“Aren’t you supposed to be dead?!”

Jerome paused, stunned by the statement. He quickly recovered and couldn’t help but look displeased at Fei Lin. She was supposed to be the heir of a Great clan and she was acting uncultured.

“Ahem,” another Sprout coughed into the uncomfortable silence in the room and glared at her once again. Her cheeks colored in embarrassment and she kept mute. Jerome knew this Sprout. Up close, he looked older. He was the Sprout who performed that awesome technique when one of the Children was chasing the Feis.

Jerome walked toward a large table at the center of the tent and sat down in one of the chairs around it, staring daggers at everyone. His mood had been soured by that statement just now and Selene would answer for it, for summoning him here.

“They say you’re very fast in the air,” a big guy in the corner spoke, breaking the awkward silence in the room. Jerome recalled the Baelors as he looked him up and down. The Sprout looked angry, openly glaring at him. Perhaps because he was sitting at the table that was meant for the Scions of the Great Clans. It was utter disrespect by Vorthe’s social standards, but Jerome did nothing to hide his displeasure at them all, and the giant Sprout said nothing. This was not the time, perhaps. Since they were all silently sizing each other up even as they strategized.

“Hmm,” Jerome said, gazing at the giant Sprout. His voice was deep and kind of scary, but Jerome was not concerned with him.

“Good,” the Baelor said standing up. “You would draw the attention of the flying Children so the rest of us can break through their barricade.” His tone brooked no argument, like someone who was used to having his way with everyone else. Jerome wasn’t having that though.

“I would do no such thing,” he said, his voice flat as he glared at the big guy in the eyes.

At his full height, the Baelor was as tall as the roof of the tent and gave off a daunting presence. His dark-brown, furred leather armor with the crest of a running bull was evidence of his House — House Baelor, House of the Running Bull.

Jerome noticed Selene smile and lean back in her chair, ready to watch a show. She raised her booted legs, crossed them on top of the table, and folded her arms behind her head. Never knew she had a side of her like this, Jerome thought in passing.

Trudhorn scratched his head, looking nonplussed. Everyone held their breaths as they sensed the rising tension in the air.

“I propose we talk about this a little more peacefully, Young Lord,” the older Fei Sprout said to the Baelor, breaking the tension in the air. He gave Jerome a look that said he was out of his depth with the Baelor but Jerome just shrugged at him indifferently.

Jerome and the Giant Sprout continued to glare at each other, both of them refusing to back down. The silence in the air stretched on for a while before the Baelor sat down grudgingly.

“Fine,” he said, not taking his eyes off Jerome. “But he’d still be the distraction.”

“What a shame. Would’ve loved to see something exciting,” Selene murmured loud enough for everyone to hear. Lang looked at her with pleading eyes and the Baelor just glared at her. Jerome eyed her with a raised eyebrow. He quite liked this playful side of her.

“What?” she said, putting on her most innocent look, but turned away smiling coyly.

“Let’s come to an agreement first, shall we?” the older Fei Sprout said. Osh, I need to learn their names, Jerome thought to himself. This Fei was the most level-headed Sprout among them at the moment.

“What’s your name?” He turned to Jerome. Jerome sensed that he too was unhappy with his blatant disregard for status but like the Baelor, he said nothing.

Jerome looked at him for a while sizing him up and scanning him for the first time. To his surprise, the Sprout was far more powerful than he thought he’d be. His core was a lot denser than that of the Royal twins he saw at the training ground back in Farryn. He had never scanned Grogg, but he felt they’d be at the same level of strength. It wouldn’t be long before this guy advanced to the Spirit Realm.

“Jerome,” he said.

“Jerome…you mean, ‘the’ Jerome?” the Sprout asked with a shocked expression on his face.

“The one and only,” Jerome said. Rihal had once said he was famous after Pilgrims’ Keep, so it was best to just go with the flow. Plus he didn’t really care if people knew about him.

