Three new bookshelves lined the wall of the previously empty library wing. Their presence seemed to breathe new life into the room, making it seem more like a library, and creating an enticing haven for knowledge seekers.
Jerome took some time to admire the different thicknesses of the spines of the books as his fingertips traced the embossed titles. The scent of aged paper, ink, and the faintest hint of leather binding brought with them a sense of nostalgia.
“I’ve been asked to make some books available to you for immediate reading,” the attendant from the day before intruded on his thoughts.
Jerome looked over at him as he pulled out a book from the last shelf to his right. He bowed as he received the book. “‘The Culling’, a fitting name,” he said with a chuckle.
Jerome coughed. “I’m sorry about the day before, initiate—” he tried to explain further but the attendant stopped him with a raised hand.
“I don’t know what type of scam you pulled or how you pulled it but it would not work on me. Blanks are never as young as you are,” the initiate growled at him.
A sudden tightness in his muscles made Jerome hunch over. He huffed and struggled to center himself all to no avail. He had to hold up himself with the support of a book shelf.
“I warn you, apprentice. Reach beyond your station and I will make sure you regret it,” the attendant said as the pressure he felt dissipated.
Jerome watched, dumbfounded as the red-robed initiate picked out another book from the shelf and dropped it on a table before walking away. He took a deep breath and cycled to calm his nerves first, wondering why the use of force.
“Is he threatened by me?” he muttered to himself, finding it hard to wrap his head around what just happened. How could a Sprout feel threatened by a Blank? It did not make sense at all.
After a while, he sat down and picked up the book dropped by the attendant. It was a small leather-bound book. Old and yellowed with time.
His mind drifted to his demeanor toward the attendant as he wondered when he had disrespected him. But nothing came up so he shook the thought away. He wondered if he should talk to Rihal about it, but if it was found out he had disrespected a senior apprentice without even knowing it, would he be punished? Jerome didn’t want to find out.
He hadn’t disrespected the man — of this, he was sure. Instead, it felt like the man had had some bad experiences with bullies or something. Jerome decided to focus on the books and read as much as he could before it got too late.
~~~
In the bygone era, the mountain range to the north was home to a diverse variety of magical beasts. A place that was impassable by humans in times past. Many powerful beasts called the place home. They fed, they bred, and they multiplied. Many of them were invasive species that spilled into the new city and the frozen north.
The ‘beast tide’ was a terror in those days. Its arrival ushered in a grave crisis for the newly established kingdom of Vorthe. Many moved south and many more died. Thus, the Sovereign, seeing the toll it took on his soldiers assembled a team of advanced sacred artists.
Their quest was daunting, their journey treacherous. They flew northward to undertake ‘The Culling’, putting down a significant number of the invasive species. The Culling lasted for what seemed an eternity. And the land bore witness, for it was the largest record of culling in the land till this day. And as a result, many of the magical beasts have nearly gone extinct.
Such are the likes of the magical beasts which were culled. The Storm-Winged Eagle, known for its ability to harness the power of storms. It has a wingspan of 300 feet and heralds massive typhoons in its wake. The Storm-Winged Eagle has a foundation as powerful as a Spirit Realm artist in its prime. Only as a sacred beast can it grow more powerful beyond the Spirit Realm.
The Mountain Bear; a colossus of a beast. Standing at a height taller than ten full-grown men standing atop each other. Also known as the ‘Hungry Titan’, the Mountain Bear would eat anything that moves. It thrives on anger, as the more angry it gets, the more powerful it becomes. The Mountain Bear has a foundation as powerful as a Core Formation artist in its prime. Only as a sacred beast can it become more powerful.
~~~
Jerome read about many more magical beasts like the Ice-Saber Cat, Silver-Moon Wolves, and many more. Many of these beasts were named according to the nature of the element at their command. And from the looks of it, they were extremely powerful. The book goes on to differentiate between the strength of magical beasts and sacred artists.
“Why am I not surprised you’re still here,” Rihal said from beside him.
Jerome looked up from his book, smiling at his master. “What is a sacred beast?” he asked. Even though the book mentioned the term a lot, it never stated what it was.
“It’s a bonded magical beast. Sacred artists can bond with sacred beasts and they become sort of protectors to the one who holds the bond,” Rihal explained.
“That’s cool,” Jerome replied as he thought about having a giant beast to ride. Maybe a dragon. But didn’t that kind of make the sacred beast a slave to a master? Jerome quickly stopped himself from talking about slaves lest Rihal be offended again.
“Cool?” Rihal raised an eyebrow clearly not understanding the use of the term.
“It’s wonderful,” Jerome clarified. “The book also stated that magical beasts are a lot stronger than sacred artists and are a lot faster.”
“What’s your point, Jerome?” Rihal sighed.
This tale has been unlawfully lifted from Royal Road. If you spot it on Amazon, please report it.
“A lot of the sacred artists that went with the Sovereign to cull the tide must have suffered some dangerous fate, right?”
“Are you expecting me to admit that?” Rihal asked with a knowing smile.
“Posterity only remembers what is recorded, Rihal. If no one died during The Culling. How come it wasn’t recorded? If anyone did die, why wasn’t it recorded? I believe people did die and their deaths were taken out of the records so as to keep this ‘Pilgrims’ Keep’ alive for as long as possible. Or to give it the illusion of safety.”
Rihal chuckled, keeping his gaze on Jerome for a long moment. Since he didn’t say anything, Jerome continued.
“Plausible deniability, Rihal. When information is withheld from the people, or a person in a position of power distances themselves from said information or actions in a way that leaves room for doubt or allows them to disclaim any knowledge or involvement if things go sideways. That’s what I see in this retelling of history.”
