The whole hall was decorated in golden backdrops and large orbs hovered in the air like chandeliers giving off a soft, soothing light. There was a feeling of incongruence, however, as Jerome felt like he wasn’t there, yet he felt he could reach for it.
“This is a fascinating artifact, Sovereign,” he said looking at the glowing orb in the Sovereign’s hand.
“It is,” the Sovereign replied. “One of the wonders of artifact-refining created in this day and age.”
“It feels like I can reach for the other side and touch it, even though I know I can’t,” Jerome said. He tried experimenting with his perception to see if he could learn anything from the projection. Nothing. That was disappointing, he thought, feeling like he wasted precious energy. Mental energy wasn’t infinite, and it wasn’t easy to rejuvenate.
“That is because of the Dream Aura, interwoven into the projection,” the Sovereign explained.
“Dream aura? …never heard of it,” Jerome said, his interest piqued. For some reason, he remembered Ash’s words about how Layla’s technique made her feel. “It makes me sleepy,” Ash had said.
“Hmm,” the Sovereign nodded, “You should have experienced it with the Sprout who put you in a trance. She used dream aura: a form of energy used for making the unreal feel real.”
“That’s incredible!” Jerome blurted out, unable to hold himself back. “Forgiveness, Sovereign. But this dream aura is not an aspect of the natural auras in the world, is it?” His fervor and thirst for knowledge was almost pulsing out of his skin.
“Hmm. It could be said to be unnatural. In the same vein, it could be said to be natural. We produce it inside us when we slumber. But it takes an advanced sacred artist to tap into it.”
“But how did Layla do it then?”
“Bloodline, Jerome… bloodline.”
“Ah,” Jerome muttered in realization. It sure was comfy to be born into a powerful Clan. First the Epos which could only be passed down through bloodlines, and now this. “But Sovereign, Vorthe wields light. How did she—”
“That is as much as I can tell you about it, child,” the Sovereign interrupted.
Jerome let it drop. But not the topic of the dream aura. “If I may, Sovereign. One can feel the aura of the natural essences around them; earth, water, air, wood, fire, and metal. The aura of the forces, however, affects the senses like how sword force stings the eyes.
“This dream aura should most definitely be one of the forces since it has the ability to affect the senses by making the unreal feel real… or putting people to sleep. So why isn’t it called ‘dream force’?” Jerome asked. It sounded cringy to his ears though.
The Sovereign smiled and looked up at him. “Okay, what do you think the forces are?”
“They are aspects of the wider universe. Just as the elements are attributes of the material world.”
The Sovereign looked impressed for a moment. “So which one does this… ‘dream force’ fall under?”
“Well…” Jerome took a deep breath and exhaled loudly, thinking. “It can’t be called dream essence because it functions like a force. Yet it is produced by sentient beings when they sleep so… it can’t also be called a force because… it’s a product of our minds and not a force of the universe.”
“So you see, it doesn’t fall under any established category,” the Sovereign said. “It’s a mutation, Jerome. A mutation created by sentient beings — albeit, unknowingly. It is somewhat like vital aura. Some call it vital essence but it actually does not function like essence. If you notice, it is not written in books as one of the essence. Even you did not mention it just now.”
Jerome nodded in understanding. It never crossed his mind to ask though. He had never had any encounter with vital essence. To him, it was but a foreign concept.
“Advancing as a sacred artist is a means to defy nature, a means to defy universal laws, even if those laws assist said advancement.”
“Defying universal laws?” Jerome was stomped. “And the universe still helps sacred artists advance?”
The Sovereign’s next words hit him really hard. Especially since he spoke so slowly.
“Are we not mutations ourselves, Jerome? Isn’t it proper for the birth of mutations to happen in essence and forces? Don’t you think such happenstance is synonymous with us as sacred artists?”
Jerome’s mouth went dry and he gulped down hard. He didn’t know what to say to that. Every of the Sovereign’s words were ringing true in his heart but his head couldn’t keep up!
“You will come to understand as you advance, Jerome.”
His mind understood the theory behind the Sovereign’s words. Yet it still couldn’t fathom how it could be possible. Or it could, just… maybe it was his humanity that interfered with what he thought should be within the boundaries of possibility.
True. Such things should have a limit placed on them by the universe, shouldn’t they? Yet the universe helps sacred artists, even if they were defying it. How the fuck does that make any sense?!
He had questions but didn’t even know how to phrase them. The Sovereign revealed a lot in those statements without revealing much at all, giving him more questions than answers. He decided to ask about the masterpiece that was the artifact used for projecting scenes from other locations.
Rihal had talked about them on his way back from Pilgrims’ Keep. They were used to observe what went on during the pilgrimage.
“If I may, Sovereign. What is this artifact called?” Jerome asked.
