The Kahn's throne room was quiet, and one could hear a pin drop as if it were a thunder strike.

It wasn’t because it was empty, but because every soul inside held their breath, waiting for the Kahn’s decision. The five daughters he had thrust onto Lancelot were now standing in a row, each of them wearing formal Khulmani robes embroidered with crimson threads, a sign that they were already promised to someone. At a simple glance, their faces looked to be composed, but their eyes betrayed their nerves, especially with Meyli. Of course, Rashira stood next to her, holding her hand and gently squeezing it, ensuring her sister that everything would be fine. Even behind them, guards, advisors, and clan elders lined the chamber walls, making it impossible for the girls to try to speak up. It was simply not their place, and the people wouldn’t let it happen.

Opposite them, Lancelot stood alone at the center of the polished stone floor, wearing the clothes he came in, looking at Rhanak, who sat on his throne with a half-smile, examining Lancelot’s placid expression.

“You’ve spent time with them,” he finally said, tilting his head a little. “You’ve seen their talents, their virtues, and probably even their faults. I am a bit disappointed you didn’t try to do more, though…” He leaned forward slightly, resting his chin on his fist, before Lancelot or any of the girls could object to his assessment, “Now tell me, Lancelot of Avalon. Which one do you choose?”

“…” There it was… the question he didn’t really look forward to answering. But stretching it out to infinity would be just as bad, so Lancelot took a breath and answered as clearly and cleanly as one could. “None of them.”

The silence cracked in an instant, sounding like dozens of surprised breaths. To his credit, he didn’t flinch; instead, he bowed his head with respect but not submission. Then, when he looked up again and met the Kahn’s gaze, he continued in a very firm and direct tone. He was speaking like he saw Rhanak as an equal, and when he began, the Avaloninan guards also shifted in their positions, standing on the other side of the throne room.

“Each of your daughters is remarkable.” Lancelot stated, momentarily looking at the five, “Lady Rashira is fierce and proud, a lioness that protects her pride; I can tell that. Then, there is Lady Seltena, who is brilliant and composed. A woman who could be a great general. Lady Tarsine carries herself with dignity and refinement, proving that your Khulman has a long and proud history. I also saw how Lady Jila burns with a warrior’s spirit and vitality. And Lady Meyli...” He paused, then smiled softly. “She has the kindest heart I’ve encountered since arriving in Khulman.”

While speaking, some of the girls remained unaffected; some blushed, like Meyli, while Jila kept grinning, almost laughing out loud, holding back because Rashira managed to reach out and pinch her wrist.

“But,” Lancelot continued, looking back at the Kahn, “this is not how marriage works in Avalon. Love cannot be summoned like a war council, Tula-Kahn… Some things can’t be forced, just as flowers don’t grow, even if you order them as an Emperor. Marriage is not a transaction, not in my home. It is a partnership that lasts for life and comes about because both parties want it. I am not going to tarnish it, not even for an alliance.” He said as he further straightened his shoulders. “Forgive me, Tula-Kahn. But I cannot choose a bride this way.”

When finished, the background murmur was like a constantly rising droning, threatening to drown out any thoughts others may have.

“I see…” Kahn’s eyes narrowed. “So… what of the alliance, then, boy? What is the unity between our lands against the monster threat? Are you really willing to throw it out for something so simple? Is Avalon really so proud that it chooses to throw it away, or is it your fault? Do remember, if you refuse me now, the offer won’t be made to anyone else; your Father may send my way!”

“Don’t worry, he wouldn’t.” Lancelot snorted, clearly not afraid of him, even crossing his arms and showing he was getting agitated and frustrated, pushing back against the Kahn openly. “If an alliance must be sealed by forcing two strangers into marriage, then perhaps it is no alliance at all,” he continued with a half-sneer on the edge of his lips. “Avalon is strong; you don't have to worry about it. We are friendly, but we can react with equal force if we are being pushed. If Khulman values only obedience, not understanding, then we may have to show you exactly what Avalonian obedience looks like.”

The moment he finished, the soldiers who came with him took a step forward. Although they didn’t draw weapons, they were ready to step in whenever needed. There were audible gasps from the back as it happened. Even the sisters turned back and forth between the parties, their brows lifting, a flash of panic beginning to emerge in their eyes. Rashira opened her mouth to say something, but then stopped, noticing that her Father seemed eerily calm and looking on with surprising interest.

“Oh, I like him even more now…” Jila muttered, barely audible, but as if Lancelot caught it, he turned towards the five.

