9/?: The Father, The Son, and The Cabinet Meeting.

"Father?" Adam said with commendable gravity as he stood at the conference room door.

"Adam," Randor acknowledged, equally gravely. He waved towards an empty chair two seats down from him. "Please, join us."

"Sire," was the Prince's only response as he calmly walked in and took the appointed seat. Around the table were the various advisors who made up his governing Cabinet. Adam knew it had actually been his mother's idea for the King to surround himself with loyal contrarians, men and women who would speak their mind, but still execute orders as the Crown meted out. His own experiences had taught Adam the wisdom in such arrangements, and had done his level best to emulate them.

The King had sent him a Royal Summons, rather than a more traditional Invitation, had caused Adam's hackles to rise instinctively. Not that he feared his father's anger, but rather because he couldn't immediately discern the purpose. His past attendance within a Cabinet gathering had been by Invitation, with the intention of exposing the heir to the machinery of government. In truth it had been more of an exercise in discernment and boredom for Adam, many of the matters discussed there being ones he was already aware to or in the process of attending to himself.

Randor was speaking, addressing him directly whilst keeping eyes on the rest. "We were discussing the Open Summer Court. More specifically we were thinking of the sheer volume of petitioners this season. Given recent events, it's been suggested in a few quarters the Court be delayed until Summer's end." He gave no clue as to which quarters were making the suggestion, at least so he thought. Adam had learned to discern and see clear what others would hide, and felt a sharp pang that his parents were so unsettled by his sudden 'illness' they would contemplate such a move.

The Open Court was a vital cog that kept Eternia functioning as one, rather than collapsing back into factionalism and civil war. Delaying it wouldn't be a disaster, per se, but it would undercut both the Crown and future Courts by undermining the routine that was its foundation. People prized stability and surety, and a Crown that couldn't project that was a Crown others would think they could vie for.

Adam was silent but three beats as all these points came to mind, after which he stated "If I may be bold? The Court can and should go forward as scheduled. There's no reason to delay it a single day, never mind so long as a full season."

"Are you certain you are up to this?" his father asked. This was merely a question, a convenient "out" he wanted (no, needed) to provide his son and heir. So much had changed so quickly, both within the Prince and between them as child and parent, he held the legitimate fear Adam would falter and collapse once more attempting fill his traditional role. That Randor now knew who the Champion of Grayskull truly was only compounded those fears; covering for the Prince's sudden disappearances would be challenging enough outside of the Court, but in the midst of it, with Adam at center stage and all eyes on him?

But then, Adam had proven himself deft in doing so in the past. Randor felt a stab of anger with himself for thinking his son needed such protection, especially now.

Apparently the same thoughts had occurred to the Prince, as his answer was "A lame arm can hardly be thought grounds of weakness, Father. I'm sure there will be staff aplenty to watch me for another bout of…um…" He noted several of the assembled were looking towards him strangely, almost nervously.

Adam kicked himself; his parents, Duncan and Himon were the only ones who knew about him and Teela now. These others would only know that he and Teela had been left unconscious for three full days, then awakened as if nothing had happened. He'd made no public announcements, nor really talked to anyone outside that small circle, thus Elders alone knew what the Cabinet was making of his changed voice and manner. A few of them looked old enough to have served under his grandfather, and Randor had commented more than once how his voice was now so eerily akin to General Mirros'.

The trouble was Adam now had only the dimmest of memories of his youth, and any attempt to emulate it was sure to be so poor as to convince others he'd gone mad. Better, he concluded, to behave as himself and leave them to draw their own conclusions. His more immediate concern, ironically, was the next subject the King chose to broach.

"And Captain Teela?"

Adam frowned, momentarily thrown by the subject. Truly he was more disturbed at the rank rather than the subject; it had been a very long time since he'd heard so low a rank attached to her name. He'd instantly been prepared to snap a correction at the speaker, and as quickly swallowed it whole. What would his father know of The Queen of Great Serpents, either in title or what it entailed? Elders and Ancients, this was becoming complicated in ways they'd barely imagined thus far.

He opted for an indirect answer to buy himself precious time. "I spoke with Duncan yesterday afternoon. He said she was feeling a bit out of sorts. I should think she's recovered sufficiently by now."

