Yawning and rubbing the sleep from his bloodshot eyes, Prince Edward Castile walked the pristine white, gold, and royal purple halls of his father's floating castle, doing his best to calm himself. The Choosing Ceremony was only a day away, and he hadn't performed well during the trials. Again. His father would be extremely displeased, which was a problem.

  Ed's coterie knight, a magnanimous mostly-man in gleaming white armor, clinked just behind him. The white knight's strong jaw, red skin, and imposing presence were likely better suited to a black knight than someone who was supposed to put people at ease. Sir Stone Enots, white knight of Heimheim, was stoic at best. His piercing ice-blue judgmental gaze bore into Ed's back with divine power. The white knight disapproved of day drinking, drinking at work, or drinking to excess, all of which Ed was currently engaging in. The traditional and religious Sir Enots disapproved of most things Ed did, but he stayed silent except for the soft clinking of armor.

  On the surface, Ed had everything. He was handsome by any measure, with thick black hair that effortlessly fell into place. His eyes shone with the clarity of a flawless purple amethyst, inherited from his father, the most powerful ruler the universe had ever known. As for himself, Ed was easily one of the best psychics in the empire alongside members of his family. Not that he made a habit of using his overpowered abilities. He expressly refused, much to his own detriment.

  And “why?”, the casual observer may ask. Why would the seventh spawn of the Emperor of the Thirteen Nations United Under High Mountain and High King of High Mountain purposely do poorly? Why would he shut out the hundreds of minds he could easily read at any given moment? Why would he not brainwash people whose planets he was sent to conquer? Could it simply be that mind control didn't feel right? Or was it a more selfish reason? He wanted people to have a choice about whether to like him. He wanted genuine relationships with friends who weren't enthralled with him. This was, of course, mostly a pipe dream, but if he was careful, he could find people who could share their honest feelings about him with him.

  And so, not only had he performed poorly at the trials, but he'd nearly failed to take the resource-rich area of his latest assignment. He was ashamed to say, with just days left, he'd broken down and cleaned the minds of the local populace. It had been easy, and that's what made it so difficult. He'd given up on his principles for success. Stopping, Ed pulled out his flask and drank deeply of an alcohol that would have stung if he hadn't already been drunk. Fortunately, he was already pickled enough for it to go down smoothly.

  Behind him, the white knight shifted uncomfortably and grunted disapproval. He was frightened of the High King, and part of him longed for the relief impairment could provide. It was he who would take the brunt of the High King's psychic lashing. After all, what was a coterie knight if not a glorified whipping boy with additional duties? He was a brave and loyal man, but he could only endear so much. Ed's failure would make him the lone recipient of the High King's fury. For that, Ed felt guilty and took another drink to quiet his conscious.

  The Choosing Ceremony was to select additional knights for the royal family's coteries. Each member of the royal family had a band of knights they physically linked to themselves. Ed was behind in the number of knights he was supposed to have, but he didn't think he could bear ruining another man's life.

  “Don't turn around,” a pretty little voice, trying its best to sound edgy, demanded. Of course, Sir Enots immediately turned around, his rows of large teeth showing in a huge grin. His glowing blue eyes lost their piercing nature as he waved like an idiot.

  Groaning, Ed complied with the girl's command, though annoyance came through in his voice. He could feel the love for Princess Nina Shino of the Hassassani through his love-sick knight. If he looked at Nina the wrong way, he could find himself flattened by a jealous white knight. His control over Sir Enots was all but nullified in her presence. That was a nice change. The prince didn't need to see Nina to know she'd be dressed in blacks and grays, wearing a face mask and a billowing cloak with the hood up to obscure her shape. A pair of glowing red eyes would be lurking in the wrong place under the hood to be human.

  These belonged to Nina's pet puca, a smoky black creature of perpetual fog with leathery wings. The puca most often looked like a cat, but the shape shifter could be a raven-like bird or a horse-deer hybrid, depending on the need. Wihwin, as the puca was called, rode on Nina's shoulders most of the time.

  “I said don't turn around, idiot. I don't have much time. The big guy is going to punish you despite Stone crushing it during the trial. Great performance by the way, man. You looked great out there, and that new white cape has the perfect billow for epic finishes. Ed, you sucked, which is why you need to assure the big guy that you have a plan. Your next coterie knight will be Sir Theodore Locke Acogson,” the adorable girl declared confidently, in deep contrast to her many, many threats warning Ed never to select another one of her friends.

