…Sharthu could never tame me!...

…N’tdaea brought his legions against me!...

The heavens were torn asunder!

The sea split in two!

Alas!

They are nowhere to be found!

For I alone stand victorious!

I,

Alvric!

“Listen Hedon, they shouldn’t have to pay for my mista—”

Blood sprayed out of Doti’s neck as Hedon severed his head.

Jerome woke up with a start, breathing hard. He quickly initiated the breathing technique Layla taught him. It wouldn’t take him into a trance, but it helped calm his nerves. He’d been having this nightmare for a while now, and anger and frustration came along with it, souring his day. He washed in a bowl of water he had prepared the night before and got ready for the day’s training.

Checking his uniform made him smile a bit. He was an initiate now. The bright blood-red robe, folded in the drawer in his bed, had the crest of the Royal Family on it. Jerome sighed. He picked one up and proceeded to put it on. It was a bit loose, but that was probably the tailor understanding that he’d grow into it soon enough.

Jerome met Rihal outside his room. He gave his master a questioning look, wondering what he was doing here.

“We won’t be training in the hall today,” Rihal said. “Follow me.”

They went outside the palace and traveled about half a mile west of Kilian’s palace. The trek was slow and arduous, strenuous on his muscles. They stopped in front of a hilly terrain.

“Wow,” he said, sweating profusely.

The place was picturesque in a rough kind of way. He could tell that people use the place regularly. Boot prints were all over the place. A few trees dotted the landscape and he could see contraptions hanging from their branches, some swaying in the light breeze.

Beyond the landscape was a backdrop of greenery — forests and the mountains far in the distance. He breathed in the fresh air and looked to his immediate environment, taking his time to study the contraptions hanging from the tree branches. He’d never seen anything like them before, yet he knew they were for training.

“Couldn’t you royals just build standard equipment?” he grumbled.

“We ‘royals’?” Rihal asked with a raised eyebrow. Jerome shrugged unapologetically. His tone, downright rude and insulting but he wasn’t going to apologize.

“Don’t take out your anger on every royal, Jerome. They did nothing to incur that anger,” Rihal said in a cautious tone.

Jerome crossed the ground to a boulder where a long stick was lying. “Who owns this?”

“No one.”

“Finders keepers, then.” he took the stick and chucked it into a storage bag. Better to have more than one walking stick.

Rihal waved his hand forward and a few large logs of wood materialized in the air in front of him, falling to the ground. They were all attached to a rope, which was attached to a set of leather belts.

“This is your training for the day. You pull them all up the hill, and back down until you drop.”

