"Do you have something to say to me?" Aerys replied calmly.
A flicker of unease crossed Callius's eyes.
"Forgive me, Prince. I was only trying to make conversation," he said lightly.
"In my family, the Bellos, we value openness. We know how to recognize promising men—even those of… modest extraction."
His gaze lingered on Aerys with amused indulgence.
"You know who I am," Aerys said.
"Of course. Hard not to," Callius replied. "Most imperial heirs take the examination within their own dominions. You are the exception."
Logical, Aerys thought.
"What do you want?"
"As I said—conversation." Callius smiled. "Your lineage isolates you from your peers. Honestly, it's not surprising. You are cautious. And given your enemies… understandable."
He shrugged. "But I am a Bellos. So, without indiscretion—how did your test go?"
He watched Aerys closely, eyes shimmering like polished sapphires.
For an absurd moment, Aerys wondered if his mother styled his hair for him every morning.
Callius Bellos.
Son of Marquis Tiberos Bellos—member of the Imperial Council and Imperator of the Sixth Imperial Airfleet. One of the very few men in the Empire whose influence rivaled that of a duke, seated in the Central Dominion under the Emperor's direct authority.
"Well," Aerys said evenly, "I expected something more difficult. I struggled slightly with the algorithmic sections, but otherwise…"
Callius's expression remained indulgent.
"With a physique like yours, you must be proficient with a weapon. Which do you favor—sword, saber, spear?"
"I manage with a sword."
It was a lie.
His body had been shaped by the Fragment. And the Fragment remained silent.
"How modest," Callius laughed. "You sound like you were raised in a monastery."
He's using familiar speech, Aerys noted.
"Listen," Callius continued, already leaning closer. "After the physical trials, why don't you come with me to Ageis? I hear the new residents at the Temptation are exceptional. And the games—very interesting."
He winked. "Plenty of sweet hearts to enjoy. None spoiled."
"I'm sorry," Aerys said. "I'm not in the mood."
"Oh."
Realization dawned belatedly on Callius's face. "Ah. Of course. Your circumstances."
He smiled again. "Don't worry. It would be my treat."
Aerys declined once more, politely.
Callius had already moved on—to someone else. He vanished into the crowd.
Aerys memorized his appearance. His name. Their conversation.
Later, he would research Ageis, the places Callius mentioned, and the history of House Bellos.
A potential ally, Aerys thought.
Or something far worse.
He had feared meeting them—the elites.
He had feared being impressed. Speechless.
But aside from Callius and a few others, there was nothing extraordinary about them.
Seventy candidates were gathered at this examination center.
Some boys resembled Callius, though less refined. Many were neither tall nor imposing. Many were, in truth, just children—bloated with pride, but children nonetheless. Most had never been forced to exert themselves in their lives.
Then came the physical trial.
He was seated naked in a smooth stone chair, engraved with concentric regulation circles, at the center of a completely white chamber.
The walls were saturated with Essence glyphs—so fine they barely vibrated, like artificial breathing.
Examiners—subordinate agents of the Imperial Control Committee—observed from elevated ledges. Their gazes were cold. Clinical.
Inspection orbs, pearl-sized, floated around him.
"I hope you're enjoying the spectacle," Aerys remarked.
No reaction.
Throughout the test, the glyphs embedded in the walls pulsed faintly, searching for Essence flow within his body.
The orbs drifted closer, projecting translucent filaments beneath his skin, probing his organs, his muscles—
His Nexus.
He felt it.
Something deep inside him folded inward.
The Fragment remained motionless. Silent. As if holding its breath.
Essence did not circulate.
Or rather—it did not circulate the way they expected.
The instruments were not searching for raw Essence.
They sought channeled flow. Voluntary circulation. Academic conformity.
His Essence stayed buried.
Diffuse.
Instinctive.
Woven into flesh, blood, and nerve—indistinguishable from dormant potential.
An examiner frowned slightly.
"Unawakened Nexus," one announced.
"Latent reserves within acceptable parameters," another added.
"No conscious circulation detected."
They recorded the data. They moved on.
They understand, Aerys realized.
They know who I am.
Cold. Heat. Pressure. Oxygen deprivation.
Each trial followed.
His body responded too well.
No Essence discharge. No visible reinforcement. Only raw resistance—abnormal, but explainable.
To the examiners, he was merely physically strong.
Not awakened.
When the projectiles were launched, he did not call upon Essence.
He moved before thought.
His body anticipated.
As if remembering an earlier state of being.
One impact finally struck his head.
Darkness.
Perfect.
When his vitals were measured afterward, they were stable. Too stable for an active Essence user. No overload. No backlash.
Official conclusion:
Uninitiated candidate.
Average potential.
No energetic anomalies detected.
If only they knew.
He left the chamber with his Nexus still silent—intact, invisible, shielded by the Fragment that still refused to speak.
He had never learned to circulate Essence.
Never done so consciously.
And yet—
It already obeyed him.
He felt strangely detached from himself.
As though they had measured his body.
His mind.
But not what truly defined him.
Aside from Callius, no one spoke to him for the rest of the day.
He returned to the changing rooms, staggering slightly, sore and disoriented. A few other candidates changed in silence. He gathered his belongings and retreated behind a row of lockers.
Then—
A melody.
Someone was whistling.
An air he knew.
An ancient tune.
A tune that haunted his dreams.
A tune his mother used to sing to him—
Even on her deathbed.
And suddenly, in this cold, regulated, imperial place—
Something inside him cracked.