  Scoffing, Ed shook his head at the stupid idea, cutting Nina off, “Teddy? No way, Nina. I'm not ready for a blue knight. Especially not one I have never gotten along with. Ted's insane. Example: The man hates trees. Trees. Not talking trees or ents, but the ordinary, run-of-the-mill non-sentient trees. That's just the tip of his insanity. He probably has the Mechmian Merriness. I won't do it. You've literally threatened to kill me if I did it.”

  Pain shot through Ed's side as a blade pierced him. Not in a vital area, Nina was violent, but she wasn't trying to kill him. Almost immediately, his nearly useless white knight cast a silent healing spell. This was, unfortunately, the usual when Nina was around. She'd stab someone, and Stone would heal them. He had no proactivity when it came to his girl.

  “You know most coterie knights would defend their royal,” Ed accused bitterly as the pain subsided. Stone shrugged to the sound of clunking armor. The prince hated Nina, constantly stabbing him for no good reason. Angry, Ed continued taking his ire out on the white knight, “You are eight feet of uselessness.”

  The cute quality of Nina's voice was not made for threats. She'd inherited pointed ears and a bright tone from her father, a Medion northern wood elf. She baked cookies and made left shoes (most northern elves make either left shoes or right shoes, but never both) while singing, just as her forefathers did. Still, her words had a certain conviction to them, “Get off his back, Ed. You know his magic is better suited to be a black knight. It's not his fault,” she added her own little snide jab at her friend's divergence from his family line. It wasn't said with aggression or malice. It was a ribbing between best friends.

  Switching back to Edward, Nina snapped, “If you'd just done what you were supposed to on Artath, we wouldn't have half the problem you are walking into. Rich and John screwed up, too. Rich captured the wrong planet and caused an incident with the greenies. Your father is taking the multiple screw-ups personally. If Stone gets hurt again because you decide to be rebellious, I will kill you.”

  “He's a coterie knight. I die, he dies. You know that,” groaned Ed with the confidence of someone calling an empty bluff. She would never do anything to hurt Stone.

  He had never had a conversation with Nina that didn't at some point include violence, threat of violence, or a death threat. That was the thing with Nina. If she were actually going to kill someone, she'd just do it. She wouldn't tip her enemy off with a threat.

  Still, Hassassa was not like the other nations; it existed within the others and beyond. It was a large and dynamic intelligence, counterintelligence, psychological operations, and assassination organization that considered itself to be a nation. As the princess of a country known for assassinations, Nina was expected to be ready to kill. If her mother gave her an order, Nina would comply without question. She wasn't a rebel like Stone was. She was out to prove herself worthy.

  “Just choose Blue, ok? Promise me,” Nina demanded, her voice as sharp as the plethora of blades she had hidden about her person.

  “Why? I could choose anyone. I could choose someone we don't know. Someone from one of the other bases. Even someone trained off Uusa. We have schools throughout the universe. Why would I choose someone I can't control? Someone who will pretend he's the leader and have everyone follow him despite him being a weak, non-magical, human?”

  Now it was Nina's turn to groan tiredly, “First, the Thirteen is only like a quarter of the universe. Save the exaggeration for the propaganda. Second, you are famously also fully human. Third, I don't need to explain myself to you. Just do what I tell you to do. And don't call him Ted again. You know what he went through.”

  Ed waited for a moment, but the air had shifted, and the whispers of Nina's mind were missing.

  He didn't have time to wonder where she'd disappeared to as two of his older brothers turned the corner. They had been scheduled before him and came from the family audience chamber. Behind them, dozens of coterie knights followed. Usually, they'd exchange barbs and snide remarks with him. Rich and John had separated themselves from their siblings. They were more like twins than the actual twins in the family, Marshal and Isabella.

  Blood flowed from every orifice of every royal and coterie knight. John was slumped with one arm over Richard's shoulder as the older brother worked to steady him. Five knights, also struggling to stand, carried the body of another. The cold emptiness where there should have been a mind told Ed the man was dead. Their father had never gone so far before. The killing of a coterie knight was internally known as the reason for the regicide of their grandfather – something their father stated when he was telling them how much better they had it.

  This tale has been unlawfully lifted from Royal Road; report any instances of this story if found elsewhere.

  Breathing ragged, Ed worriedly inquired, “What?” He couldn't even finish the question. He rushed forward to support his brother from the other side, and together they deposited John in a chair. His head rolled around as they did. Ed reached out mentally, but the sudden shock of dark pain brought him back. He looked at Rich for some enlightenment.

  Tears mixed with blood as Rich confessed in hushed tones, “It was my fault. You know John liked to do things the slow way. Peace, harmony, good deeds, the lot of it. Bringing civilization and peace to the savages on the planets out there. I was working ahead. We were using the assembly-line conquest method John invented. I should have double-checked with John. I was supposed to make sure this didn't happen. He's my little brother. I'm supposed to protect him.”