"Shall we assign someone else as your guard?" The suggestion hung in the air between them, both knowing something entirely different was in question. Adam marveled at how he and his father could have so completely different a debate without saying the words aloud. Would that they could have done so in the years before this madness upset everything.

"I would not advise it. Te…the Captain," he hastily amended, momentarily appalled he'd slipped like that. "The Captain has my full confidence," he continued.

He…no, they needed to tread carefully now. Teela had never cared overmuch of her reputation, preferring her deeds to speak for her, and therein lay the trouble as Duncan had warned. All her deeds were witnessed and spoke of her, especially those where she would publically berate and condemn the Crown Prince for cowardice. It hadn't won her any supporters, and Teela herself had been mortified at the realization of how far she'd gone there, and then gone to some rather absurd lengths to "make amends" as penance.

Adam ruthlessly squelched thoughts heading in that direction, rather silently bemoaned the task ahead of them undoing the damage to her standing. Starting there, in that room, was as good a time as any. "She has my fullest confidence, Father," he repeated with particular emphasis.

Randor sat for a moment, then nodded. "Very well. Provided Himon has no objections, I will instruct Duncan to add her to the standing guard." He drummed his fingers on the table, deep in thought. "Adam, perhaps now is the best time to end this absurd deception."

Only decades of experience allowed the Prince to retain his calm demeanor. Surely his father couldn't be suggesting...

"I have countenanced the deception for as long as I am willing to concede," Randor continued. He held up both hands, forestalling immediate objections. "I am fully aware of the prohibitions placed on you, and of the role I was designated to play, though without clear knowledge of it. Nevertheless…"

Adam cut in, forgetting decorum or the fact they were in a very crowded room. "Nevertheless, Father, the Elders have directed…"

"To blazes with the Elders!" Randor fairly thundered, then composed himself. Adam was the only one in the room who didn't flinch or pull a face, and only managed that because of a wearying lifetime of war – of arms and otherwise – had schooled him in total calm in the face of all things. The cost of that schooling had been high, and he'd made good use of it over the seasons. Now he employed it to safeguard his father, who it seemed had become hellbent on losing the Elder's good will and power.

"Father, please," he tried with calm and gentleness. "You know it was necessary."

"Necessity I can grant. But the ruination of your standing within the Court crosses the line."

"My 'ruination', as you put it, was my own doing."

"Only insofar as you gave appearances to the rest of us. That they were swallowed whole is inexcusable." The King's nostrils flared, then calmed once more. "I plan to formally present you as my appointed Heir to the Court, and this…this charade you have been directed into has done some damage to your standing." He paused to let his son and advisors absorb this. "If you are to one day take the throne, it cannot be seen as simply because you have no sib…" Randor stopped suddenly, and Adam's worry tripled in weight and volume at how his father's voice took a strangled quality. He had no doubt the next word would have been 'siblings', but why this would have such an effect on his father escaped him just then. Adam judged it better to wait and hear the King out before seeking what surely would only be a fruitless confrontation.

To his immense relief, Randor mastered himself almost immediately and reiterated "You cannot be seen as nothing but the Heir by default, not if your reign is to be secured from outside challenges. You must be seen as having the full backing and confidence of the Throne. Such will not be easy, thanks to how long this façade of yours has been in play."

Adam couldn't debate the logic there, and so switched focus. "And how is throwing off the Elder's to accomplish anything?"

"First, it is you under their decree, not myself. Therefore, short of their appearing directly before me this instant, you shall be presented as my Heir and thereafter be treated as such. That means an end to this deception you've had to cloak yourself in."

"Fine. Again: how is throwing off the Elder's decree going to accomplish this?"

A new voice spoke up. "If I may, Your Majesty? Your Highness?" It was Kirklun Laffreys, youngest son to the Duke of Maalann. He and Adam had been schoolmates a lifetime ago, and the young Laffreys had since taken his father's place at Court. That he'd taken a seat at the King's Cabinet bespoke well enough of him, but his next words all but pulled the rug from under Adam and Randor both.

"If the deception you speak of if is what I suspect, then your concerns are somewhat misplaced, Majesty." Father and son exchanged a surprised look, then focused their attention on the tow-haired peer. "Forgive my saying, Highness, but you aren't that great an actor. Anyone with even a passing familiarity to you cannot quite believe you such a…well, there's no gentle way of putting it, Your Highness."

