“I know very little about my home kingdom. I was only five years old when we arrived in Vorthe, because of the war.”
“Perthuma, you say.”
“Yes, young master Jerome,” Seventeen answered. “From what little I know of it, it was a war-torn kingdom. Sailors crossing the sea to find new lands usually land at our shores. And they never came to make requests.”
They came to seize land, Jerome finished with his thoughts. He had been making small talk with her for a while as he waited for Rihal to show up.
“It must have been a great ordeal,” Jerome said, his eyes distant.
“I wasn’t born there. I was born on the way to Vorthe. My parents live and work in the Royal Estate too so I see them when I’m off duty.”
Jerome nodded. He admired her parent’s strength. It took a strong mind to not only survive war but also leave home to unknown lands. What if one wasn’t welcome there? Her parents conquered the odds.
It reminded him of himself during his past life. Weak and suffering. The doctors had said he was going to live a short life, yet he lived to be sixty. It was a grueling sixty years nonetheless. And he had to depend on his parents and relatives throughout his life — even for the little things, the embarrassing things. Jerome clenched his jaw pushing the thought away. He had made up his mind years ago never to be in that situation again.
“Ahem,” Rihal coughed, interrupting his musings from outside the room.
Jerome got up slowly as he said, “Well, have a great day Seventeen, and make sure you don’t get too comfortable with your level of advancement.”
“Yes, young master Jerome,” Seventeen said, as she gave a slight bow.
~~~
“Some people will never advance beyond Sprout, you know?” Rihal said as they walked out of the Palace.
“Hmm, but one should still feel motivated to do so, right?”
Rihal shrugged. “Some are just content with where they are.”
“Or they lack the resources to push forward.”
“She has all the resources she needs. Are we gonna start an argument early this morning?”
“You started it,” Jerome said with a chuckle.
Rihal looked his way saying, “Well, you’re excited.”
Jerome was smiling from ear to ear. It felt like years since he’d been to the slums. Now, he couldn’t wait to take off in the direction of the slums.
“You know you’re very famous, right? … and little,” Rihal said.
“I’m not…little,” Jerome scowled. Being in the body of a child was embarrassing enough, he didn’t need to be reminded about it.
Rihal chuckled. “Either way others would try to take advantage of you. Keep your head down and be the smartest person in the room…or in the streets.”
“Yes, yes, father walrus, baby walrus would stick his nose in the snow.”
“Father walrus? I see myself more like an eagle,” Rihal complained, expecting a retort from his dearest disciple but got nothing. “What are you doing?”
Jerome didn’t respond. He just stood there as though in thought.
“It seems I’m taking too much of your time, aren’t I?” Rihal said.
“No, no, no, just want to test something out,” Jerome replied. He’d been practicing and wanted to test something out.
“What?”
Jerome didn't answer. He just stood there nodding and smiling, as he observed the sky. Moments later, something silvery started bleeding out of his robes at his back. It covered most of his back and soon started taking shape.
“Is that what I think it is?”
“Yes!” Jerome said excitedly. Wings sprouted out of his back. Wings like a bat’s, but a lot broader and shinier.
How is this possible?! Rihal exclaimed to himself.
Jerome spread his new wings and admired them. Each wing spanned six feet, as long as the height of a full-grown man. Jerome flapped his new wings clumsily, generating a strong wind in the process.
Rihal had been practicing how to keep his cool around this kid else he ended up embarrassing himself. Jerome was just used to doing what should be impossible for his Realm!
“Don’t overexert yourself, Adama’s gauntlets will take a lot out of you if you put too much pressure on it,” Rihal said, shielding his eyes from the wind.
“Adama’s gauntlets?”
“Adama was the name of its previous owner, but he disappeared during Pilgrims’ Keep two decades ago, so everyone calls the flowing steel gauntlets, Adama’s gauntlets.”
“Really? Well, it's Suzie now!”
“What sort of a name is that?” Rihal asked, befuddled.
Jerome kept flapping hard and rose off the ground.