The Sovereign smiled lightly. “It doesn’t have a name yet. It is a newly developed artifact after all.”
“I thought it was the same as the ones used during Pilgrims’ Keep.”
“No, it is not. Those ones are not as mobile as this one. They have to be mounted to a spot. They are called ‘Transmission Tablets’. For them to work the scenes to be displayed have to be transmitted from another transmission tablet floating in the air.
“So there are two types: the floating tablet, and the mounted tablet. And they work together to produce the images and sounds. This one, however, doesn’t need to work in a set to function within five thousand feet.”
Which meant after five thousand feet, it would need to be connected to another of its kind in that vicinity.
“Incredible,” Jerome said with a smile. Vorthe clearly was advancing, even if he knew nothing about it, and even if the direction of their advancement was weirdly different from what he knew and felt it should be.
Technological advancement wasn’t linear after all. He felt this was a wonderful moment for him. He was witnessing a new technology in this world. It made him feel fortunate to be here. “If I may, Sovereign. I have a name in mind…if you’re willing to consider it.”
“Go on,” the Sovereign said absently.
“A projector,” Jerome said. “Because it projects.” It felt pretty good saying it out loud. Just to be sure the Sovereign appreciated the name, he glanced sideways. The Sovereign didn’t give away any clue as to whether he liked the name or not.
“That is a good name,” the Sovereign said at last. “We were thinking of calling it a ‘crystal of…something’, whatever that was would be sorted out by Fesir Vorthe, the Royal Artificer — it was his work after all.” The Sovereign looked Jerome in the eyes with a playful smile. “But it seems you beat him to it. Be careful, lest he takes out his frustration on you for taking credit for his work.”
Wait, what?! Jerome thought. He didn’t sign up for this! Now, he’d have to deal with a Sage because of a name? “Forgiveness, Sovereign, but this is a joke, right?” he asked, hoping against hope that the Sovereign truly was joking.
The Sovereign just smiled without answering. Fesir Vorthe really would find a way to get back at Jerome for this — Jerome being the fated Dark One had also worsened things already. It wasn’t his concern though. Children would always be children, and what were they all but children in his eyes.
“A projector,” the Sovereign said. “I like it. It is simple and complete in its meaning.” He held the glowing orb up as if he was seeing it for the first time.
Jerome felt helpless. It seemed the Sovereign was done discussing the matter. He should have thought twice before doing this thankless job. But on the flip side, it seems I’d be able to get a small ounce of revenge from this for being treated like a puppet by the Royal Artificer, he thought and straightened his back.
He still remembered how he was treated when he got back from Pilgrims’ Keep. how they took his storage bag and fished whatever they wanted out of it.
The Sovereign looked at him for a moment. “You have a habit of speaking informally.”
It felt like an accusation, somewhat. “I mean no disrespect, Sovereign.” he quickly bowed his head.
“Somehow, though, it feels okay. Refreshing, really,” the Sovereign continued as if he hadn’t spoken. “No one else has the guts to do this and it amuses me. Mayhaps, because speaking informally comes naturally for you.”
Jerome could already tell that he wasn’t someone too strict with being official or traditional.
“Do you see those people walking in?” the Sovereign segued immediately, gesturing with his chin at the banquet.
This tale has been unlawfully lifted from Royal Road; report any instances of this story if found elsewhere.
“Yes, Sovereign,” Jerome responded.
“They are Shape Shifters. They can take the form of animals whose cores they bond with,” the Sovereign explained. “They are most active at night, and they live deep in the Redwood forest, West of Farryn.”
Jerome found these Shifters quite interesting. The men among them were huge with thick arms and thick facial hair, their hair as long as his, reaching past their shoulders — which was strange because Jerome had seen very few men with long hair in Farryn, the Sovereign included.
The women among them were lithe with tanned skin and had a wild kind of beauty. They gave off a predatory aura like they were territorial and lived in the wild. Their clothing was mostly leather hide and was very revealing. They oozed wild sexuality, a kind you never sense with the women of Farryn.
“If I may Sovereign, I’ll take a guess, and assume they bond mostly with wolves,” Jerome said excitedly. This was far more interesting than anything he’d ever seen in Farryn.
“Hmmm. The lot of them do,” the Sovereign said. “But there are also felines amongst them.” The Sovereign took a moment to study Jerome’s countenance. “You seem rather excited about them,” he said. He could feel that the kid found the Shifters fascinating—which was rare. Most people would be appalled by the mere mention of someone who bonded with the core of a magical beast.
“Hmm?” Jerome caught himself. “Ahem, no, I’m not,” he denied. It was best not to let the Sovereign know what was going through his head if he could help it.