"What?" Adam prompted. He'd honestly not given much thought, then or now, how his layabout act might have been perceived; his youth had been eaten up by the never-ending crises that needed He-Man's attention, and all the seasons afterwards had made such wondering pointless. Needless to say, he needed now to gauge the citizen's temperature now, being very careful in doing so.

To his credit, young Laffreys met his eyes forthrightly as he said "A 'degenerate loafer' has been the most frequent descriptor to your act, Your Highness." He glanced about the rest of the table, seeing varying degrees of support and wariness in the assembled faces. "This has actually been a matter of some debate amongst we gathered here. Your inexplicable transformation...needless to say it left those who know you not a little disturbed. The coincidental appearance of He-Man led us to speculate all manner of possibilities. In quiet, naturally."

"Naturally," Randor echoed, not a little sourly at that. He'd heard of none of this before now, and it left him only more furious with himself for not having put the pieces together long ago. He slew a quick glance at his son, seeing the Champion of Grayskull clearly. The Prince's attention was focused expressly upon young Lafferys, although Randor had the clear impression – bordering upon certainty – that he was in fact aware and alert to everything in that room; it stung the King that he'd proved so horribly clueless when it came to his son's past behavior, and here the boy was, proving himself a hundred times more perceptive than his own father.

But Adam wasn't a boy, not anymore, not even for a great many years going by whatever had torn him and Teela from their bodies but six days ago and placed them...wherever they'd ended up. Long before then, even, given how long He-Man had been active.

There had been unspoken agreement between them all to not reveal what the pair had themselves revealed; this was really just simple practicality, given how little Adam and Teela had imparted thus far. To announce to the public their Prince and his bodyguard had suddenly mentally aged decades would have done no-one any favors. Better they all get used to one another again before going to the public, if that ever actually happened.

Apparently the Throne's Cabinet had the jump on them all. Whether that would prove helpful or not was the question.

Young Laffreys was again addressing them both, albeit somewhat indirectly. "The, ahem, current theory is that the Prince has become the host, if you will, of Grayskull's Champion. There's some historical precedent to this, although mostly legends of the First Iron Age." Adam considered this carefully. Kirklund and whoever else was involved must have been breathing solid dust to find such records. Elders alone knew how deep into the archives they'd delved. Adam thought on it for a moment, realizing that the young peer was correct: there were legends and folk-tales of a Champion of some stripe stretching far back into antiquity. He'd long dismissed them as mere fancy, and even after being given the Sword of Power he hadn't spared it much thought.

His thoughts took on a kind of desperate urgency, trying to conceive a credible line right there and then that could deflect further investigation – be it by the Cabinet or elsewhere – without resorting to outright lies. A lifetime of honing his talent for improvisation to a true art form assisted him here, and Adam prayed it would prove enough to defend his secrets. "It's a bit more involved than my playing "host" for a spirit, Kirklund."

"How so?" This came from Lawrence Cor-Minn, a one-time mercantilist who Randor had elevated to becoming an untitled minister for commerce, a post he had proven more than adequate for. He was also very, very sharp of mind and wit, which put Adam on his guard. He wanted to deflect attention, dammit, not invite more of it.

"I've only recently learned I'm…" Adam had to pause as he searched for an equivalent word in Eternian. "I'm what you would term a 'fountain'." He turned his eyes towards his father. "I assure you, Father, this is as much a shock to me as to you. I was still wrestling with how to explain it when Teela and I were…struck…by whatever happened. I'd in fact planned on telling you and Mother of it that day." He grimaced and added "I've honestly no clue whether this has any direct bearing on our coma. Quite frankly I've not had time to consider it."

He'd held a small ray of hope this would satisfy the Cabinet enough that wouldn't press further. Sadly, young Laffery and Cor-Minn both appeared more curious than before. Adam again thought furiously for a way to string this further without having to actually lie. "What does that…?" his father began to ask, whether knowingly or not (Adam suspected the former) giving him some rhetorical space to work with. Thankfully it wasn't so much a fabrication as simply an exaggeration, one that could prove useful in coming times.

"I am a sort of natural reservoir for magickal energies. Much like our skin absorbs heat from the sun. I just seem to absorb more exotic energies from the world."

