Farryn. The Estate of House Ullysius. The House of Masonry and Construction.

The Estate of House Ullysius was close to the bustling City Square in Farryn. A large estate that was made of strong bricks and built to rival that of the Great Clans — at least that was what his seniors said. Whisper wouldn’t know since he had never been to any other noble house. This house though, House Ullysius, the house that took him in as a disciple was all he could have ever asked for.

House Ullysius’ kilns were the best things Whisper had ever experienced in his life. Warm throughout the day and night, he had gotten used to the warmth that always seeped into the hut he shared with his fellow novices. Never in his life had he had such comfort and warmth.

Nights were always cold in the orphanage and dawn even more so. There were never enough blankets to use for covers so he was usually awakened by the cold.

He sat in meditation as he thought of the various kilns around the estates firing bricks all day long.

The kilns were a marvel to his eyes; buildings heated to uncomfortable temperatures to bake dirt instead of bread. He had no idea how dirt would harden when heated. Jerome would be able to explain how it worked, he knew. He knew a lot of things and it was times like these that Whisper missed him. The structures were meticulously positioned around the estate to not only bake bricks and clay objects but also to provide warmth for everyone living in the estate.

Whisper smiled, taking a deep breath and sucking in a strand of essence. He rotated his core as fast as he could to quickly absorb the strand of essence to make it his own. He had noticed that every time essence entered his body, it passed through different pathways before it got to his core. If his core wasn’t rotating, he lost the chance to make the strand of essence his. Which meant one opportunity lost to becoming Blank.

He had to catch up. According to Ms. Tara’s letters, Jerome was already Blank. Somehow, he wasn’t surprised. It was just like him to be ahead of everyone else. Jerome was going to do great things as a sacred artist. He could tell with everything in him. He just had to keep up is all. He didn’t want to be the most powerful sacred artist out there, just powerful enough to keep up. And stand with Jerome. And his friends. And Ms. Tara and Old Wen. Moss too.

“Whisper,” one of his rank mates called to him.

Whisper sighed and stopped his meditation. It was fortunate that he was able to get a little time to meditate and cycle. He seemed to have the misfortune of being with a bunch of lazy Drudges who thought nothing of cycling and advancing their core.

“What is it, Thirteen?”

“You hear someone come from Big House?”

Thirteen was reclined on a bundle of hay that was resting on the wall of the hut. He sucked on the piece of bone that had dried out already. The boy meant someone came from one of the Great Houses. This piqued Whisper’s interest.

“Which of the Houses?”

“Er, I no know. Just…wear armor,” he said, gesturing with his hands for a moment before he continued sucking on the bone.

Whisper thought about it a little. From what he knew, they were not set to transport any order of bricks or tiles in another moon cycle. It must be business that didn’t concern him so there was no need to concern himself with it. He got ready to center himself so he could continue cycling. He needed all of his concentration if he was going to advance really fast.

Someone hit the door of the hut, walking in like they owned the place, and distracting him. Whisper almost snapped in irritation. He took a deep breath as Thirteen got up to confront the person, who happened to be a senior disciple. An apprentice by the looks of it. His brown robes also held some leather stitched to them. Whisper couldn’t wait for the day he received his own brown robes.

“Senior!” they greeted in shock and bowed slightly.

The senior in question grunted in reply and looked around the hut with a scowl. Then his gaze settled on the novices occupying it.

“Which one of you is Whisper?”

“I am, senior,” Whisper said. “How may I help you?”

“You’ve been summoned by the Foreman. You’re to follow me immediately,” he said and walked out of the hut.

Whisper almost ran after him. His mind raced through what could be the reason why he was being summoned. He had always been dutiful and excellent at doing whatever task was given to him. He had never broken clay goods during unloading or loading. Why was he being called then? He had no answer. He could think of nothing that pointed toward a specific problem or task.

He thought to ask the senior in front of him but the young man was acting like someone had eaten his meal this morning. He decided to keep shut and wait until they got to the foreman. When they did get to the foreman, he just started walking toward the inner parts of the estate. Whisper could do nothing but follow.

He summoned up the courage to ask. “Forgiveness senior. Might I ask what is going on?”

The foreman looked at him with a weird look before speaking. “Do you know House Alvric?”

“I do, senior. They are one of the four Great Houses.”

“Well, for some reason, they seem to have taken interest in you.”

Whisper was elated. Was this a sign? It must be a sign. But he schooled his features, acting worried.

“Do not worry your little head,” the foreman said. “You’re brilliant and can already read and count. Maybe they heard about that and wanted to take you in as a disciple.”

“But there are many others that can read and write. Why me?” Whisper asked. Thankfully, the foreman was easier to approach.

“Many people who can read and write are already grown up and have their own opinions and priorities. Nobles tend to look for fresh blood to raise. Such younglings’ allegiance would only be to them in the long run.”

“That makes sense,” he muttered in thought.

They kept on walking in silence for a while.

Did you know this story is from Royal Road? Read the official version for free and support the author.

“Apologies, senior. I do have a question,” Whisper said.

“Go ahead.”

“Thank you, senior. When we say, ‘Great Clan’ and ‘Great House’, what’s the difference?”

The foreman chuckled. “They mean what they say. ‘The Great Clan’ or any clan for that matter, is a clan of many houses or families. The Great House is the house or family that is the ruling house of that clan. All other houses or families in that clan are called Branch Houses.”