“Hahahaha!” He laughed loudly, “This is so amazing!”
His altitude increased a few feet at a time until he began riding the wind. It was difficult at first but as time went on he got the hang of it. Jerome flew in circles around the Palace as he screamed at the top of his lungs. He’d never felt anything as thrilling or as exhilarating as flying. Nothing could compare to the feeling of the wind breezing past him, the feeling that he was on top of the world and everything and everyone else was beneath him. He felt free and powerful.
~~~
Jerome walked through a crowded street called Ters’n as he browsed through shops for more gifts he wanted to give to his friends at the orphanage.
“For a somewhat medieval city, Farryn is kinda beautiful,” he muttered to himself as he stared at the beautiful housing units that lined both sides of the streets.
Each low-rise building was beautifully built and had a store as an extension in front of it.
“Though the view must be way better from up there,” he mused and looked up at the sky.
He wouldn’t have bothered with walking and would have just flown straight to the orphanage had Rihal not poured cold water on his plan. Flying was prohibited inside the city.
But this was good too. He got some gifts for the caregivers at the orphanage: Ms Tara, Moss, and Old Wen as a result. These were the people who took care of him when he was at the orphanage, so he had to reciprocate their care and get them something.
Jerome smiled as he reminisced on his time at the orphanage. Moss and Miss Tara took turns preparing meals for the kids — when it was available. They were also in charge of sorting through whatever spoils came in from the kids’ adventures, storing the spoils for later use or preserving them for feeding if there were consumables among them. Old Wen’s the guard. Although he’s old, he’s built like a tree, and he’s quite good at scaring away riff-raffs.
Contrary to what Rihal had said, people gave Jerome a wide berth on the streets and even in the stores he visited. Some customers and staff of the various stores he visited would bow low to him upon seeing him, it quickly became annoying.
There goes being inconspicuous. At least I still have my anonymity, he pulled his hood down over his face to cover whatever bit was still exposed. Jerome had on a hooded black robe with fitted sleeves and black leather gloves. He was dressed as someone who wanted to keep a low profile. The usual crest of the Royal family was also missing from his robes.
Taken from Royal Road, this narrative should be reported if found on Amazon.
Jerome found himself in front of a six storey building — one of many in the street. The sign in front of the building said they sold uncut high-grade crystal stones. He quickly stepped into a building to escape the stares of the pedestrians on the street. Maybe he could also buy his family resources to cultivate with. Heaven knows they need it.
“So many crystal stones,” Jerome said in awe the moment he entered the building. The hall he entered was brimming with dense essence. Huge sky-blue chunks of uncut high-grade crystal stones sat gallantly behind array-protected floor-to-ceiling shelves attached to the walls.
“Magnificient,” It was like a crystal stone gallery, except customers were not here to admire art but to purchase the crystal stones.
Giant crystal stones were flying off the shelves as he moved around the hall. The interior walls of the hall were literally glittering with dense essence from the high-grade crystal stones encased in the shelves attached to the wall.
Someone came rushing out of a back door towards Jerome after a while.
“Gratitude for visiting our store, young lord?” The newcomer said. “I’m Tala’an Taleed, the manager of the Crystal Gateway.”
Many customers in the hall turned to see who was so important that the Crystal Gateway would send its manager to welcome them.
“How may I be of service to you,” Tala’an Taleed said.
The manager was a rotund man that looked to be in his forties, but Jerome knew he’d be very much older than that. The pressure he felt from the man was akin to what he felt from Kilian or Rihal, a Spirit Realm expert.
Jerome quickly schooled his features, “Yes, I’d like to purchase some uncut stone crystals.”
“How may I address you, senior?” Jerome asked as he was led to a back room.
“You may call me Taleed, young lord,” said the shopkeeper.
“The House of Ores?”
“Yes, young lord, ahahahah! The Tala’ans have been the household name for high-grade stone crystals in Vorthe for millennia, thanks to our partnership with the Royal Family of course.”
