After Urshure’s dismissal, I elected to suspend my conversation with Simion and spent the remainder of class scouting and digging out the mines with my Troops. As a result, I managed to get a few more substantial deposits of all the common metals as well as a small bundle of monster parts, skulls, and bones retrieved by the Menagerie. They’d surveyed almost a quarter of the lowest level by the end of class and found only wolframite- an ore of tungsten that was tagged for later, but no bauxite, sperrylite, or anything else that contained precious or rare earth metals. Naturally, I found no ores containing mithral or adamantine either, and no magical ores were found as well. Unsurprisingly, considering the former two were only found in the Darkworld, and the latter were often found far away from society.
Still, I assumed there’d be at least something, as the deposits scattered across these mines were anything but natural. But at the same time, I couldn’t be disappointed. The lack of such materials here provided me with more opportunities to explore and gather as much as I could later. And so, with that in mind, I spent a few hours refining metals before meditating for the night and waking up for my usual bout of training. Several hours later, I was centered around my ecstatic party in the courtyard. Watching as they went to and from the crystals to retrieve and check each other’s gear.
“Alright!” Doyle waved us to him. “I’ll tell you now, there are no games or exercises scheduled for this outing. You’re free to do as you please. Natural students must travel in teams of three. Supernaturals can go in groups of two. And the Arcane can travel solo. If you’re all set, let’s go.”
With a wave, he invited us through the archway of stones and glowing vines. And one by one we went through the shroud of blue light to emerge in our waterfall cave a second later. Immediately, everyone went their separate ways. Some emerged from behind the waterfall to hunt, fish, or forage. Others went downstairs to continue building or emplacing furniture while a solemn few laid out on the tables or retreated to their rooms at once.
I, for one, moved to the alcove behind the waterfall to process a few things. And as always, Doyle stopped brooding in the corner and began watching me with keen interest.
He seemed particularly intrigued when I formed a small moon of bones, limestone, and eggshells, then his curiosity turned into confusion once I dumped the pile into a furnace. With the fire burning and the materials cooking, I stepped to the butchering station to begin breaking down the dozens of animals given to me by Zakira and my Troops. An effort that wound up taking more time than I allotted, as the state of the corpses ranged from mangled messes of meat to drained carcasses sporting two clean puncture wounds, but it was well worth it. By breaking them down like this, they could only be raised as skeletal beasts, rather than zombie beasts. While each had its pros and cons, raising animal zombies- in my opinion, was a waste of resources.
From my quarry came hundreds upon hundreds of kilos of meat ready to be salted or cooked and hundreds of square meters of hides waiting to be tanned. Not to mention a variety of magical and non-magical organs that had the potential to make some fantastical potions. Those resources would just be wasted in a zombie beast. Reduced to targets that sit in wait to be sliced and smashed by their opponents.
Sentients, however, were a different story.
Almost as if he’d been waiting for me to finish, Doyle approached me the moment I turned. “Alright, I can’t take it.” He pointed to the furnace. “What in the Seventeen Hells are you doing? You’re burning rocks and bones?”
“Seashells and eggshells too.” I nodded.
“Why?”
Looking around and inside, I noticed the others standing around conversing or looking bored so I decided to give both him and the class a quick lesson and gathered them around. “Have you ever heard of chemistry?” I rhetorically asked moments later.
Unsurprisingly, he shook his head.
“It’s like alchemy, but with natural materials and no magic,” I explained. “By mixing materials and changing the conditions of their environments, you can make new materials altogether or refine materials from their impure forms. Within bone, eggshells, seashells, and limestone is a compound called calcium carbonate. After being heated to the right temperature, a reaction takes place. Turning it into calcium oxide, or quicklime.” I paused to open the furnace and pull out a calcified bit of stone from the furnace. It was bone white and flaky like soft chalk that easily broke apart in my hands.
I stayed silent as I gathered all the material into a bucket and then pulled an orb of water from the waterfall, then began slowly adding it to the bucket. Immediately, it began sizzling, swelling, and emitting plumes of white smoke. “If you add water to quicklime, a reaction occurs. It grows hot and changes from calcium oxide into calcium hydroxide, also known as lime. The process is known as Slaking.” I added more water to more or less submerge all the quicklime and it immediately began sizzling. Boiling into a steamy pillar.