“So, just like the crab then. Schweet,” he said dryly as he took off his red initiate robe and trudged toward the logs to start his training.

~~~

Rihal

“He’s one determined child, isn’t he?”

“Hmm,” Rihal answered. “Why are you here, Idrel?”

Idrel Vorthe chuckled. “Came to see what all the fuss was about.”

Rihal looked at him from the side. He had appeared out of nowhere as Jerome began his training. The viper didn’t concern himself with disciples of the Royal Family so what was he doing here now?

“If that’s all, then you can leave.” His voice was cold and emotionless. He didn’t know why Idrel was here, but he wouldn’t give him the satisfaction of pissing him off..

“Am I not welcome?” Idrel asked, his mocking voice slow as he purred like a cat.

“You’re not,” Rihal replied.

“Why so cold?” Idrel said and chuckled coldly.

Rihal didn’t bother answering. Idrel was a conniving viper and always had some trickery up his sleeves. He couldn’t even get rid of Idrel if he wanted to since they were both Spirit Realm artists and under the tutelage of Damien Vorthe.

Idrel chuckled again as he watched Jerome from a distance trudge up the hill, pulling heavy logs of wood with him. Rihal was disgusted with him. The man took pleasure in other people’s sufferings. Something none of the other Vorthes had in common with him as far as he could tell — not even Idrel’s own parents. He was an enigma.

“So, this is your disciple who’ll be joining the Royal Sprouts to Terra Praeta, huh?” Idrel purred. “Nothing much about him.”

So that’s what this is about. If only you knew who he is…what he is, Rihal thought to himself but ignored Idrel. That drawl in Idrel’s voice was beginning to grate on his nerves but he held back from punching the mouth that spoke with it.

“They’re not happy that a cripple is joining them.”

“Is that so?”

Idrel looked at Rihal for a moment. “I know he’s your disciple and all, but he doesn’t have Royal blood,” Idrel paused, possibly to let that sink in. “And neither is he nobleborn so, how did you get him on the list in the first place?”

Rumors were that Idrel was once in the presence of the Sovereign, and ever since then, he had taken to talking slowly, being more reserved with his words.

“You love the sound of your own voice, don’t you?” Rihal said with a smirk. The viper sounded like he was desperate for information. He could hear it in his tone, no matter how relaxed and nonchalant he tried to sound.

Rihal saw the displeasure on Idrel’s face and his smirk widened. Jerome being his disciple was clearly not ‘license enough’ to qualify for Terra Praeta. No. Terra Praeta was meant for the Scions of Vorthe. Even Rihal had no answer to why Jerome was going. But he wasn’t going to reveal that bit.

“If that’s what you wanted to know all along, you should have led with it. Could have saved yourself all the trouble, don’t you think?” Rihal looked at him and smirked again. He paused after that, stretching the silence to uncomfortable levels.

“So?” Idrel asked, almost out of impatience. Rihal thought his voice sounded a ‘wee’ bit faster there.

“What?” Rihal asked back.

“How did you get him on the list?” Idrel asked.

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“Mmmmm,” Rihal breathed out with a sigh and a contemplating look on his face.

Idrel lost his cool immediately. If he didn’t know what Rihal was doing, he had been training in vain all his life. Rihal on the other hand was taking pleasure in the position the viper had put himself. One of the recipient’s.

So this is how it feels to possess knowledge others want, Rihal thought to himself. “Are you well, Idrel?”

“Hrmgh.” the viper grunted out a response.

“It’s just, you’re turning beet red.”

Idrel’s gaze met Rihal’s with burning fury. His face was transformed by his anger as his facial muscles twitched. Every disciple of Damien Vorthe was taught the value of patience. They had to go through a lot to learn patience, which was a continual learning process, for patience was a state of being. Idrel knew this and so did Rihal.

Idrel quickly cycled to get his nerves under control. “If you’re not going to tell me, then fine. But your disciple...tsk, tsk, tsk,” he shook his head with mock pity. “He’ll be alone out there.”

But Rihal didn’t react to that, which he knew surprised Idrel a little. He had always been the most emotional among Damien Vorthe’s disciples, so it stood to reason that he should show some reaction.

Rihal knew this, even though he could do nothing about the way he felt at times. But knowledge about oneself was power. And he had restrained himself, armed with the awareness that that knowledge could be used against him. Especially by someone like Idrel.

Rihal chuckled. “Knowledge is power, Idrel. Weren’t we taught that? We’re The Nediti, and we find answers where others may not.”

In other words, ‘Figure that shit out yourself.’

They both stood quietly for a while, enjoying the fresh air of the outdoors.

“Name your price, Rihal.”

“First rule of negotiation: Most things have a price…most things, Idrel, not everything.” His message was clear. He was not selling whatever the viper was buying.

Idrel smiled at him. “Well, don’t say I didn’t warn you.” He chortled as he walked away.

~~~

Jerome sat down at the foot of the hill breathing heavily. His core was sealed so he could train with just his physical strength. Right now he felt sore all over and just wanted to crawl into bed and sleep. The shaking in his right hand was back and he could only cycle at a snail’s pace to send essence to it to relieve the pain. His right leg was also hurting badly as he felt the muscles pull in it. His body wasn’t healing as fast as it used to anymore.

“That’s enough training for the day,” Rihal said as he walked up to him, throwing him a waterskin bag full of water.

Jerome snatched it out of the air and took a long swig of its content. “Who was that?” he asked.

“He’s a colleague of mine. His name’s Idrel but we call him ‘The Viper’.”

“He sure looks sleazy.” The man had long black hair that he tied into a ponytail. He wore black leather that Jerome caught sight of briefly during their conversation. Like Rihal he also wore a black coat. Was that a uniform of sorts?

Now that he thought about it, he never asked what Rihal did. What did royals do? Were they just royals in name only? Or was there a duty that they fulfilled in this estate and the kingdom at large?

“Hmm. Be on guard if you ever find yourself around him,” Rihal said, bringing him out of his musings.

Jerome took another swig and looked at Rihal for a moment. “Should I be worried?”

Rihal’s gaze remained on him for a while before he spoke. “Not everyone is comfortable with you joining this adventure, Jerome.”

Jerome turned those words in his head for a while. “And why is that?” he asked.

“They say you’re crippled.”

“Screw them,” Jerome said. He’d show them what a cripple could do. Rihal chuckled.

“Why am I allowed to go on this adventure anyway? Truth be told, I am kind of crippled,” Jerome said. His gaze was steady as he observed Rihal.

“Well, that’s your answer right there,” Rihal said.

“What aren’t you telling me, Rihal?” he asked, keeping his gaze on Rihal’s.

“We really hope to find something that could help you,” Rihal said. “It’s a miracle that your core is steady and strong. It could have been a whole lot worse than this… I know it hurts to cycle, Jerome.”

Jerome looked away from him at that. That was an understatement. It more than hurt to cycle.

The silence between them stretched for a while. He thought about the things he remembered from Blade’s Edge Canyon. Things that shouldn’t be possible. He touched the scar on his chest again. To confirm it was still there. His mind was foggy from the fight, but he could have sworn a sword had pierced through his heart, that he had… died.

