The feast came to an abrupt halt after the Tiarna’s announcement. The performers marched out of the Great Hall. Servants scurried to clear out the partially consumed food and drink atop large platters to be dumped into pig troughs. Cloth spreads were rolled up and carried away to be cleaned and stored. Guests were encouraged to depart quickly so that the following event would not stretch too far into the night.
As the attendees of the feast began to file out, only four clans outside of the tiarna’s did not move. Valentin recognized one of them. Sitting at the opposite end of the tiarna’s table was Cecile Orelle of Furale. For as long as Valentin could remember, that girl sat at his table. Whenever his father allowed him to join a tour around the villages, he would always see Cecile when they visited Furale. Their fathers had a tense, but respectful, relationship that made Cecile one of the few noble children his age that he was actually encouraged to spend time with.
Their eyes met briefly but Valentin looked away. He was too anxious to speak. Now that the feast ended, he had to confront the Ceremony that loomed its hideous and unknown visage Valentin’s way.
A nervousness created by anticipation poured over Valentin as the last of the attendees filed out of the Great Hall and the first families for the Bloodstone Ceremony entered. His palms were coated in a cold and clammy sweat. As each child and their family entered from outside, a tightness in Valentin’s chest grew worse. Each new family that sat down brought Valentin ever closer to his moment of truth. He wondered when his excitement had turned into a sickly dread.
Soon he will know the answer that will decide his entire life. Has the Great Spirit blessed him with immense power or will he live his entire life without favor? Oddly enough, the boy found both prospects equally frightening. Would he feel relief if he was unfavored? Or would it be bitter disappointment?
“Did you just ignore me?” Cecile’s indignant voice emanated from above his shoulder.
Valentin, startled by the sudden noise, turned to see Cecile lean over him. The girl’s face nearly perched upon his shoulder. Her night-colored hair, wound into tight rope-like braids, thwacked his back.
“Hello, Cecile,” Valentin greeted with an unnatural tone. “Great feast, wouldn’t you say?”
Her eyes narrowed in suspicion towards his reaction. She pulled away to take a petulant stance, placing both hands on each hip and tilting her head.
“Is that all?” She questioned, sparing her deliberation until after Valentin spoke.
“You…look nice,” Valentin replied. His eyes darted towards Gilles’ empty seat. He hoped that his uncle’s advice would help him navigate the situation.
Cecile sucked in her right cheek in thought. She twisted back and forth, allowing her blue dress to swish about in the air. Ultimately, she allowed the compliment to sway her and she returned to her cheery form. She took the unoccupied space on the bench next to Valentin.
“Why were you so late?” She inquired curiously.
“I was helping Uncle Gilles with Killicia deliveries,” Valentin lied in case someone overheard the truth. “Things were more difficult than normal this year.”
Cecile did not look convinced by Valentin’s answer. Did something in his voice give away his deceit? His mannerisms? Her eyes seemed to scan for more insight, however, Valentin donned a placid face to prevent any secrets from getting away from him.
“Gilles is quite irresponsible for allowing you to nearly miss your Bloodstone Feast,” Cecile jokingly admonished the man who no longer was present to defend himself. “You’ll have to make sure that you arrive on time next cycle. Even if that means that poor Gilles needs to do the work all by himself.”
Something felt bizarre to Valentin; that something, somehow, was amiss. Though, he could not identify it until he looked at Cecile’s grin. It was too unburdened even though she also was about to go through the same ceremony as Valentin. Her life, too, was about to be decided forever. How could she look like that? How could he copy her?
“Why are you looking at me like that?” Cecile questioned.
“You look so calm,” Valentin remarked in a voice that bordered on astonishment. “How is it that you are as you always are before such an important event? Aren’t you nervous?”
“Of course I’m nervous about it, but what can we do?” Cecile wondered with a casual shrug. “Our results are going to be whatever they are meant to be. Perhaps if there was anything that I could do to change the outcome, some skill that I had to be good at to get a better result, then I’d be more worried about it.”
