Jerome sat in an expansive tub resembling a miniature pool, generously filled with water. Having been meticulously cleaned by the Palace maids only moments ago, he luxuriated in the comfort of the steaming warmth enveloping his body. It was a novel experience for him, as he’d not had the privilege of indulging in a bath, let alone one with pleasantly heated water since he found himself in this world. They had always bathed by pouring water over their heads in the slums. This was a welcome upgrade.
In-door plumbing, he chuckled. Rihal had talked about it like it was some discovery that could revolutionize the kingdom. “Perhaps,” he had muttered. It was a convenience as far as he was concerned. One he never had in the slums. The slums. It quickly dawned on him that he had been gone for nine days and he hadn’t even thought to contact his caretakers.
He stood up from the tub and got out. He needed to find a way to contact his caretakers at the orphanage. “Rihal?” he called out but no one answered. His voice bounced off the sky-blue walls of the washroom, echoing back to him. He walked toward a set of folded garments that were left for him. His reflection caught his attention on a small shard of polished metal on the little stone platform where the maids had left the clothes.
He examined his body and found out his flesh had filled out. He no longer looked like skin and bones. Jerome smiled as he wiped himself clean with a small piece of cloth on the platform.
The first piece of clothing was an undergarment. Jerome chuckled when he saw the archaic design. But when in Rome… A collarless black tunic that felt like innerwear was next. The fabric was lightweight, soft, and breathable as he put it on. The breeches followed, sewn with leather along the outer thighs and covering the groin. A belt came attached to the breeches, with a buckle on the left side to hold it firm to the waist. That was new.
Jerome smiled at the crude appearance of the iron buckle. This gave away knowledge about metallurgy in Vorthe — or the lack thereof. A corrosive-resistant alloy like brass would have been a better material. But do their smiths have knowledge of smelting copper and zinc together? Do they know of the ratios involved in smelting both to get brass? Jerome chuckled. This was seemingly added to the stack of things he planned to achieve in the future. No need to rush. He had time.
The last piece of clothing was a long dark mahogany brown robe. It had an Asian-styled silhouette but was sewn with leather of the same color as the robe to cover the chest, shoulders, and half the back — almost making it look like armor. A black leather collar also stuck out as he wore it. Most likely to help protect his neck.
It had buckles to hold the dark brown leather in place and to make it tight-fitting. It was also fitted with leather bracers at the portion where the sleeves should be, which also had to be buckled. Finally, he put on the large belt designed with pouches to hold accessories.
The robe fit like a second skin and the knee-high boots were just the right size, held together by four buckles on each side. Jerome understood that the leather sewn to the textile would make protecting oneself easier in battle. It didn’t make it any less odd to him though.
He noticed his hair was longer, reaching past his shoulders to his back. He reached his right hand to hold up a few strands in front of his face and found that his hair was jet black and shiny.
“Shweet,” he said, mimicking Ash’s words. Jerome chuckled as he remembered her. How were they coping at the orphanage right now? He thought as he wrung the water out of his hair. His hair was a lot healthier now, a stark contrast to the dull scratchy mop of tangled strands that once crowned his head.
He had taught Ms. Tara how to make the soap. They could make a profitable business out of it. He just hoped she would be careful selling it. That was probably some merchant’s means of livelihood and if anyone else started selling it, it could lead to a trade dispute that could get dangerous. It would be best to avoid such. To the strong goes the spoils after all. Maybe he should talk to Rihal about it. See if he could get them protection.
He left the washroom and met one of the young maids at the door. She looked to be in her late teens and was a beauty. The maid exuded a strong presence which Jerome knew meant she was more powerful than he was — just like the guards he met before.
From what Rihal explained, Sprouts were in the Core Formation, which came after the essence Forming Realm, which is Blank. The guards at the entrance of the stairs that led up the mountain also exuded the same weight of presence as the maid — which was incredible. If The Royal Family had such powerful sacred artists as maids and guards, how powerful would their soldiers be? And that meant the maid in front of him was Sprout as were the guards he met at the entrance of the stairs. Except he was missing something, that must be it.
“Please come with me, young disciple.” She said and began guiding him through the corridors of the Palace.
Jerome followed her silently. They made their way through the palace, walking through long, winding corridors that seemed to stretch on endlessly. The interior of the palace was a sight to behold, every bit as stunning as the grand exterior that had first caught his eye. It was clear that the architect had poured their heart and soul into every detail of its design.
Tall, majestic columns lined the walls of the corridors, each one glistening with glowing crystals that shone like precious jewels. The walls themselves were a marvel, inlaid with intricate designs that caught the light in just the right way, filling the corridors with a warm, golden glow that seemed to envelop them.
