I was beginning to suspect that the palace had been designed specifically to make a man regret leaving his room.
Standing before the bathroom mirror, I adjusted my collar and examined my reflection. The formal coat fitted properly, my hair was in order, and the silver fastenings at my cuffs sat exactly where they should. Beyond the bathroom door, the faint sound of music and conversation drifted through the corridor, reminding me that the banquet was still in progress.
Unfortunately, I was considerably less prepared for it than my appearance suggested.
A movement beneath my coat interrupted my thoughts.
"Stop moving," I whispered.
The black dog tucked against my side shifted again, its dark eyes appearing briefly between the folds of fabric.
I have been remarkably patient with your ridiculous arrangement.
"And I have been remarkably patient with your attitude. If someone discovers you hiding beneath my coat, I shall have to explain why my dog has an attachment to expensive clothing."
If anyone discovers me, your explanation will be the least of your concerns.
"That sounds suspiciously like a threat."
Consider it advice.
I straightened my collar one final time and reached for the door. I had spent long enough hiding in the bathroom. My plan was to return to my seat, eat something, and avoid the protagonist until I could think of a suitable excuse for our conversation.
Then a tremendous crash shook the door in its frame.
I froze.
A second impact followed, accompanied by a distant shout and the unmistakable ring of metal striking metal.
For a moment, neither Asura nor I spoke.
Then someone screamed.
I opened the door.
Whatever awaited me outside, I suspected my evening had just become considerably worse.
The banquet hall was in chaos.
Only minutes earlier, the room had been filled with music, conversation, and the soft clatter of silverware against porcelain. Crystal chandeliers illuminated the vaulted ceiling, their light reflecting off polished marble and the elaborate decorations arranged along the walls. Nobles in formal attire had gathered around the tables while servants moved between them with trays of food and wine.
Now, overturned chairs littered the floor, a silver tray lay abandoned beneath a table, and terrified guests were pushing toward the main entrance.
Three men in dark armor had forced their way through the western doors.
Their weapons were already drawn. One was engaged with the royal guards near the entrance, while another drove a soldier backward with a series of heavy strikes. The third had moved farther into the hall, forcing the guests nearest him to scatter.
A guard shouted for everyone to evacuate. His order disappeared beneath the screams and the crashing of furniture.
I stood at the edge of the doorway, trying to make sense of the scene.
The insignia on the attackers’ armor caught my attention. I recognized it from the original novel’s political background. It belonged to a rival empire whose relationship with this kingdom had been deteriorating for some time.
That knowledge explained who the attackers might be.
It did absolutely nothing to explain why they were here.
The banquet in the original novel had been a social occasion, a stepping stone toward the academy arc. Political tensions had existed in the background, but I remembered nothing about an armed assault on the royal palace.
Perhaps the novel hadn’t included every detail. Perhaps something had changed.
Neither possibility was particularly comforting while men with swords were running around the room.
I looked toward the main doors.
A crush of people had gathered near the exit. A nobleman had fallen beside the threshold, and those behind him were struggling to get past without stepping on him. Forcing my way through that crowd would be difficult even under ordinary circumstances.
With armed attackers inside the hall, it was an invitation to die in the most undignified manner imaginable.
I searched for another route.
A narrow passage stood along the eastern wall, beyond a row of banquet tables. It appeared to lead into the palace corridors, and I could see no one blocking it.
That would have to do.
I moved along the outer edge of the hall, keeping the tables between myself and the fighting. A servant collided with me as he hurried past, nearly sending us both to the floor. He muttered an apology without stopping, and I steadied myself against a chair before continuing.
Then I saw the princess.
Several guards had formed a protective barrier around her, guiding her away from the disturbance. Her attendants followed closely, struggling to keep pace as the crowd scattered around them.
The princess maintained her composure, but the tension in her face betrayed her fear. She kept looking toward the fighting, even as the guards urged her to move.
One of her attendants stumbled.
She fell hard against the marble, and the crowd behind her surged forward. Someone struck her shoulder, leaving her sprawled directly in the path of the fleeing guests.
The princess stopped immediately.
"Your Highness, keep moving!" one of the guards ordered, reaching for her arm.
The attendant tried to rise, but another person knocked into her, forcing her back onto the floor.
I glanced toward the eastern passage.
It was still open.
I could reach it in seconds, disappear into the corridors, and leave the royal guards to deal with the situation.
Then the attendant cried out as another wave of people approached.