"But calling yourself a 'fountain' implies you don't just absorb and store this energy," Randor countered. Placid and attentive as he appeared, Adam didn't doubt he was in truth deeply and profoundly disturbed by this news. He surely suspected (rightly) Adam had learned nothing of this prior to his falling comatose, or whatever really happened to him, and the fact he was revealing it now and in this venue meant there were wider implications. It must have taken all his considerable willpower to keep himself seated and appearing calm, especially how Adam now sounded and acted more like his elder. Which Adam reminded himself sourly. Which is exactly what he was now. Elders, what were they going to do once the Court took notice?

"True, Father. A 'fountain' is probably a misnomer. Perhaps a 'well' would be a better term, although it doesn't seem magick wielders can actually draw energy from me." This was the closest Adam dared go in his misdirection, given there was one sorceress in particular who could (and had) drawn power from him, never mind this particular 'well' was a virtually bottomless reservoir for her.

"And because of this, you've become a host body...?" Randor began, only to be interrupted by Adam.

"I'm more of a receptacle, or vessel, than a living host. Or perhaps a sort of puppet, given I'm only dimly aware of the transformation happening until after it's undone." This was the literal, albeit incomplete truth; Adam was only truly conscious of the physical differences between himself as Prince versus as Champion after he'd transformed back into the former. He'd thrown "the puppet" bit in as an afterthought which, hopefully, would given the unvoiced impression he wasn't in full control of himself. Again, an incomplete truth, given his parents had instilled such values within him the very notion of his fleeing when others were threatened was an anathema. Left to himself, he'd have stood shoulder-to-shoulder with Teela and the Masters against all comers. The responsibilities of the Champion of Grayskull however dictated he go against his nature and heart and appear to flee the field, returning a changed man each time.

Adam couldn't help but grin remembering when Teela had finally worked it herself. They'd been wandering and surviving for five seasons, both of them carrying plenty of scars already, when she simply looked at him one night across their small cook fire and just knew. She later likened it to a jigsaw puzzle suddenly assembling itself in her mind. Adam prayed that similar such puzzles wouldn't assemble themselves right then; he and Teela were having enough difficulty adjusting without throwing a destabilized Court into the mix.

"When did you first become aware of your changed condition, Your Highness?" This came from one of the older members of the Cabinet. Adam had to spend several desperate seconds working through his voluminous memory to identify him: Sir Teigh Aylewen. Scion of an old family in the Pencostel Provence, although the duties of the house had passed to his son some seasons back. Sir Teigh was in the Palace at his father's own request, mostly to take advantage of his sharp negotiation skills. Adam would credit Sir Teigh for teaching him all he knew in that arena.

The Prince chose his next words very carefully. "Which aspect, Sir Teigh? My becoming an unwitting puppet to a Champion, or my being an untappable well of magicks?"

The older man seemed to take no notice of the sharp tone or underlying implications. "The former, Your Highness."

"Hmm," Adam hummed, trying to conceive an answer that didn't land him into an outright lie. "I suppose I first noticed something was amiss when Captain Teela began to become more critical of my 'fighting technique,' as she put it. I confess I didn't have the foggiest idea what she was talking about. Plus I started to have small gaps in my immediate memory, as if I were no longer present, at least not as myself." Once again, he was relying on long winded weasel-wording, which left him feeling not a little angry such measures were needed.

The answer appeared to satisfy Sir Teigh and many others who gave small nods of satisfaction. Young Laffreys had watched him carefully throughout, and asked the one question Adam positively dreaded having to answer. "Do you think He-Man will appear ever again, Your Highness?"

Adam had come to dread this question for many reasons, none the least of which was the ongoing silence from Grayskull. He'd consciously (if silently) called out to The Sorceress several times since awakening, only to receive the shortest of answers. He'd be happy if her only response was a condemnation for allowing Teela to be so injured over the seasons. It was entirely possible the Elders had now judged him unworthy of the Sword and their power, a prospect Adam found only mildly distressing. He and Teela after all had survived a full lifetime without their aid, and that was without the resources they could now command having been restored to Eternia.

"I honestly don't know, Kirklun," was his ultimate response, one he found he could not expand or elaborate upon.

Laffreys nodded in understanding. "Fair enough. My original point remains, Your Majesty. Prince Adam remains well thought of throughout the realm, very few seriously believing the stories of his becoming a greater coward than Skeletor himself." He gave a sweeping gaze to his fellows and added "I believe I speak for us all in saying our confidence in the Prince's worthiness has never been in question."

