Three days had passed in relative normalcy. Micheal trained with Samantha, went to class, and even did one more training session with Dawn. Everything was progressing exactly as it was supposed to. His classes in the first hall had grown in scope as the weeks had passed and had finally begun including information of actual note. Still, to an uneducated orphan this didn't exactly mean much. The knowledge of battles won a hundred years past was interesting, but of very little use in his day-to-day life.

His prayer had been progressing steadily as well. Each hour without something to do had become an opportunity for training and betterment, which alone was more than Micheal had ever imagined for himself.

The life of a lost was a life mired in hopeless paranoia where the only solace was to finally see the hand that killed you. It was, by all rights, the life that Micheal should have led. Instead he had been given the taint of the shadow of the Gods, and the apostle that now coursed through him at each moment of the day.

Crystal of black and white. An apostle unknown to Saxlaw as it was to the rest of the known world, so far as Micheal could tell. It was the apostle of one of the few elder Gods still unknown to the sentient races, to the degree that he had yet to find any information about it even in the most ancient texts in his local library. It had been a complete and utter waste of his few remaining coppers to bribe his way in.

Still, it was the burden Micheal had taken to bear. If he was to do as he wished he needed the power of the Gods, and if the elder Gods were willing to give it to him, who was he to refuse? They would all die just the same.

He thought about that as he watched the crystal on his arm fall away to the floor with a loud thump. The wooden floor boards of the first hall were more durable than they might seem, but Micheal still felt they lacked the immutable nature of the cold stone in the lower hall. It was an outlook he didn't think he would lose any time soon.

Stone was strong. Stone was what strength and stability were. They were the bars to his prison within the orphanage, but they were also his protectors. No other lost could have battered down the stone walls joining the rooms together (Not that they hadn't tried, mind you), but chosen were easily capable of throwing down the wooden walls and floor that were now his private room. It would have taken nothing more than a mindless thought for someone like Dawn to tear down his walls while he slept and end him then and there. It had made him uneasy and restless in his recent nights, where each moment felt like a the grim anticipation of his final hours.

His paranoia once more coming to bite him in the ass.

So as the crystal hit the floor, Micheal winced at the noise. Few others were awake at an hour so late, and even fewer worth note of him. Still, the night gave sound a definition that it lacked in the daylight hours. Each noise and creak of floorboards magnified threefold to match the environment. As was the mood of the night.

His arm felt weightless as the crystal fell off, unburdened by the weight of his defence. He had grown more astute in sharpening and controlling his apostle as he had practiced, and with the end of his personal training he felt finally ready to call the skill mastered.

There were dozens of applications for the skill still - ones that he would learn as the time came - but he felt that for the given moment, he was confident in his ability to sharpen and control his crystal at a moments notice.

He flashed a thought in his mind, and a moment later the crystal exploded from him, tearing muscles and shifting bone out of the way. In the split second eruption from his body, Micheal also added a point to the formation, leading to a long and twisted length of the gnarly crystal that stretched from his hand in a frightening armament.

He knew it would be as hard as steel without even testing it, as it had been the case since the beginning. The gifts of the elder Gods were seldom as powerful as the apostle of a greater God in pure strength, but they were more than made up for in diversity and other more... niche prospects.

Where they never lacked was in quality. The apostles of the elder Gods were not the feeble and unruly things of the lesser Gods, prone to weaknesses and frailty in favor of strength. They were simplicity taken to the extreme, much like Micheal himself, though he hated to admit it. They were said to reveal their true nature in the higher ranks, when one had passed through the great dividers to unlock the true potential of the apostles.

Still, looking at his progress with his apostle brought Micheal a small amount of pride. Hours spent in his private dorm screaming in pain at the tearing of muscle and bone had been more than worth it for the leaps and bounds of control he had received with the jagged and twisting sword of red, black and white crystal that hung from his hand.