“You are not prizes. None of you are. You are warriors, thinkers, and daughters of great people, even if someone tries to say otherwise. But not me… And I will not insult you or myself by pretending to love one of you just to please a treaty. Heh… I would also not hear the end of it back home!”

When there was about to be an explosion from the people gathered in the room, it was snuffed out when the Kahn raised his hand, waiting for the silence to return… and began laughing. It was not a mocking chuckle, nor was it angry-sounding or sinister. It was an actual, genuine, deep laugh.

“Well said!” he bellowed, slamming his palm on the armrest, making the closest guards jump as he stood up, clapping, “Very well said, Lancelot of Avalon!” Walking down to stand before him, his laughter faded slowly, replaced by something new in his tone, most similar to admiration. “You are a good son with a spine. One that some of the sons of my people miss sorely…” the Kahn said, looking at his daughter, knowing exactly which previous potential husbands they refused to entertain. “I like you.” He leaned forward, scaring Lancelot for a sudden moment before he clapped his shoulder, “You think I did not expect resistance? That I thought you’d simply bow your head and take your pick?”

“Err…” Lancelot mumbled, suddenly feeling he had lost the plot. He felt so good a moment ago, feeling the rush of standing up for the girls… but now he was suddenly feeling dizzy.

“If you had begun making your pickings, I would have let the girls start complaining!” He chortled, but as he did so, Rashira leaned over to Seltana.

“He is lying, isn’t he…?” The eldest princess asked in a whisper, making Seltana nod.

“He is. But only about the part of letting us speak. His admiration looks genuine.”

“The old bastard…” Rashira grunted, saying it through clenched teeth.

“I hoped you’d resist," Rhanak said, continuing to hit Lancelot’s shoulders. “If every man in Avalon has a conviction like yours, no matter for what,” the Kahn said with a nod, “then this alliance will last longer than I will.”

As he continued speaking, the court remained hushed and stunned. Clearly, they also did not expect their emperor to react like this… but the actual surprise was only dropped a moment later when the Rhanak turned to his daughters.

“You five,” he said, pointing at them all, “You’ll go with him.”

“What?” Tarsine exclaimed before she could stop herself, forgetting about protocol and everything else, her actual thoughts finally breaking through.

“All of us?” Rashira echoed, her mouth falling agape.

“Yes, all five of you. Was I speaking to someone else?” the Kahn added with a smile. “You’ll visit Lancelot’s Avalon. I am telling you to stay there, learn, and grow. And as the boy said, bloom like a flower, and let love do what politics could not.”

“…” Suddenly, Lancelot felt his words were being used against him in a surprising move. Maybe Seltana’s war game tactics were not something she came up with but inherited from his Father…

“Isn’t that right, Lancelot?” The Kahn asked with a sly grin, “If it must bloom before it binds, then so be it. I’ll give it the sun and time it needs.” He leaned closer to Lancelot’s ear, his voice lowering just enough for only them to hear. “You will provide the water. Don’t worry… if you fall for more than one?” he smirked. “Well... in Khulman, too, that’s a simple tradition. You can take them all; just make sure you water them plenty.”

Lancelot blinked his eyes, feeling that the Kahn was a mix of his mothers, while he kept struggling not to let his composure crack. Seeing the two speak like that, Rashira looked away, cheeks tinged red, and her chest rising in an uneven pattern. She wasn’t the only one, though, as Seltena folded her arms, eyebrows raised, but didn’t object. None of them did. By now, Tarsine had resumed her calm looks, but her eyes were moving way too fast between Lancelot and her Father.

On the other hand… Meyli was the most shocked, her eyes watering deep down, not wanting to go away. She liked her home, the animals, and the surroundings she was used to. Entering a new, foreign, and alien world… She did not want to do that. But the knowledge she had no say in it… caused the tears to well up in her eyes, as her frustration had no other way to be released.

Finally… Maybe the most nonchalant about it all, Jila just grinned, giggling to herself. A moment later, the Kahn returned to his throne, sweeping his ceremonial cloak behind him.

“This alliance will go forward,” he declared, “My flowers, the daughters of Khulman, will travel to Avalon. Go, make the preparations so our guest, Lancelot’s Avalon, can see what kind of daughters we raise.”

“Tula-Kahn,” Lancelot started, but Rhanak waved a hand toward him, showing there was nothing he could say to change the outcome.

