Nathaniel stood in the Knight Association's headquarters, staring at the last of the documents spread across the reception desk.
He had been here for nearly two hours.
Two. Entire. Hours.
The Empire's Coat of Distinction rested over his Primed Suit, its brilliant white exterior contrasting sharply with the armour's dark plating and gold accents. The garment's interior was almost entirely black, visible where the fabric folded around his shoulders and down his back.
It was a striking piece of attire, and one with a rather inconvenient history.
By imperial law, or perhaps an ancient tradition that had survived long enough to become law, every winner of the Azeran Circuit was required to wear the coat for the first month following their victory. It served as a public declaration of their achievement, identifying them as champions wherever they went.
Apparently, the empire believed its strongest young fighters should be easily recognisable.
Nathaniel suspected whoever had established the tradition had never considered the possibility that a winner might prefer to be left alone.
He signed another document.
Then another.
Then a third, which appeared to be an acknowledgement that he had signed the first two.
This is a drag.
Fortunately, he had brought Ginah.
She had been a tremendous help throughout the morning, navigating the paperwork, correcting a few administrative errors, and explaining which documents required his signature and which required his signature in three separate places.
More importantly, she seemed to be in a particularly good mood.
Nathaniel wasn't foolish enough to question it.
The final document was collected, stamped, and filed away. An Association official gave them the usual assurances that everything was in order, and Ginah checked the remaining paperwork before nodding in satisfaction.
"That should be everything."
Nathaniel let out a breath he hadn't realised he'd been holding.
"Finally."
Ginah gave him an amused look. "You survived fighting the imperial heir, but a few forms nearly defeated you."
"The imperial heir didn't ask me to initial the bottom corner of six separate pages i tend to read the fine print."
"Perhaps he should have."
"Don't give them ideas."
She laughed, gathered her belongings, and glanced at the time.
"I have a few other errands to run. Try not to get into trouble while I'm gone."
Nathaniel stared at her.
"Why would you even say that?"
"Because I know you."
With that, Ginah walked off, leaving him alone in the reception area.
Nathaniel watched her disappear around the corner before turning toward the exit.
He had barely taken three steps when someone appeared directly in front of him.
He stopped.
His body reacted before his thoughts caught up, his weight shifting instinctively as he prepared to deal with whatever had suddenly entered his personal space.
Then he recognised the red hair.
Bryce Pitch.
Nathaniel relaxed, though only slightly.
"Do you always appear out of nowhere?"
Bryce looked as though she hadn't heard him. Her attention had settled on the coat draped over his shoulders.
Her eyes travelled over its white exterior, the dark lining, and the distinctive insignia identifying it as the Empire's Coat of Distinction.
Then she looked back at his face.
Nathaniel followed her gaze downward.
Slowly, his shoulders slumped.
"Oh, for God's sake."
The coat was a problem.
Not because it was uncomfortable. The material was surprisingly well suited to his armour, and its construction was considerably more sophisticated than its ceremonial purpose suggested.
No, the problem was recognition.
The Empire's Coat of Distinction carried an absurd amount of social weight. Its wearer didn't merely look successful. He looked officially successful, backed by the empire itself. An ordinary man wearing one could walk into places where most nobles would have to introduce themselves twice.
And Nathaniel had been legally required to wear his for an entire month.
He'd already discovered the consequences.
The fan mail was ridiculous.
Letters, messages, invitations, requests for interviews, requests for training advice, requests for endorsements, and several communications whose contents had made him question whether literacy had been a mistake.
Alucard had apparently received some as well, though Nathaniel wasn't sure whether that was because of his tournament performance or because people had finally decided that a seven-foot-tall hemomancer was worth writing to.
The worst part was that Nathaniel had been forced to create a new official account just to handle the influx.
He still had no idea who had leaked his information.
Whoever it was, he hoped they developed an incurable fondness for administrative paperwork.
Bryce, meanwhile, continued to examine the coat.
Nathaniel looked at her.
Then at the coat.
Then back at her.
"...You're staring."
Bryce finally raised her eyes to his.
A smile began to form on her face.