“So, you’re a scribe now. Or a scholar since you think you can just think up new words,” Rihal chuckled again. “But yes. You are correct. In fact, I didn’t figure all this out until I became Sprout. Funny how you saw through all that by just reading a single book.”
Jerome shrugged. So they had scholars. What do these scholars do?... Besides thinking up big words, that is. “I’m smarter than most people think.” Jerome contemplated asking about these scholars but decided against it.
If he couldn’t catch that little from this much, then he had wasted sixty years in his previous life doing nothing. And he did waste years in his previous life, even though he couldn’t call it wasted years now.
“I wanna send a letter to Ms. Tara, Rihal,” he changed the topic bringing out the letter to show his master. “It’s been too long and I want them to know that I’m doing ok.”
“I’ll take you to the Falconer,” Rihal said standing up to go. He stared at the wall of books for a while before asking, “How do you like your new bookshelves?”
“This was done for me?”
Rihal raised an eyebrow as if to say, ‘Really?’
“Point taken. It’s nice. Though, I don’t see the reason for the effort though. I’d actually like to sit down among people of my status in a normal library.”
“And have you seen any other apprentice since you got here?”
They got to the counter and Jerome raised an eyebrow at Rihal while gesturing to the librarian who was dozing off at the counter.
“Point taken,” Rihal said. “But that’s a librarian. I’m talking about anyone who is in training like you.”
“Well, I haven’t had time to leave the palace now, have I?”
“And you don’t have the time to do anything other than training and studying.”
They climbed through a back stairway to the fifth floor of the castle to get to the mew. It was probably one used by the staff of the palace for easy access to the Lord’s chambers. The mew was large and smelled of earth and trees — a reminder of the great outdoors. Up to seven falcons stood on perches inside the mew.
They were bigger and fiercer than any falcon Jerome had ever seen. Jerome had only a word to describe the sight he beheld before him — magnificent. Their plumages were a mosaic of earthy tones, a blend of chestnut, russet, and ivory, intermingling harmoniously. The luminous orbs of piercing gold they had for eyes exuded an intelligence that defied normalcy.
The birds became agitated the moment they sensed Jerome peeping into the mew. Some of them perched on higher branches screeched at him as if telling him to get the hell out. Jerome was smiling from ear to ear as he couldn’t help himself. The mew was built like a part of the forest. Even though they were on the fifth floor of the castle, it felt like he was in the wild. A tree had been built from the ground so the falcons could use its branches as perches. However Vorthe achieved that, he had no idea.
Jerome had to wait outside the mews for Rihal to help send the letter as according to him, these birds were sacred beasts — tamed magical beasts. They were remarkably intelligent and fiercely loyal to the falconer.
“Uhm…Rihal, can I get a feather for a quill?”
One of the falcons screeched aggressively. It raised its wings as if ready to take flight as its eyes bore into Jerome’s skull. He wondered if they could understand him.
“‘A feather for a quill? Really?’ Be careful, Jerome,” Rihal said with a glint in his eyes. “Sometimes, we release them to soar the air. And these falcons can hold a grudge.”
“What are you trying to say, Rihal?” Jerome asked. He clearly knew what Rihal trying was saying.
“If they catch you outside, they will maul you to death,” Rihal said and the falconer chortled as he got Jerome’s letter, bound in a tiny leather wrap.
Jerome snorted. “That’s not possible.”
“Not possible? After you asked for a feather? Oh, they will hunt you to the ends of the world.”
“Stop exaggerating, Rihal—” One of the falcons shot toward him like a blur. Jerome barely had time to dodge the talons that were aimed at his eyes. “Are you fucking kidding me!”
The falconer laughed uproariously. “Oh, that never gets old! Hahaha!”
Jerome scowled at the man. He sensed the man was more powerful than him as he could feel the weight of his presence at the edge of his senses. Then he turned his scowl at Rihal.
“What did he do?” he asked. “He did something, didn’t he?”
Rihal shrugged, smirking at him. Could he even consider this man his master? No master would sit and watch as his disciple almost get his eyes plucked out by a bird of prey.
“Some master you are, Rihal,” he muttered.
“And some disciple you are, Jerome. When was the last time you even called me master?”
“This is about protecting your disciple from birds of prey,” Jerome snorted. “If it had plucked out my eyes, I wouldn’t be able to train effectively.”
“You’ll adapt,” Rihal said with a shrug.
The falconer had stopped what he was doing at this moment and was just engrossed in their verbal spat, looking from one person to the other.
“No, I won’t. You’ll have to get me new eyes,” Jerome said.
Rihal smiled innocently saying, “Go meet the one who took out your eyes to get you new ones. Oh, wait. It’s a falcon and it just might rip out your ‘pee pee’ next.”
The falconer burst out laughing again as he held his jiggly stomach saying, “Oh, that’s a good one, Lord Rihal.”
“Here that?” Rihal said, pointing to the falconer. “‘Lord Rihal.’ That’s what I’m called you unfilial disciple.”
“Really? I thought that was a joke,” Jerome snorted but was fortunate enough to see the look on Rihal’s face. Even with the blindfold, he could tell he hit a nerve. He would have paid his weight in gold to see it again. He made sure not to let the edges of his lips quirk upward. The falconer also did his best not to laugh.
Then he hit again. “Calling you Lord is worse than calling you master. Your head would explode, Rihal. Seriously, I’m doing you a favor.”
“Why…you… You just don’t know how to filter your words, do you?” Rihal glared at him. “You better get ready for training tomorrow, because I won’t go easy on you. In fact, you’ve just proven you’re more than ready to begin the next phase of training that should come after tomorrow’s training.”
“What?!” Jerome’s jaw nearly fell. Was it because of what he said?
Rihal made an exaggerated show of thinking it through, caressing his beard. “Hmm. That settles it. We skip a level tomorrow.”