Even walking felt very comfortable. He couldn’t help but marvel at the floor beneath his feet. Every step he took was cushioned by a plush, luxurious red rug that seemed to cradle the soles of his boots like soft pillows. With each stride he took, he felt as though he was walking on clouds.
Exactly how much is all this worth? he mused, trying not to look around and seem like a country bumpkin. It was clear that no expense had been spared in creating this breathtaking masterpiece of architecture and design.
They came into a large hall with a huge rectangular table filled with delicacies. That was when hunger hit him like a running bull. Jerome almost lost his composure. He did his best to stop himself from gulping the saliva that seemed not to stop being produced in his mouth as he walked up to the table. There was a well-dressed, middle-aged man who seemed to be in his early thirties at the head of the table and he would hear him gulp if he did. The hall was too quiet after all.
Jerome bowed low and gulped before speaking, trusting the sound of his footfalls to cover the gulping sound. “Light embraces you, my Lord,” he greeted in the way people of his status did when they came before nobility.
The man smiled at him, his demeanor, very much like royalty. “And may Light illuminate your path to success, youngling. Have a seat,” he said with a slight hand gesture.
“For someone who’s from the slums, you seem very well-educated.”
Jerome tried not to take offense at that. The royal was just stating a fact and he couldn’t sense any malice in his voice or expression — not that it was proper to look someone of status and power in the eyes for more than a breath. Such traditions. He sighed.
“Thank you for your praise, my Lord. I’ve had a tutor since I was younger,” he said, not knowing what to call Rihal. Was he a tutor? Master?
“Well, why don’t we leave the discussions for later and enjoy the food in front of us.”
Stolen from its rightful place, this narrative is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings.
~~~
“Are you enjoying the meal, Jerome?” his host asked.
“Hmm,” he said, nodding vigorously as he stuffed his face. Every bite of the feast before him was a marvel of incredible flavors that danced across his taste buds. It was easily the most delicious meal he had ever experienced. No offense to Ms. Tara’s cooking. The cooks here were geniuses compared to her.
The roasted birds were succulent and perfectly seasoned, their tender meat practically melting in his mouth. The beef was just as delectable, each mouthful bursting with a rich, savory flavor that left him wanting more.
“Do have some more. Don’t be shy, there’s a lot for you to eat,” his host said and kept heaping food on the plates in front of him, moving cutlery around with almost blinding speed.
Jerome made sure to sample each and every delicacy on the table, from the crisp, golden potatoes to the fresh, crunchy vegetables. Every dish was a masterpiece in its own right, each one expertly crafted and bursting with flavor.
By the time he finished his meal, Jerome felt as though he had experienced a culinary journey unlike any other, and he couldn’t wait to taste what other delights the Royals had to offer. Once the meal was finished, his host guided him to a grand study with walls lined with bookshelves filled with ancient tomes and scrolls.
“My name is Kilian Vorthe, a relative of the current Sovereign of Vorthe, and welcome to the Vorthe household.”
Jerome bowed deeply before sitting down. “If I may, kind sir. How may I address you?”
Kilian smiled, “Call me Lord Kilian.”
“As you command, Lord Kilian,” he said with another bow.
“You don’t have to be overly formal with me,” Lord Kilian Vorthe waved him off. He reached down below his desk for something Jerome couldn’t make out as he said, “As a disciple of Vorthe, there are expectations that are placed on you. Your duties would include representing the Royal family in various teenage gatherings.
“You’ll also make sure to train constantly so as not to lag behind your mates. Strength is one of the ways the Royal family keeps the other clans and families in line. You’d do well not to forget that.”
Jerome nodded, “Yes, Lord Kilian.” he was glad for the lack of formalities too.
Lord Kilian continued. “You’d also be undertaking missions in the Essence-Forming Realm. As Blank, you are the future of the kingdom of Vorthe. Establishing yourself early on is the best advice I can give you. But make sure to keep a straight head on your shoulders, and don’t let power make your ego outgrow your ability. This is not to mean you should let others step all over you — remember, you represent the Royal family.”
Jerome nodded enthusiastically. It was clear that the Royal family took their leadership role seriously. And by the looks of it, they had the strength for the position. Lord Kilian — like Rihal — exuded a very strong presence that he could feel pushing against him, Although it was muted compared to Rihal’s.
“Gratitude, for the insights and encouragement, Lord Kilian,” Jerome said with a slight bow. “But I do have some questions and requests — if I’m permitted.” Jerome watched the Royal smile lightly.
“Go on.”
“I would like to know if I would be permitted to go see my family in the slums, and how often I can take such leave. I would also like to send letters frequently as well. Can I send letters to my friends who have been taken in by other families?” Jerome kept the informal contractions out of his words so he could sound proper. It was exhausting — kind of.