Nathaniel immediately regretted leaving the building.
Bryce finally broke the silence.
"Actually, I haven't properly thanked you for the assistance you gave us during the attack on Kephra."
Nathaniel blinked, his shoulders straightening slightly.
"Oh. That."
"Yes, that." She folded her arms, her red hair shifting over one shoulder. "I've been meaning to get around to it, but apparently I've been living under a rock for the past few weeks."
Her gaze drifted back to the coat.
"Then I remembered it was our generation's Azeran Circuit, and you were participating."
"Participating is one way to describe it."
"You won the entire thing, Nathaniel."
"Apparently."
Bryce stared at him.
He stared back.
"You're not going to make this easy for me, are you?"
"Make what easy?"
"Accepting that you beat Ethan Azeroth and got promoted two whole ranks while I wasn't paying attention."
"Technically, the classification is S2 at baseline, with S3 potential over a sustained engagement."
Bryce's eyebrows rose.
"Oh, excuse me. S2 at baseline, with S3 potential over a sustained engagement."
She delivered the words with exaggerated formality before shaking her head.
"That's ridiculous."
Nathaniel gave a small shrug. "I've been told."
Bryce studied him again, this time with a more discerning expression. Her eyes traced the gold accents of his Primed Suit, the reinforced gauntlets, and the structure of the armour beneath the white coat.
There was a difference between reading a tournament report and standing in front of someone who had just fought the imperial heir to a standstill before finally putting him into a crater wall.
Bryce had seen enough combat to appreciate that distinction.
"I guess you're about as strong as my current limit when I'm using my EVA suit."
That earned her a more attentive look.
"Your current limit?"
"Don't sound so surprised." Bryce tilted her head. "The suits aren't exactly decorative. They multiply what I can do, and I've spent a fair amount of time figuring out how far I can push them without compromising their performance."
"I wasn't surprised."
"You looked surprised."
"I was considering whether that was a compliment or a challenge."
Bryce grinned.
"Could be both."
Nathaniel sighed.
There it was.
He should have known a polite conversation with Bryce Pitch wouldn't remain polite for long.
"Look," she continued, her expression settling into something more sincere, "jokes aside, I meant what I said about Kephra. You helped us when things were bad. I haven't forgotten that, even if I somehow missed the fact that you went and became the winner of the Azeran Circuit in the meantime."
Nathaniel regarded her for a moment before nodding.
"You're welcome, Bryce."
It was a simple answer, without the deflection or dry humour he'd used to handle the rest of the conversation.
Bryce seemed to appreciate that.
Then her eyes wandered back to the coat.
"So, do you have to wear that everywhere?"
Nathaniel's expression went blank.
"...For the first month."
Bryce pressed her lips together.
Her shoulders began to shake.
"Don't."
"I haven't said anything."
"You're thinking it."
"I really am."
Nathaniel looked toward the ceiling.
The empire had given him land, resources, a substantial rank increase, and a specialised coat to commemorate his victory.
Nobody had warned him that the garment would also make him a walking target for every person who found his discomfort entertaining.
Bryce finally laughed.
Nathaniel decided that, next time, he was bringing Ginah everywhere.
"Oh, by the way."
Nathaniel had just begun considering whether the Association's front entrance offered a sufficiently inconspicuous route of escape when Bryce spoke again.
"You're trending on Merita and Y."
He stopped.
Slowly, he turned his head toward her.
"I'm sorry, I'm what?"
"Trending." Bryce pulled out her device, her grin growing as she tapped through several pages. "Apparently, you're the empire's most eligible bachelor now. Congratulations."
Nathaniel stared at her.
She helpfully turned the screen toward him.
His face stared back.
There were several photographs, including an official image from the award ceremony, a still of him wearing his Primed Suit during the award ceremony and an admittedly flattering shot of him accepting the Empire's Coat of Distinction from the Empress herself.
Below them were thousands of comments.
Nathaniel read the first few.
Then he stopped.
Then he read them again, as if the words might become less embarrassing on a second attempt.
They did not.