The point, formed at an edge that was the envy of any factory made sword, was beyond his wildest hopes. At the end of his hand, he felt power. For the first time in his life, Micheal was not powerless to the world around him. He had been given the gift of defiance to the natural order, a method of recourse against what had been given to him by the world.

.....

Micheal looked at the tall and imposing manor of the Anise estate and shook his head in mock disgust. He turned to Samantha and found her doing the same, and smiled a wry grin at the thought of it. She turned her head to him, having caught him smiling at her, and quietly smiled to grinned because of it.

Micheal knew why, of course. It was rare that they both were able to see such a sight, and it was all the better that they had both mocked the absurdity of it. Two orphans, one lost and one found, standing at the gates of one of the most powerful estates in the city. It was hilariously absurd to the both of them.

The Anise may have been one of the weaker noble clans, but they were still powerful in an industrial city like Dasgad. Their ancestor had been one of the only runners to have ever been made a noble for her service, and that prestige had carried them well in the small city. They were the only old world nobility that operated within the city, so of course they were powerful.

Ostentatious as well, by the look of the gaudy walls of their mansion.

Still, Micheal was nervous at the sight. The only other times he had been as deep in Hedgeside he had been given a severe beating by the guards, and his body remembered well the kind of mistake it was for him to be staring at those gates.

Looking over to his best friend's smile, he judged that risk was worth it a thousand times over. He would get her found, even if it killed him.

“Hey guys,” A nervous voice came from inside the gate, causing both of them to jump a little as the smiles were knocked off of their faces by the sudden voice.

Micheal looked away first and saw Char's scrawny form behind the metal bars in front of them, showing them what could be argued as the worst grin in the history of the world. Micheal frowned at the sight, causing Char's grin to fall into a look of despair, which in turn caused Micheal to shoot him a grin of his own.

Micheal really liked the kid. He was just too easy to read.

He was wearing a proper nobles clothes this time around. Gone were the simple and pristine workers clothes he had been wearing when they had first met, and had been replaced by a simple military style blazer and trousers, with some light and ostentatious additions. Gold trim was applied eagerly, and medals he severely doubted the boy had earned adorned his chest, alongside a formal collar usually suited for a more extravagant noble blouse.

“Hello Char, it's good to see you, our mighty benefactor,” Samantha teased him.

Char went noticeably quiet at that, and flushed red a little bit before replying with an absent nod. “I'm not really your benefactor,” he said, embarrassed.

Samantha laughed at the sight she had created, and Micheal grinned at the young noble's struggle to deal with his best friend. She had found his reactions cute, was Micheal's best guess, and he mourned the poor boy's future. The teasing that would ensue would be viscous and without reprieve.

Samantha had a habit of teasing some of the boy's at the orphanage, which inevitably had some major effects on their ego's. Of course, being summarily beaten up by the small and scrawny girl likely didn't improve that.

Char, on the other hand, seemed quite pleased with the treatment, which may have been a first. Micheal couldn't remember a single instance when his friend's teasing had not ended up in a heated shouting match and a severe beating. This was concerning.

“Are you going to open the gate for your illustrious visitors, oh great benefactor,” Samantha said with a deviant grin, causing the young noble to practically vanish into his gaudy collar.

He really was facing Samantha and her teasing at max today. Micheal only hoped he would be able to put up with it for the time being. Micheal could not afford Char to get sick of her and kick them out before they were able to receive proper feedback from his instructor's, or at the very least, fight under the safety net of a noble's spar.

Sparring in a match not to the death would at least make things a bit more relaxing within the ring. Micheal had only ever killed someone once, with the possible exception of the man he had fought in the fighting pit. He suspected there to have been a healer capable of saving the man somewhere in the building, so he was probably alive, but Micheal hadn't exactly gone back to check. Still, it was relaxing to not fight to the death when trying to improve in his fighting.

“o-of course,” Char winced at his muddled words and fumbled the opening to the gate. Samantha smiled at the sight and Micheal sighed. This was going to get very old, or very dangerous, very quickly.