I swore under my breath and changed direction.
Getting to her meant pushing against the crowd. I squeezed past a nobleman who nearly struck me with his elbow, stepped over a fallen chair, and reached her just as she tried to crawl away from the rushing feet.
"Take my hand!"
She looked up, her expression dazed. I caught her forearm and pulled, bracing my feet against the marble. Her weight shifted awkwardly, and for a moment I thought we would both fall.
Then she managed to stand.
"Can you walk?" I asked.
She nodded, though her face had gone pale.
"Good. Stay close."
I guided her toward a gap between two tables. Someone struck my back as we passed, and I nearly lost my grip, but a royal guard spotted us and hurried over. He caught the attendant’s other arm and helped me lead her out of the crowd.
The princess stood several paces away, her attention fixed on us. When I looked up, our eyes met.
I gave her a brief nod.
There. I had helped someone who needed it. The guards had taken over, and the attendant was no longer in immediate danger.
My involvement could now end.
I turned toward the eastern passage.
A shadow moved across the floor.
I looked up just as one of the attackers broke away from the fighting and charged toward me.
His sword came down before I could properly react.
I threw myself sideways.
The blade struck the marble pillar beside my head with a violent crack. Stone fragments scattered across my cheek, and the impact sent a shudder through the column. I stumbled against the nearest table, catching its edge to keep myself upright.
The attacker wrenched his sword free and turned toward me.
I stared at him.
I was unarmed. I had no intention of fighting him, and I doubted he would be interested in hearing that I had played no part in whatever political dispute had brought him here.
He advanced.
I grabbed the edge of the table and shoved with everything I had.
Its legs scraped across the floor before the heavy wooden frame slammed into his knees. His balance broke, and he staggered forward, struggling to keep his footing.
I didn’t wait to see whether he recovered.
I ran.
Behind me, the attacker shouted something furious. I ignored him and hurried toward the passage, resisting the powerful urge to look back every other step.
He could file a complaint after I was alive to read it.
I reached the entrance to the corridor and finally glanced over my shoulder.
The attacker was still on his feet, but another guard had moved to intercept him.
Unfortunately, that wasn’t what caught my attention.
Across the hall, the protagonist was fighting one of the remaining attackers.
Of course he was.
The protagonist moved just as the attacker’s sword descended.
He stepped off the line of the strike, allowing the blade to pass close to his side, then closed the distance before the man could recover. His hand caught the attacker’s weapon arm near the wrist, and he turned sharply, redirecting the man’s momentum.
The attacker stumbled forward.
The protagonist drove him against the edge of a banquet table, twisting his arm until his grip loosened. The sword clattered onto the marble, and a quick strike sent the man collapsing across the tabletop.
The exchange had been swift enough that I almost missed the details.
There was no wasted movement. The protagonist watched his opponent’s posture, reacted to the direction of the strike, and used the man’s own momentum against him instead of trying to overpower him directly.
I had known he was talented.
Watching him fight made that knowledge considerably more convincing.
Unfortunately, the protagonist had little time to recover.
A chair lay overturned near his feet. As he moved to reposition himself, his step caught against its wooden frame, disrupting his balance for a fraction of a second.
The second attacker immediately took advantage.
He came at the protagonist from the side, his sword sweeping toward him before he could fully turn.
The protagonist twisted away, but not quickly enough.
The blade cut across his shoulder.
His expression tightened, and he stumbled one step as blood spread across the fabric of his formal clothes. For an instant, the pain seemed to interrupt his concentration.
Then he adjusted his stance.
The attacker pressed forward, expecting the wound to weaken his opponent. The protagonist drew his injured arm closer to his body and shifted his movements to protect it, giving ground as another strike came toward him.
He couldn’t move as freely as before.
Instead of trying to match the attacker’s speed directly, he retreated into the narrow space between two tables, forcing his opponent to follow. The restricted room made it harder for the man to swing his sword properly, and the protagonist used that brief advantage to deflect the next blow.
He stepped inside the attacker’s reach and struck the weapon arm, knocking the sword off course. A sharp counter followed, driving the man backward against a table. Before his opponent could recover, the protagonist forced him down onto the wood and sent him crashing to the floor.
For a moment, neither of them moved.
Then the protagonist straightened, one hand pressed against his injured shoulder. His breathing was heavier, and blood had begun to seep between his fingers.
He was hurt.
The realization remained with me as I watched him turn toward the remaining fighting.