"Tell him the rest," another present spoke up. Adam recognized this one immediately: Baron Mikhal of Polarron. He was the third son of that region's sovereign and a one-time roommate of Adam's at the Academy. He was most memorable thanks to the unending humbling he delivered to the Crown Prince of Eternia, Mikhal being a master of pranks and fool stunts that were always orchestrated so blame– somehow – fell upon said Prince. It was perhaps the best training possible in keeping his Royal airs under control, a debt Adam swore he'd one day repay in kind.

"The rest of what?" Randor questioned.

Young Laffreys drew a sealed envelope from his jacket pocket and passed it down to Randor. "We gathered here have composed a letter to Your Majesty, advising you to name Adam your designated Heir in this year's Open Court. We made clear our faith in him, and...well, perhaps you should read it yourself."

As the letter was placed in his hand, Randor threw a quick look towards his son, who in a rare display of uncontrolled response looked as surprised as he. Clearly Adam hadn't been in the know about this and was no less surprised.

He wondered distantly if his advisors doing this constituted treason against the Crown; since his ascension at the directive of the Elders, he'd been little more than feeling his way through matters. Marlena's homeworld, which based on her fumbling attempts at describing sounded even more chaotic and fractured than Eternia during the Early Iron Age, was nothing short of a godsend in this regard. She had made clear her homeland had no King or Queen at its leadership, but she was studied enough to provide some helpful advice in how a sovereign would ideally act and behave. Thankfully the Constitution they'd drafted and ratified (with Marlena once again leading from behind there) had taken much of the burden of formulating the traditions they'd need to endure; the Throne's roles and powers were carefully delineated within the text, leaving enough 'wiggle room' that growth was possible, but the Crown seeking to seize all power for themselves would find all manner of legal impediments against them.

Randor found himself unaccountably nervous as he opened the letter and read it, fearing it went beyond the parameters young Laffreys described. He could naught but frown as his fears were simultaneously confirmed...and not. He calmly passed it over to Adam, who saw through that masque and realized just how unsettled his father was.

Reading young Laffreys' careful handwriting, Adam could see why the King had become worried. The first paragraph was as described, filled with the typical assurances of loyalty to the Throne and country. The second kept a respectful tone, even when it expressed "disappointment" at the King's neglecting to name his heir and successor, throwing in a couple lines of historical sovereigns who'd likewise neglected this duty and all coming to bad ends.

It was the third and last paragraph that must have upset his father, given the tone it struck was now decidedly less humble or deferential. It read as follows:

Majesty, you gathered us together with the understanding our counsel was worthy of your attention, that it would be valued properly and taken to heart. With this spirit of service in mind, and conscious of historical precedent as shown above, we urge you with one voice to take this most vital step and name Your appointed Heir, if only to secure the Throne's continuity in these most dangerous times. We further urge, again with one voice, that Your Majesty duly name Crown Prince Adam formally to the role. We are all aware of the ugly words and low opinion you hold of His Highness, but be it known such opinion is not shared by much the rest of the Kingdom and all here will speak publically and strongly of the Prince's worthiness for the Crown.

The Open Summer Court is but weeks away, and we have seen far too many to countenance further ambiguity to the Throne's future, hence our urgency. Should Your Majesty see fit to let yet another Court open and conduct without addressing this most vital matter, we can naught but conclude you assign less worth to our counsel than once before. With this certainty in mind, we issue you formal notice that, upon conclusion of the Open Court, we the undersigned shall tender our resignations from Your service and return to our respective lands and professions. Never doubt our loyalty to the Throne, but know we cannot in good faith honestly serve so derelict a Crown.

It was an impressive bit of wordsmithing, managing to simultaneously call their King derelict in his duty while expressing continued loyalty to the same, and being completely respectful in doing so. It flirted on the edge of an actual threat, albeit on that didn't rise anywhere near outright treason. Adam did a quick scan of the dozen-plus signatures on the page, confirming that it did indeed carry the names of the entire Cabinet, an equally impressive feat given he dimly remembered one instance where several had nearly come to blows in this very room.

