Watching him interact with the lady was like watching a lioness stalk a kill, only to find it had teeth and claws far beyond her own capability. His supreme confidence even in the face of overt hostility to his ideals was unfaltering. How did we not see the truth, even then? How did we not realize what he was? Looking back on it now, I feel ashamed of my own ignorance. There stood a titan, a god, a deity made flesh—and we assumed him a man. A rare breed of man perhaps, but a man no less. Now all of the Humanosphere hangs on the faint hope of his mercy, and we are powerless to do more than watch. Watch, and pray. Gods help us all.

  Arthur stepped out of what he’d been informed were officially his ‘apartments’ within the Leos’ palace twenty minutes later, and Arthur took note of both Endymion and Perseus standing quite conspicuously silent outside the doors, with a freshly changed Circe.

  Gone was the pseudo-maid ensemble, and in its place she wore a black peplum dress down to her knees, with her arms bare and braced by two golden bands around her biceps. Her hair fell in two luxurious waves down her front and in a third, far broader one to the base of her spine—and she completed the look with a pair of criss-crossed sandals extending up to her knees.

  When he moved forward and she joined him smoothly, both Kidemónes fell in behind.

  “So,” Arthur said with a glance at Circe while they walked, “the Lion Maiden?”

  “That is my moniker among the nobles,” Circe said conversationally, and with a slight blush of embarrassment. “I didn’t coin it, and I certainly didn’t embrace it immediately, but it is not as awful as ‘Sword Saint Menelaus’ or ‘Lady Cassandra the Lion’,” she said with a subconsciously embarrassed brushback of her blonde-streaked black hair.

  The immediate empathy he felt toward her momentarily took Arthur by surprise.

  Even knowing it was happening, the subtle pressure to apologize of all things, and to ask forgiveness, was stunning. Circe’s psionic charisma was intense, and it actually took him a momentary act of focused willpower to suppress it.

  Arthur actually found himself having to keep at least half a mind on the passive effects of the woman’s aura, much to his surprise. For her to be affecting him, she truly was gifted.

  Not surprisingly, the Kidemónes were less able to deflect the effects.

  “I did not intend insult,” Endymion said in a chagrined tone. “It will not happen again.”

  “Oh that’s quite alright, Kidemónas Chloros. I am rather used to the silly title by now.”

  The implied vulnerability to high density psions was still quite an interesting concept to Arthur, who considered the implications of soldiers as elite as the Kidemónes being susceptible to such passive manipulation—until he realized almost in the same moment that individuals with the capacity to affect such an influence on them were probably one in a million at best.

  Even in Graecia, the majority of Eidolon pilots that did exist were likely all too weak to have as profound an impact as Circe’s. By all accounts of what he’d been told, she was something of a prodigy—not unique, but certainly extremely rare.

  “How long was I asleep?” Arthur asked into the silence that followed.

  “Thirteen hours,” Perseus answered from his right and behind. “We’re in the final quarter of the day cycle on Hellas. The time is currently… 3942 hours, as reckoned by the Hellenic timescale.”

  “Forty-eight hour days are going to take getting used to,” Arthur admitted with a sigh.

  “The nights are more manageable,” Perseus assured him, “and the pseudo-suns help. Mix that with painstakingly light-proofed housing and you find ways to get used to it, despite the natural human proclivity to twelve hour cycles.”

  “I suppose it would be worse for the lower class citizens that lack the gene-tailoring of the Aristocracy,” Arthur commented thoughtfully.

  Circe glanced at him in surprise when he said it, and her dark eyebrows furrowed.

  “You speak so casually of that, Ser Magellan,” she pointed out with a questioning and mildly critical emerald gaze. “Are such topics not considered taboo in the Aurelian Star Kingdom?”

  “Deferring knowledge of the obvious for the sake of social niceties has never appealed to me, my lady,” Arthur responded without remorse.

  He had no use for obfuscation regarding the matter, after all, given he was likely more gene-tailored than anyone present. Not that he intended to share that fact. It was amazing how different he felt after the return of his memories, especially knowing how much of his personality had been wrapped up by Nataliya.