Cecile’s words made sense. Fretting over it would not make him favored because higher powers pitied him. However, such logic would not stick within his brain; the nonsensical beast within his head would not be at peace. It paced back and forth across his mind, starving for answers. He could not simply calm down just because his friend made a good point. The stakes were simply far too high to throw his hands in the air and feign that he did not care. He cared a lot about these results.
“Besides,” she continued, slapping him reassuringly on the back. “We’re going to be fine no matter what happens. You’re about to be the brother of the next Tiarna Lunoult. Congratulations, I’m quite jealous.”
“You speak as though it’s me betrothed to Vincent,” Valentin countered. “I would save the congratulations until the couple returns happily.”
“Cecile! Get back over here,” her mother hissed over to the girl, stopping whatever response she planned to give.
“Good luck, Valentin,” Cecile wished him well and quickly walked back to her spot at the opposite end of the bench.
When Valentin’s attention returned to the Great Hall, he saw that the hall was quickly filling up with the new, less prominent families of the region. Where wealthy merchants and landowners once sat, farmers and laborers took their place. Sometime during the transition, the soft, embroidered feast pillows were replaced with far lower quality seats stuffed with straw.
The reassurances and rationality of Cecile quickly faded from Valentin’s mind after the girl left his presence. Now, all he could think about was how quickly these families were entering the hall and taking their seats. There was no pageantry or elaborate greetings or idle small talk with the tiarna. Everyone simply filed in and sat down, bringing the start of the ceremony ever closer to beginning.
Another child sat down, and another, and another. Outside of Valentin and three others who had already been in the Great Hall for the feast, the rest had likely stepped within this building for the first time. Sparkling awe lit up their faces and their eyes darted around every inch of the interior of the structure they had probably only seen from the outside.
He watched their eyes pore over the intricate carvings along the wooden walls depicting shirtless warriors hunting beasts. They stared at the massive carving of Ogaro, the symbol of what all here assembled should be aspiring to become. They admired multi-colored tablecloth meant to signify the various villages of the region, the small eagles carved into the stone floors, and even the golden torch holders that lined the walls. Valentin wondered if he had ever held such wonder for the building. He had come here every Killicia as far as he could remember.
These darting thoughts Valentin had was keeping one additional worry at bay. If his sister did not return by the time that the rest of the children had entered and the doors closed, she would not be able to attend the Ceremony. Her absence combined with Gilles’ departure was a scenario that he did not expect, further escalating his worry.
Valentin felt adrift in his own worries, as if a stray thought could pierce and drown him at any moment. He didn’t bother looking towards his father for support so instead he looked at his mother for any reprieve from his turmoil.
“Don’t worry if you’re not favored,” his mother reassured in soothing tones. “Nobody will think less of you for it.”
While he smiled at his mother’s words, inside, they did little to salve his aching insides. He knew that, upon an unfavored result, his education as a merchant would only accelerate. The trajectory of his life would be set in immutable stone.
“We will be going last,” Roland said impassively to the point that Valentin almost did not recognize that he had been spoken to.
Valentin scrunched his face at his father’s order. Why last? Outside of the first, it was the place that was the most viewed. If Valentin had his way, he’d slip in somewhere around the middle so nobody would remember the moment if it went poorly. Unfortunately for Valentin, he was a Duvin. Roland saw himself as the most important person in the room, outside of Lunoult. Therefore, Valentin, as his child, was the most important child in the Bloodstone Ceremony.
There was a saying that Valentin had heard but could not remember the origin. You never light the funeral pyre before the battle. Valentin was predetermined by the invisible forces of the world to be the last step in this performance. Despite the pout that he did out of the father’s sight, he would comply with the order.
Once again, Valentin was the victim of his father’s obsession with pageantry and politics. At this point, the boy would have happily walked over to Druid Relfon, cut open his hand himself, and be done with the entire process. Maybe then he would regain his ability to breathe normally.
The sound of heavy doors closing made a thud that echoed in Valentin’s heart. Tiarna Lunoult moved to stand in front of his table to address the attendees.
“Citizens, welcome to Roucotte and welcome to my Great Hall,” Tiarna Lunoult greeted loudly enough for all to hear him. “I am Tiarna Lunoult. For some of you, it may be your first time meeting with me but allow me to offer each family here my heartiest congratulations. Tonight, we will learn who among you carry the spark of power gifted to us by the Mother and taught to us by Killik. That power, which carried us to our salvation many generations ago, still protects us from our enemies and strengthens our lands.