“This way, please,” Char said, some light confidence sneaking its way into his voice. It was refreshing seeing something other than complete nervousness in the boy, but Micheal suspected it was solely due to familiarity. The kid had probably said the same thing a thousand times when guests arrived at his families estate.

“I- If you don't mind, of course,” He said, returning to his nervousness.

“We don't mind at all,” Micheal said, stopping the teasing words that were practically barreling out of Samantha's mouth, which led to her turning to him with undisguised anger on her face. That was definitely good.

Char proceeded to walk them through the mansion on their way to the private training grounds of his estate, naming and describing the function of each of the many rooms and courtyards they passed through. He had never known a 'sitting room' had existed. Why not just sit in whatever briny room you want to? Who needs a room just for sitting?

His favorite addition had been when they had passed the courtyard that led to his great-great grandmothers room, the runner that had created their house.

It was a simple wooden shack with a sign out front that said simply: Charlie Anise. Micheal suspected, with no small amount of delight, that it had been the origin of Char's actual name, Charlie. Truly, the world was a wonderful place.

Most of the tour had felt like a the self-indulgent tirade that he more or less expected from the introductions of a noble's tour, but there had been some few interesting sections. Especially the war room.

Eventually they did arrive to the courtyard that held the training square. Micheal might have compared it to the market training square that was his and Dawn's chosen practice arena, but it would have been an insult to the plain simplicity of that wonderful thing.

The training square in the market was, above all things, practical. Without ornamentation it sat day in and day out as entertainment and training for all that might think to use it. It was a horrible little thing, of course. The stones were uneven in their paving, and there were more opportunities to trip than lost in the entire city. But despite that, Micheal vastly preferred it, even with the unwanted addition of Dawn's company.

The private training square of the Anise family, on the other hand, was another matter entirely.

A floor of a polished quartz-like block made up the square itself, with a surrounding the was the wet dream of any dozen lesser nobles. The benches around the square were each enclosed in their very own booths for the pleasure of the viewer, with the actual square being in a sort of booth of its own that was the image of a large gazebo.

flowers and finery were all around, and truthfully, Micheal was nearly sickened by the impossible displays of wealth in front of him. each and every piece of furniture and building material were worth more than Micheal's entire life and every life within the orphanage put together. The square alone was worth more than Micheal was ever likely to make in his entire life time.

He turned to Char, and frowned his most 'I'm not mad, just disappointed' frown. The affect was mitigated by Samantha's own, much more personal show of disapproval.

She had struck him upside the head with a rock.

“OW!” Char shouted, more in surprise than actual harm. Earth ranks may not be that much stronger than bone ranks in the grand scheme of things, but he was well beyond the point that a simple stone wielded by a lost could damage him in any meaningful sense. In fact, Micheal suspected he had let Samantha do it for some reason or other. Perhaps he was a masochist? Hmm.

Samantha began a second strike, perhaps to allow Char to fully grasp her disapproval of the frivolity of his family, when the rock stopped. Samantha had thrown the rock this time around, maybe under the belief that it might hurt the noble scion in more than his pride this time around, but the rock had other ideas.

Its momentum had been arrested in midair. It floated. An unnatural and questionable sight, but also one that might have drawn curiousity or admiration from most anyone else. For Micheal it was enough tp strike fear into him so deeply he contemplated grabbing Samantha's hand and making a run for it.

Someone with a connection to the world strong enough to act on the fundamental forces had to be strong. Not earth rank strong, but stone, perhaps even a weak iron. The distinction was meaningless. An earth rank could have more than easily blown his guts out of his stomach with a wave of his hands, and a stone rank? A stray look may have very well been enough to kill him on the spot.

It was a gap so large it might as well have been a chasm.

A shape appeared in front of Micheal, standing over Samantha. The person was taller than Samantha by a large degree, perhaps a span or so over the girl. It was probably a woman given the physique, but he suspected it could have been a thin man instead given the lack of observable feminine qualities.

