck and unclasped his cloak, then bundled it up. “I give you a King’s redcloak. These are only awarded to members of the royal family, and to those who have done us a great service. If you are seen wearing it, people will think twice about crossing you or shunning you for your horns, and most importantly…” He dropped his voice to a whisper. “...you will find that it hides your advancement progress from any prying senses. You won’t have anyone asking questions about who or what you are anymore.”

  He handed the cloak to Blake, and Blake gladly accepted it.

  “With this,” Arald said, “you are no monster, but a man who has done a great deed—and who will likely keep doing great deeds.”

  “Thank you, my lord.” Blake beamed, and he meant it when he said, “I think you’ve done honourably by your people. I’m not sure if it’s my place, but I forgive you.”

  Arald bowed and walked back to the crowd, the Path Paladins following him. But before he disappeared, he shouted, “I hereby absolve Bjarke Ekkson Blandi of all crimes in the past, and I retract the order to hunt all members of the Hunter’s Sect. The Green Bears, however, are to be disbanded and replaced by a sect of the Steerman’s choosing. The edict will be delivered from the manaship later this evening, and it will have the full details. Please, everyone, disperse, and I will have this mess cleaned up.”