Lang looked from Selene to Trudhorn to Fei Lin in shock before calming down. The news was that Hedon Alvric killed him for embarrassing him in Pilgrims’ Keep. Hedon was publicly rebuked by the Royal family for killing over a score of people from the slums, all of whom were his family — or so the rumors say. He wasn’t there, so he couldn’t judge if the Alvric heir was truly rebuked.

“To see you alive and well after all these years is nothing short of a miracle,” the Fei said. “I’m Lang. You already know Young Lady Selene, her protector, Trudhorn, my charge, Princess Fei Lin.” Fei Lin scowled at that. But what’s with the ‘princess’ title anyway? Lang waved toward the Baelor next. “And this is Young Lord Berj Baelor, heir of Clan Baelor.”

The giant Sprout puffed up at his introduction. He looked like an overgrown dwarf, with all of the muscles and none of the height defect. A pumpkin would be an appropriate description of him. A human sized pumpkin. Or a loaf of bread. Hmm.

Hmm. Loaf of bread sounds better, Jerome thought. He’d probably squeal if I squeezed him like a pimple.

“Were you the one who killed the Child chasing us in the forest sometime ago?” Fei Lin asked.

“What of it?” Jerome asked.

“Thank you, for giving us a helping hand,” Lang said, taking back the reins of the conversation. It was good to finally place a name with the face. “We would, however, require your assistance once again to help us break the blockade set by the Children.”

“And what do I get out of this?” Jerome asked. Berj glared at him. If only looks could kill. “Obviously, I’ll be doing you all a favor. I am capable of leaving just like the royals, you know?” Berj mellowed out. Jerome had heard of how the Royal Sprouts left, which was quite surprising. He thought the Children couldn’t have just let them pass through. There must have been something involved nobody was considering.

Stolen novel; please report.

“You won’t make it far,” Fei Lin said, glaring at him. “If you aren’t going to help, then it was a waste of time bringing you here.”

“Where is Hedon by the way?” Jerome asked, ignoring the Fei heir.

“He’s in battle, trying to prove his mettle,” Trudhorn said, almost mockingly.

Jerome nodded. He’d hoped to see Hedon at least once. To look him in the eyes once before their battle. Jerome fantasized about how he was going to slice through his throat just as he did with Doti and a fire roared in his veins at the thought.

“Are you going to help us or not?” Fei Lin asked, getting impatient with him.

Jerome didn’t bother with Fei Lin. It seemed she wasn’t the one calling the shots at the table. Everybody deferred to Lang, the older Sprout. Jerome wondered why he didn’t put a surname to his name. He was expecting the Sprout to be a Fei but maybe there were parts of their culture he didn’t know about. He waited for Lang to ask what he wanted. Jerome didn’t really want anything from them. He just didn’t want anyone to interfere with him and Hedon.

“What do you want then?” Lang finally spoke up.

“Do not interfere with the Alvrics and me. When we’re done breaking through the blockade, you pack up and leave.”

Lang smiled at him. “Talk like that makes you a very interesting person, Jerome; a common disciple going up against the heir of a Great Clan is not something one sees everyday.” He leaned forward on the table as if to stare right into Jerome’s soul. That action instantly increased the tension in the room. Jerome’s hackles rose instinctively. He felt the urge to lean away from the older Sprout but he fought it. This Sprout was strong, no doubt about it. And he had just established that fact with him.

Jerome ended up tilting his head to the side, making sure to look non-threatening even while seeming unafraid. His eyes never left the older Sprout’s. Lang leaned back again, the tension passing. “We will not interfere. I swear by the force of the blade.” he flinched as the oath took hold.

The force of the blade; that’s new.

“We Baelors wouldn’t interfere as well. I swear by the earth,” Berj said and also flinched at the oath taking hold. “But you’re not going to be able to beat him, urchin. Not with the people he has around him.”

Jerome let the ‘urchin’ insult slide and didn’t respond to it. He turned to Selene who was busy cleaning her nails. She looked over and just shrugged. Well, he never expected an oath from her. In fact, he never expected an oath from any of them.

Selene knew what he was capable of. So she wasn’t fazed by what he wanted to do.

Jerome nodded. He stood up and asked, “When do we start?”

