The Shattered Crowns

Akash and Elys approached the largest tent in the encampment, where Jassin waited, arms crossed, his expression as inscrutable as ever. Akash absently patted Elys' sleek fur as they drew near. Jassin's stance was deceptively relaxed, but his hand still drifted instinctively toward the Annealed Blade at his side.

Jassin greeted them curtly. "We're about to enter the tent where the Sovrans and Vice-Sovrans conduct their 'discussions.'" His tone made it clear what he thought of those discussions. "It's best you remain quiet while they argue. Most of them command full battalions and were renowned mercenaries before joining the company. They're not the type to tolerate interruptions."

Akash nodded, but his gaze was already wandering, clearly distracted. Jassin exhaled sharply and muttered under his breath, casting a brief glance skyward. "What have you saddled me with, Dante? Ancestors, grant me patience."

As they stepped inside, the air was thick with noise and tension. Eleven figures stood or sat around a wide, circular table, shouting over one another in a cacophony of arguments and clashing egos. At the head of the table sat Dante, the Paramount of the Dauntless Company. He lounged with an amused expression, his chin resting lazily on his palm, his elbow braced against his knee. Despite the chaos, no one dared to raise their voice at him directly.

Akash quirked an eyebrow, leaning toward Jassin. "Renowned?" he muttered, his tone equal parts doubt and sarcasm.

Jassin closed his eyes briefly, pinching the bridge of his nose. "I didn't say they weren't strange. Their reputations speak louder than their antics—most of the time."

Akash's gaze shifted to a man seated to Dante's left, clad in armor that seemed to glow in the dim lantern light. Veneres. Once known for wearing rusted copper plate, he now exuded a regal air, his armor gleaming with lapis and gold. His golden eyes scanned the room like a hawk assessing prey, and his black hair fell in loose, elegant strands over his shoulder, framing sharp, almost ethereal features.

Akash scowled. What a pompous prick. Veneres' presence practically screamed nobility, from his unblemished armor to his effortless grace. Even Akash had to admit the man carried himself with an undeniable charisma. Still, there was something about him that grated on Akash. Punchable. Extremely punchable.

Veneres leaned toward Dante, whispering something inaudible. The two appeared utterly unbothered by the chaos surrounding them, like titans among mortals. Akash's scowl deepened. How could he ever hope to stand alongside men like these? The thought clawed at him, but he forced it down. He wasn't here for their approval. He was here for Daenys. For Mirak. For the promise he'd made. No one would make him a joke. Not anymore.

Jassin strode to Dante's right and sank into his designated chair, joining their conversation. Occasionally, the three of them cast glances at the shouting Sovrans, their expressions unreadable. Finally, Dante raised his voice—not shouting, but with enough authority to cut through the din.

"Sovrans and Vice-Sovrans, enough."

The room fell silent almost instantly. All eyes turned to Dante, who remained seated, his calm demeanor belying the power in his words. He let the silence stretch for a moment before speaking again.

"The winds are shifting. Many of you can feel it. War is coming."

The tension in the room thickened as Dante continued. "The King of Reem and his Inquisitor have requested our assistance in taking the Spires."

Akash frowned. The word meant little to him, but the Sovrans' varied reactions told him it was significant. Some looked intrigued, others wary, and a few outright skeptical.

A wiry man with sharp, hawk-like features leaned forward. His sky-blue eyes glinted with amusement, and a single braid hung over the left side of his face. "And you think it wise to discuss this with only us Sovrans and Vice-Sovrans?" he asked, his tone biting. "Surely the higher ranks in the battalions should hear this. More than a few might disagree with your approach."

Before Dante could respond, a woman with rounded features and a golden cape chimed in, her voice light and musical, like wind chimes. "Oh, of course, Vyn," she said, her delicate features twisting into a scowl. "I'm sure you're only thinking of the company's best interests. Perhaps I should sit you down and make you handle the accounts, my Sovran?"

Vyn offered her a mocking bow, grinning. "Lyra, always so quick to flatter."

Dante's patience thinned. "As amusing as it is to watch you two bicker, we don't have the time."

Vyn smirked. "Ah, sure, Dante—"

Before he could finish, several Sovrans shot him sharp looks. Veneres rose from his seat, his expression cold. "Vyn. Remember who you're addressing."

Vyn leaned into another mocking bow, his smirk deepening. "The Paramount and Vice-Paramount, of course. Forgive me, oh mighty ones. I'm merely trying to lighten the mood."

Lyra grabbed Vyn's cheek, tugging hard enough to make him wince. "Perhaps you should focus on the meeting instead of running your mouth. It'd save me a lot of trouble."

"And betray my reputation as a lovable rogue?" Vyn asked, feigning indignation.

"Childish fool," Lyra muttered, rolling her eyes.

Dante ignored their antics, his voice cutting through once again. "This opportunity will allow us to stake our claim on the title of Darkstar Vanguard."

The room fell quiet at the declaration, the weight of the words settling heavily over the Sovrans.

"So that's your goal," Vyn said, his grin fading.

Lyra hesitated. "My Paramount, that is..." Her words trailed off, dying on her lips.

