Madoc

“Yup. Definitely cursed,” Thurun said with his hands on his hips as he stared down at the sarcophagus. The entirety of the expedition, minus Sam, who had retrieved the cursed casket were glaring at Madoc. He felt bad about it. His loose lips had sunk their ship. At least, that was until Thurun offered to buy it off of them.

“Eight aether cores for it? Grade fours.” Thurun was slightly more quiet now that they were out of the limelight, but his voice still rumbled like a volcano. Madoc had no idea how much that was in actual coin, but Gom and the others had a hungry look in their eyes as they glanced at each other. Sam glanced at Madoc and just shrugged a shoulder.

“Aye, that’ll do just fine,” Brask said after a series of looks between him and the others. Madoc didn’t really care for the aether cores, he couldn’t use them unless they were pulled from a divine beast. A flash of frustration seared his soul as he cursed for the thousandth time his birth. If he was just a normal cultivator this little excursion would have been much more beneficial to him. The knowledge that Sam was a demigod had been a revelation, one that they hadn’t talked about.

Merille and Alleina were off to the side watching as Thurun bartered for the coffin. Madoc couldn't understand what he felt about the pair. While they had helped clear the air between all of them, it was their own secrets to give when they wanted. The sense of violation lingered, as Alleina’s power not only made people speak the truth, it urged them too. Confessions had been pouring out all around the shipwrecked crew the moment she walked by. Those with a higher level of cultivation, such as Brask, Gom, Sir Huntley, and Ilyria, seemed to resist the urge.

It had only taken Madoc about an hour to realize he just couldn’t talk when the paladin was around. He had been confessing about things he had done in the orphanage. When he was eight. After he realized that, he had distanced himself from the dwarf.

“Excellent! Our lord can use this. Part of its Law reflects our Lord’s. A great tool for his cultivation!” Thurun was excited as he tossed the aether cores to Brask before reaching over and running a hand over the long black box. Madoc was a bit confused, he thought gods only improved their cultivation with worshippers. Merille must have seen his confused look because she sidled up from the other side and came to stand next to him and Sam.

“God’s cultivation is strange. A lot of our missions are retrieving cultivation aids for them. Along with spreading his word,” Merille hurried to reassure them as Sam and Madoc looked at her skeptically. The way paladins presented themselves was not at all as treasure hunters.

“You know how god’s improve through prayer, right?” Merille looked at the two of them as if they were dumb. The longer Madoc spent away from the orphanage, the more he questioned his own intelligence. Or, at least, his knowledge.

“Mortals go to a temple sanctified by a god, pray and light incense. The act of prayer helps aspect aether to the gods Law and the god absorbs it,” Madoc answered with the textbook answer.

“Close, but not quite. Everybody has aether inside of them. Cultivators can move that aether around and use it to strengthen themselves slowly and eventually form a core and effect the world. When a mortal goes to pray, they move some of that aether inside of them, that’s the point of the ritualized prayers and incense. They can’t move the aether themselves, but the rituals help it move. The god absorbs it through their shrine and purifies it. What isn’t suitable for them, thoughts and desires that don’t fit their Law, they expel. Now this aether is still divine, just not perfectly aligned with that god’s Law. This is the divine aether than beasts absorb, or scions like you,” Merille slipped into a lecture tone as if she was a teacher. She locked eyes with Madoc and kept him pinned down as she revealed information that he was certain wasn't publicly available.

“That’s the difference between divine and infernal. Infernal gods are an emotion personified. Aether that has coalesced into a being, or possibly, a person who completely personified that emotion,” Sam said. He was looking off to the side, away from the group of paladins. He made a concentrated effort to not look at Merille.

“Correct! Infernal gods cultivate aether that had been flavored by an emotion. Divine gods have their Law they have to cultivate within.”

“Can infernal gods die then?” Madoc asked. Killing a god with specified laws was possible, but to kill an emotion? He didn’t think that was possible. The orphanage hadn’t taught much about the infernal gods, other than not to trust them and that the Imperial Charter allowed them to exist.

“Not really. That version of it can die. About a millenia ago, Joy was killed by a coalition of gods. There’s a new Joy, but they are much weaker than they used to be,” Merille explained.

“So, whatever god that died and was entombed in that coffin, its Law overlapped part of Golthon’s?” Madoc asked. He was curious now, the veil of ignorance, that he hadn’t known was even there, lifting. He had to wonder why the tutors hadn’t taught him these things. They had taught him bladework, how to do sums, how to pray, and how to honor the gods. Why hadn’t they taught him how it all worked?

“Yes. There’s thousands of gods out there and plenty of overlap. This god had duty as part of their Law. That’s all I can feel, Thurun or Alleina would know more. Their sense for the divine is much stronger than mine.” Merille turned around and waved at the other three armored figures, who turned and walked over to them.

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“These are my squadmates. Trask, Katya, and Buior,” Merille said, pointing to each identical figure in matching armor. Sam and Madoc shared a glance; aside from one of the figures, Buior, being shorter than the rest, they were indistinguishable. After a moment of hesitation, they all pulled their helmets off. Madoc wasn’t surprised to see that Buior was a dwarf, his short and bulky stature nearly guaranteed it.

Buior had a black beard that was neatly trimmed and braided. His dark hair was shorn short to his scalp and a gold earring dangled from his left ear. He had a wide smile that displayed his square teeth. He eagerly shook both their hands, his grip strong enough that it left Madoc’s fingers throbbing.