He found himself winced a bit at the thought that their united rested upon him alone; such could lead him unto the path of hubris and sense of entitlement, and Adam had zero desire to revisit either state of mind ever again. Barely one second after did he realize his slip and resettled is face to complete calm, reconciled that those who had caught it would most likely think he was reacting poorly to last bit. He'd have to smooth that out separately, but later.

There was no way he could explain his concerns without inviting more disclosure than he dared at that moment. Bad enough he'd just strung out a line a near nonsense to keep things calm and misdirected. Teela might well take his head for siding her out of such entanglements. One of the many drawbacks to being bound to one such as her, and one of the many, many reasons he loved her so.

Adam returned his attention to the present, and returned the letter to his father's hand. "I trust there is but one copy of this text?" he asked of young Laffreys.

"Just so. We ensured no other copies exist or were made."

The Prince gave a slow nod and turned towards his father. "I believe what has been said here satisfies your concerns over my father's...dereliction." It was both a claim and a question.

Lawrence Cor-Minn was the first to speak. "I for one am satisfied. Are there any objections here?" The table remained silent, young Laffreys being the sole exception.

"What do you intend to do with the letter, Your Majesty?"

Randor was surprised at the question, and needed a beat to formulate his answer. "I'll keep it. It is addressed to me, after all." A ripple of obvious worry suffused the room, which both King and Prince felt clear as a sunlight. Randor hastened to reassure them all, saying "Not as future leverage or anything like that, I promise you. It shall be a reminder to me that a King must ever think of the future as well as the present."

He swung a long look across the room. "You are my advisors, yes, but I am not your dictator. I invited each of you to ensure I don't allow myself to become one. For whatever its worth, you have my leave to take measures such as this in the future. I would thank you to not include poisoning my family or seizing the Throne out from under me by force of arms among those measures. I like to think I'm a level-headed fellow, after all, and you've demonstrated here you're willing to get my attention by overt means."

This elicited a relieved chuckle from some corners, but everyone appeared placated. The rest of the meeting was conducted and concluded quickly, at which point Randor dismissed his Cabinet. Adam watched them file out, catching the fugitive glance Sir Teigh kept throwing his way, plus the small frown young Laffreys left with.

"That's going to be trouble," Adam mused to himself, just aloud enough where his father heard it.

"Hmm? Who?"

"Kirklun, and possibly Sir Teigh. They don't seem completely sold on my explanation."

"You think they'll voice dissention?" The King face tightened in anticipation, neither of them apparently aware of the change in their interaction now. Adam's 'true' age was in clear display now, Randor unconsciously taking him as a peer rather than his still-untried son.

"Not likely," Adam demurred. "More likely they see the gaping holes in my little story but don't wish to draw attention to it."

"Hmm. Adam?"

"Sire?"

"Exactly how much of all that was true?"

Adam remained still and silent for a beat, then pulled the glamour stone from his vest pocket and activated it. Teela had detected two spy devices in the room, but had had no time to deal with them. Adam was of two minds in how to do so: simply destroying them risked driving those who put them in to become more subtle and creative in their next move, whereas leaving them alone had its own dangers, especially given how neither he nor Teela could be expected to guard their every word and action now. The glamour was the easiest solution while he and Teela attempted to come up with a more permanent solution.

Once the violet glow faded from sight, Adam turned to face his father directly and answered "All of it, Father. At least as far as the general conditions go. The specifics, well, not so much."

"Are you really a 'well' as you put it?"

"Yes. I was always that."

"Will this make you a target? More of a target?"

"Unlikely," Adam said with a decisive shake of the head. "First, it's not nearly as uncommon for a body to be able to absorb and store energies as you'd think. In that respect I simply have a higher tolerance for it than others."

"And...?" Randor prompted after a moment.

"And, second, even if someone else detected my, uh, capacity, it wouldn't really do them much good. I wasn't lying when I called myself 'untappable' as I was, well, exaggerating."

Randor frowned, at once relieved and concerned again. "In what sense?"

"There is one sorceress, and only one, who can access and make use of the energies I contain."

"Is she here, on Eternia?"

"Yes," Adam answered, averting his eyes where he would normally meet his father's gaze full on. Randor puzzled at Adam's behavior, quickly reaching two very logical conclusions for his reticence. The first possibility was that this individual was somewhere distant, and thus unreachable, but Randor had serious doubts this was the case as it wouldn't explain Adam's sudden loss of nerve. The second possibility was that they was indeed here, not merely on planet but here in the city, perhaps even the palace, he judged this to be more likely.