The other students were clearly having trouble following along. They held blank, dumb faces while slowly repeating the names out loud. Doyle however, was significantly less phased. “And what does this lime do?”
“A few steps short of everything.” I chuckled, continuing to stir and add water until the reaction stopped, and was left with a thick white substance much like a thick clam-less chowder. “The reason I made this batch was to mask the smell of the outhouses,” I said, nodding in the direction of the grass-door alcoves. “Its true applications stretch much farther than that though. It can be used to increase the quality of infertile soil. It can be used to make better construction materials. It can remove impurities during steel processing, and more.”
“Very interesting.” He nodded. “Perhaps I’ll make some of my own sometime.”
“Yeah, you do that.” I snorted. Then stood to spread lime around the outhouses. And in doing so, passed by Peter and Winston as they entered the cave.
After looping around behind them, I leaned against the entrance to watch them scoop a few bowls of stew from the pot before they plopped themselves down on either side of the hearth. It wasn't only them inside, but it may as well have been empty. They just sat there, staring off into space while they chewed away. So I did as any good leader would do. I sat between them.
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“Have you two made up yet?”
Peter shied away as if he was embarrassed while Winston was the one who spoke up.
“N- no.” He shook his head. “We haven’t spoken at all since you-” Winston inhaled deeply. “Since we talked.”
“I see.” I nodded. Then grabbed a bowl for me and left for the door leading into the meeting room. “I’ll leave you to it then.”
***
Peter Boyd.
***
When Amun left, my eyes naturally drifted over to Winston. As before, he was just sitting there. Squinting at his lap as he muttered something under his breath. Almost as if he were working up the courage to say something. And he’d do it. He’d raise his eyes to meet mine and open his mouth. Then he’d look away and close it. He’d drop his eyes. Sometimes he slam his fist into his knee. For minutes.
Through it all, I just watched. Waited. Observed.
“Peter, I-” He started again. Hit his thigh. Again. Shot his gaze away from mine again. Then slapped his palms against his lap and fell forward. “I was jealous, okay!”
“What?” I asked without thinking. Though I consciously shook my head at Winston, glistening in a cold sheen of sweat as he heaved before me.
“I was jealous.” Winston dropped his head again. “I was jealous to know that I- a royal, had been given a single affinity core while you got four. And instead of noticing the glaring issue that was right in front of my face, I acted like a spoiled brat and bullied you. I had my vassals bully you. For that and much more, you have every reason to hate me.”
While I was shocked, that wasn’t the reason I stayed silent as I watched- listened to Winston’s confession. There was an immense sadness in him that I never expected to see. A struggle. Made evident from the pits of sweat staining his clothes, his ragged breath, and his unkempt hair. From his chattering eyes and his somber tongue. His reclusive attitude and intense training. Winston Epeth was at odds with himself.
Even I could see that.
“I’ve been doing a lot of contemplation.” He finally said, his breath still shaking as he lowered himself into a bow. “Thinking about what’s considered ‘normal’ in Epethia. I... I’m still learning. But, Amun has helped me see the light. Ironic as that may seem.” He chortled to himself. “I’ve known all my life that slavery is wrong. I remember, when I was younger, imagining myself as a slave. I remember thinking that people- creatures, sentient or not- are not property. Even if I never acknowledged it, I knew that I would never accept such a life for myself. I knew I would rather die than live as a slave. Yet, I lacked the courage to stand up for what I knew was right. I turned a blind eye and worse, took part in it. And by the time I was old enough to make my own decisions, it was... normal.
“Peter!” He slammed his fist again. “I know mere words can never atone for what I- my Empire has done. But, I’m sorry! From the depths of my heart, I apologize! And I pray that we can both move past this and… well.” He sighed, raising his posture to reveal a melancholy smile twisted with hope-filled tears. “I won’t be as presumptuous as to say we could be friends. But, I have hope. Whatever your feelings are, I accept them with all my heart.” He lowered into a bow once more. “I’m sorry. I swear to you, I will be better. Epethia will be better!”