  The Inquisitor had not just locked away critical information, she’d been as good as her word and locked fundamental parts of his identity away. The more of Zacaris that re-emerged, the more aware Arthur was of exactly how different and vastly opposed his worldviews had been when compared to his new companions—or even, he admitted, his new self.

  “I did not intend to commit a social faux pas, though, my lady,” Arthur added a moment later for the sake of courtesy. He was not going to apologize for speaking his mind, though adhering to some measure of social decorum seemed warranted given it was her home, and he was to be spending a whole week in her company with only a few hours apart.

  “You… did not,” she said as if considering it. “I was simply taken aback, I suppose.”

  “By the truth?” Arthur asked while following her when she turned left upon reaching a colonnaded balcony, and descended down a set of wide marble stairs.

  “Gene-tailoring is a necessary practice for the advancement of mankind, and for the survival of the species,” Circe answered conversationally. “That fact has been understood since the geneticists triumphed over the transhumanists and scoured every notable trace of the techno-cultists from the nascent Humanosphere, but for you to so glibly speak of it…”

  “Ah,” Arthur noted with only a mild amount of challenge, “so you were surprised that I don’t consider eugenics a point of reverence?”

  “You state it with such contempt, Ser,” Circe observed with a look at him that said she knew exactly what he was doing. “Does the pursuit of human evolution offend you so much, despite you yourself clearly benefiting from the process?”

  “She’s got you there,” Perseus commented with amusement from his side.

  “Well struck, Lady Circe,” Endymion rumbled in agreement.

  “Traitors,” Arthur said absently while he considered a proper response, and Circe laughed appreciatively.

  “I suppose,” Arthur said a few moments later, “that I cannot be hypocritical and say I entirely disapprove of the idea of gene-tailoring thanks to the very accurate assessment that I myself have benefited from it, though I assure you it was by no choice of my own.”

  “No one ever chooses it outside of micro-tailoring, Ser,” Circe said with a very unladylike snort of amusement. “It’s done in utero for a reason. How are pre-sapient babies supposed to have a say in anything?”

  “And that doesn’t strike you as unethical?” Arthur asked with genuine interest.

  “Ethics and morality are relative to one’s society and circumstance, no matter what anyone says,” Circe replied while they crossed the halfway point of the marble staircase. “Do I think it denies agency? Of course I do, but the benefits cannot be denied. If given the choice, I cannot say that being able to live longer, having inherent immunities to almost every known form of illness, possessing the ability to control my fertility, having the durability to withstand all the world could throw at me, and being gifted with strength enough to crush metal is a bad thing.”

  “That’s a very positive way of looking at it,” Arthur agreed conversationally, “but what about the other side? What about being designed to appeal to the vainglorious societal ideals of beauty which are rampant upon whichever planet you’re born, only for those standards to change on a dime at random moments, and leave you looking like a living example of outdated fashion?”

  “So, you really are a bastard son of nobility?” Circe asked with a bluntness that surprised Arthur, and forced him to reconsider her insights when they reached the bottom of the stairs and entered a spacious foyer.

  The floor connecting to the stairs was marked by crimson carpet, and honest-to-the-throne tapestries were hung on the walls around the expansive area.

  “I am not a bastard,” Arthur responded truthfully, “though I am not eager to speak of my origins, if it’s all the same.”

  “Told you he was a Lord,” Perseus said out loud to Endymion, and clearly with the intention of being heard.

  “That does not mean he’s a Lord, Andino,” Endymion growled dismissively.

  “It does not,” Circe agreed with an unblinking gaze on Arthur. “He may simply be the ordained child of a lawful concubine. I hear that such practices are permitted in Aurelia, in order to secure the most worthy heir, irrelevant of the parentage being the lawful spouse of the title holder among the Star Kingdom’s Aristocracy.”

  “You know a lot about Aurelian tradition,” Arthur conceded with undisguised appreciation.

  Circe’s intellect seemed to be as sharp as her wit and as keenly honed as her acerbic tongue, which only buoyed her in Arthur’s eyes. The fact she’d guessed at his true origins, even if her frame of reference had been wildly off, was actually impressive. It was a limited pool of options, he acknowledged, but she’d still hit the nail on the head.

  Another trick of resonance, perhaps, or simply keen insight?

  Somehow he truly hoped it was the latter.