But then who was this sorcerer? He shook his head, recalling Adam had said "sorceress". A woman then, but that did nothing to limit the number of possibilities. Indeed, if Randor recalled his household accurately, the majority of the palace staff were women, many of them generational staff and aides. With exception of Orko, the King could not recall a single individual of either gender who gave even a hint of magickal ability. He was about to ask, or order if necessary, Adam to name this person. The question died on his tongue as one name came to mind literally out of the blue (as Marlena would say), and he kicked himself hard for not thinking of her immediately.

"Its Teela, isn't it?" Despite knowing the glamour shielded them, Randor couldn't raise his voice higher than a whisper, the knowledge suddenly as precious and overwhelming as having learned the truth of his son's 'cowardice'.

"Yes," Adam confirmed, his voice equally hushed. He raised his eyes now to meet Randor's, an unfamiliar hardness to the gaze that would have made a lesser man squirm. "She's a totemic sorceress, Father. A very powerful one, and not simply because she can draw from me."

"Is that because of her mother?"

Adam didn't bother questioning his father's implication of Teela's parentage. If they knew about him, learning who Teela's mother was didn't surprise him in the least. "No," he answered decisively. "In fact she resisted mastering the use magic for...some time, although that was only partly because she worked out who her mother was."

"Did you tell her?" Randor didn't think Adam was the sort to break a confidence like this – and it was a sure bet the Sorceress hadn't meant for this knowledge to be general knowledge – but it was increasingly clear this was a wholly different Adam. Indeed, Randor had begun to wonder if he'd ever even known who or what his son was.

"I didn't need to. She simply saw her reflection one day and made the connection herself. It...put her off her stride for a time."

"She was angry?" A foolish question, especially given how poorly Randor himself had taken the knowledge of Adam's role as Champion.

"She was upset," Adam said, a note of correction in the word. "She was already practiced in sorcery, but wasn't pushing to expand that practice." There was no way he could tell Randor the whole story there, if only because it would take literally months to relate even the barest bones of it.

"I take it she changed her mind?" Randor nevertheless pressed.

"In a sense, yes." Adam gave his father a glare that clearly communicated this line of discussion was closed. Given the strange imbalance in ages between them now, Randor decided to let it go for the moment. He'd already learned more than he could have hoped, although how Marlena might take it all in was a mystery.

The King decided to change tracks entirely. "Will she be amenable to carrying on as both Captain and your bodyguard for them time being?"

"She'd insist."

"Ah." Adam frowned at this.

"Something further, Father?"

"Will she have any...difficulty...in taking orders now? Given the power levels you imply here, it's..."

"A perfectly legitimate worry," Adam finished for him, nodding in full understanding. "Trust in my saying the seasons have taught us both when it's appropriate to step back and follow the lead of others." He pursed his lips. "You should know that Teela has already taken a foundation-to-parapet examination of the palace. She's found several points of vulnerability, as well as a number of hidden doomseekers and other devices."

"Other devices?"

Adam sighed. "Father, surely you're not that naïve. And before you ask, yes, we have dealt with the first. The second is simply more...problematical. We would like, no, we need your input before taking action there."

"But not with these 'vulnerabilities'?" Rador shook his head. "I'm not criticizing, Adam. I'm simply trying to understand your thinking."

"Well, calling them vulnerabilities might be a bit of a stretch. They are, were small connections between this world and one of shadow. Teela couldn't be more specific there, but it's a certainty that if she could detect them, then someone like Skeletor or Evil Lin could as well."

"Were these things actual portals?"

"An...oversimplification, but close enough."

"So Skeletor could have used these portals to invade the Palace?"

"It's a possibility neither of us were willing to discount. They've all been sealed in any case, so even if another detects them, it will be a useless discovery for them."

"Permanently sealed?"

"Teela believes so."

"But you don't?"

"I've lived long enough to distrust any absolute declarations, no matter the source."

"Including Teela?"

"Including her." Adam took a short breath and added "I've already informed Duncan I will be formally declaring for her hand in the next few days."

"Oh? And how did that go over?"

"About as you'd expect."

TBC...