“Do not strike the young master outside of the training quarters again,” The voice said. Female, he noted. It was without inflection that the words were spoken, but Micheal hadn't missed the implicit threat. They may have been 'official guests' but that didn't extend far enough to allow them to outright strike the scion of a noble house, even in jest. That was good to know, at least.

Looking at Samantha's face was a lesson in fearlessness. She stared directly into the hood of the figure that had appeared, showing not even a blink or twinge at the sight. Her face was immovable, completely without fear nervousness. Of course, there was no use for fear or nervousness as a lost at all. Neither one would earn pity enough to save their worthless life in the face of any chosen, even the weakest of the bone rank.

And this was no mere bone rank. Even with the bleed of their apostle hidden away, the shadow of the Gods was palpable. Micheal guessed it to be a Lesser God still, as he was still retaining the ability to breathe despite it. That wasn't exactly a reassuring thought.

Samantha was right in front of the chosen while still in the bone rank. She was taking on the full brunt of her Shadow's bleed, even more than Micheal and Char combined, and yet she hadn't even made a face at the effort. Most other lost would have simply collapsed at the sheer effort of staying standing in the face of such complete weight. Even Micheal felt as if a boulder was bearing down on his shoulders at the mere presence of the stone ranker.

Char, for his part, had tried to rush the guard as soon as he had the wherewithal to do so. He had been as shocked by the woman's appearance as both Micheal and Samantha had been, but he had been slower to recover. It was no wonder he had wanted to watch some actual fights. Despite being in the earth rank, the boy was greener than most lost at the orphanage.

Once he had finally gathered himself he had charged the guard with a plea to stop, which prompted the woman to finally shrink her apostle's presence enough that Micheal could breath again. At that she had also let go of Samantha's hand, shooting the lost girl a glare before turning to the young master behind her.

“Matilda! What is wrong with you!?” Char shouted at the woman, giving Micheal her name. It would do little good for a long while, but he would pay her back for this in time. The name was added to an internal list, growing it ever longer.

“Nothing much, young master. Just doing as duty suggests. We cannot allow an animal to strike the noble line, young master,” The woman intoned, shooting a dark, dark look Samantha. She had practically spat the words at the lost girl, and the animosity had become nearly physical. Whether it had been because of the sheer hatred she shad for the lost, or the level of power that the stone rank could exhibit, was well beyond Micheal's capacity to guess.

Micheal's blood still boiled at the sight. Too angry too feel fear and too careful to try and strike the woman, he was left stewing in his hatred. He hated to be called an animal. It was the only one of the common insults that had ever gotten to him. To be called an animal by someone that had massacred dozens of lost for no other reason than they could. It was the height of irony. It very nearly brought Micheal to attack the woman, despite all logical thoughts and intentions.

“Duty also suggests you avoid killing my guests, Matilda,” Char said slowly. His noble decorum warring within to temper his speech from a growl into something bordering on polite.

“Being your guest is the only reason the animal is still alive, young master. I Have simply disciplined your pet in place of you,” She said. There was no animosity this time around, which came across as even more anger-inducing to Micheal. She had called Sam less than human with no sense of anger or hatred in sight. It was a statement of fact that brought about those words.

Micheal barely was able to rouse himself to anger. The words and their tone brought about hopelessness before anger, and that was what Micheal felt first. Hopeless that the woman was so stern in her belief that it would have wasted Micheal's energy to even argue the point. To her, it was as if saying the grass was green or the sky blue. It was an obvious and complete truth of the world.

Anger still found its way, clouding his thoughts like a sudden storm on a summer day. He looked to strike the woman, to be dammed with the consequences, but she had disappeared. Micheal had neither seen nor heard her leave despite looking directly at her. She had come and gone as fast as the wind, leaving nothing but confusion in her wake.

Micheal seethed, and Samantha collapsed.