  Mumbling incoherently, John repeated standard propaganda phrases, his eyes showing no attempt to focus, “The Thirteen will solve war and end hunger. Healthcare! Kill! Disease! Join. Crime-free. Safe. Join. Reap benefits. All live in comfort. Save lives with the. With the. Thirteen. Join. For peace. Safety. Join. Prosperity. Help. We help. Save. Save everyone. Join.”

  Even in this state, John was still powerful. Ed felt a desire to be patriotic and loyal to the High King. To join the fight to help as many people in the universe as possible. He hated that patriotic feeling.

  The pair continued to ramble on, but Ed could feel the clock ticking. He didn't want to be late. That would make his father angrier. Selfishly, Ed prayed his father had gotten the anger out of his system.

  The royal audience chamber was a smaller, though no less ornate, version of the throne room, which was used for family matters. Truth be told, Edward had never spoken to his father outside of this room. Even at parties, he and his father were completely separate. All of Ed's conversations with his father involved Ed groveling in this perfectly lit, classically draped purple chamber dedicated to the family. Upon the dais sat a huge throne hew from a solid crystal mined from some far-off moon. It was cushioned with lush purple and gold and glowed ever so softly in a color no one could quite name or describe.

  As handsome as Ed knew he was, his father was more so. Every year, to no one's surprise, the High King was named sexiest man in the universe by readers of several popular magazines. Thick eyelashes, perfect skin, and a smoldering smile melted the hearts of the populace. Ideal posture, perfect hair, and a deep voice that made lesser beings swoon.

  On a cushion by the High King's feet sat his mother, clutching her husband's leg as if to pose for pictures. She had once been the empire's most popular musical talent. With bardic magic, she'd sang and performed for huge crowds with a voice that angels got passports and crossed the border to hear in person. In her youth, she'd been called the sun of harmony because the music world revolved around her. She still liked to sing, but she didn't perform anymore. As the High King liked to proclaim, she wasn't a trained monkey anymore.

  Kneeling in front of the dais was difficult for Ed. He remembered the mother from his childhood. The one who tried to protect him and his older siblings from her husband. Her mind was still in there, hidden away behind a smile. She was a caged bird that sang only for her husband and, in her current state, only songs he wanted to hear. She no longer had the will to call out when her husband went too far. Her graceful and carefree smile after what happened to John said it all.

  “Boy, do you know why I've called you here on the eve of the choosing?” the emperor's voice asked with a calm authority. His temper always sounded kind. His tone never rose and was always composed. He could say the most unreasonable things and sound reasonable.

  “You are concerned about my performance during the trials,” Ed replied without looking up. He could feel his father's mind giving him the correct answer - or perhaps the incorrect answer to trick him into making a mistake. Things started to get confusing this close to the High King. Something about him made people support him no matter what he said. It was the Castiles' family power.

  “Yes. Have you made any decisions? I have a recommendation,” the High King began warmly. He was a friendly sort. What did Richard and John do to anger such a kind and jolly fellow?

  “I was thinking of someone. I have made a decision,” Ed stammered his interjection quickly.

  If his father made a suggestion, as perfect and wise as it may be, it wouldn't be his decision. His father would never respect him if he couldn't even make a selection during the Choosing Ceremony. No, the reason was he didn't want his next knight to be some political hostage like Sir Enots, who had been selected to punish Baron Enots, the witch Agatha, and the whole Enots extended family in general. He was too powerful for a baron and needed to be put in his place. So the High King had made Ed take the eldest son and heir.

  On paper, this had seemed a fantastic idea. Powerful and insanely talented, Sir Enots was intimidating with the glare of an angel that could judge men's souls, three rows of sharp teeth, and a thick red hide. Like most from Heimheim, Sir Enots was primarily human, with a mixed family tree of other, principally human ancestors dating back centuries. When he was relaxed, he looked almost entirely human, if one ignored the coloring and extra teeth. When stressed, it was apparent that one grandparent was a lordragon not only from the scales that formed, but also from his tendency to vomit in front of crowds. His vomit was so hot and acidic that one could not be sure what exactly melted the unlucky person or object in the way. Not exactly what someone who had previously had a successful performing career wanted to be mentally linked to.

  A twisting sensation moved through Ed's psyche, searching for something, for a lie. There was no lie; Nina had made him think about someone. He

  A wise and kindly smile spread across the High King's lips. He laughed as he asked, “A blue knight? A Mechmian? You must be joking. You cannot handle a Mechmian. They think too quickly and with too many threads. Mechmians are too advanced for you, boy.”