Unlike the traditional houses and clans in Vorthe who put their first names before their family names, there were some families, perhaps those whose ancestors came from the Eastern continent, whose family names came first before their first names. Tala’an Taleed was from one such family. His accent was a dead giveaway as no one Jerome had met before spoke like him.
“Senior Taleed, I must say, I am not anyone of importance in Vorthe. And I wish to keep a low profile. I can’t understand why everyone around here’s acting with respect toward me, I’m really not anyone important.”
Tala’an Taleed chuckled, “Oh, I see. I’m afraid that is going to be impossible, young lord.”
“How so? I’m not dressed in a way people can tell who I am.”
“Nobody needs to know who you are, young lord, your boots gave you away! Ahahahaha!” Taleed’s jowls jiggled comically as he laughed loudly.
“Huh?” Jerome exclaimed in confusion. “My boots? How so?” He loved his boots. They were new and shiny. But how could they give away his identity?
“That’s because they’re only worn by royalty!” Taleed chortled loudly.
Jerome’s brows rose in surprise as he never expected that even his boots would have such uniqueness. He had made sure not to wear clothes with the royal family crest so as not to attract attention, but things didn't go the way he wanted. This must be Rihal’s doing, he thought to himself.
They entered a small room at the back of the store. The room was decked in shades of beige, orange, and white to give it a homely feel. There were a few cushion chairs around a glass table and nothing else. As they sat down Tala’an Taleed rang a little bell that was on the table and a maid walked in shortly after to serve tea.
“As the young lord has seen, Crystal Gateway sells one of the most important items sacred artists need. High-grade crystal stones take a lot of effort and money to mine, and also a lot of money to purchase…” Taleed droned on.
Jerome shut him out a little as he slowly drank the tea in front of him. He understood that he was being given special treatment, so the manager took the opportunity to market his goods to him.
“How much?” Jerome asked. He couldn’t afford the time to listen anymore.
“You are a prudent and straightforward man, young lord. We sell for three hundred mid-grade crystal coins per dervanis, that’s the—”
“The equivalent of a pound in the old tongue. I do know a few words in the old tongue, Senior Taleed,” Jerome said with a smirk.
“That’s impressive young lord, most kids these days do not concern themselves with the old tongue, it’s good to know it won’t die out in our generation,” Taleed spoke with labored breath.
He had probably talked for too long. Jerome thought the man needed to check his weight and diet.
“I’ll take four hundred pounds,” Jerome declared. He took out a storage bag and counted out 1200 high-grade crystal coins which he passed to the storekeeper.
~~~
The crystal coins whether high, mid, or low grade were all cut into shape from raw ores mined around Vorthe. They’re preserved for years with the help of scripts—the expertise of the Royal family. No one else could do it by law.
Taleed’s eyes filled with reverence — and a little greed as he saw the heap of crystal coins Jerome counted out on his table. “Gratitude, young lord,” he said with a slight bow.
High-grade crystal coins were rare and not just anyone could possess one. Taleed did transactions with them but had never seen this much. It wasn’t a currency one used in day to day transactions. Instead it was used in transactions between nobles and kingdoms. To get a hold of 1200 high-grade crystal stones in one day was a cause for celebration. He quickly rang his bell once more to call for a clerk.
Most rich kids couldn’t buy a quarter of what Jerome just bought and they do move around with guards. This one may even have guards in the shadows, who knows? Taleed looked around the room just to be sure. May the heavens have mercy on anyone who thinks to rob a Vorthe, because they wouldn’t, he thought to himself as goose bumps rose on his skin and he shivered lightly.
~~~
Moments after the clerk came and took his purchase order away, a group of assistants and porters came into the room carrying heavy crates. Jerome examined the craftsmanship of the crates with admiration.
“These crates were specially designed to preserve high-grade crystal stones for up to a decade! They are the specialty of Grandmaster Fesir Vorthe, the most notable artifact refiner in all of Vorthe,” Taleed praised.