  He’d always been a fan of intelligence over anything else.

  Especially in a Galaxy rife with gene-tailored attractiveness.

  “Interstellar politics was part of my mandated education, Ser,” Circe continued while oblivious to his considerations. “It was very necessary for the heiress of a House as old and prestigious as ours.”

  “As was interrogation, apparently,” Arthur responded glibly.

  “Perhaps,” Circe admitted with a sly smile as they stepped outside the massive double doors to the foyer, and into what appeared to be a beautifully curated garden courtyard—one framed within the inner limits of the palatial residence, and occupied by a small group of people in the near distance.

  This story has been stolen from Royal Road. If you read it on Amazon, please report it

  They had not been immediately noticed, but Arthur knew that would change quickly.

  “In the interest of diplomacy, my lady, I’ll admit that my view on the genetic manipulation of mankind as a standard practice is an ambivalent one,” Arthur said while choosing to affect nonchalance toward the waiting crowd ahead of them. “My knowledge and education insofar as history goes tells me that genetic ‘superiority’ as a concept has been the cause of a considerable number of brutal, and ethically bankrupt regimes across the length of human history.”

  “The Ascendancy is not like that,” she said while coming to a halt and turning to face him, her expression once again embodying the proud warrior princess ready to defend her honor.

  “I believe you,” Arthur said while meeting her fierce jade eyes, “and I didn’t mean to infer it was. I know most star nations across the humanosphere are not inclined toward such narrow thinking—but neither can you deny that some are, and for all that we are taught from the cradle that the transhumanists were evil, degenerate, senseless monsters creating cyborg abominations and twirling evil mustaches… well, it just isn’t that simple in my eyes.”

  Circe searched his gaze for a long moment, and some of the instinctive anger seemed to leech from her eyes when she did.

  “You aren’t a transhumanist.”

  She phrased it as a statement, but the question was there, and the subtle shift of the Kidemónes told Arthur they were interested in the answer too.

  “I am not,” he confirmed truthfully, “nor am I a sympathizer. I don’t believe in what they were doing, but my point—” he looked at all three of his companions while he spoke, to make sure that both Perseus and Endymion were paying as much attention as Circe herself “—is that a lot of atrocities can and have been justified for the purpose of advancing the genetic development of mankind. Forced breeding, exo-wombs, and even pseudo-cloning for organ development to name a few.”

  “Disgusting and abhorrent practices,” Circe declared flatly, though he could see she was thinking and listening despite the automatic and vehement statement.

  “True, but still practices that exist,” Arthur said with a confidence buoyed by even-then on-rushing memories. Arthur Zacaris had held many of the same frustrations and disagreements within himself—despite never necessarily vocalizing them, given the nature of his environment.

  “That’s my point, really,” he continued. “I can see the benefits and necessities of the geneticist ideology. After all, who wouldn’t? With the discovery of Callandium, breeding to increase psion density and Callandium compatibility for the purpose of creating a ‘perfect psionic’ to take the next step in human evolution is a very, ah, romantic goal… but that doesn’t mean everyone will pursue it within the unspoken moral or ethical confines within which much of the humanosphere operates.”

  Both Kidemónes nodded slightly in agreement to his words, and he noticed that Circe appeared to be listening intently. She wasn’t perhaps in total agreement with him, but there was a clear and present desire in the House Leos heiress to hear his words and—more than that—to understand them.

  It was rather endearing, compared to his memories of most Aristocrats in Pendragon.

  “The correlation between Callandium compatibility, psion density, and overarching power is irrefutable,” Circe admitted with a sigh, “and even here on Graecia, far away from the Terran Imperator and his psionic autocracy, we still feel the pressure of the Academia Psionica and its ruthless pursuit of children born with desired capacities. The fact Terra wields its unilateral control of Callandium like a club only serves to sharpen the point of your argument, I suppose.”

  “I’m surprised to hear you say it so bluntly, my lady,” Arthur said genuinely.

  “I am not blind, Ser,” she murmured with a quiet sigh. “The Paladins provide the Callandium, under the auspices of the Imperator ostensibly ‘aiding’ human development, but we all know what it really is. It’s control. No star nation will refuse Callandium. It would make them irrevocably vulnerable to their enemies, but…”

  “It’s frustrating to see the positives and the negatives, and be able to justify the negatives even while despising them,” Arthur finished with a wry smile.

