The Shattered Crowns

Dante slumped into his chair, exhaustion pulling him down like a heavy weight. He let out a humorless chuckle, his gaze drifting to the canvas ceiling of the tent. Jassin watched him in silence, his expression calm but knowing.

"Am I right to do this, Jassin?" Dante murmured. "To pull men away from the homes they've built, knowing most won't return? To send them to their deaths for a cause that may never bear fruit? We haven't even drawn our swords against the Hopekiller yet. The Dauntless Company could still walk away. We could escape this entirely."

Jassin's reply was steady, like the blade he wore at his side. "You do what must be done. Veneres and Vyn spoke the truth earlier—they wouldn't have joined this company if they didn't crave glory. That same craving will drive the rest of the men forward. But to see the Dauntless Company survive, decisions must be made. Hard ones. Consequences are the price of leadership, and you are the unfortunate one who must bear that burden."

Dante exhaled sharply, rubbing his hands over his face. The dark circles beneath his eyes seemed deeper in the dim light, a testament to countless sleepless nights spent wrestling with these very decisions. "Thank you, Jassin," he said, his voice quiet but sincere. "I needed to hear that."

Jassin allowed himself the faintest of smiles. "What kind of Vice-Paramount would I be if I didn't support you, old friend?"

Dante raised a brow, his smile tugging at the corners of his mouth. "Friend? Come now, Jassin. After all we've endured together, we've long since passed friendship. You're my brother."

Jassin's smile softened. "That you are, Dante."

The two men sat in companionable silence for a moment, letting the weight of their shared burdens settle between them. They both knew the risks ahead. They both knew what had to be done. Their plan was finally in motion, and soon, they would be more than just mercenaries—they would be the Blackstar Vanguard.

"You need sleep," Jassin said, his tone shifting back to practical concern. "The battles in Reem have taken their toll on you. You look as if the Lunar Storms have already beaten you down."

Dante shook his head. "If we're going to do this, Jassin, I'll need more than a few sleepless nights. Sleep can wait."

Jassin leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees. "Paramount Fress may be the unshakable Pillar of the Dauntless Company, but Dante Fress is just a man."

Dante chuckled, though it lacked warmth. "I won't be Paramount Fress for much longer. After this, I'll retire in lavish luxury. My days of war and leadership will be behind me."

Jassin nodded thoughtfully, a faint smirk playing on his lips. "True enough. Though I have to say, Paramount Ehrgeiz doesn't quite have the same ring to it as Fress."

Dante let out a genuine laugh this time. "You may be right. Veneres would make a good Paramount, but—"

"But perhaps," Jassin interrupted, "it's also time for my own tenure as Vice-Paramount to come to an end."

Dante's amusement faded, replaced with a flicker of concern. "There will be many challengers for the Paramount seat. Your support will be critical in choosing the next leader."

Jassin leaned back, folding his arms. "You're not the only one who's grown old, brother. Akash will take most of my time. He may even rise to challenge for the Paramount position himself one day. It's his right."

Dante shook his head, his laugh returning, soft and full of disbelief. "You say that, and yet you still fight like a mad dog. I've seen more men fall to your Annealed Blade than to any other weapon in this company. You're our finest, Jassin."

Jassin's gaze dropped to the floor, his thoughts clearly elsewhere. After a moment, he spoke, his voice low. "It's time I pursue the goal I've put aside for far too long."

Dante rose to his feet, stepping closer to place a hand on Jassin's shoulder. "That goal will only end in your death. I wish to see you guide the Dauntless Company into the future, not waste your life chasing the past. They'll need a mentor. They'll need you."

Jassin met his gaze, his eyes steady. "You've already planned for Akash and Veneres to take the reins, haven't you? They're your chosen successors. We'll be relics of the past soon enough."

"They'll rise, or so I hope," Dante admitted.

Jassin's expression hardened. "Then you must know—they'll never be friends, brother."

Dante's lips quirked into a faint smile. "We said the same about ourselves when we were younger."

"And yet here we stand," Jassin said. "I hope your plans work, Dante, but I don't see it. Not this time."

Dante, sensing the tension between them, shifted the conversation toward lighter waters. "So, tell me. Who do you think will take the Paramount title?"

Jassin snorted, the sound sharp and dismissive. "You'd say Veneres, wouldn't you? Akash will be Paramount, mark my words. The boy wields a resin-infused blade and enough raw talent to become a blademaster. And unlike Veneres, his smile is genuine."

Dante tilted his head. "And yet Veneres' smile isn't false. He simply hides it better."

Jassin shook his head, his tone firm. "Not a trait I'd follow in a leader."

"You wound me, brother," Dante said, smirking. "I've faked a few smiles in my time."

"Not to us," Jassin replied simply.

Dante chuckled, conceding the point with a slight bow of his head.

Jassin sighed heavily, his voice carrying the weight of years. "Do not misunderstand me, Dante. Once your plan is complete, I'll see to my own affairs. I won't go quietly into the night. My ancestors demand it."

Dante's expression darkened. "This is foolish, Jassin. Reckless."

Jassin's voice rose, sharp and commanding for the first time in years. "Enough! I do not chastise you for seeking to turn the Dauntless Company into the Blackstar Vanguard. Don't insult my traditions or my ancestors' creeds."

An awkward silence stretched between them, the tension palpable. Finally, Dante sighed, breaking the stillness. "I only hope it's not too late to save you from this path. I don't want to lose my brother."

Jassin's reply was simple and stark. "I am not a good man, Dante. And you know it."

Neither man argued the point. The truth hung between them, undeniable.

Jassin shifted the conversation again, motioning with a tilt of his head. "You look ready to burst. You wanted to talk about Akash?"

Dante nodded. "Do you think he'll be ready to take the Spire?"

Jassin hummed, resting a hand on the hilt of his sword. "The boy's killed animals before, but men are a different matter. He'll be bloodied soon enough. Still, his skill needs refinement. Even with the strength of the Impresa Mark, he's far from ready."

Dante pressed further. "Will he be ready, Jassin?"

Jassin shot him a sidelong glance. "Do you know for certain the battalions will follow you? Some questions can't be answered, Dante."

He tapped his scabbard absently, his voice turning grim. "We'll take the Spire. Akash will either rise to meet the challenge—or he'll die."

Dante's jaw tightened. "A possible Exalted can't die."

Jassin let out a low grunt. "Then I have my work cut out for me. One last mission, Dante. One last mission before we go our separate ways."

Dante stepped forward, clasping Jassin's arm in a firm grip. Their eyes met, and the weight of everything unsaid passed between them.

"One last mission," Dante echoed.

In that moment, they weren't just the Paramount and the Vice-Paramount. They were brothers, bound by blood, by war, and by a future they wouldn't both survive to see.