"Why," he asked slowly, "is there a discussion about my marital prospects?"
Bryce burst out laughing.
"Oh, it gets better. People are debating your ideal partner, your personality, your family background, and whether beating Ethan makes you more attractive."
"That last one is especially concerning."
"There's also an entire thread analysing your face."
Nathaniel closed his eyes.
He had fought terrorists. Survived encounters with monsters. Been thrown through more geological formations than he cared to remember.
And somehow, this was worse.
Bryce lowered her device, looking far too pleased with herself.
"Knowing you, I assume you're planning to go into hiding."
"Correct."
"Thought so." She tilted her head, her red hair falling over her shoulder. "And I think I know why."
She pointed at Ginah's now-empty spot beside the reception desk.
Nathaniel opened one eye.
"No."
"I haven't even asked the question yet."
"I know where this is going."
"Do you, now?"
"Bryce."
She ignored him.
"So, do you have a thing for that elegant secretary of yours, or is the spot still open?"
Nathaniel's expression went completely flat.
Bryce leaned forward, enjoying herself far too much.
"Because I've heard they're shipping you with Rayln."
For several seconds, Nathaniel said nothing.
Then he looked toward the ceiling, searching for patience that had apparently been left somewhere in the crater where he'd beaten Ethan.
"Who is they?"
"The people of Merita and Y."
"That doesn't narrow it down."
"Well, the Rayln crowd seems pretty committed. Apparently, the two of you have chemistry because you fought each other, and then you beat her brother."
Nathaniel looked at her.
"That is not how chemistry works."
"Don't tell them that. They're very passionate."
"She tried to crush me."
"And you beat her."
"That doesn't make us romantically compatible!"
Bryce laughed so hard she had to steady herself against the wall.
Nathaniel continued, his voice growing increasingly weary.
"Besides, Ginah is my secretary. She helps me manage my affairs. That's it."
"That's it?" Bryce repeated, suddenly adopting an expression of exaggerated disappointment. "Nothing else? No secret romance? No dramatic confession behind closed doors?"
"No."
"Not even a little?"
"Do you want me to have the Association revoke your visitor privileges?"
"You wouldn't."
"I've been promoted to S2. I suspect I could make a compelling argument."
Bryce grinned.
"Threatening me with bureaucracy. How terrifying."
Nathaniel folded his arms.
"You're enjoying this."
"Immensely."
She slipped her device back into her pocket, though not before Nathaniel caught another glimpse of his own face on the screen.
"Well, if you're not interested in Ginah and the Rayln situation is apparently a misunderstanding, I suppose that leaves the field open."
Nathaniel stared at her.
Bryce stared back, the corners of her mouth lifting.
For one brief moment, the question hung between them.
Then she laughed.
"Relax, Alderman. I'm teasing you."
"That is not reassuring."
"Besides, I have to admit, watching you try to navigate romantic gossip is considerably more entertaining than watching you fight."
"I'd rather fight."
"I know. That's what makes it funny."
Nathaniel exhaled through his nose and started toward the exit.
He had land to inspect, resources to organise, a new classification to get accustomed to, and an entire month left of wearing a coat that apparently turned him into a public commodity.
He was not going to spend the afternoon discussing his love life.
Behind him, Bryce fell into step, still smiling.
"So, hypothetically, if someone did ask you out..."
"No."
"I haven't named anyone!"
"You don't need to."
"You're no fun."
"And yet you keep following me."
"Maybe I'm interested in the empire's most eligible bachelor."
Nathaniel stopped walking.
Bryce stopped beside him.
He turned his head very slowly.
She held his gaze for a moment before breaking into another grin.
"...You're insufferable," he muttered.
"Thank you."
They continued toward the exit.
And somewhere across the empire, the discussion about Nathaniel Alderman's romantic prospects continued to grow.
Bryce let Nathaniel stew in his own misery for a few more seconds before finally raising a hand.
"Anyway, I still owe you a proper thank-you for Kephra. So, come to my apartment. I'll get you something to eat."
Nathaniel glanced at her.
"Your apartment?"
"Yes, Nathaniel. That's generally where people live."