“I am finished with this topic,” He looked down at Lancelot one last time. “You may go, boy. Prepare your ship while my girls will pack their things... The monsters breed and multiply while we dilly-dally. Go back to your Father and tell her that Khulman is ready and waiting for his response.”

Closing his mouth, Lancelot only glanced at the five girls… and knew that the road back to Avalon would be… weird.

…

….

……

The sun was coming down in the far west, coloring the steppes of Khulman in a golden hue with a bright touch of crimson. Aboard the Stormbringer, looking down at Dagar Khun from the observation deck, the scenery was… picturesque, especially when the ship began its ascent.

Rashira stood near the railing, her arms crossed and feet planted wide for balance, her body unused to riding something like this and not sitting on a horse. Yet, her eyes didn’t move to the beautiful horizon or the shrinking buildings of her home city. Instead, she was looking worriedly at her sisters, her lips set in a firm line, not really knowing what to say to them... It should be only her here.

On the other hand, Seltana, standing just to her left, didn’t watch her sisters at all. She was staring at the world and at the airship’s outer hull, its inner workings, and the floor below her feet. She was visibly mesmerized by it.

“A single one of these could change a campaign,” she murmured to herself. “If they field them en masse…” She looked down at the capital city, which was now disappearing below them. “Khulman is powerful on land, yes… But…”

“Ugh…” someone moaned, making Rashira look towards the noise.

A step away from them, Tarsine stood stiffly, both hands gripping the metal railing as though it were the only thing preventing her from leaving reality. Her face was forcibly calm, her poise crookedly elegant, her posture no longer perfect… and her knuckles were white.

“Do not scream… Do not faint… “ she muttered to herself, her face turning slightly green, “You are not a peasant girl seeing and hearing thunder for the first time…”

But her stomach turned as the ship climbed higher, as the earth tilted, something that she could feel in her whole body… Then, as the clouds seemed close enough to touch, her throat tightened. She tilted her chin upward and closed her mouth before a noise could escape it again. She was freaking out, not wanting to ever fly again… Ever. But she couldn’t show it. Unlike someone else…

“WOOOOAAAAH!!”

The shriek shattered the silence as Jila dashed from port to starboard and back again, grabbing Lancelot’s arm without warning and pulling him along.

“This is AMAZING! I can see the whole city! Well, no longer, as it got small, like… Is that the temple? Did you see that tiny herd of horses down there? Hey, hey! Hubby! HUBBY! Are you watching?!”

“I have a name…” Lancelot winced as she tugged on his sleeve for the fifth time. “Jila, I’m not your—”

“I mean, not yet, right?” she grinned at him. “Hey, do all Avalonian ships fly? Can I get my own airship if I marry you right now? This one will do fine! Will our kids be born in the sky? That sounds great… Hey, how many kids do you want?”

“Jila…”

“Aw, come on,” she winked, spinning once on her heel with arms wide. “We’re flying, hubby! You can’t expect me to act normal right now! This is the best day of my life! This is better than… well, whatever else! Yep!”

“I can tell,” he muttered, already rubbing his temples.

Unlike the hyperactive Jila, Meyli stood apart from the rest at the rear of the observation deck. She had clung to the rail as the ship rose, her shoulders tight, her breaths shallow, battling with the fear of leaving her home… maybe forever. Her face was pale with terror, her eyes wide as the ground began to drop away faster than any hawk’s ascent.

And then... Her breath was caught in her throat.

After the airship leveled out, her fear dissolved in the snap of a finger when she could see the endless sea of clouds and the red-gold light coming to spread around the world.

“This is…” she whispered, voice trembling.

For a moment, she totally forgot herself; her arms loosened, her back straightened, and her eyes softened in wonder.

“This is what the hawks see… I’m flying,” she whispered, “I’m really flying…”

Lancelot, trying to reassure everybody that everything would be fine, finally looked at her… and to his surprise, she was glowing. Somewhat literally for a moment, as if her magic reacted to the experience. But then again, as Lancelot blinked, it was gone, just as the fear in her eyes was replaced by childlike awe. He was about to call out to her, but then Jila threw an arm around his neck again, jumping onto his back as if trying to wrestle him.

“Hey! You stopped answering my questions. Are you gonna be like this all the way back to Avalon?”

“No, the ship is not carried by flying monsters,” Lancelot exhaled, slowly prying her off him. “I don’t know how I’m going to explain this…”

“What?” Jila grunted, “I’m not stupid, just excited.”

“No, not that…” He moaned, pinching the ridge of his nose, “Ahh… whatever…”