The gleaming towers of Virellean rose like glass spears against the sky, refracting sunlight into prismatic cascades across the marble streets. Ari, wrapped in the simple travel cloak of the Compiler's Accord, walked without fanfare, Kaien by his side. Despite the lack of guards, eyes followed them with cautious reverence. Word of the boy who defied the Caldris traders and bore the Compiler's Sigil had already reached the gates.
And now, as promised, he had come—voluntarily—to face protocol.
Inside the grand hall, a throne carved from fused crystal and ivory loomed beneath a sunlit dome, where runes swirled like drifting constellations. The King of Virellean, a stately figure draped in silver-stitched robes, gestured for silence among his advisors as Ari approached. The crowd of nobles, soldiers, and dignitaries watched with a mixture of curiosity and unease.
"You step boldly into a foreign capital," the king said, his voice regal but not unkind. "There are men who would have hidden from the accusations laid upon you."
Ari met his gaze without fear. "Injustice hidden is injustice multiplied. If I wield weight, it must be accountable."
Whispers fluttered across the hall like restless feathers.
"Spoken like one who understands legacy," the king murmured, then waved a hand. "Your actions are forgiven. You will not be tried. The Caldris Guild has been... instructed to reconsider their definition of 'property.'"
Kaien bowed low beside Ari, his hands trembling with gratitude.
But then, another voice rang out—confident, young, and hungry.
"If he is to be pardoned and respected as a hero," said the Prince of Virellean, tall and proud in golden-threaded armor, "then let us see if his legend matches his name. I, Prince Vaelen, request an official spar."
Gasps echoed. Even the king blinked, amused.
Ari smiled. "You may."
The two stepped into the Mirrorwell, a crystalline sparring ring said to reflect not just spellwork but intent itself. High mages and swordmasters lined the balcony, curious to witness the rumored Compiler.
Prince Vaelen flourished his blade, golden glyphs spiraling around him. "You may have broken war spells and terrified generals… but I wonder how well you fare without a war."
Ari didn't summon a blade.
Instead, he whispered, "⟢Thread Syntax: Moment Split."
In an instant, Ari vanished and reappeared behind the prince—not an attack, merely a reposition. Vaelen blinked, turned, and slashed, only to meet empty air.
Then again.
And again.
On the fourth blink, his own spell collapsed, unraveling mid-cast.
"What—!?"
Ari stood calmly, his hand outstretched, and runes flickering like starlight across the arena floor.
"I restructured the environment's thread syntax. The battlefield now recognizes me as its origin point."
He rewrote the arena itself.
The prince dropped his weapon, stunned.
And in the gallery above, even the most seasoned court mage whispered, "That's not spellcasting. That's… that's authorship."
After the match, the king chuckled as he approached Ari once more. "Well then, Compiler Solen… it is not often a king feels both older and lesser in the presence of youth. Tell me—would you ever consider binding yourself to a throne? Perhaps my throne?"
There was silence.
"…You wish to name me heir?"
The king shook his head with a grin. "No. I wish to name you son-in-law. My daughter, Princess Serathe, has yet to wed. And a legend such as you would elevate the realm beyond imagination."
Ari bowed respectfully.
"I appreciate the offer, but my path is not yet meant to be entangled. I cannot marry into royalty. Not now, not while the threads of the world still waver."
The court was silent, the king thoughtful, and Kaien wide-eyed beside him.
Kaien stared at Ari as they camped on a balcony outside the palace walls. His voice was quiet, but full of stars.
"You could've been a prince. You could've had everything. Why walk away?"
Ari looked toward the moon.
"Because I've seen what 'everything' looks like, Kaien. And sometimes… it blinds you to what truly matters."
The younger boy simply nodded, eyes glowing with something between awe and devotion.