Rihal came to get him and they departed just before first light. They had a long way ahead of them, so there was no more dallying about. Rihal also didn’t stop to affirm how he felt or even address it, even though Jerome was fuming within. He had been told already that no one would cater to how he felt so he just sucked it up and kept silent. Didn’t mean he wasn’t mad at his cockheaded master.

They walked through many grand palaces, gardens, and ancient trees with fruits that gave off a powerful aroma. Jerome could see the heritage of the Royal family and he knew without a doubt that this was just the tip of the iceberg.

Rihal had said it was an estate here. All the houses — well, manors he was seeing looked extravagant. He looked back and wondered when the palaces gave way to manor houses. Maybe they had entered another section.

“These herb gardens contain powerful herbs used in alchemy to refine pills that help sacred artists in a number of things like overcoming bottlenecks, healing, and supplementing essence. Of course, the herb gardens are protected by powerful formations so stealing herbs is an impossibility, same for the fruit trees,” Rihal explained.

“What are the fruits in the trees called?” Jerome asked, forgetting his earlier anger towards Rihal.

“Plums. They contain a very high amount of vital energy. That’s all I know about them,” Rihal responded coldly.

Jerome looked at him, askance. Then he just openly glared at him. Wasn’t he the one who should be angry here? The man wore his usual apathetic look acting like he didn’t care about a thing in the world. You ain’t fooling me though, he thought.

Rihal didn’t have a tell. And since he couldn’t see his eyes there was no way to assume what he was thinking of feeling. But Jerome had been with him long enough to develop some sixth sense when it had to do with Rihal.

He didn’t know him like the back of his hand, but he could glimpse things from the way he responded in a conversation.

“One thing I can tell you though is that it’s better to advance without pills and also heal without them,” Rihal continued. “Pills carry a lot of impurities in them — same as the natural herbs and fruits. They’ll help you in the short term, but they’ll cause damage to your foundation in the long term.”

Jerome nodded before saying, “But if an alchemist can refine pills with little to no impurities, what then?”

“Never been done before.”

That was interesting. It would be one of the biggest achievements of humanity if alchemists could refine medicinal pills without impurities. They would need to do lots of tests. On sacred artists at that.

As it were, no one would risk damage to their foundation so even if such a breakthrough was discovered, alchemists would have to rely on capturing sacred artists to test their pills and potions. Or test it on themselves. And woe unto those who end up making poisons instead of cures.

Jerome was never fond of doctors on Earth. They must have done their best to keep him alive, but every new research and experiment turned him into their guinea pig. And he secretly loathed them for all the pain they caused him.

At this time, they had gone farther north, past the palaces, and all around them were trees and bushes but no clear path. Jerome decided to address the elephant in the room.

“You know, you didn’t have to go to such extremes just to prove a point.”

“I’ve found out that with you, Jerome, extremes are very effective,” Rihal answered. His stick vanished from his hand, and he took off the band covering his eyes, which also vanished.

Jerome was shocked. “How’d you do that?” he asked.

“Storage ring,” Rihal said, holding up his left hand to show a black ring on his index finger. “Try to keep up,” he said. But Jerome was looking into his eyes.

Rihal’s eyes had an intense, unnatural green color that contained an unusual pattern. They resembled emerald gems etched with a mysterious rune, emitting an eerie aura that left Jerome feeling as though he was being observed from every direction.

Rihal shot upwards jumping from tree to tree in a flash. Jerome quickly came back to his senses and shot after him. He didn’t bother asking. He knew Rihal wouldn’t give two farts about what he thought. And the man was angry with him, which meant short, quip answers, just as he had been doing since they left. But he was confused, nonetheless. This was the same guy who brought him to the orphanage twelve years ago.

What’s going on? Jerome thought. Bringing me to the orphanage, coming from time to time to tell stories and beat us up. That couldn’t have been a coincidence, right? Jerome was flabbergasted. There’s definitely something fishy going on.

Someone who clearly had astounding abilities like Rihal shouldn’t be playing nanny. He made up his mind to keep his eyes and ears peeled.

“Nice eyes,” he said after putting his thoughts together.

Rihal scoffed. “There’s nothing nice about them.”

Since he didn’t say more Jerome didn’t bother asking. “Can we agree not to do that…” he didn’t know what to call it, “thing again?”

This tale has been unlawfully lifted from Royal Road. If you spot it on Amazon, please report it.

“What thing?”

“The thing where you release your aura and blast it at me like you do essence when you fought me and the boys in the slums.”