Veneres, however, exhaled a soft sigh, his golden gaze flickering to Akash. "Should we really discuss grand plans while a joke listens?"

The words stung, even though his attention lingered on Akash for only a moment.

Jassin's voice cut in, calm but firm. "As my ward, his rank is Vice-Sovran. He has earned his place here."

The declaration drew every gaze to Akash. The Sovrans and Vice-Sovrans studied him openly, their scrutiny heavy and unyielding. Then a towering figure stepped forward—a scarred, white-skinned orc with a hulking frame and a metallic arm. His remaining flesh-and-blood hand gripped a decorated spear that glinted in the lamplight. The orc's mismatched eyes swept over Akash and Elys before stopping on Jassin.

"So," the orc said, his deep voice rumbling like a distant storm. "You've taken another ward, Jassin. I thought you'd grown too old for such endeavors."

Akash tilted his head, trying—truly trying—not to let his mouth get ahead of him. But the words came out anyway. "Who are you calling old?"

The orc chuckled, shaking his head. "I hope this one lasts. You've broken more wards than I can count."

Dante interjected with a wry smile. "The Dauntless Company was founded by a man with no skills and only a dream, Randil. And look what we've become."

Before he could finish, a loud crash interrupted him. Two Sovrans were glaring at each other across the table—nearly identical twins, save for one being a curly-haired girl with food plastered to her face and the other a boy with straighter locks and a guilty expression.

"Damn it, Onis!" the girl snapped. "I told you to aim for Fabien, not Drake! Now look what you've done—you hit me!"

Onis raised his hands defensively. "Oh, come on, Nyx! You told me Drake!"

Nyx responded by grabbing a fruit and hurling it at her twin. It splattered across his uniform, bits of pulp flicking onto his spear.

"Nyx!" Onis sputtered. "Why the hell did you do that?"

Randil stepped in before things escalated, scooping the twins up in his massive arms as though they were unruly children. "Not a day of peace," he muttered, rolling his eyes. "Jassin, I don't envy you. I've had enough of these two to last me a lifetime."

Jassin ignored the jab and turned to Akash. "Introduce yourself," he instructed. "Properly this time. You'll be working with them soon enough."

Akash strode forward, Elys padding silently at his side. He stopped near Dante's chair, gripping his sword tightly as he declared, "My name is Akash Dorher, and this is my companion, Elys."

Jassin winced, rubbing his temple as laughter erupted around the room.

Randil muttered, "That tiger's bigger than any I've seen in Cordia. A dangerous beast."

More murmurs and sidelong glances followed as Akash endured the scrutiny of the Sovrans and Vice-Sovrans.

Jassin leaned closer to Akash and whispered, "Listen and observe for now. You've been introduced. The rest of your time in the Dauntless Company will be judged by what you do next."

He paused for a moment, a flicker of amusement crossing his otherwise grim features. "And yes, that includes making better speeches."

Akash frowned. "I thought what I said was fine."

Jassin sighed. "It wasn't. Words are like killing strokes—precision matters. You inspire others with clarity, not bravado. But it seems we'll have to teach you both swordplay and speeches."

Akash grimaced. "That sounds…"

His words trailed off as Dante's voice once again seized control of the room. "I ask you all to welcome our newest member," he said, gesturing toward Akash. "He bears the Impresa Mark."

Silence fell over the tent like a shroud. For a moment, the only sound was the distant rustling of wind outside. Then the murmurs began, spreading like wildfire. Questions and speculations were flung Akash's way, overlapping in a storm of curiosity.

Dante raised a hand, and the clamor ceased. "It is a matter for Jassin and Akash to discuss. Just know this—he has my full support as Jassin's ward. Now, let us return to the task at hand."

He turned his gaze to the assembled Sovrans, his expression hardening. "The Spires will not be easily taken."

There were murmurs of agreement, though several Sovrans exchanged uneasy glances. Dante pressed on, his tone unyielding. "The King of Reem has tasked us with seizing one of the four Spires. This will not be a simple feat."

"Impossible!" barked Fabien, a lean man with sharp features and a tightly coiled energy about him. "We need additional support. Without it, we'll be marching to our deaths."

A blonde woman in a black-and-gold uniform scoffed. "So this is how the Dauntless Company ends," she muttered, her voice low but filled with resignation.

Veneres slammed his palm against the table, the sound reverberating through the tent. "Enough!" he snapped. "If the Paramount has given his orders, then we Sovrans will listen. The Dauntless Company does not cower before challenges. Or have you all forgotten what it means to be Dauntless?"

The room stilled under the weight of his words.

Dante nodded, his expression softening slightly. "As most of you know, taking the Spires alone will be a monumental task. But we are the Dauntless Company. While the armies of Reem and the other mercenary groups squabble over the remaining Spires, we'll show them what it means to defy the odds."

"Which Spire will we take?" asked Vyn, leaning forward with a gleam of curiosity in his eyes.

Dante's answer was direct. "The Western Spire."

Akash leaned toward Jassin and whispered, "What are the Spires?"