"I'm familiar with the concept."
"Wonderful. Then we're making progress."
She reached into a compartment in her bag and produced a metal mask, holding it out to him.
Nathaniel looked down at it.
The mask covered the lower half of his face, its contours formed from dark metal with subtle gold detailing. Its angular design complemented the aesthetics of his Primed Suit, while the reinforced edges and fitted interior suggested that it was more than an ornamental accessory. It looked like something that belonged with his armour, rather than an improvised attempt at anonymity.
He took it and turned it over in his hands.
"You brought me a mask?"
"I did."
"Why?"
Bryce gave him a look.
"Nathaniel, you're wearing the Empire's Coat of Distinction. Your face has been plastered across every major social platform for the last two days. People are already trying to figure out your romantic preferences, and I wouldn't be surprised if someone has started compiling a schedule of your usual movements."
He stared at her.
She stared back.
"...That's a little disturbing."
"Welcome to being famous."
Nathaniel examined the mask again, paying particular attention to the way it would sit against his armour.
"I hope this and a meal will suffice," Bryce continued. "I would have offered to take you somewhere public, but I rather suspect we'd spend the entire afternoon dealing with people asking for photographs."
"Or asking me to marry them."
"Oh, that too."
He gave her a flat look.
Bryce smiled sweetly.
"What? I'm only repeating what the internet has been saying."
Nathaniel fitted the mask over his lower face, testing the fastening. It settled into place without interfering with his breathing, and its dark finish blended neatly with the armour beneath his white coat.
He tilted his head, checking the fit.
It was surprisingly comfortable.
"Where did you get this?"
"Made it."
That earned her a second look.
"You made it?"
"I have skills beyond combat, you know."
"I never said otherwise."
"You looked like you were about to ask whether I stole it from an Association armoury."
"I was considering whether I should be concerned about its structural integrity."
Bryce placed a hand over her chest in mock offence.
"Unbelievable. I offer you a meal, a disguise, and the privilege of my company, and you question my craftsmanship."
"Your generosity is overwhelming."
"I know."
She turned toward the exit and gestured for him to follow.
"I brought my car, by the way. It's parked out front."
Nathaniel glanced toward the street beyond the entrance.
"Couldn't you have told me that before I put the mask on?"
"No. You might have refused to wear it."
"I still might."
"Then I'll be forced to eat your portion."
He considered that.
"...Lead the way."
Bryce's grin widened.
"Thought so."
They stepped outside together.
The Knight Association's entrance opened onto a busy avenue, with private vehicles moving through the designated lanes and pedestrians passing beneath the enormous banners celebrating the Circuit's conclusion.
Nathaniel immediately understood why Bryce had insisted on the mask.
Even from a distance, several people had begun looking in their direction. One person glanced at his coat, did a double take, and whispered something to a companion.
The companion turned.
Nathaniel lowered his head.
"Oh, this is going to be a long month."
"At least you're learning quickly."
Bryce led him toward a parked vehicle a short distance away. It was distinct enough to suit her, but considerably less conspicuous than Nathaniel's reinforced red SUV, whose appearance had apparently become public knowledge along with everything else about him.
He stopped beside the passenger door.
"Just so we're clear," he said, looking at her, "this is a meal. A thank-you for Kephra. Nothing else."
Bryce rested one hand on the roof of the car.
"Of course."
She said it so readily that Nathaniel became suspicious.
"Why do I feel like you're agreeing with me just to get me into the car?"
"Because you're paranoid."
"Because you're suspiciously agreeable."
"Get in, Alderman."
Nathaniel sighed and opened the passenger door.
Bryce waited until he had settled inside before walking around to the driver's side.
As she got in, she glanced at him, taking in the mask, the gold-trimmed armour, and the white coat that had made him the subject of half the empire's gossip.
"You know," she said, starting the engine, "you clean up pretty well."
Nathaniel turned toward the window.
"Drive."
Bryce laughed as the car pulled away from the Knight Association headquarters.
For the first time that day, Nathaniel was going somewhere without having to sign a document.
He considered that a victory.