Many things were going through my mind at that moment. Mostly shock. Surprise. Utter disbelief. But no hate. No rage or frustration or even impatience. Only curiosity. Interest. And hints of admiration.
It was true that for the majority of my life thus far, I hated Epethia as a whole. I hated Winston and his companions. I loathed the treatment they made me endure and sought retribution. But after arriving at the academy and gaining friends of my own. I began to form a new perspective. Me and countless others.
Amun.
He was a Drow. He was from the family of Devils. He was a man who was hardly human, according to some. But he used his actions to go against every label, stereotype, or assumption made about him. That alone made him worth following. But he went on to give so much to so many people in only a few months. Knowledge. Wisdom. Power. Courage. Weapons. Oftentimes in exchange for something in return. But other times, like with me, his actions seemed to be born from pure altruism. No matter how much he tried denying it.
Despite the changes I noticed in myself, I was unaware that the changes in others were anything of this scale. In less than half a year, the pompous, arrogant, and proud Prince of Epeth had been reduced to a teary-eyed boy prostrating before me- a former slave whom he used to ostracize daily. It was a change as blatant as day turning into night. One that shocked me to my core and made my mind revolve around a single question.
“What did Amun say to you?”
Winston snapped his head up to face me at once, dislodging a few droplets from his face in the process. His reaction- his stare, essentially was a shout that contained no words. A shout that told me I’d spoken aloud.
“He told me the truth.” Winston chuckled dryly. “That I am a royal who will one day inherit the throne of the largest country in Maru, so I should act like it and stop being a petulant child. That.” He continued after a long pause, a noticeable tremor in his breath. “That and he told me that he went to Epethia himself. He went to the capital before we saw him on Rook Island. He told me that just looking around the city made him sick to his stomach. And… he didn’t say it. but…” he took another deep, shaking breath as if he were terrified to say the words. “I know… I know the thought of destroying our home crossed his mind. If he wasn’t who he is- if Amun was a different type of person, Epethia would not exist today.”
“But he didn’t destroy anything,” I noted. ‘Just like I didn’t.’
“Instead,” I continued. “Amun chose a path that benefits everyone. He decided to change the crown itself, rather than destroy the land it looks down on.”
“Er… yes.” Winston nodded, his head still lowered level to the ground.
“Raise your head, Winston.” I sighed. “A Prince shouldn’t lower his head so easily.”
“No.” Winston shook his head. “He should only lower his head when practicing humility. Which is exactly what I’m doing now. Besides, I’m not worthy of the title. Especially when spoken from your mouth. You have every right to be angry with me, Peter. To hate me. I accept those feelings from the depth of my heart; yet, I will still apologize.”
“You keep saying that, but I don’t hate you. I’m not even angry at you anymore,” I said, chewing slowly. “As Amun once told me, you and I are just products of our environment. Victims of circumstance. Raised to believe what we believe from birth. You, who was raised in a privileged environment and indoctrinated to adopt cruel practices. And me, someone dealt a bad hand in life. Born as a slave and forced to endure hardship after hardship until I was pushed toward revenge.
“But the answer isn’t to lash out at those born into the same environment.” I continued past his bemused look. “It’s to either escape it or change it if you have the power to. I don’t have the power to change it. And I’ve already escaped it. I’m not going back. And, also.” I sighed. “I don’t hate you, but it’s not as if I’ve forgiven you either. You’ve given a heartfelt apology and you’ve made up your mind, but you haven’t acted. You haven’t done anything to right your wrongs. And until you do, there’s not much I have to say to you.”
“I- I understand.” Winston nodded. Disappointment wrought all over his face as his gaze sank back down to his feet and stayed there. Even as he took his bowl and left the room.
“One more thing,” I called back to him. Then felt a pang in my heart after seeing him turn with eyes filled with hope. “You’re wrong about Amun, and you shouldn’t think so lowly of him. I’m confident that destroying Epethia never even crossed his mind. He’s not the type to commit genocide on a whim. He’s not a monster in human form. Trust me, I’ve seen plenty.”
“Yeah.” Winston sighed, turning for the door. “You’re right.”