Mataram sliced his knife through the deer flesh on the table, separating the shoulder and shank. It was already getting late, so he was thankful that this was the last batch of the day. “Finished,” he said to the butcher.
“Give me a second,” Mr. Jor replied as he made his way to the wooden table. The large man picked up the meat one by one. “Are you sure you don’t want a more permanent job, Mataram?” The butcher asked, clearly more than satisfied with Mataram’s work.
“I wish I could,” Mataram replied. “But the recruiters are coming in a few weeks. And my parents really want me to receive a high-ranking position.”
“Aye,” Jor replied. “You’ll make the village proud.” The big man gave Mataram a thumbs up. “One day, when you become a Commander, make sure you don’t forget about us.”
“I would never,” Mataram chuckled. But he was not aiming to become a commander or one of the potential chosens. He was aiming to become the chosen, the one to receive the power of Garuda and become the protector of the world.
Mataram packed up his belongings and left. He made his way to the edge of the village, where there was a large empty grass field. Here he would not accidentally hurt anyone. He transmuted the tenaga around him, feeling it enter his body and into his core. Mataram pushed his open palms forwards, and the air around him followed his command. A burst of wind screamed and shot forward, in the direction of his palms. The tall grass in the vicinity swerved and eventually uprooted as the soil underneath was also carried.
Mataram breathed heavily and touched his nose. There was no blood, and he cheered inwards. All the practice he had done had paid off. A round of applause sounded from behind him, and Mataram turned to find his father watching him with a big smile.
“That was amazing, son.”
“Father, you know it's dangerous,” Mataram said worriedly.
“I just like watching you transmute,” his father replied. “I don’t know if you know this, but not many air elementalist your age can do what you just with such ease.”
Mataram’s parents were sorcerers, but his father was a knight of Akar before retiring and had his fair share of battles. Mataram was inclined to believe him, but a part of him still doubted his father. “I’ve heard tales of air elementalists forming cyclones and completely changing the tide of battle.”
“Ah, you mean General Teras Muso,” replied his father. “He’s a war hero for a reason, son. And he was already a master air elementalist when he did that. And at your rate, you’ll be a master elementalist in no time.”
“It’s not just about my core’s efficiency, though. I can’t even comprehend how cyclones are formed. Even if I have the power, I won’t be able to create one.”
“Not to worry, son,” Mataram’s father slapped his back. “Once you get in the academy, they’ll teach you everything you need. And believe me when I say that you’ll definitely get in the academy.”
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Lycan sat nervously on the main dining table of his family’s estate. His father had prepared a large feast for their guests, who would be joining them tonight. His father wanted to impress their guests with the riches of house Torress.
“Lycan, you are next in line of our great house. Show them that our family is here to remain as one of the significant military houses in Akar. And remember,” Lycan’s father met Lycan’s eyes. “We have no use for weaklings.”
Lycan gulped nervously, thinking of his younger brother, Rama. Lycan had taken the brunt of their parent’s pressure, and Lycan knew Rama would not fare as well as Lycan have if that pressure was turned on Rama. “I understand, father,” Lycan replied.
“What we are asking you to do is to make us proud, Lycan,” his mother, who had been watching Lycan impassively beside his father, said. “And don’t disappoint us.”
Lycan nodded to his mother.
Footsteps approached the dining hall, and all three Torress stood up to greet their guest. The servant who had been guiding the guest bowed and left.
“Lord and Lady Torress,” the guest nodded at Lycan’s parents.
“Sir Rippard,” Lycan’s father stretched out his hand.
Sir Rippard accepted the hand, and the two men gripped each other on the wrist. Then the knight turned to Lycan’s mother and did the same.
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“This is our eldest son, Lycan Torress.” Lycan’s mother said to Sir Rippard.
Lycan approached the knight and stretched out his hand. “Nice to meet you, Sir Rippard.”
The knight shook Lycan’s hand. “Nice to meet you, Lycan.”
“You should join us for dinner, Sir Rippard,” Lycan’s mother suggested.
Sir Rippard looked at the feast that had been prepared and shook his head. “I’m sorry, but I’ll have to decline your offer. I have a few more visits to be made tonight.”
“Ah, no worries then,” Lord Torress replied. “We understand.” His tone may sound impassive, but Lycan knew his father hid his disappointment. On the other hand, Lady Torress was openly scowling at the knight.
Sir Rippard gulped nervously at the scowling master augmenter and lowered his head slightly. “Again, I ask your forgiveness, Lady Torress. But I can’t shirk my duties to the empire.”
“I understand,” Lady Torress replied, speaking slowly. “Get on with it then.”
Lord Torress smiled slightly out of sight of the knight.
Sir Rippard placed the bag he had been carrying on the table and pulled out a long metal tube with a transparent screen on one side. “Lycan, your arm, please.”