  “Yes,” Circe agreed with a look back into his eyes, and a warm smile of her own. “Yes. Exactly.”

  “Glad to know we agree,” he said in a warmer tone.

  “You do have a point. A good one,” she conceded with a chuckle before continuing, “though I still don’t think the Imperator’s use of Callandium as a control mechanism, nor the evil scum that pervert everything genetic science stands for, should be a valid counterpoint to the benefits of what we’re doing as a civilization.”

  “Even if it’s only the top percentile of the population that benefits from those programs?” Arthur questioned with genuine interest in her opinion. “We both know that whether it’s a constitutional monarchy like Graecia, a democracy, an autocracy like the Grand Imperium, or even a mega-corporate conglomerate that rules a star nation; it’s always the upper crust of whatever society exists that reap the greatest benefits from gene-science.”

  He shrugged a little and gestured loosely at nothing in particular.

  “Hell, the way that breeding impetus is approached, the gap between the upper and lower stratum only grows with the decades—let alone across centuries.”

  “That isn’t always the case, however,” Circe pointed out after he was done, and with her hands braced thoughtfully on her wide hips. “Advances in genetic science have led to innumerable cures for once-thought incurable ailments, as an example. Cancer has been all but eradicated, Xenoviruses are rapidly addressed by what is now an extensive comprehension of the human genome, and our ability to colonize different climates, environments, and worlds has been massively bolstered by the availability of immediate micro-tailoring to adapt people’s biology for their chosen habitation zones.”

  “Those are valid points,” Arthur conceded with a nod, “though it does not rule out the glaring inequity present across many star nations in the Humanosphere, caused primarily by the hyperfixation around genetically superior breeding.”

  “The Ascendancy is not one of those nations, though” Circe countered with a pointed emphasis on ‘Ascendancy’, as if she was acknowledging the others in the Sector may not share her perception of Graecia’s enlightenment. “Most star nations out there, in fact, aren’t like that.”

  There was a certainty to her tone, and an implicit idealism within that certainty, which Arthur found both amusing and endearing. There was no way for her to know any such thing factually, but he wasn’t about to undermine her fundamental optimism without very good cause.

  Truthfully, he could admit to himself, he was enjoying this exposure to the animated nature of her convictions—even if she spoke with some measure of naivety.

  “Yes, there’s some manner of dichotomy. I’ll grant you that,” Circe continued passionately, “but the overwhelming reality across much of the known Humanosphere is that people benefit from longer lives, universal healthcare, and the fact our species has all but eradicated disease and mental illness where it’s possible to do so.”

  “That doesn’t account for every nation as a rule, though, nor does it speak to factual data.”

  “No, it doesn't,” Circe admitted with a small frown.

  “Nor does your statement account for every ailment,” he pointed out casually.

  Circe sighed and gestured with a hand in acknowledgement of his point.

  “Some injuries, some trauma, some mental illnesses are beyond the scope of human understanding—but even then,” she continued resolutely, “psionic healing has bridged many of the gaps where science has failed us… and that is only possible because of the Geneticists’ legacy of understanding when it comes to Callandium and Psions, and the superior minds that curated breeding produces.”

  “Which only circles back to the disparity between those with superior gene-lines,” Arthur pointed out, “and those with more common bloodlines. It is only the superior that have the Callandium capacity to wield their powers and affect that relief for others, and only if they choose to dedicate part of their Callandium capacity to those sorts of sigils and spells.”

  “Nobody should be forced to sacrifice their own pursuits for others,” Circe pointed out firmly and without missing a beat, “which is why it’s considered benevolent in the first place. Without it being a volunteer pursuit, it would just be a glorified form of slavery. Oppression and stratification are rarely the norm in most Human nations, Ser.”

  “But it is the case often enough,” Arthur continued doggedly, and with a smile he tried to suppress.

  He was very much enjoying the rapidfire exchange.

  It was satisfying to debate with someone that felt passionately on such matters, and had the intelligence and courage to challenge him.

