For the first time in awhile, Nathan dreamed he was Varnol again, only knowing his life as the lowborn. He even possessed the memories and knowledge Varnol had accrued in the months that passed in the dream world.

The lowborn sat at the top of a tower in Era's castle, gazing out the window. In his arms, he held an infant swaddled in blankets, his newborn son. Adjusting the blankets, he looked at the red marks on the baby's shoulders, denoting him as a member of the Nol Clan.

Even if he knew he couldn't properly raise his son, Varnol had chosen to take the suffering that would occur. Initially, he had elected to send his son to slavehood, having a collar mark placed on the infant, then sending him to the slave nursery.

While it would be a cruel, harsh life for his son, Varnol didn't care. It was simply the way their people were. Reds were nearly all slaves, and the few lowborns who kept their children were usually nearing orange in power. They held respect and honor among the lowborns and could afford to care for their children.

Varnol adjusted the infant's blankets. His son possessed an immense amount of mana, being the child of two with great pools of it, but he was still a red. Children also bore mana of the purity level of their lesser parent, when the two possessed different mana purity levels.

As such, the infant was still susceptible to the chill of the winter wind which blew through the window every few minutes.

After his acceptance as a lowborn, Varnol worked for his mistress the same as he did before, the fear in him slowly leaving. He also began to learn to use magic, and when he showed a talent for enchanting, was given one of the towers for his own personal use.

The lowborn looked back to his room. A set of stairs on the other side led down, several tables with books, papers, quills, and various items scattered on them filled one half of the room, most of the walls hidden by shelves filled with jars, baskets, and boxes of various items. A large bed sat on the other half of the room, a carpet made from the pelt of a beast with green fur streaked with orange filling most of the free space of the floor.

"This is your room now, too," Varnol told his son, Alnnol. "When we aren't sharing your mother's room."

Alnnol began fussing, so Varnol walked over to one of the shelves and opened up a box. From within, he pulled out a ceramic bottle with a soft nipple. He closed the box, then pushed mana into the bottle, activating the enchantment to warm and mix the milk Era had produced and preserved over the past week in preparation for her child's birth.

Once it was ready, Varnol eased the bottle into his son's mouth, moving to sit on his bed as he fed the baby. The sound of someone ascending the stairs to his room reached his ears, though Varnol ignored it. The sound of the steps told him the identity of the person approaching.

"Hello, Var," Kennol greeted Varnol as he reached the top floor. "It still piques my interest as to why you chose the highest room in the tower. You could have set up much closer to the ground, or even on the ground."

"I could," Varnol said. "But being up high deters a few people from bothering me, and gives me a beautiful view to look out when I get bored."

"It also means Era and I have to walk further to reach you," Kennol told him.

"I have to walk that far, too," Varnol pointed out as Kennol sat beside him and examined the infant.

"It is sad," Kennol said. "That a child with such great mana reserves is a lowborn. Sad that his father is, too."

"I am working my way up to orange," Varnol said. "And I am sure Alnnol will as well, once he is old enough to begin learning how to purify his mana."

"Yes," Kennol said. "But you and he will still hold that stigma for all your lives."

"Perhaps," Varnol said. "However, I have immense mana reserves. My aging is as slow as the Grand Nobles. So long as no one succeeds in killing me, I will have millennia to purify my mana, even if I never work on increasing my pool."

"You intend on putting yourself to the same level as a noble," Kennol realize. "A High Noble, even."

"I wish to be worthy of being seen as another of Era's mates," Varnol told Kennol. "She already sees to both of us, but I am no more than a servant now. If I ascend in power, I can stand by her side as your equal, rather than a servant. Neither you nor her would find issue from others were I blue or higher."

"Others will come after you," Kennol stated. "They will see you as a threat, rising from red to the colors of nobility. There is a reason once someone hits green, they are monitored by the nobility above them. Even if you aren't officially nobility, once you hit blue, you begin to hold power that can challenge others."

"That is fine," Varnol said, pulling the empty bottle from his son's mouth. "I know that you and Era have imprinted upon me."

This tale has been unlawfully lifted from Royal Road; report any instances of this story if found elsewhere.

To their people, imprinting was a large deal. Someone might imprint upon three, maybe four people in their entire life, even for a violet. It wasn't a conscious thing that was done. It occurred when someone found a match for them, either as a lover or a friend.

As far as anyone knew, it was the Silver Grace which caused the imprints, a sign to them that the one they imprinted upon would never betray them, no matter what happened. Varnol had figured out that his mistress had imprinted upon him shortly into his time as her slave, that she had done so while he was still under torture. Only a small bit of thought led him to realizing it was why she offered him the deal.

Everyone could tell when they imprinted upon someone, and so Era would have known that he would never betray her, even before he trusted her as a friend rather than acted as her slave, then servant.

Imprinting acted as a double-edged sword, however. Once someone imprinted upon another, they would never betray them, and act to protect them as well, when possible. There was no magic in such a connection, but that was the level of friendship and trust required for it. And the imprinting ensured they knew it would last until death.

