Rihal stole a glance at Jerome as the slab began moving upwards. He saw that Jerome was looking down at the stone slab with interest and that raised his impression of the child a notch. He smiled lightly to himself. He expected Jerome to gawk at the new sensation of moving on an elevator. Anyone his age would, but Jerome was unique in his own way, or at least he thought of him as unique.
“That earth crystal coin,” Jerome said. “I can call it that, right?”
“So you know about crystal coins?” Rihal asked. He never taught Jerome anything about Vorthe’s currency. He wasn’t supposed to.
“Yes, I do. Ms. Tara taught us about them,” Jerome said. “What grade would those ones be, low-grade or mid-grade?”
Rihal smiled at him. “Mid-grade. Mid for short. The low-grade ones would have barely any essence in them. We call those lows.” How much more did he know about crystal coins? He’d like to pick the brat’s brain for once… see what unholy thoughts were going through it. Jerome had a knack for throwing people off guard.
“Makes sense,” he said.
“So, how much do you know about crystal coins?” Rihal asked and breathed in the fresh air from the mountains. The atmosphere of the Royal Estate was always different from that of the city. Cleaner. With very little pollution.
“I know there are three grades of them. Low, mid, and high-grade coins.”
Interesting, Rihal thought as he watched the brat. Most children would have their eyes light up when they talked about the shiny, colorful coins that sparkled like jewels to their newborn sacred arts ‘sight’. To this one, it’s just another means of exchange.
“Lows and mids are attributed and mostly have earth and water elements because they are the most abundant in the world. Highs,” Jerome looked up at him with a glint in his eyes. “I can call them highs, right?”
Rihal nodded.
“Highs are cut from the purest of stone crystals. No attribute, just pure essence stones. If you ask me, I think it is unique to the others.”
Rihal watched his eyes light up as he spoke of high-grade coins. The little urchin actually thought of it as unique and he was very right to think so. Pure essence was unique, more so than attributed essence.
“But how are they formed…these crystal stones?”
“They form from Mother Nature,” Rihal replied. “From the earth comes earth-attribute essence and from the wind, wind-attribute essence. The earth-attribute crystals form in the earth, water-attribute crystals form in the seas and rivers… and so on.”
“But how? What’s the process of their formation?” Jerome asked.
Rihal exhaled. He had no answers to such questions. He knew very little of their nature. “You’d have to consult a library for the answers you seek.”
They both settled into silence as the elevator moved slowly. Was there nothing more to talk about? He was expecting Jerome to have lots of questions for him.
“First time on an elevator, right?” Rihal asked, breaking the uncomfortable silence. He could tell the little brat was impressed but was keeping his emotions in check. Quite impressive for a little Blank.
He smiled. And his smile quickly grew into a grin. He wondered how he would look with his blindfold covering the top half of his face and a grin splitting the lower half. Probably best to tone it down. His bushy beard would make him look like a creep too.
“Hmm,” Jerome muttered and nodded slowly. “It’s an interesting concept… and the name.”
Rihal laughed heartily, more to berate himself because he saw that it wasn’t going to be easy to get the little urchin to show that look of wonder he’d been longing to see on him. “And here I was, thinking I could surprise you with this. Heh, I guess it’ll take a whole lot more than this to see those eyes of yours nearly pop out of their sockets.”
Truly he was expecting an enthusiastic Jerome. But, oh well. Nothing he could do about that.
“Strange,” Jerome said, giving him a look.
“What is?” Rihal asked.
“This is the first time I’ve heard you laugh. And now I don’t know whether I prefer this new Rihal or not.”
Ruthless brat! Rihal thought and groaned, dampening the mood as he looked away. He only laughed and spoke more around people he cared for. And where they were going was home to him. A place where he could relax and be himself, so his emotional walls were already coming down.
Rihal preferred a boring life of solitude. But he wasn’t exactly introverted. He still liked to mingle with people. But it was with family that he showed emotions. He saw Jerome as family too, even though the newborn Blank only saw him as his master. Rihal couldn’t fault him. If things had happened differently he would have probably been Jerome’s father.
Jerome gave him a wry grin. Like he knew an inside secret about him — if that were even possible. Rihal wasn’t a man who was used to being called out so bluntly. The little rascal probably knew that. That fucking sharp mind of his!
“But why that name though?” Jerome asked. “An ‘e-le-va-tor’.” He mouthed every syllable of the word slowly.
Rihal chuckled. “It’s actually called a ‘stone of lifting’.”
“That’s a mouthful,” Jerome replied with a slight smile.
“Right?... It was named by the artificer who designed it. But many of us younger folk choose to call it an ‘elevator’ — it’s simpler, and it just rolls off your tongue. Those old-timers always want their inventions to sound… mystical. Like they did more than their names suggested.”
They both had a short laugh about it.
“Old people do old people stuff,” Jerome said chuckling lightly.