“Hmm. They are quite dangerous. They take on the traits of the predators whose cores they bond with,” the Sovereign warned.
“So when you say ‘Shifters’, you mean they can literally transform into wolves...” Jerome was saying.
“You did not listen to a word I said, did you?” the Sovereign remarked and his presence filled the room like a tide, threatening to tear everything to shreds! The invisible walls vibrated in the wake of the Sovereign’s emotional outburst.
Jerome’s knees buckled and he hit the floor hard, trembling. The Sovereign quickly calmed himself, retracting the influence of his emotions.
“Sorry about that,” the Sovereign said curtly. “You are unlike most people, Jerome. Others tend to be predictable around me. Loyal. Obedient to a fault… You, on the other hand, are not.” He sounded like he was playing an interesting game.
“Having greater power than everyone around you gets boring easily. Everyone just does what you say, no questions asked. You little runt, on the other hand, make things quite interesting,” he finished, looking at Jerome on the floor with a playful smile on his face.
Jerome picked himself from the floor still shivering from the after-effects of the Sovereign’s outburst. “Ahem. Well, I’m glad you find my company amusing, Sovereign,” he said with a little humor in his voice as he straightened out his robes.
He knew the Sovereign didn’t do whatever he did to chide him, it was just an outburst — which gave him a very clear perspective of the magnitude of the Sovereign’s powers! But surprisingly, he became fired up, and he could feel something swell in his chest!
A new goal to strive for. Which was to one day wield powers on par with the Sovereign’s — maybe even greater!
“So…?” Jerome tried to urge the Sovereign to answer his previous question, the Sovereign’s outburst, all but a distant memory.
“The party is yet to begin,” the Sovereign said with a knowing smile. “You should feast your eyes all you want on the beautiful dames of the night creatures.”
Jerome was quite displeased by this, I can’t believe this Sovereign can’t take a hint. Are they like what I’ve read in fictional novels? Do they turn on the full moon? Is it a full moon right now? Wait, I can go outside to check now, can’t I?
He looked at the Sovereign to check if he could get permission to leave, but the Sovereign wasn’t paying attention to him anymore. Jerome grumbled to himself at the Sovereign’s inattentiveness. But he was grateful the Sovereign couldn’t read his mind anymore. He remembered something he wanted to ask and put his question through.
“Forgiveness, Sovereign. Might I ask what an Epos is and how I can create one?” Jerome asked.
“An Epos is an utterance of power, meant to imbue strength in the one who is proclaiming said Epos,” the Sovereign explained, fumbling with the glowing orb in his hand. “When you become a Sage, you will discover the truths of the Epos. This world we live in is sentient, so to speak. It’s what gives words power.”
Jerome looked away from the Sovereign’s hands as he recalled the oath Ash took. It made more sense to him now. How could the binding of an oath be done by nature, if nature wasn’t sentient? Does it have a consciousness? Is it watching us right now? Plus what does being a Sage have to do with the sentience of the world? Perhaps that’s when he begins to sense the world?
Jerome reached out with his senses just in case, an unfruitful attempt at investigation.
“Was your previous world sentient?” the Sovereign asked all of a sudden.
“Not at all, Sovereign,” Jerome answered, curiosity written on his face. “If it was, no one knew.”
“Ah! That answers a lot,” Yun Vorthe adjusted himself in his seat to face Jerome taking care to restrain his emotions. But even that slight movement filled Jerome’s mind like it was all that mattered in all of existence. He had to force his gaze away to keep from succumbing to the Sovereign’s thrall.
“This is why we don’t just name things around us — natural things. Do you know what happened to the first person who gave names?” the Sovereign continued.
“Forgive my ignorance, Sovereign,” Jerome said with a slight bow.
“Harun, he was called — the ancients called him the Father of Names, the Father of Wisdom…the First Man. He named the natural world around us: the mountains, seas, valleys… all were named by him.” The atmosphere of the room seemed to relax as though the room itself was listening in on the Sovereign’s tale.
Jerome listened on, fascinated. This was history he had never found in any book in Kilian’s library!
“The Ancients say it took him days, but some historians argue it was years,” the Sovereign continued.
“If I may speak, Sovereign,” Jerome said with a bow.
“Go ahead,” the Sovereign commanded.
“Is this why we expend essence and vitality to name people and other natural things around us?” Jerome asked.
“Partly. And partly because the earth is sentient,” the Sovereign looked away from Jerome, facing forward again, “Harun became…One with Mother Nature.”
“He died?” Jerome asked, disappointed. What was the point of wielding such powers then? But this was a digression. He remembered asking the Sovereign how he could create an Epos.
The Sovereign gave him a wry look saying, “I think we have very different definitions of the term ‘becoming one with nature,’ child.”