  The subset of humans from the Isles of Mechma was mostly industrialists and scientists. Their culture was primarily based around inventing things to compensate for their lack of strength, speed, magic, and everything else. It was tough for a race of people with such a physical and magical disadvantage. As such, their strict breeding program had produced humans who could outperform machines in computation and had bodies far exceeding those of other non-magical humans. Their most potent weapon was the ability to compartmentalize their minds, sequestering any attempts at mind control. Many psychics couldn't control even the weakest Mechmian child.

  “This one will let me integrate him. I, um, I stole, took his best friend,” Ed pleaded with his father. He felt his stomach drop. He didn't want to bring Sir Acogson into this. He was just a human. He could get hurt! That thought snapped Ed out of his panic. No, not his panic. Stone's panic.

  Stone hadn't been paying attention to Nina's words before. He'd been too nervous. Nina was his childhood friend and the prettiest girl he knew. He'd wanted to tell her how her new dark gray cloak suited her and how prettily her eyes twinkled beneath the hood's darkness. Perhaps he could have invited her to dinner if he'd been able to speak. He wasn't like Locke, who always knew what to say and when.

  “Locke, Sir Acogson, is a good speaker. I need to counterbalance the curse on this one,” Ed explained desperately as he grasped at straws. “And we earned enough points. Stone dominated in the selection. He'll be promoted to paladin soon, I think.”

  With a sly grin, the High King inquired sweetly, “Are you sure it's not because his unit was selected for the suicide mission on Uraqith? We have to get rid of that pesky war hero in charge, you know. The Decions are calling for his head and that of his unit. He was perhaps overly enthusiastic.”

  “I didn't even know about it,” Ed admitted uncomfortably as he subtly tried to block some of the tendrils from entering his thoughts. At least Nina had changed her mind for a good reason. He wasn't particularly fond of the Mechmian, but they'd gone to school together. He'd always been a bright and cheerful bundle of wild insanity.

  Scoffing, the High King narrowed his eyes, “What are you trying to hide from me, boy?”

  Pain flashed through Ed's body, throwing him to the ground. Beside him, his usually intimidating knight was curved into a ball as if trying to make himself smaller. Hot tears ran down his cheeks, the hot water evaporating and leaving a trail of salt as white as his hair on his somehow redder face.

  “Nothing. I. I was just worried about John. He looked...He looked like he had learned an important lesson,” Ed screamed between bolts of pain, “I almost didn't complete my mission on schedule.” The pain intensified with every wave. However, this wasn't his first experience. Ed knew if he could find the right thing to say, he'd be granted a less painful existence. After several additional confessions and variations, Ed finally called out, “I think controlling people's minds is morally wrong.”

  “Oh, so you think I'm morally wrong?” questioned his father sweetly.

  “Not you, your majesty. Others. We aren't wise like you. What if we are wrong?” Ed stammered as he struggled to catch his breath and regain his kneeling position. Behind him, Stone's pained grunts let him know that he was still suffering. Ed calmed himself to stop his automatic response, which sent the pain to his knee, much as a runner tries to control their breathing. It hurt, but the pain was meant for him.

  With a calm, firm voice, the High King questioned, “Is helping the poor, the hungry, the sick, and the injured wrong?”

  Without raising his head, Edward answered in defeat, “No.”

  “Son, that's what we do. We help people thrive in our society. Did you know people in outside civilizations sometimes go without clean water? They remain sick because they don't have proper medical care. None of the societal woes occur under any of the Thirteen Ways of Proper Nation Management. That's why we don't allow other cultures—only the proven ones. We are saving those poor innocent lives. How can what we do be wrong? Do you think they'd rather starve or have you but the correct thoughts in their heads?” the High King asked passionately. For all his faults, the man was a true believer in the cause. The Empire had to expand to save more lives throughout the universe.

  A feeling of guilt washed over Edward, but was it his own, or had it been placed there? Edward didn't know and hadn't known ever since he realized the possibility. Nodding, the prince replied, “Yes, I was just tired. We speak of civil liberties in our laws. I was just confused about the order civil liberties are awarded to citizens. I understand now. Thank you.”

  “I don't understand where you get such wild notions. You may select your blue knight during the Choosing, but know this: should you fail, you will be joining Queen Shino's pet on Uraqith.”

  “Queen Shino's pet?” Edward questioned, blinking and hoping to recover a bit more, so he'd be able to walk out after the audience.

  With a warm chuckle, Ed's father answered, “I asked her for information. She stated you were going to select the Mechmian boy for the same reasons you did. I don't know how she gathers such intelligence. She was confident your plan would be successful. Don't fail. Now, you want to leave, and I don't wish to see you anymore today. Run along, son.”