Jassin didn't look away from the table as he replied, "Four choke points carved into the Dragon Fang mountain range. Each one guards a crucial path leading to the Bridge—the only way into Eastern Lorian. Any army hoping to advance must control the Spires. Each acts as both a fortress and a staging ground, capable of holding troops or restocking supplies. Whoever controls the Spires controls Eastern Lorian."

"And the Western Spire?" Akash pressed.

Jassin frowned. "It's the most fortified. It has two keeps surrounding the main structure. Even with our skill, a single mercenary company attempting to take it…" He trailed off, shaking his head. "It will be a challenge."

Before Akash could respond, a shorter, round man with a long, braided beard spoke up. "What difference does it make, Dante? Reem has tried and failed to take the Spires before. It always ends the same—the Bridgemen push them back, and the defenders of the Bridge remain unshaken. The Hopekiller should serve as proof enough."

Dante's gaze sharpened. "I've chosen each of you for a reason, Drake. We're not here to prop up Reem's ambitions. By taking the Western Spire, we'll immortalize ourselves. Imagine it—the Dauntless Company, the first mercenaries to seize a Spire. The opportunity comes once in generations."

He gestured toward Veneres. "Our Vice-Paramount will work to convince the Reem Templars to join us. Their forces aren't beholden to any king, but if we sway them, their strength could tip the balance."

Vyn leaned back in his chair with a smirk. "Oh, come now. We all joined the Dauntless Company knowing we'd be asked to risk our lives for glory. Yet here you all are, grumbling like old merchants."

Another Sovran, cloaked in black and armed with a curved bow and twin daggers, spoke in a low, grim voice. "And what happens when the King of Reem stirs the people into a crusade? The last time Reem tried to push east, the Bridgemen burned half of Hedo to the ground. The Hopekiller doesn't forget, and Eastern Lorian always pays the price."

Jassin's voice cut through the grim murmurs. "The name 'Hopekiller' strikes fear into cowards. How far we've fallen if we let a single man define the limits of our strength."

The cloaked Sovran glared. "He earned that name with rivers of blood and countless atrocities."

Veneres stood abruptly, his golden blade ringing as he drew it and planted it into the table. The Sovrans flinched at the sharp sound. "Upon my blade, the only knight of the Dauntless Company, I swear this—any who help take the Spire will be honored. I will see to it myself that your names are etched in legend. Let no man who has lost his fangs dictate your destiny. I will kill the Hopekiller myself."

Dante's voice softened, though it carried no less weight. "Veneres' claim is bold, but my own promise is simpler. After we take the Spire, I will step down as Paramount."

The tent erupted again, voices clashing in a storm of disbelief and protest. Dante raised a hand, commanding silence.

"The next Paramount of the Dauntless Company will be decided by your actions at the Spire," he declared. "Prove yourselves, and the mantle will pass to the one who earns it."

Jassin leaned toward Akash, his voice low. "So this is his plan. Clever. The promise of leadership will keep the Sovrans in line."

Vyn crossed his arms, his ever-present smirk returning. "I say we propose a plan before we decide on anything concrete. Talk is cheap, and until there's a strategy, my battalion won't pledge itself."

Lyra nodded. "Agreed. If the Dauntless Company is to carry the burden of this battle, we must do so with clarity."

One by one, the Sovrans murmured their assent.

Dante stood, his commanding presence silencing the room one final time. "Those who do not wish to march on the Spire may leave. I will not force unwilling men to follow me. The choice is yours."

The Sovrans and Vice-Sovrans rose from their seats, their conversations spilling into arguments as they left the tent. Dante remained seated, his expression heavy with thought.

Jassin watched him for a moment before commenting, "Looks like you could use a drink."

Dante glanced at him, a faint smile tugging at his lips. "Are you offering?"

Before Jassin could respond, Veneres approached, bowing his head respectfully. "Paramount. Vice-Paramount. I'll speak to the battalions and rally them. Reassurance goes a long way in these uncertain times."

Dante nodded. "Good thinking, Veneres. The Sovrans will stay, but it's the men in the ranks I'm concerned about."

As Veneres walked past Akash, his golden eyes flicked to the Impresa Mark peeking from the edge of Akash's collar. His gaze lingered just long enough to unsettle Akash before he continued on.

"I can go as well," Akash offered, uncomfortable with the idea of lingering with Dante and Jassin.

Dante gestured toward Jassin. "He is your ward."

Jassin nodded. "Come to where we first met after the Lunar Storms settle. It will be a long night of training."

Dante added, "Take him with you, Veneres."

Veneres halted. "Why? He's done nothing to prove himself. Even with the Impresa Mark, it won't rally the men."

Akash bristled. "Are you calling me useless?"

"I said no such thing," Veneres replied blandly. "But you've yet to give me any reason to trust you."

Akash glared. "Keep talking like that, and I'll give you something to trust."

Veneres smirked faintly. "An untrained swordsman challenging someone who's seen countless battles? I'll look forward to it."

Dante's tone softened as he intervened. "Akash needs to know the men. It will help if you introduce him, Veneres."

"As you command, Paramount," Veneres said through gritted teeth.