“That’s a good one. I’d be sure to use it next time.” He was quite glad he could discuss a lighter topic with Jerome, something to help them grow closer. He had only ever taught the boy about essence and sparring. And he had to admit, he liked this.
“What about my friends?” Jerome asked.
Rihal sighed in his heart. The little brat just had to go and spoil the mood again. “They attracted the attention of some good families and were adopted as disciples,” he said.
They were almost halfway up the mountain now. He couldn’t wait to get out of the filthy cloak he was wearing. He looked over at Jerome, wrinkling his nose at the smell coming from him. The child needed a bath as well.
“Hmm?” Jerome mused. “Adopted as disciples. Never knew that was an option.”
Rihal never bothered to tell him his caretaker Ms. Tara had asked him not to tell them. He would have found out soon anyway. Probably give her an earful now that he knows.
The boy started muttering quietly to himself. “With resources from good families, they should make great progress in their developm—wait ‘good’ families?” his voice grew louder. “What do you mean by good families? Do you mean like, high-class families or...?”
Rihal could read him like a book. The defiance in his eyes and the stubbornness in his voice. He didn’t want his friends to end up in places where they wouldn’t get the resources and training they needed to become stronger. How very innocent.
“I meant good families, as in good families,” Rihal said, not bothering to elaborate. This was part of being a sacred artist. You had to be strong for yourself and not worry about others. Except you were capable of being responsible for them. And Jerome wasn’t even responsible for himself yet.
Stolen from its original source, this story is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings.
Rihal observed as the brat’s face fell. He tried to say something else, but Rihal beat him to it. “Is this what you want to know right now?” he said, his tone suggesting that Jerome might not get a lot of chances to ask questions.
The little rascal snapped his mouth shut for a moment. “What’s wrong with spending nine days in Mhen Agrh’ur?”
Wise. Put yourself first before others, Rihal thought.
“I believe the question you want to ask is how did you enter deep meditation for nine days?” he said. “My answer…” he hunched down to bring himself to Jerome’s eye level, looking him straight in the eyes as he continued. “It’s not possible for a twelve-year-old to enter a deep meditative state. But here’s one right in front of me. You, my friend… have made history!”
He straightened and looked upwards towards the peak of the mountain they were ascending as he finished his words folding his arms over his chest. Home sweet home. Soon, a fog would begin to envelop this very mountain. Turning it into a picturesque scene as the sun set in the west. Rihal smiled. Truly no place like home.
“There’s always a first time for everything,” the child said. “What can you tell me about the changes I’ve gone through?”
Rihal scoffed. The boy had no idea, the relevance of what he had done. If not for the Royal family, hundreds of nobles would be fighting over themselves to capture him, even to get a piece of him. They wouldn’t care for his life or death, only for the essence of his just forming core. They would dissect him just to see what made it possible for him to achieve Blank straight from Mehn Agrh’ur.
Well, let’s fix that, he thought. “Correction. The changes you’re going through. Those changes aren’t over yet.” Rihal smiled at him.
Jerome looked at him stupified, the mild shock evident in his raised brows. “You mean there’s more?”
“When an adolescent starts to sense and absorb essence during Mhen Agrh’ur, they take in a few strands of essence throughout the whole three days,” Rihal said, “Those strands of essence will be cultured, multiplied, and cultivated for a period of say, two seasons and a few tendays before it becomes what you have today.”
The brat’s jaw finally dropped, his eyes nearly popping out. It was a good look on him. Rihal would have loved it if it came sooner though.
He continued like he didn’t notice. “The Essence-Forming Realm, the Realm that succeeds the Essence-Gathering Realm. We call those in your Realm, Blanks.”
“What?!” the boy exclaimed.
Rihal just chuckled and said, “You’re a blank slate, aren’t you? You’re just starting out in life and no attributed essence has colored your core yet. As you are now, you can only absorb pure essence.”
“Well if you put it that way it does make sense,” the little brat grumbled, “but it’s still insulting. Why should anyone choose to be called Blank? It’s insulting… and degrading. And what’s that about only being able to absorb pure essence? Is it a good thing or a bad thing?”
“It’s a good thing, Jerome. But know that society doesn’t care about your feelings. And you’re not going to be babied where you’re going.”
The stone slab came to a halt and they both alighted and started walking forward. Jerome was too smart for his own good but he’d learn. He’d make sure the little essence in his core dries up consistently.
That’ll teach you to be humble, he thought.
“So you mean I jumped over a complete Realm to the next Realm? Shweet,” the little shit had the audacity to grin wickedly!
Rihal glanced his way, giving him a sweet, innocent smile. It’s settled then, he thought. The first order of business will be to teach you humility. He went on to say, “At least you’re called Blanks. You know what those in the Essence-Gathering Realm are called?”
The curiosity and suspicion in the little rascal’s eyes was comical.
“They are called Drudges.”
“That’s even worse,” Jerome said, shaking his head. “What’s after Blank?”