“Oh,” he looked away, embarrassed by his ignorance. He had jumped to conclusions in his head.
“He gained the ability to wield nature, like an extension of himself,” the Sovereign stretched forth his hand into the air, waving his fingers, lost in thought.
Those tiny movements were so enthralling to Jerome’s eyes that he forced himself to quickly look away. “That’s fascinating!” he said.
“Well, he should have named the planet,” the Sovereign remarked.
Jerome could hear a slight hint of bitterness in his voice. Name the planet? There’s probably a deeper story there, he thought while looking at the Sovereign with a mixture of confusion and curiosity. Whatever the story behind that statement was, he was sure it would be eye-opening.
“Wielding an Epos is similar to wielding nature, although not nearly as powerful. A Sage who has created an Epos is a lot more powerful than one who has not,” the Sovereign said. “This doesn’t mean, however, that all Sages create their own Epos. Do you understand?”
“I do, Sovereign,” Jerome said, nodding his head. “So wielding nature is more powerful than wielding an Epos,” he added.
“Of course. You will come to comprehend the intricacies of this soon, youngling. Just focus on your advancement for now,” the Sovereign said.
“Becoming one with the world,” Jerome muttered in fascination. If I could wield such power! “Forgiveness, Sovereign. But has anyone else ever wielded such powers?” Jerome asked. If there were others, he’d love to know. It’d be best to look out for such people. They’ll either bring about fortune or spell doom for the world around them. Still, it’d be fascinating to see such powers on display!
The Sovereign didn’t answer for a long time. It took him several breaths — and a loud exhalation — before he spoke.
“There have been, but they were not of this world,” Yun Vorthe said. Memories passed unto him by the previous Sovereign suffused him, threatening to drown him in them. He fought to keep his mind afloat and at the same time, constrain his will and emotions, lest he scatter Jerome’s gut all over the walls of the room!
Jerome could not hold back his nervousness at the Sovereign’s words, unaware of the possible danger he was in, “That is even more shocking, Sovereign!” he said, “It must have been…” he had no words to describe it.
“It was an awful experience that no one would want to live through again,” the Sovereign stated, having regained control of his wits.
“The Forgotten was a narcissistic race of beings; antipathic warmongers, whose only goal was dominion over all. So no, Jerome,” the Sovereign said, “It wasn’t awe-inspiring… or whatever word you were thinking to use in describing aliens from another plane of existence.”
“Ah! Forgiveness, Sovereign,” Jerome bowed slightly. “I guess I was overly optimistic.” He was secretly disappointed in himself.
The Sovereign was right. A race of beings who were that powerful would only leave their world for one thing only; to dominate coveted lands and resources. He tried to imagine what it would have been like to live in such a time period. Jerome shivered, not from cold, but the possible tortuous treatment the people back then must have received.
“You’re very accommodating of them,” the Sovereign’s voice broke through his reverie.
Jerome turned to him, slightly confused. “Who?” he asked.
“The shifters,” the Sovereign clarified. “They are not welcomed in society, and are referred to as Impure.”
Jerome furrowed his brow as he considered this. “Why is that?” he asked.
“I believe you can figure that out yourself,” the Sovereign replied with a small smile.
Jerome nodded thoughtfully, his mind racing through everything the Sovereign had told him. He could understand why sacred artists would reject the shifters: they were like magical beasts in human form. It didn’t matter that they were trying to survive and become stronger in a world where only the strong thrived.
“How did they come to be?” he asked after a moment.
“The first of their kind helped the Baelors defend the western territory during the Cataclysm,” the Sovereign replied. The Cataclysm, the Sovereign thought in reminiscence. It was ironic how that time period marked the beginning of the kingdom of Vorthe.
“They once were average sacred artists who cultivated normally,” the Sovereign continued. “But when war broke out, their Elders, who had secretly been developing their Sacred Transformation Art, shared it with the rest of their clan. Hence, the Shifters were born.”
Jerome marveled at this information. “It must have been incredible,” he said. He could almost picture it. A people, changing their very nature to give themselves the capacity to contend with invaders. The level of determination it must have taken to make such a sacrifice was beyond him.
He took a deep breath, suddenly feeling a kinship with them as a people. Though he wasn’t given a choice, they had to choose to become what they were to protect their home — which must have been more torturous than not knowing.
I guess ignorance can be bliss.
“It was,” the Sovereign agreed. “War is never a beautiful thing, but out of it, great men are born.”
“Gratitude for sharing your knowledge and insights, Sovereign,” Jerome nodded in agreement. He was truly grateful for the Sovereign’s insight.
Just then, the sound of music filled the air as an orchestra, seated on a hidden platform opposite the entrance of the banquet hall, was revealed. The Royal Banquet was about to begin!