Trask had thick curly hair and a narrow face. He was a quiet man, close to Sam’s and Madoc’s age. He was much more gentle with his handshake, firm and gentle. Katya was another human with a shaved head. She was a stern woman, her brow scrunched up in a scowl as she introduced herself with a curt handshake and a crisp nod.

“Merille, have you been telling secrets?” Alleina asked as she followed behind the cadets. Madoc hadn’t seen her move and he cursed himself for letting her sneak up on him. He had no true secrets now, other than he didn’t know why he couldn’t progress his own cultivation. It was still embarrassing to talk about the time he stole an extra serving of desserts from the kitchens when he was a boy.

“They aren’t true secrets,” Merille protested, looking down at her trainer. Alleina had a sly grin as she reached them.

“She’d make an excellent teacher. Has a great voice and cadence when educating. I fear the scholars will try to steal her from us,” Alleina teased the young woman as she stared at Sam and Madoc. Madoc was beginning to wonder why she was always staring at him.

“Never. My place is out here, protecting people,” Merille refuted her teacher. Even Madoc could feel the naivete of that statement. Paladins did protect people, but she had just told him the majority of their missions were to gather cultivation resources for the god they served.

“I jest, I jest. Thurun will be declaring an expedition shortly. To find the ones who used this holy relic for such an abominable ritual. I hope you two will join us.”

“If he’s willing to pay, I have no objections,” Sam said curtly. He kept his lips pressed together, as if struggling to stop himself from saying something else.

“Labour earns payment. You will be paid. Tell me, Madoc, where are your wings?” Alleina spoke in a rush, not letting either of the boys attempt to change the subject.

“You are a scion, I can feel the accumulated divinity inside of you. More than enough for your wings to come forth.”

“I don’t know. That’s why I came out here to the frontier. I was orphaned when I was a child and I need to find who my parents were to try to figure out why I can’t progress,” Madoc spilled his shame in a verbal cascade.

“Your parents shouldn’t matter. Unless…” she trailed off lost in thought. A finger tapped at her lips as she moved toward Thurun, leaving them all staring at her retreating back in confusion.

“I’ve been with her for almost two years, still can’t get used to her ability. Once told her about the time I snuck off my work detail to shave a goat,” Buior blurted out.

“You shaved a goat?” Trask asked, his pinched face showing confusion.

“Needed the hair, you know how it is.”

“No. No, I don’t. Honestly, I struggle to think of a single instance of needing a goat in general, let alone its hair,” Trask said.

“Not thinking broad enough then.” Buior then fell silent as the group started to wonder what he needed a goats hair for.

“Well, this was enlightening in so many ways. We need get back to our people,” Sam said, his wide hand wrapping around Madoc’s elbow and gently guiding him away from the quartet of cadets.

“What do you think he needed the goat hair for?” Madoc whispered when they were far enough away.

“I don’t know. They all have a screw loose though. Don’t trust any of them.”

“You can barely look at Merille. Is it because you find her attractive?”

“You’re not the greatest conversationalist, are you?”

“I’m working on it,” Madoc told him with a smile. He had been trying to lighten the mood, but apparently asking someone if they found someone else physically attractive was taboo on the Frontier.

“Stick with me kid, we’ll get the awkward out of you soon enough.”

“I think we’re the same age.”

“Naw, I’m an ancient demigod of Wrath. I’ve been alive longer than your Empire has been around.”

Madoc dug his heels into the dirt and pulled Sam so he could stare at the taller man’s face. Sam’s face was completely blank of any humor, a florid mask that was inscrutable. At least to Madoc.

“That’s a terrible joke,” Madoc finally decided that Sam was joking. There was no way he was ancient, he had been struggling against the horde.

“Oh, my. I didn’t realize you were this sheltered. We’re going to work on this. Get you used to sarcasm and social cues.” Sam rolled his eyes and resumed walking to where Gom and Brask were huddled together. Sir Huntley, Ilyria, Nobbs, and the rest of the knights were a few feet away looking at their two leaders.

“Thurun has offered a quest to find and neutralize whatever made that ritual. You two want it?” Gom asked as they got closer. Both of the boys nodded, while Madoc peeled away to go to the larger group. He had no desire to be part of the planning. They were close enough to hear what Brask, Gom, and now, Sam were discussing without being roped into said conversation.

“I knew this would happen, I told you, you remember me telling you?” Gom was grumbling, pointing a finger at Sam. Madoc rolled his eyes, it had only been a few hours since Gom had told them they would be roped into finding the ritualists.

“What’s our cut from the payout?” Sam asked. He ignored Gom and focused on Brask. The old dwarf eyed Sam up and down, then snorted.

“You two don’t need the cores. Cash will do? Or would trade? I have some items you two could use for your share of the cores.”

“I’ll take cash. Universal coin, none of that corpo scrip. Madoc, what do you want?”

“I’ll take the same,” Madoc told him, while wondering what universal coin was. The Empire used the Imperii as currency. Corporations apparently used some type of promissory scrip to trade amongst each other. He hadn’t heard about universal coins yet, though.

“Aye, we can do that. In the meantime, everyone get close. We have planning to do.” Brask waved them all in, and they clustered together to start plotting.