“Oooh,” Whisper nodded his head in realization. He never knew that was how things worked.

~~~

The Northern Mountain Range. Pilgrims’ Keep.

The humming was very loud now. Every other sound receded into the background of his mind as Jerome stood on a dust-colored boulder looking into a small hole by its side.

It's coming from inside there. He could sense no danger so he got down and reached his hand into the hole. A stone?

The humming stopped. His mind cleared as the murderous impulses receded. He had never felt so clear-headed in a long while. His muscles ached now.

Sleep, he thought, sweet sleep.

Suddenly, the hairs on his skin rose, alerting him to the presence of another. Jerome sighed, raking his tousled hair with stiff fingers.

You have got to be kidding me, he thought. This presence was different. It could sense him too. A predator, and a powerful one at that. He stored away his find getting ready to do battle. This might be the most dangerous magical beast he faced today. His senses screamed at him again alerting him to a change in the creature. It seems this creature can sense my intentions, he thought with a wistful smile. It was somewhere around. But where?

The wind seemed to calm and even the chirping of birds came to a halt. The tension in the air could seemingly be sliced with a knife. One breath...two breaths...three breaths. Jerome dashed out running left and the creature chased after him.

Fast! he thought. And it can climb too, are you kidding me?! Jerome spared a glance at the creature and his heart nearly dropped to his stomach. Black slanted pupils with a yellow deadly glint stared back at him. An Ice-Saber?

He quickly put on a burst of speed as he pushed himself more. This cat was not to be messed with.

The Ice-Saber was hot on his tail. It stretched its paws as it jumped off a tree branch to claw at Jerome’s head. Jerome quickly dropped to the floor of the forest. The Ice-Saber Cat was emitting a chilling aura already. It had already begun tapping into the power of its bloodline.

The cat rebounded off another tree to face Jerome, but he had taken off in another direction already. I’ve got to come up with a plan, he thought.

He looked around searching for something, anything. He felt frustrated and his emotions were in turmoil again. Something tore into the back of his neck, drawing blood. The Ice-Saber opened its massive jaws to crush Jerome’s skull. It quickly sensed an incoming threat as Jerome stabbed toward it with his spear.

The Ice-Saber dodged but didn’t let go of its prey. Jerome felt pain shoot up his spine as sharp claws dug into his skin and they fell sideways. Blood sprayed everywhere staining the grasses and trees.

Jerome saw red. He let go of the control of his emotions and went mad with rage. With a strength that should surpass him, he reached behind him and crushed the Saber’s paw.

The saber roared in pain. Something about its prey had changed, and now it felt like the prey. A fist came at its jaw and crushed it. The saber lashed out but the human didn’t even dodge. Its other paw drew blood from Jerome’s chest, ruining his leather armor.

Prey that had no care for its life was deadly prey. The Saber backed up, trying to bolt, but Jerome stabbed at it again and again. With a damaged paw, it needed to heal before it could use its legs and a wounded beast was a dead beast in these lands. Jerome rushed forward and smacked the already broken jaw of the Saber. It collapsed to the floor, breathing hard. He stabbed it through the heart as it whined like a cub. Its legs twitched continuously for a while before it stilled.

Jerome got down on one knee, holding his spear and breathing hard. His body shook and his legs felt like they had turned to jelly. He reached into himself to cycle, sending essence to his injuries to heal him. He had to get out of the open. He needed rest, a good kind of rest.

But wait, he thought. How did I defeat an Ice-Saber Cat? One that has already begun to tap into its bloodline powers.

~~~

“The rat thinks he can become a Warrior.”

“Do you think the Royal Family gives a damn about you?” someone else said.

Another tried to sneak behind him. He moved with blinding speed and caught the one in front of him in the throat. He threw him into the boy behind him and in the same fluid motion, hit the first who spoke in the chest.

“Two, stop!”

‘Huh? Was that my name?’ he stopped and faced the newcomer. ‘No, that’s not my name. My name is…’ he tilted his head in confusion. The newcomer was tall and regal, like a king… He had on the breastplate of his armor, a crest of a golden sun with an eye at its center. ‘Vorthe! My name is Jerome!’

The newcomer unleashed a lash in his hand Two didn’t see before. “You dare lay a hand on members of the Royal family?!” he lashed out with the whip.

Two watched as the whip drew closer, unable to do anything but stare. He wanted to move, to run…but his legs responded as if they weren’t his. His hands refused to come up to block the incoming whip. The whip smacked him just below his left eye, causing pain to flare in him, and an anger like no other was borne in him. Murderous rage was kindled in him and he forced himself — his body — to respond to him. After the third strike, Two caught the whip and yanked it out of the hand of the Overseer.

Jerome watched all this happen through the eyes of his incarnation. Amazed at what he saw. The Overseer was probably a Sage. From his midnight black robes that identified him as a master. And Two was a Spirit Realm artist. His emerald green robes identified him as an Adept. How was he able to resist the aura attack of a Sage?

Two attacked — the master not the Royals. He was fast and hit hard. The Overseer didn’t become flustered, only putting some space between Two and the Royals to protect them. That was when Jerome heard himself growl. Like an animal. Something that shouldn’t be possible with the vocal cavity of a human. The growl carried something with it — a force of will. An intent that made him shiver down to his bones.

Thoughts of carnage and hunger filled his mind as his heart pounded louder and louder within his ribs, drowning every other sound around him. The fight between Two and the Overseer, forgotten, Jerome was inundated with terror. Terror that he was going to become…

He woke up in a panic, breathing hard. What the fuck was that?