Rihal chuckled but said nothing. So, no promises then. Shweet.

~~~

After traveling through the forest for about a quarter of the day, the duo stumbled upon a small clearing and decided to take a break before resuming their journey. As the sun began to rise from the east, its orange rays illuminated the sky, reflecting off the base of the clouds in the sky, and turning them into shades of pink and purple.

“Let’s rest here for a while,” Rihal said.

Turning towards Jerome, Rihal couldn’t help but be impressed by the boy’s stamina. Despite the long journey, he was still full of energy, a positive sign for what lay ahead. Nevertheless, Rihal knew that he needed to conserve his energy as much as possible, as there would likely be no time for rest once they reached their destination. They had spent too much time waiting for Jerome to recover after the incident in his room. If only the kid was not so hot-headed and curious.

Jerome found a spot near the edge of the clearing and sat down, cross-legged as he prepared to cycle. He slowed his breath and cleared his mind but remained vigilant of his surroundings. The spear, tucked away in the special holder at his back, was at the ready in case of any unexpected threats.

Rihal sat on a rock, silently observing Jerome cycle. As he watched, memories of Kaia — Jerome’s mother — flooded back, reminding him of the uncanny resemblance between the mother and son. From the way Jerome tied his hair to the little gestures he made, it was as if Kaia was right in front of him. She was also very inquisitive and was as stubborn as a mule.

As a member of the Royal family, Rihal knew that falling in love with a commoner was strictly prohibited. Matters of the heart were alien to him, but he couldn’t resist Kaia’s charm and they fell deeply in love. However, their love was doomed from the start. Them being young and naíve.

Rihal’s heart ached as he remembered his dead lover who was taken away from him because of their forbidden love. He worried for Jerome. Jerome never truly knew the love his mother had for him. He worried about what he was destined to become. He worried he’d never be able to help him. He hoped Jerome would be different from the others that came before him. He was tasked by the Royal family to train Jerome, but the boy had grown on him.

Rihal sighed. Hope was no foundation for the future one wanted. He already had Kilian researching ways to help Jerome keep his sanity but it had never been done before. Maybe they’d be the first to figure it out. Just maybe.

“Are you okay, Rihal?” Jerome asked, looking at him with concern. Was his worry that easy to detect?

Rihal quickly schooled his features and reined in his emotions. “I’m fine,” he said. “We should continue our journey since we’ve rested well enough.”

Rihal pushed the disturbing thoughts away to the deepest recesses of his mind. Jerome thought the rest of Farryn was like the slums he grew up in so he had to be firm; to be the hand of judgment and wrath…and at this time, the hand of caution. He took a deep breath and got up from the boulder signaling their departure. Jerome rose to his feet as well.

“That ‘thing’ where I make you weak in the knees and nearly suffocate you with my presence,” he said. “It’s called an ‘aura attack’. It’s used as a warning to subordinates or disciples to prevent them from doing foolish things.”

Rihal turned to look at Jerome and put some bite in his words. “There are three warnings served during a particular phase of one’s training, Jerome. Two more and you would lose your position as an apprentice. Do you understand that?”

The little devil nodded, visibly shaken and Rihal nodded back, satisfied. They continued their journey in silence until they arrived at another clearing with a tower at its center. The sun was almost at its peak in the sky when they arrived.

~~~

A massive tower loomed over the forest — a fortress, appearing out of place amidst the surrounding foliage. The structure was at least 60 feet high and dark gray in color. It looked like it was made from a single rock which in itself was an architectural miracle to his eyes.

Jerome marveled at it. He could see no interlocked stones. No evidence of construction was left behind by the masons who built this magnificent structure. Was this done with essence as well? How did they do it? It would have taken a massive amount of essence to build it!

Jerome looked over at Rihal as he contemplated whether to ask or not. But the clenching of his master’s jaw told him it probably wasn’t time for that. Jerome kept his peace.

As they approached the entrance, a young man in his mid-twenties emerged to greet them. The young man bowed lightly to Rihal as they drew nearer.

“Welcome, Lord Rihal,” he greeted with his right hand in a fist over the left side of his chest. That must be a customary greeting to those of noble status. Jerome filed it away in his memory.

Like Jerome, the guard donned a dark armor of hard-boiled leather which also displayed the crest of the Royal family. After briefly observing Jerome, he averted his gaze, indicating a lack of esteem for him.

Jerome gave a slight bow to the young man and Rihal nodded in acknowledgment and was led inside with Jerome following behind. The interior of the tower was rather spacious and spartan, with rough walls and floor. The ground floor which they stepped into was filled with Blanks of different ages.

As they walked in, all eyes turned to the newcomers, especially the Blanks who eyed Jerome, sizing him up as though they were looking for weaknesses to exploit.

Jerome’s eyes scanned the crowd of Blanks in the room, checking to see if there were familiar faces but found none. That’s disappointing, he thought to himself. But he understood that his friends were not Blanks so they couldn’t be here.

“Are we late or something?” He quietly asked Rihal but received only silence. Jerome fought the urge to look up at the man. One shouldn’t show uncertainty in times like these, so he just stood side by side with Rihal with a stern look on his face. And of course, they were late. After having spent more time getting himself together, others must have gotten here before them.

Rihal left his side and ascended a flight of stairs adjacent to the entrance. Jerome also walked up to the wall by his left to rest against it, closing his eyes and folding his arms as his vambraces clinked as they hit each other against his chest. Not long after he felt eyes on him, and someone walked up to him.

Jerome opened his eyes to scrutinize the stranger. He was a head taller than Jerome, good-looking with red-brown hair styled in a half-cut — a very rare hair color in Farryn since everyone he’d ever seen had black hair. The lower portion of his hair, from his temples down, was shaved low, and the rest of his hair was fashioned into a top knot. On his breastplate was the carving of something shaped like a person transforming into dust — his family crest, and it was intricately designed. He looked to be sixteen and arrogant. A bully.

Upon careful observation of the teenager’s family crest, one family popped up in Jerome’s head.

Alvric, House of the Wind Spirit.