  “Graecia is not entirely an exception either, my lady. Your own parents, while only distantly so, are cousins. It was seen as more acceptable for your family to engage in incest—albeit in name only, as far as genetics is concerned—than to seek a suitable match for your father outside of House Leos. I would wager there are more than a few Graecian Houses with first cousins, or even siblings of some capacity, that are wedded.”

  Both Kidemónes shifted slightly to step subtly away at his words, but Arthur ignored them. His focus was on Circe. How she dealt with his admittedly inflammatory, but not inaccurate points would inform him quite heavily on her own personal convictions.

  What he received was a mix between a sound of discontent and a grimace of disgust, “the idea of sibling marriage is not something I agree with, Ser, and my parents are third cousins!”

  Arthur chuckled and shook his head, and she favored him with a half-hearted glower.

  “I’m aware of the fact they’re basically not related in any way that matters, but that doesn’t change what it means on paper, my lady,” Arthur noted, while finally letting loose with a wry smile that seemed to ease her evident disgruntlement at his earlier laugh.

  “My point is that there will always be a separation of privilege between the upper and lower classes,” he continued thereafter, “and I would wager you never even considered the idea of marrying anyone that couldn’t give you an heir more powerful than you—or at least one with a good chance of power parity. I doubt you even like most of your peers among the Ascendancy’s upper society, but the thought still never occurred to you.”

  “I…” Circe trailed off and sighed.

  A moment later she shook her head and laughed softly.

  “It is unfair to have such discussions with your psion density at work, Arthur.”

  So he was Arthur now, was he? He decided to test and see if it had been intentional.

  “Don’t blame my psions for my being right, Circe,” he responded with a smile.

  Her eyes searched his for a moment, and a beatific smile spread across her lips.

  He had made the right choice by responding with her name in kind, it seemed.

  “Is your psion count as prodigious as I was told?” she asked curiously.

  “I have been told it is a rare density even among the Inner Sectors.” he admitted.

  Circe looked thoughtful at his words, and seemed to ponder the weight of them.

  “I wonder if that is why we have such strong resonance…” she murmured half to herself, while watching him closely. “Though I assume you, too, have felt it?” she asked in a more conversational tone.

  “I have,” he admitted honestly, “and I’m not certain. I don’t know what controls resonance.”

  “Some people say it’s the divine tether of predestined love,” she responded lightly.

  “Some people are idiots,” Arthur muttered without missing a beat.

  Circe let out a warm and spine-tinglingly musical laugh at his words.

  “Okay, fair enough,” she said with remnant mirth, “I’ll accept that.”

  “I’m glad we’re in agreement,” he said with a smile of his own.

  He really did enjoy her laugh, for all that he wondered if it was him or her psions at play. In a lot of ways, he didn’t think it mattered. It was just nice to enjoy a conversation with a relative equal, and one that was almost immune to his psion density in a way few others were. She was… not unique, but certainly rare in her ability to engage him in discourse with little to no evident influence from his psion density.

  It strangely helped him feel normal in a way he usually couldn’t.

  Even his Zacaris memories agreed it was a truly rare occurrence.

  “And it’s not as if I don’t see your point, you know,” she said after a few moments of thoughtful silence. “I do. I do. It’s just… Well, what can we really do about it? If any of us stop pursuing superior genetics for each subsequent generation, we’ll lose all standing with our peers. Genetic perfection is one of the few universal pursuits across the Humanosphere. Not even the Grand Imperium is an exception, and certainly not your home system of Aurelia.”

  “Of course they aren’t,” Arthur said with a resigned sigh. “After all, the Grand Imperium started the damn pursuit.”

  “Well, yes. I suppose that’s true,” Circe conceded with frown. “And they painted the destiny of us all in the act.”

  “Kingmaker theory strikes again,” Endymion rumbled from the side.

  “Hard to argue with that,” Arthur said while Perseus nodded his agreement as well.

  A shout from the distance caught their attention, and Circe glanced back toward the distant group now fully looking their way, and then turned back to Arthur.

  “Well, Ser Magellan. If you’re done making me question the foundations of our reality—” she tempered the words with a smile that warmed Arthur’s cheeks “—and dazzling me with your intellect, perhaps we can finally go and meet with my father?”