“We start when the sun comes up. For now, we rest,” Lang said.

~~~

Hedon

After they made it past the Tower of Solon and regained their strength, Hedon found out that he and his teammates were stronger than they were before. Their cores were denser and able to hold a lot more essence and their mental capacity had been enlarged.

He had quickly taken his men to the battlefield to regain some of the confidence they lost while facing the Children in the caves where they lost some teammates. After fighting alongside his teammates and venting his fury at the Children for a while, they walked back to the camp ready to rest for the night.

“Young Lady Itakar didn’t agree to my proposal, Hedon,” Murray said to him after they had walked a few hundred paces away from the battlefield.

The battle was at a standstill for now. And the children remained at the boundary between the dark cloudy parts of Terra Praeta and the clear parts. Until they came up with a way to get rid of them they weren’t going anywhere.

“That’s kind of odd. What allegiance do they have to him?” Hedon asked, wiping his body with a piece of towel.

“He probably must have helped them a lot more than we surmised,” Murray said.

“As long as they don’t interfere with my plans,” Hedon said and looked at Murray. “I can’t leave that cur running around, he’s a loose end that needs to be cut off. And I’m pretty sure he would be making his own plans against me.”

“He can try,” Murray said mockingly. “But what plans of his can succeed against the heir of a Great clan?”

Hedon chuckled. “Let’s find out what the others discussed for now. Then we make our move after we leave this place,” he said, walking toward the cluster of tents owned by the Fei clan.

~~~

The Royal Estate. Farryn, Vorthe.

Rihal

“Why would she do something like that?”

Rihal looked toward his friend and confidant. For all his knowledge as a scholar, Kilian could be naíve. It didn’t take a centuries-year-old Sage to know that the 1st Matron didn’t want him learning anything about what he discussed with her.

His mind went back to that day. He had been escorted to one of her many guest rooms where he found her relaxing. For the longest time she didn’t acknowledge his presence, even though she listened to him speak. He had explained about the weirdness of his disciple and all the inherent knowledge he seemed to have.

It was rumored that every Royal Sage knew of the existence of the Dark One, so he wasn’t the least bit worried he was giving away information that was forbidden. Even though he had no idea if she truly knew or not.

“Is that all you’ve come to tell me, young Rihal?” she had said. At that moment, he knew he wouldn’t get any answers from her. One moment he’d been inside her guest room, the next he found himself hovering over a stream west of where her castle was located.

Rihal sighed. “She doesn’t want me learning something…”

“Something?...” Kilian asked, expecting clarification.

“I think they are all in it together. You know the Curia Regis is not the only group among us royals that know about the Dark One.”

“So, which other group do you think would talk?”

“Talk… no,” Rihal said. “We spy on them.” He smiled. Well, ‘I’ll’ spy on them.

“You can’t be serious, Rihal,” Kilian said, panicking. “You’d bring the wrath of the Sages upon us. Maybe even the Saint.”

“I know just who to start—”

“I don’t like this, Rihal. You could end up somewhere you don’t want to be,” Kilian cautioned.

Rihal snorted. “What more can they do to me?” He’d been shamed once. Anything they did to him now would be a scratch compared to the shame of carrying the Sovereign’s mark.

Kilian didn’t answer his question. Even though he knew the Curia Regis could be merciless. “And who do you wish to spy on? What results could you achieve with that, even?”

Rihal smiled, eyes distant for a while. He knew the perfect group to spy on. A group that wouldn’t see him coming. Plus, they had very few Sages that could sense him.

He stood up after a long while of putting his thoughts together. “The tamers,” he said.

“Huh. Good choice,” Kilian said. “I see why you chose them. But that doesn’t mean their Sages will tattle about whatever secrets they know about Jerome.”

“They’ll have their minds fixated on the magic beasts being transported here, true,” Rihal said, nodding but then he smirked. “But it doesn’t mean ideas can’t be planted in the minds of their subordinates.”

“Ideas that will go around as rumors, which will eventually reach the ears of the Sages… and will prompt discussions among them,” Kilian completed for him.

“You know me so well, Kilian,” he said and vanished from Kilian’s study.