Kael was gone.
The banner had been left behind, resting on a chair.
Aerys stood still, staring at it. At the end of a wooden shaft nearly a meter and a half long, an iron rod rose upward, shaped into a roaring lion. Crude. Heavy. Final.
The castle was their new home.
The banner was their honor.
Through it, enemies could be transformed into slaves. All it took was pressing the sigil against their foreheads. A lion would bloom there—burned into flesh —until they were freed, or claimed by another House. A slave could not disobey their masters. They would serve, or become Deficient forever.
Outside, the sky was gray. A wolf's howl tore through the fog.
Lysandra was the first to join Callius and Aerys.
She was tall, all sharp grace and controlled stillness, like an abandoned tower—or a beautiful golden spider. Aerys could never quite decide what she truly was. Their eyes met briefly. No greeting. She wanted to be Primus too.
Callius stood beside Aerys. Somehow, they had grown closer without either of them noticing. Perhaps because they had known each other before . Perhaps because their chambers were near each other, high in the keep, while most of the others slept on the middle floor. Titos and his pack had seized an entire tower below, large enough to house twice their number.
Prios and Loras arrived next. loras followed, grumbling about the lack of servants. He wasn't used to being without them.
"This banner is truly hideous," Lysandra sighed. "They could have added some color. A bit of red. For anger. For blood."
"It's lighter than I expected," Callius said, lifting it. "I thought it would be solid gold."
They had also been given a map.
A stone map stood against the wall. The terrain around the castle was carved with precision. Beyond the mountains, the details blurred and faded. The uncertainty of war.
Callius slapped Aerys on the back and sat at the table.
Most of them were present when Sevrius finally appeared, dragging behind him a skinned and gutted stag.
Callius applauded.
"The rat brought us food! We'll need wood for the fire. Does anyone know how to light one?"
Sevrius rolled his eyes.
Callius grinned. "Of course you do."
Aerys stepped closer to Sevrius.
"Were sheep too easy for you? And where did you find a weapon?"
Sevrius raised one hand. His fingernails were black with dried blood.
Lysandra wrinkled her nose.
"Where were you raised?"
Sevrius responded with a crude gesture.
"Probably somewhere in hell," she muttered.
Eventually, everyone gathered around the table.
Callius spoke.
"Well. As you've probably noticed, it will take time before one of us gains enough cuts to become Primus. Until then, it seems logical—reasonable, even—to elect a leader among us."
He stepped aside from Sevrius and brushed the tip of the banner.
"Someone who can arbitrate. Someone who can coordinate our actions."
"And you propose one of you," Lysandra snapped, her voice sharp. She looked between Callius and Aerys, then turned to the others, her tone sweet and bitter at once. "At this stage, what makes either of you better suited to lead us than anyone else?"
"They had the best results during the admission trials," Léa said timidly, pointing at them.
"Callius scored higher in magic," Rosis added, "but he tends to charge ahead without thinking."
Lysandra nodded slowly.
"That's a fair point. We cannot afford recklessness."
"…And the prince is more thoughtful," Rosis continued, "but lacks strength."
Aerys shot him a dark look.
"Dead weight," Titos agreed.
"Lovely punctuation of facts," Callius replied.
Titos shrugged.
"Hey, it's not my fault he's your little pet. By the way—why are you always stuck to him? What is it, are you in love with the lost prince?"
Callius froze.
"Watch what you say."
Titos raised his hands. "I'm just pointing something out. Why are you getting angry, little prince?"
"Careful," Callius said, his Essence accelerating. "Or I'll make you swallow those words. Do you hear me, Titos alLadros?"
Titos met his gaze for a moment. Then he glanced at Aerys.
That small gesture was enough.
To everyone watching, Callius and Aerys became a single bloc.
Politics.
Aerys hated it.
And yet, Titos wasn't entirely wrong. Even he didn't fully understand why Callius Bellos stood so close to him.
He let his Essence rise.
With ODI's guidance, he had gathered an absurd amount of it. Fire resonance answered his call. A wave of heat rolled outward.
All eyes turned toward him.
Sevrius looked fascinated.
Aerys locked eyes with Titos. Cold. Unyielding.
Titos smiled slowly—surprised, disdainful. Provoking him. If he didn't look away, Aerys would have no choice but to fight. That was how the empire worked.
Aerys Essence spiraled.
Then Titos laughed.
He lowered his gaze.
Aerys's heart slowed.
He had won.
Titos didn't believe—even with his pack—that he could defeat both Callius and the prince together. He knew Callius's strength.but He knew nothing of Aerys's.
A new consensus settled.
Aerys stepped closer to Callius, sealing it. Ending Titos's momentum.
"Does anyone else oppose our candidacy?" Callius asked.
"As long as it's not Lysandra," Sevrius said. "She's vicious."
Lysandra shrugged, a graceful loser. Then she lifted her chin.
"Calli. Why are you so eager to choose a leader now?"
"If no one unifies us," Callius replied, "we'll splinter into smaller groups and act however we want. And we'll lose."
"So instead, we should do as you want?" she said sweetly. "I see."
"Drop the sarcasm, Lysandra."callius said
"Jealousy," Titos joked, trying to reclaim attention.He wasn't just a brute. He was an opportunist.
"Oh please," Antonia scoffed. "You really think you're better than us? That without you we're helpless?"
She had trapped him.
Both of them.
"Listen," she continued. "We're all impatient. We're all geniuses, Leaders. That's why the Primus system exists. When one of us earns five cuts, they'll lead. Until then, everyone deserves a chance. This is all of our careers—not just yours."
She was clever.Too clever.
She had unleashed chaos. And in that chaos, she would pursue her five cuts relentlessly. A spider, weaving her web.
"Look!" Léa cried.
A horn echoed outside.
The banner shimmered. Iron turned to gold.
The map awakened. Their castle was crowned with a lion sigil. Other Houses were not yet revealed—only their banners waited in the legend.
The game had begun.
Every soul in House Celerion wanted to become Primus.
Aerys finally understood why democracy was forbidden in the Empire.
Too many alphas.
Cries rose. Arguments followed. Ideas collided—explore, fortify, raid, defend.
Loras spat at Titos.
Titos knocked him out with one punch.
Lysandra left the room.
Sevrius mocked Titos and disappeared with his stag—without ever lighting a fire.
And the banner watched them all.