“Hmph,” Jerome hmphed lightly to express his resentment towards the Elder. The others in the room may not have heard it but Tala’an Taleed wasn’t a Spirit Realm artist for nothing. He could discern his customers’ expressions and would do everything in his power to keep them content.
“Er, er, I hope you’re pleased with our selection young lord. These are the best and latest of the mineral veins that have been mined.”
“Hmm,” Jerome nodded and stored all the boxes in his storage bags. He thanked the manager and left promptly with his merchandise. The value of high-grade crystal coins could not be overemphasized.
This was a currency, not just anyone could have or carry around, hence, he was grateful he was putting on Royalty-issued boots, if not he may have lost everything, even the clothes he was putting on to thieves. Jerome pulled his hood closely over his face as he walked down Ters’n street. He quickened his steps as the sun was already setting over the horizon. By the time he got to the slums, it was night already.
Jerome turned corners as his body remembered the shortest routes to get to the orphanage. His heart was beating fast and as he got closer, he felt dread welling up in his gut.
What’s this feeling, he thought to himself. He’d never had such feelings before, and it was contrary to what he should be feeling. He didn't know why he was feeling dread in the pit of his stomach, but he quickly pushed down on his emotions.
When he got to the front of the orphanage he was dazed. He could tell there was not a single soul in the building. He walked in carefully, thinking someone was playing a prank on him. Jerome chuckled to himself as he walked past the front entrance. The place looked like it had been deserted for months. Dust had covered most of, if not all the surfaces. Running a finger across one of the walls, Jerome became very convinced that something had gone wrong. His finger came back covered in dust.
What’s going on? Why is this place empty? Why has no one been here for months? He thought about many different scenarios as he walked from room to room, but there weren’t many rooms, to begin with. After searching for a while and finding nothing, he left and headed to the closest homes around the orphanage.
~~~
“Cowhide!” Jerome called out. He could hear the rough breathing and snoring of a man inside the shack. He knocked lightly on what could be considered a door on the shack and the whole thing grumbled as if, anymore and it’ll fall apart. The shack was haphazardly put together with everything from weathered tree branches to broken mud tiles.
“Cowhide, get up!” he was getting agitated. The feeling of dread he felt before was beginning to rise again and he couldn't help but think something bad had happened to his friends and family.
Cowhide was one of the recipients of Jerome’s and his friends’ mischievous acts back in the day. They frustrated the life out of him. The man was called Cowhide because he always claimed that he hunted magical beasts in his younger years and wore their hide as clothes.
Nobody believed him though, as his foundation was nothing to write home about. Only at the Essence-Gathering Realm, a Drudge. Drudge was what those in the Essence-Gathering Realm were called, to motivate them to quickly advance to the next Realm. Harsh, but it works. But Cowhide, even being a drudge, never cared at all. His aptitude was the worst of the worst after all.
Cowhide shouted himself out of his sleep as though he’d had a nightmare. He quickly got up and came out of his home only to meet a stranger he didn’t recognize.
“Who are you?” Cowhide asked.
“It’s me, Jerome, how’ve you been?”
“Jerome? You’re Jerome?!” Cowhide asked in amazement, “well look at ya! All grown up and shinin’ like a jewel, eh?” he snickered.
Jerome cleared his throat. “Cowhide, I was wondering if you know the whereabouts of everyone from the orphanage. The whole place seems to have been deserted for at least a season ago.”
“They all been tak’n away from here, ya know? Some rich ass kid and his bodyguards came here ‘bout two seasons ago and dragged ‘em all off, ya know?”
Jerome’s heart dropped. Goosebumps rose on his skin as he began to sweat, but soon he caught himself as he realized he had a backer too. The best backer one could have in Farryn.
“What family was the kid from?” He demanded.
“Slow down, slow down, eh?” Cowhide quickly went back into his shack and came out with a box. “He dropped this. Said to give it to ya when ye come around, eh?”
Jerome grabbed the box. The moment his hand touched it, it fell apart and a piece of paper fluttered downwards from inside it. He quickly grabbed the piece of paper and scanned its contents.
This was Hedon Alvric’s doing.