“The Path of a sacred artist is a Path to power, Jerome. Many fall behind and are forgotten. You may find later on that you’re leaving people behind. And you may not be able to do anything about it. Friends, and family… the more powerful you grow, the greater the chasm between you. What then?”
Jerome had no answer. Would he be able to leave people behind? The people he had grown up with and fought to feed. He had grown attached to the orphanage and its inhabitants and wasn’t willing to just forget them. But what Lord Kilian was asking was if he was willing to let them go. And the answer was no.
“Then I will find a way to make them powerful, to make them free of the elements and all that would enslave them. Even if I have to say goodbye to them, I’ll make sure they are free.”
An uncomfortable silence stretched between them for ten breaths. Jerome tried not to bend under the scrutiny of the Lord. He was not one to bow his head or kiss others’ asses. He did his own thing for himself because he knew what he wanted. He never wanted to be weak again. To succumb to the elements and to nature.
Lord Kilian took a deep breath and exhaled loudly, making him appear human for the first time since they met. Jerome almost thought he saw it wrong.
“The letters to the orphanage are approved, as is sending them relief materials. But you cannot relate anything about your training in those letters. You are, however, not permitted to send letters to other Houses. Leaving the estate will be pending for now. You’ll need express permission and a robe that properly shows your status as a disciple.
“Right now you are an apprentice disciple. You have little freedom and are expected to study and train. Which would be all that will occupy your days. Am I understood?”
Jerome sighed, “Yes, Lord Kilian. If I may, what other ranks of discipleship are there?”
“There is the novice rank, which by the way, you have skipped completely.”
Jerome tried to hide his smirk but failed woefully causing Kilian to smile in return.
“Next is the apprentice rank, which is where we placed you. Next is initiate, adept, warrior, master, and grandmaster. You need not concern yourself with the higher ranks right now. You will receive in-depth instructions about your daily routine when you leave. Any questions?”
“Yes, Lord Kilian. Why were the sacred art Realms not named after these?”
“That’s a good question. Albeit an ignorant one. The sacred Realms have been in existence long before Vorthe. Other kingdoms have different names for their discipleship rankings, but the sacred Realms have been in existence for longer.”
Jerome nodded in thought. It made sense. Since the sacred Realms have existed for longer, they held cultural significance. Leaders would be averse to opinionated individuals asking for changes to be made to them. It would be an insult to their ancestors. “It seems there’s a relationship between both for a disciple.”
“At the beginning, yes. Take you for example. You were supposed to come in as Drudge.”
Jerome winced at that.
“That would have made you a novice disciple. But you are here as Blank and went up in rank. But your advancement in Realms slows down the higher you go. Your advancement as a disciple, however, is dependent on your results as a person.”
“Thank you, Lord Kilian, for the explanation,” Jerome said with a bow.
“Hmm. You may leave. A maid awaits you to lead you to your bedchamber,” Kilian stated.
Jerome stood up and bowed deeply before leaving. As he walked down the ornate hallways, he couldn’t help but feel a sense of excitement and anticipation for what lay ahead. Training and studying were low-hanging fruits he was going to take advantage of. What he really wanted was greater challengers — to meet and defeat others in his Realm.
That would be fantastic! he thought with a smirk. Heh. but I guess, for now, low-hanging fruits it is.
~~~
“What’s your assessment of him?” Rihal said as he appeared behind Kilian Vorthe. He felt much better now, having cleaned up.
“He’s an interesting fellow. I can see that there’s a longing for power in his eyes. And he’s a lot more intelligent than you estimated. He’s the true definition of a precocious child,” Kilian said, with excitement of his own.
“Hmm. You think he’d be able to contain it?” Rihal asked once again, concern hidden in his voice. Jerome’s life was about to get a lot more complicated and they both knew it.
“There’s no telling until he’s ready. It all depends on his willpower...and his luck.” Kilian responded.
“The Elders’ words still echo in my ears, Kilian. But I want to challenge it. I want to give him a better chance.”
“And we will. I’ve been doing a lot of research lately. I should be able to find good enough resources to help him with control.” Kilian caressed his chin deep in thought. “But I guess if he could jump straight to Blank, he may very well surprise us once again,” he said with undisguised anticipation. Rihal also couldn’t wait to see what the little devil was capable of.
There was complete silence in the study for a few more breaths of time.
“Take him to Pilgrims’ Keep after the new moon,” Kilian said at last. “We should be able to estimate his aptitude and willpower better in Pilgrims’ Keep.” He stood up and walked out of the study but Rihal had already disappeared from the study.