The morning after the funeral, Kaen awoke not to the familiar dread of survival, but to the sharp, unsettling clarity of purpose. The weight of Korvin's name was a stone in his gut, but it was also an anchor. As he dressed in a simple, unadorned black tunic, he caught his reflection in a dark mirror. The face of Rael Ithos stared back, pale and severe. The worst part of wearing another man's face, he thought with a shudder, is not knowing when the mirror stops lying and starts telling a new, more terrifying truth. He had to act. He had to prove to himself, more than anyone, that the man in the mirror was still him.
When he summoned Commander Drevan Holt, there was a new steel in his voice.
"My king?" Drevan asked.
"Commander, you have served me loyally," Kaen began. "You have trusted my wisdom, even when it seemed like madness."
"I have, Your Majesty."
"Good," Kaen said. "Because today, I am going to test that loyalty. I am going to test this army. And I am going to do it personally." He turned to face the stunned general. "Assemble the war council. Then assemble the First Legion in the main training ground. The Archmage King is about to conduct a surprise inspection."
The war council convened in a state of high tension. They were expecting another philosophical tangent. Kaen gave them none.
"For weeks, we have discussed my war on our own internal weaknesses," he announced, his voice cutting through the silence. "Today, that war becomes practical." He explained his plan for a series of live-fire 'tests.' "I will personally engage with every legion, every commander, until I am satisfied that we are not merely strong, but sharp."
The first test, he declared, would be a duel.
The training ground was a vast expanse of packed earth. The First Legion stood at attention, a sea of black iron. On the viewing balconies, the court watched, hungry for a spectacle.
A soldier was chosen. "Joric of the Third Company!" an officer called out. A young man, barely out of his teens, stepped forward, his face a mask of raw terror and grim duty. He was given a blunted practice sword. Kaen, declining a weapon, stepped onto the field alone.
"Are you insane?" Mimic hissed from his collar. "He has a sword. You have your devastating wit. This is not a fair fight."
"Just be ready to make a scene," Kaen whispered back.
The duel began. Joric adopted a clumsy defensive stance. Kaen, drawing on Rael's memories of observing guards, mirrored him, looking the part. He circled, not attacking, but watching, learning. The soldier, emboldened, lunged. Kaen sidestepped. The crowd gasped. After a few more clumsy passes, Kaen was tiring. The soldier saw his chance and spun, bringing the flat of his blade around in a sweeping arc.
Kaen knew he couldn't dodge. He had no weapon, no magic. He had only one option. He threw himself forward and to the side in a flailing, exaggerated motion and collapsed onto the ground in a dramatic, boneless heap. He lay there, completely still.
Silence. Joric froze, his sword inches from the fallen king, his face a mask of horror.
It was Commander Drevan who broke the silence, his voice booming with profound revelation. "He did not strike! Faced with his king, seemingly helpless at his feet, his killing instinct was stayed by loyalty! That is what His Majesty was testing! Not your skill with a blade, Joric, but the quality of your heart!"
A wave of understanding rippled through the army. Of course. It was another divine tactic. Kaen was carried from the field like a conquering hero who had just won the most significant victory of his career by fainting.
Back in the cold silence of his chambers, he collapsed into a chair, his body aching.
"Of all the ways to win a battle," Mimic said, fluttering down. "Fainting dramatically is, without a doubt, the most creative."
"It worked," Kaen groaned.
"Yes, it did," a new voice said.
Kaen's head snapped up. Seris Dawnveil stood near the doorway. Her arms were crossed, her expression one of deep, penetrating concern.
"The generals think you're a genius," she said, her voice quiet. "But I was watching your feet. I was watching your eyes." She took a step closer. "That wasn't a test. That wasn't a divine tactic. That was a man who didn't know how to fight, doing the only thing he could to survive." She stopped, standing directly before him, her eyes searching his. The feelings between them, built on lies, were starting to turn real. "You're not Rael. I've known it for a while now. But I don't understand. What are you doing… Kaen?"
The name, his real name, struck him like a physical blow.
The lie was broken. And he had no idea what came next.