I had read about the protagonist’s extraordinary talent and the challenges he would eventually overcome. It was easy to think of him as someone destined to emerge from every danger stronger than before.
But there was nothing abstract about the blood on his shoulder.
He had seen the attack coming and reacted too late. His injury had restricted his movements, and he had been forced to adapt while someone was actively trying to kill him.
Whatever the original novel promised about his future, it did not make him invulnerable in the present.
A shout from the western entrance pulled my attention away. More guards were entering the hall, and the fighting was beginning to shift in their favor, but the room remained dangerous.
I looked toward the eastern passage.
I had spent enough time watching someone else fight for his life.
I intended to keep mine.
I took a step forward.
Someone caught my sleeve.
I turned sharply, already preparing to object.
The princess stood beside me.
Up close, the strain in her expression was more apparent. She had regained some of her composure, but her fingers tightened around the fabric of my sleeve as another crash sounded behind us. One of her guards stood just beyond her shoulder, watching the fighting with his sword drawn.
"You’re coming with us," she said.
I looked at her hand, then at her face.
"I was actually going somewhere else."
"I noticed."
"Then you’ll understand my disappointment."
Her expression remained firm. "You helped my attendant. I’m not leaving you here while the hall is under attack."
"I appreciate the concern, Your Highness, but I assure you that wandering into danger alone is not something I particularly enjoy."
"Then we agree on something."
Before I could formulate a response, movement near the nearest table caught the guard’s attention. An attacker was forcing his way through the crowd toward our position.
The guard stepped between us, raising his sword. Another soldier rushed in from the side, forcing the attacker away from the passage.
I glanced toward the corridor.
It was still open, but I had no idea whether the route beyond it was safe. The princess, at least, had an escort that knew the palace and could get us away from the fighting.
My choices were narrowing.
"Fine," I said. "But if I end up being questioned by every royal official in the building, I’m blaming you."
"You may submit your complaint when we’re safe."
"Excellent. I appreciate a government that respects paperwork."
She released my sleeve and turned toward her guards.
We moved away from the fighting, keeping close to the escort as they guided us through a narrow doorway. The noise of the banquet hall faded behind us, replaced by hurried footsteps and shouted instructions echoing through the corridors.
The palace was no longer the peaceful place I had entered earlier. Guards hurried past us with drawn weapons, servants pressed themselves against the walls to make room, and every distant crash made the people around me tense.
The princess’s attendant waited farther down the passage, supported by another woman. She was still shaken, but she appeared to be unharmed. When she noticed me, she gave a small, grateful nod.
I returned it.
Then I continued walking.
My good deed was complete. I hoped that would be the end of my involvement in royal affairs.
The guards led us through another corridor before reaching a wider passage protected by several royal soldiers. After a brief exchange with the princess’s escort, one of them ordered the inner doors opened.
We were ushered into a private chamber furnished with a long table, several upholstered chairs, and tall windows overlooking the palace grounds. The guards secured the entrance behind us.
For the first time since the attack began, the sounds of fighting were distant enough that I could hear myself breathe.
I lowered myself into a chair near the wall.
My hands were trembling.
I clasped them together and rested them in my lap, hoping no one would notice.
The princess immediately went to her attendant, asking whether she had been injured. A servant brought water while another hurried off to summon medical assistance. The attendant insisted she was all right, though her voice shook when she spoke.
The princess remained beside her until she was satisfied that she could sit comfortably. Only then did she turn toward me.
"Thank you," she said. "For helping her."
"It was nothing. She was in danger."
"That doesn’t make it nothing."
I inclined my head, uncertain what else she expected me to say.
A guard approached and spoke quietly to her. I caught a few words about the western entrance and the fighting still taking place in the banquet hall.
The princess’s expression tightened.
"Do we know how many attackers there are?"
"Not yet, Your Highness. The guards are securing the hall and checking the adjoining corridors."
"Continue. I want to know as soon as the situation changes."
The guard bowed and returned to his post.
The princess remained standing, her hands folded in front of her. Her posture was straight, and she continued listening to the guards’ reports, but her fingers tightened against one another whenever the sounds outside grew louder.
She was frightened.
She simply refused to let her fear interfere with her responsibilities.
I respected that. I also hoped she wouldn’t decide I was useful enough to give me any responsibilities of my own.
Something shifted beneath my coat.
I went completely still.
The princess glanced in my direction.
I cleared my throat and adjusted the fabric, pretending that nothing unusual had happened. Once her attention returned to the guards, I lowered my head and whispered, "You’ve been remarkably quiet."