Lycan pulled up his right sleeve and stretched his arm to the knight. Sir Rippard patted Lycan’s elbow pit, feeling for his vein, and pulled out several different sizes of needles. Once he found the correct needle size, he attached it to the long silver tube. The knight inserted the needle into the elbow vein, and blood began to flow into the tube.
“Transmute tenaga,” Sir Rippard said.
Lycan did as asked and began transmuting tenaga. The blood in the tube began to glow orange, and Sir Rippard grunted. “Stop.”
Lycan stopped transmuting, and Sir Rippard shook his hands in the air one at a time, shifting from one hand to another to hold the tube. “Fire elementalist, a powerful one.”
“He is the son of house Torress after all,” Lord Torress said. “We wouldn’t expect any less.”
Sir Rippard pulled the needle out of Lycan’s arm and pressed his palm on the small wound. Sir Rippard transmuted tenaga, and began healing it. Once finished, not even a mark was left on the arm.
“We’re done here,” Sir Rippard said. “We’ll leave once you’ve gathered your things.”
“My things are already gathered,” Lycan replied.
“The servants will bring them to the carriage,” Lady Torress said.
“Very well then. Let’s go.” Sir Rippard nodded to Lord and Lady Torress once more before making his way out of the mansion, with Lycan trailing him.
Lycan turned to face his parents, who silently nodded at him.
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Mataram waited for the recruiter by the village gates. Almost the entire village was there by his side. He was the first sorcerer born in the town of Mevius, and everyone was there to see him off. The recruiter arrived four hours late. The knight that came rode on horseback while the other people from other villages, who must have tested positive for a core, walked behind him.
The knight came to a halt in front of the village gates. The knight was a large man with messy long hair and an unkempt beard. “Any sorcerers?” the knight asked.
Mataram nervously stepped forward. “I am.”
“Anyone else?” The knight asked.
When no one else said anything, the knight dismounted his horse and took a bag attached to his horse’s saddle. He placed the load on the ground and pulled out a pen and paper. “Name?” The knight asked.
“Mataram Rakur,” Mataram replied.
“You can call me Sir David,” The knight said as he wrote Mataram’s name on the paper. “Give me your arm, boy,” Sir David ordered.
Mataram stretched his left arm to Sir David, who gripped his wrists. Sir David took a long needle from the bag and compared it with Mataram’s vein. “This will hurt, but I expect someone your age to be able to handle it.”
Sir David uncorked a vial of translucent white liquid from his pocket and transmuted tenaga. The liquid followed his command, flowed out of the vial, and encircled the needle. After a moment, the fluid returned to the glass tube, and Sir David returned it into his pocket. Then he attached the long needle onto the testing device.
“Deep breath in,” Sir David ordered.
Mataram did as asked, and Sir David inserted the needle into the vein of his elbow pit. Mataram squirmed in pain, but Sir David’s grip on his wrists held firm.
“Transmute,” Sir David ordered. Mataram transmuted tenaga, but the pain in his arm caused him to be unable to transmute to his full ability. Blood flowed down Mataram’s arm, but thankfully some of the blood still managed to enter the tube.
Sir David watched, and as soon as what little blood gathered in the tube glowed green, he immediately retracted the needle. He pulled out a long white cloth from his robes and immediately wrapped it tightly around the boy’s arm. “Keep it tight. And sorry about the pain. The needle is way too large for you, but it is the only one I was given.”
“I’m fine,” Mataram panted.
“You better be if you are going to become a knight.”
“Does that mean I pass?” Mataram asked, looking at the knight.
“Yeah, you passed. I’ll give you five minutes to say your goodbyes, and then we’re leaving.”
Mataram smiled and turned back to the villagers gathered. They all cheered as they saw the smile on his face. Mataram embraced his father, mother, and younger sister.
“You did it, Mataram!”His mother said, hugging him.
“That’s our boy!” His father added.
Mataram looked to his younger sister, whose eyes were starting to turn moist. He picked her up in his arms. “Don’t cry, Lea. I’ll be back before you even know it.”
“Yeah, but that will be at least in a few years,” Lea mumbled.
“Maybe. But if I climb up the ranks fast enough, I’ll be able to afford a place for you, mother, and father to stay with me in Gakarta.”
Lea’s eyes grew a little wider in excitement at Mataram’s words.
“I know,” Mataram continued. “Imagine that- living in the capital.”
Lea screeched in excitement and started to clap her hands.
“Mataram!” Yelled Sir David from behind him.
“All right, Lea, I have to go, ok,” Mataram said, kissing Lea’s forehead. “Be a good girl while I’m gone, and I’ll bring you presents every time I visit.”
Lea nodded furiously in excitement. Mataram embraced his parents one more time.
“Stay safe, Mataram. We love you,” his mother whispered before letting him go to join Sir David.
“I love you too,” Mataram said as he waved the village goodbye.