Now ‘little rascal’ feels too innocent for a brat like you, Rihal thought. Maybe little wolf…
“Sprout,” he said aloud, answering Jerome’s question. “Those in the Core Formation Realm are termed Sprout. That’s when new seedlings ‘sprout’ out of the fertile soil that is your core. A core that completes its formation, becoming solid and real.”
“Becoming solid and real?”
“More material and physical, so to speak. A Blank’s core cannot be physically extracted. Think about a scenario like this. If you die—”
“I’m not dying, Rihal!”
Rihal chuckled. “It’s an example. Okay, if a Blank dies, his core disappears. But a Sprout and anyone in a higher Realm would have their core remain intact for extraction.”
“Why would anyone want to extract someone else’s core? That’s like grave robbing,” Jerome said and Rihal shook his head with a wry smile. How innocent children were. No matter how mature the little brat acted, he was clearly still a child who didn’t know how cruel the world could be.
“On second thought, a powerful sacred artist’s core could do wonders for a lesser sacred artist, right?” The brat looked up at him with a wicked grin plastered on his face. “If you dropped dead, Rihal, know that I’ll put your core to good use.”
Heh, ‘little wolf’ sounds like a compliment. Perhaps something more… ‘little devil’. Now how’s that for a name?
“You could not get a hold of my corpse even if I died right here and right now, Jerome. So, stop daydreaming.”
The little devil snorted. “I’ll let you know that I’m Jerome, ‘The Terror of The Slums!’”’ he puffed his little chest out.
“You’re a terror quite alright… the terror of shit.”
“Wha—”
“I did see you shoveling shit out of the gutter.” Rihal shut him up before he could speak. He watched as Jerome turned a bright shade of tomato under all that impurities coating his skin. Satisfaction flowed through him at that.
He stopped for a while and took in the sight before him. A good distance away was a majestic Palace that put every other edifice in the city to shame. Its immaculate white walls exuded an air of opulence that elevated the beauty of the adjacent courtyard and lush greenery that screamed, Royalty, like nothing else.
~~~
“This is…” Jerome started to say but was short of words. The magnificence of the Palace was overwhelming.
“This is where the most powerful family in all of Vorthe resides — the Royal family,” Rihal said, his voice carrying pride in it.
“You mean to say that the king of Vorthe is in there?” Jerome asked, his heart pounding rapidly. How the hell did I attract the attention of such powerful people? he thought. He had heard stories about how powerful the Royal family was — many of which were exaggerations, he knew. Old Wen never ran out of stories. Apparently, the king had the power to seed the clouds with rain with a thought. He just chalked it all up to myths and legends anyway.
“Oh no, this is just one of the Royal Palaces. There are several of them. It’s an Estate out here.” Rihal said with a smile as he stood with his arms akimbo. “And we call the king the ‘Sovereign’ of Vorthe,” he added as he walked forward.
He’d heard that before. Something about the Sovereign’s light… Ms. Tara’s prayers.
“Is it true the king — the Sovereign…can seed the clouds with rain with a thought?” Jerome asked as he caught up with Rihal. If nothing, he had to clear up this misconception. How could a man seed the clouds with just a thought? There should be quite a lot involved, shouldn’t there? Jerome wasn’t convinced. Such a man would be a god amongst men.
Jerome noticed that the constant tapping of Rihal’s stick was nonexistent now. Strange, he thought as he scrutinized the blind Rihal. You’re not so blind after all, are you? He felt cheated. How many times did he have to fight Rihal? 34?…35? How many times did Dreamer call it? he thought. Now he had more questions than he did before.
Jerome noticed something else, however. I didn’t sense his essence as I did the blue-robed man’s. Rihal must have used essence to power the elevator that brought them here. At least he thought that was the way things should work. But he never sensed Rihal powering the formation of the elevator. The formation had lit up on its own and the elevator had moved. More layers of the mysterious blind Rihal to peel back then.
“Why did you bring me here, Rihal?” Jerome asked, clearly confused. “I’m an orphan from the slums. I have no value to Royalty.” He could only hope he was here to be taken in by the Royal family as a disciple. That would make for a really good story for his friends, he thought with a smile.
Rihal chuckled as he walked forward with long strides, forcing Jerome to keep up. “To answer your first question, yes, all the rumors you hear about the Sovereign are most likely true. Have you ever seen snow in the slums?”
Jerome shook his head. Everybody knew it never snowed in Farryn. “Are you saying, he—”
“Yes,” Rihal interrupted, “but that’s where you get it wrong. The more accurate ‘rumor’ would be that supposedly, a Sovereign of the past made the climate around Farryn suitable for agriculture all year round.
“That... my disciple,” Rihal stopped to face him at the entrance of the Palace, “is an even greater accomplishment,” he finished and walked in.
“Wait, did you just call me ‘disciple’?” Jerome asked, elated.