I have been exercising restraint.
"Is that what we’re calling it?"
Would you prefer that I begin barking?
"Please don’t. I have enough problems."
I glanced toward the closed doors. The distant sounds of fighting still reached us, though they were becoming less frequent.
"Can you do anything about what’s happening outside?"
Asura remained silent for a moment.
I am a dog.
I stared at the floor.
"You’re an ancient being trapped in a dog’s body."
And you are a man who continues to place himself within reach of armed attackers, then expects me to resolve the consequences.
"I didn’t invite him to swing a sword at me."
You did, however, place yourself in his path.
I pressed my lips together.
There were several responses I could have offered, but none seemed likely to improve the situation.
"Fine. Next time, I’ll ask the attacker to schedule an appointment."
That would demonstrate a degree of foresight I have yet to witness from you.
I adjusted my coat and leaned back in the chair.
I still couldn’t tell whether Asura was unwilling to intervene or whether his current condition prevented him from doing so. He had never been particularly forthcoming about his limitations, and I had learned that pressing him usually produced more insults than answers.
For now, I would have to manage without his assistance.
The noise beyond the chamber gradually diminished. The guards remained alert, but their movements became less hurried. One stood beside the entrance, listening, while another exchanged a few quiet words with the princess’s escort.
Eventually, a soldier entered and bowed.
"Your Highness, the immediate danger appears to be passing. The remaining attackers are being dealt with, and the guards are securing the palace."
"Have the injured received medical attention?"
"Yes, Your Highness. Assistance has been sent to the banquet hall."
"Continue checking the surrounding corridors. No one is to leave this area until we receive confirmation that it is safe."
The soldier bowed again and departed.
The princess let out a quiet breath. Some of the tension left her shoulders, though she remained beside her attendant.
I shifted in my chair, wincing when my shoulder ached. The impact from the crowd had left it sore, and a small cut on my cheek stung whenever I moved my face. Neither injury seemed serious, but the sight of the blood on my fingertips reminded me how close the attacker’s blade had come.
I had been lucky.
That was all.
The princess and her attendant were safe, the guards were regaining control of the palace, and I had managed to escape without any serious injuries.
Yet the insignia on the attackers’ armor remained fixed in my mind.
A rival empire had sent armed men into the royal palace during a banquet attended by the kingdom’s nobility. Whatever their objective had been, the consequences would extend beyond tonight. There would be questions about how the attackers had reached the hall, accusations between political factions, and undoubtedly a great deal of unpleasant discussion.
And none of it had happened in the original novel.
I glanced toward the door, remembering the protagonist fighting among the overturned tables, blood darkening his shoulder. I remembered the princess pulling me away from the exit and the attendant struggling to stand while the crowd rushed past her.
I had returned to the banquet intending to eat something and avoid an awkward conversation.
Instead, I had nearly been killed.
A remarkable improvement.
The original novel had treated this banquet as a social occasion, a step toward the academy arc and the relationships that would shape the protagonist’s future. I had expected introductions, political maneuvering, and perhaps the conversation I had spent so much time avoiding.
I hadn’t expected an attack.
Perhaps the original story had never included every detail. Perhaps something had changed. I had no evidence that I was responsible, and I wasn’t going to invent an explanation simply because the uncertainty made me uncomfortable.
But I could no longer ignore it.
My memories were still useful. They gave me information that other people didn’t have, and they might help me anticipate dangers that would otherwise catch me unprepared.
They were not a guarantee.
I had treated the original novel like a map, assuming that if I remembered the important roads, I could predict where they would lead. Tonight had shown me the weakness in that assumption.
A map was only useful if the roads remained where they were supposed to be.
I looked down at my coat.
"Well," I murmured, "that went terribly."
Your assessment is unusually perceptive.
"Thank you. I have a gift."
You have a remarkable talent for surviving situations you should have avoided.
"That sounds suspiciously like criticism."
It was intended as such.
I closed my eyes briefly, listening to the guards moving beyond the chamber.
I had entered this world believing that my knowledge of the original novel would give me an advantage. I had assumed that even when circumstances became difficult, I would at least understand the direction in which events were moving.
Tonight, that comfort had disappeared.
The story I remembered still existed, but the world around me was no longer obliged to follow it.
I opened my eyes.
I wasn’t simply watching the story anymore.
I was living inside it.
And I no longer knew what came next.