Meetings and Revelations

"Why did your father bring me here, anyway?" Dante asked as he stared at the elaborate pieces of artwork that lined the wide halls they were passing through. He caught a few servants and guards staring at him, and he wasn't sure if it was because of his silver hair or because he was dressed in rags while following an elegantly dressed princess.

"Because you're kin," Shandrin said, "and I imagine he's curious as to why he ran into a child of Blaine's out in the old worlds."

"Wait, what?" Dante's mind raced, and he felt light headed. He wasn't sure if the effect was exaggerated from the wine or not.

"Hm?"

"I…we're related?" Dante sputtered. "No, wait, that makes sense. Garrick even said my dad was his brother. I guess I didn't process it right." He rubbed at the back of his neck, his hand prickling with sweat. "So, I'm a noble, then? Like, a duke? Or a prince?"

"It's complicated," Shandrin replied. "You won't really have a clear title, but you are in line for the throne."

Dante perked, the hand on his neck dropping to his side. "How close?"

"Very, very far."

That fact didn't wane Dante's enthusiasm at all. "So I'm a lost heir?"

"Technically, but there are several people in front of you and the odds of you ever making it to the throne are very slim."

"And I'm not disappointed in the slightest. Even if I'm never king, this place is still way better than my home. I'm not against staying here the rest of my life."

"I'm sure you'll change your mind as soon as you get your Chimera. Like most of the family, you'll be off exploring the old worlds with no desire to return." She stopped in front of a room. "This is the library," she said. "We use the space for casual get-togethers and conversations. More formal conversations tend to happen at dinner or the throne room."

"Wait," Dante said. "I really get a Chimera?"

"Of course," Shandrin replied. "You look about the right age to get yours. If you're ready, we can go now."

"Right now? There's no ceremony or anything?"

"Not usually, no," Shandrin said. "I know that ceremony is a big thing in many of the old worlds, but we put a minimal focus on it here. Now," she continued, "shall we skip the rest of the tour and go straight to the Reiuom?"

"You've said that word before, and I still don't know what it means."

Shandrin turned down a corner, her steps now faster and filled with purpose. "It's where the Chimeras grow."

"They grow?"

"Yes," Shandrin said. "They're as organic as you are."

Dante fidgeted with the strap of his bag, trying to decide which of the many questions he had would be best to start with to clarify his confusion.

"It will make more sense when we get there," Shandrin continued, as though sensing the chaos of his thoughts.

Dante wasn't entirely sure about that, but his heart still thudded within his chest, both excited and nervous for what was about to come.

They rounded another corner. Dante was already breathing hard from all the fast walking without break, but Shandrin continued onward without any signs of exhaustion.

At the end of the hall was a man who was dressed like a guard in a brown gambeson with a high collar. The leather belt that cinched his armor also carried a sword, and the man's hand gripped the hilt and he quickened his pace when he spotted Dante and Shandrin.

As the distance between them lessened, Dante could see the man's features better. His dark hair was short and swept back, and the start of a beard added a ruggedness to his olive face. His piercing eyes made him resemble a predator, and his glare was locked onto Dante and Shandrin with the intensity of a hunting cat.

Dante slowed, trying to use Shandrin as a buffer between himself and this strange and aggressive man and hoping he wouldn't be noticed.

The man moved to stand in Shandrin's way, and she slowed to stop in front of him. "Hello, Diego," she greeted.

"Who the hell is this?!" Diego snapped with an impatient gesture in Dante's direction.

Dante edged a little closer to the pair now that he'd been acknowledged, even if rudely.

"Father found him in the old worlds," Shandrin answered with an indignant sniff.

"Did your dad tell you he has silver hair?"

"I assumed as much when I was told he was a son of Blaine's, yes."

Dante blinked. She'd been looking right at him while they were in the dining hall. How could she not know about his strange hair color?

"Blaine's not much better than the other option," Diego spat. "Please tell me that your father plans to throw him right back into whatever backward world he came from."

Shandrin smiled, but there was no warmth to it. "You are more than welcome to talk to him about his plans yourself, Diego." Her tone was laced with artificial sweetness.

Diego harrumphed and stomped his way past the pair, around a corner, and out of sight.

Dante stared after him but started after Shandrin as she continued down the hall.

"Don't let him get to you," she said.

"I wasn't," Dante said. "I'm used to it by now. Besides, I don't even understand everything he was talking about."

"It's a long story," Shandrin said, "but the short version is that your hair color is seen as an omen in the Nascent."

"Ah. Just like home, then."

She tilted her head to look back at him, a gentle smile on her lips. "I'm glad you aren't taking it personally."

Dante remembered her own brief negative reaction when she'd heard his father's name and wondered just how bad the reputation attached to his lineage was.

"Shandrin?"

"Yes?"

"Do you have trouble seeing colors?"

Shandrin seemed confused for a moment, but then she giggled. "Oh, I have trouble seeing all things."

"Wait, you're blind?" Dante stuttered. "But you were reading!"

"It's a special book in a language that can be read through touch," she said. "I also have books that can be read through sound, smell, and taste, although those last two are somewhat rare, and the languages they're in can be challenging to understand."

"And here I can barely read in one language," Dante marveled, causing Shandrin to giggle again. It was a melodic sound that made Dante want to say more amusing things in order to get her to laugh.

"That explains the book, but how did you know who was walking toward us?"

"Oh, Diego walks heavily," Shandrin replied. "He's one of the easiest to identify. I'm sure even you would be able to tell if he were coming if you were to close your eyes."

"Ah, I guess so." Dante silently wondered if he really could.

A tower cut through the center of the room they'd entered, stretching upward like the trunk of a massive tree before vanishing through the ceiling. "Here we are," Shandrin said as she approached the tower.

Within the tower was an enclosed spiral staircase, and Dante muffled an unenthusiastic groan.

"Shall we?" Shandrin invited. And it was with great reluctance that Dante entered after Shandrin and followed her up the long and twisting stairs.