Jerome shook his head to keep his train of thoughts. A lot of things weren’t adding up. How did he survive Hedon’s blade to his heart? He should be dead. And somehow he knew in his gut that Rihal knew something. Or he knew more than he was letting on.

He remembered his discussion with Kilian the day after they came back from Pilgrims’ Keep. They had said he had an episode during Pilgrims’ Keep. He was sure they were talking about his rage. That damned rage that didn’t let up during those times.

Jerome’s suspicion only grew. What was he missing? Or was he asking the wrong questions? His eyes narrowed at Rihal causing his master to raise an eyebrow at him with a questioning look, as if daring him to ask.

“But that’s not all, is it, Rihal?” It was time to put pressure on his master, maybe let on that he had heard some things.

“What are you talking about?” Rihal asked. His voice was calm and curious. Like he had no idea what was being said. Jerome wasn’t convinced though.

“You know what I’m talking about, Rihal,” he said. “What did Lord Kilian mean when he said I had an episode during Pilgrims’ Keep?”

Rihal’s brows rose in surprise as his dark eyes widened. Jerome was still getting used to him having eyes that were normal. “You heard that?”

“I did,” he replied dryly.

They both stared at each other for a while. Jerome held his master’s gaze as he waited for an answer. The silence between them stretched out until Rihal finally spoke.

“You can’t unknow it once you know it.”

More silence. Jerome was determined not to budge until his master gave him an answer.

“How about this?” Rihal finally said. “You come back safely from your adventure, and I’ll tell you all you need to know.”

“A man is the sum total of his words, Rihal.”

Rihal gave him a pointed look. “I taught you that.”

“You did,” he said with a nod. “And now I’m reminding you of it.”

That must have hurt. He could see it in Rihal’s eyes. Betrayal. At least that was what it looked like. Maybe that was too much.

Jerome sighed, conceding the staring match. He couldn’t hold his master’s gaze any longer. He had just spoken out of turn and his conscience wouldn’t let him continue to be stubborn. He shouldn’t have used those words. But looking away was as much ‘sorry’ as he was going to say.

Me and my big mouth, he thought, standing up from the ground. The sun was still high in the sky and he was done with training for the day. Or was he? He turned to Rihal to ask.

“We’re done for today,” his master said, still looking at him with that gaze that said he felt betrayed.

And Jerome still couldn’t look him in the eyes. “Right. I’ll just go.” Best not to waste the day sleeping away, he thought as he shuffled back to Kilian’s Palace.

Instead of going to his room, Jerome went straight to the library. The same librarian at the front desk was there to attend to him. The young man looked up when he walked in.

“Senior,” he greeted with a stiff bow. There was emotion in his eyes. Ones Jerome knew very well — shock and frustration. Jerome noticed he was still wearing his apprentice robe. Did that mean he was still Blank? Not his problem though.

Jerome nodded back and asked. “Am I still using that section?” He was now very aware that he wasn’t wearing his former bracelet that was used as an identifier. He didn’t know if that would affect him now but said nothing.

“No, senior. Initiates occupy another wing of the library. A moment please.”

The librarian walked out of his cubicle and led him to the new wing. The moment he got there, he saw Rihal speaking to other initiates. They all scampered off the moment they saw him. He gave Rihal a suspicious look. “Was that necessary?”

His master looked him in the eye unrepentantly. “I sent them away so they wouldn’t be a burden on you. You’re Sprout now, and Sprouts like to size themselves up, looking for who to dominate. As you are now, you’d be an easy picking.”

Jerome frowned but he understood his master and was secretly grateful. He wouldn’t admit it though.

“I’ll be taking my leave now, senior,” the librarian who led him to the new section said, shaking in fear. Jerome had almost forgotten about him. “My Lord.” he bowed reverently to Rihal and quickly ran away in fear.

“Isn’t it surprising,” Rihal said, looking in the direction of the librarian who had run off.

“What?” Jerome asked.

“That librarian became Blank before you. But here you are… A Sprout in the flesh. But he’s still Blank.”

Jerome wondered about it too. “What is your point, Rihal?”

“Would it hurt to speak to me with respect, Jerome?... To call me master?”

Jerome looked away, frowning. Rihal was dreaming if he thought he’d hear him call him master. “I’d like to read without distractions, Rihal.”

“Very well.” Rihal dropped a small leather-bound book on a table beside the nearest shelf. When had he moved toward the shelf? “Read this. It contains information about the nature of the elements and the forces — some of the forces. This,” he said, pulling out another book from the shelf, “will teach you the basics of summoning your essence outside your body.”

Rihal’s voice was edgy with a hint of annoyance. But he was calm. He rubbed his eyes tiredly and stepped away from the shelf, leaving without saying a word.

Jerome stood there nonplussed, staring at the books. He knew he was acting like a little kid, throwing a tantrum, but he couldn’t help himself. He had so much anger inside him and had no one to direct it at. He limped over to the table and sat down to read. These were books he needed right now.