"We have," Kennol admitted. "That is part of why we discussed freeing you for your selfless act of sacrifice. You proved then there was cause for the imprint."

Varnol nodded, and Kennol took the empty bottle and returned it to the case, before returning to his spot, looking down at Alnnol.

"There are nobles far more powerful than us, however," Kennol told him. "If they learn a former slave was ascending to high purity levels, they will come after us. And we will not be able to hold them back."

"I am working on dealing with that," Varnol told him. "A Veil, specifically."

"A Veil?" Kennol asked.

"Yes," Varnol nodded. "A Veil. A magical spell to wrap around the territory. Anyone over a certain power level would need to either force their way in and weaken themselves to enter, or receive explicit permission from someone allowed to grant it in order to enter. Once I finish it, I can key it to a specific bloodline, so that only the clan-head and their descendants may grant permission. That would include Alnnol, but I may be able to set it so that it requires you in the ancestry as well.""

"The elders have attempted such spells before," Kennol told him. "Do you believe you could manage it?"

"In the next century or two, maybe," Varnol answered. "As long as I continue to devote myself to my work."

They fell silent, watching Alnnol. The infant gave out a small yawn, then began to fall asleep. Once he was, Kennol asked if he could take the infant down to Era.

"I thought she wanted nothing to do with him?" Varnol asked. "Since he is the son of a servant and former slave?"

He had never heard of any noble wanting anything to do with children resulting from such a union. They were in two different classes. She was a violet, and he was a red. Yes, he was a trusted lowborn whom she used for pleasure, but that was part of his duties. Even if he could pick out truth from lie, deceiver from trusted ally, he was still only red. Someone like Kennol fell more into her circle of status, and it was evident in the way their relationships differed. Varnol might bed her, but Kennol shared her bed.

"I talked her into giving him some time," Kennol told Varnol. "Even if she doesn't wish to. It is sai that infants who spend time with each parent at least a few hours a week will have an easier time purifying their mana when they're older. I convinced her it best that the boy has that opportunity, as a more powerful boy turns into a more powerful man, turns into a powerful asset. And if his own child carries higher mana purity as a result, then that only adds to the strength of the clan."

Varnol accepted that, then handed his son to his friend, who left. The lowborn stood and stretched, then approached one of his tables. He would make use of the time without his son, as he doubted Era would give him more than two or three hours' reprieve from handling the baby.

While he could purify his mana with the infant in his arms, enchanting would be much more difficult, and he wished to continue his service to Era.

The lowborn had heard the rumors that Kennol mentioned. No one knew if they were true or not, but Varnol knew some parents swore by it. As a slave, he'd never even known his parents. But he'd given his son that chance, and it seemed they would get to potentially increase the boy's ability to purify mana.

As long as Varnol and his son proved useful to the clan, they would be allowed to remain within it. He had no intention of betraying them, and they had no intention of betraying him, but that didn't mean he would be allowed to remain if he wasn't useful. His son needed to be as well.

So he worked, thinking over the future. Era and Kennol would protect him as best they could. But who would protect them? He would, with his inventions. And he planned on bringing his son into the work as well, once the boy was old enough.

For several hours, Varnol worked alone, unbothered by anyone. Once the fourth hour after his son was taken away, however, Varnol began to wonder what had happened to the baby. He prayed to the Silver Grace that Era had simply decided to hold onto him for longer, and not that she suddenly decided the servant shouldn't be allowed to have a child.

When he heard familiar steps coming up the stairs only minutes after beginning to worry, Varnol turned and watched, waiting. Kennol came into view, but without Alnnol.

"Don't look so worried," the High Noble told him. "Era decided to hold on to him a little longer. I thought to come up and let you know, figuring you would be panicked. I'm glad I did, judging by your expression."

"He is safe, then?" Varnol asked. "She didn't decide to collar him?"

It wasn't exactly legal to collar someone who bore clan markings, but that didn't stop some people.

"No," Kennol told him. "She wouldn't do that to you, even if you are a lowborn, Varnol. She just chose to hold him a little bit longer. I think she's trying to see if he's one of those rare prodigies, since a child between a red and violet is nearly unheard of to the point the last one was born more than a million years ago. At least, I think that's when the last one was born."

"Okay," Varnol let out a sigh of relief. "Thank you, Kennol."

"You're welcome," Kennol said. "She'll bring him up once she's done with… whatever that is. In the meantime, I thought I'd see what your current project was, and if I could possibly help you."

"Help me?" Varnol asked. "I mean no offense, Lord Kennol, but I doubt that you would possess the necessary knowledge. Enchanting isn't exactly something nobility does."

"I don't have to help with the enchanting portion itself," Kennol told him. "But I'm sure there are other ways I can help you as you work."

Kennol pulled a stool from another table and moved it next to Varnol.

"So," he said as he sat down. "What can I help you with?"