You will line up before the druids and offer your hand. Knives will slice you palms and drench the Bloodstone. Only then, will we know for certain if any potential dwells within you. Stay calm and do not fret when it is your time. A calm spirit and mind will save you from any pains that you feel. If you are found with favor, I’d ask you to remain within the Great Hall so that I may talk to you individually. All others will be asked to leave after the final child is read.
No matter what the Bloodstone reveals, each of you are an important and valuable citizen of my realm. So please, do not fret over these details of favor. Enjoy yourself and when your blood touches stone, may there only be joy in your hearts. Druid Relfon, if you would do the honors.”
Valentin was uncertain if he could follow Tiarna Lunoult’s request. There was no joy in his heart at the thought of the Bloodstone Ceremony. Looking around the room, it seemed that his sentiment was shared. It was far more prevalent to those with the poorest hygiene, in the worst clothes. Their children’s potential favor was the most expedient way to change their standings and rapidly rise. Even a tiny glow guaranteed a salary and a full belly. This immense weight could be seen on the faces of the children that sat with them. While a scant few looked excited, far more looked visibly ill with stress.
Druid Relfon marched back into the center of the room. Enraptured and nervous faces of other children waited with bated breath for the small cloth curtain to be pulled from the crystal, showing its brilliance to all.
Once again, Druid Relfon slowly spun around the room to show off the crystal to the new and old guests. His right hand grabbed the Bloodstone while he tore the cloth away with the left. With a dramatic flourish, the crystal sparkled for all to see.
“Behold,” commanded Tiarna Lunoult. “The Bloodstone bestowed upon us by the Royal Tionól of Druids. This is our tool to measure the blessing of the Great Spirit and the Ancestors.”
It was not Valentin’s first time seeing the Bloodstone but the gem captivated him every time. The crystal glinted even in the dim firelight of the Great Hall. Within the Bloodstone held the future of any that spilled blood upon and determined the station of a person for the rest of their life. For the poor and less fortunate, this was the greatest path towards the upwards trajectory of their fortunes.
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The families clapped at the sight of the crystal and for their lord’s encouraging speech. Valentin himself couldn’t help but feel a bit moved by the warmth of the tiarna.
Druid Relfon took over the responsibilities of leading the rest of the Bloodstone Ceremony. Four other druids now accompanied him in the center of the room.
“You may approach whenever you are ready. Please follow my instructions when you arrive and everything will go without issue,” Druid Relfon instructed calmly.
Despite the stratified society they lived in, the Bloodstone Ceremony was one of the few events that treated everyone as equals. Just as favor blesses all walks of life without discrimination, so too should the Ceremony that identifies them. Unless the tiarna personally steps in, the children must choose their own order.
From the stories that Valentin had heard and remembered from Jeanne’s ceremony, there was always a motionless and silent beginning to the Bloodstone Ceremony. There was both a large boon and a large curse with going first. It was both called the Conqueror’s First and the Fool’s First. They say that those that go first have a higher chance of being favored. However, if you are unfavored and go first, it is all the more devastating for the child that has to sit in the Great Hall watching every other kid go through the Ceremony with the knowledge that they were not good enough.
You are or you are not, those are the only options made available, no matter how many names or superstition you gave to it. Surely one’s blood would not magically change depending on your order in line. Though it did not hurt to be safe.
Valentin was at least spared this dilemma. His order had already been set for him. He watched the other children fidget uncomfortably. Who would go first? Which brave child take the greatest risk to go first? Only one out every ten people had blood that stirred the Bloodstone. One out of every ten people were favored, it was truth. Meaning that, in this room, realistically only five children would be favored at most.
While discrediting one superstition based upon feeling, Valentin held steadfastly to this statistic without understanding what it truly meant. Trapped within numbers that he did not truly understand, he treated this room as though it were a microcosm of the entire world and that the results would have to match the world as a whole. This room could just as easily possess no favored children as it could be half full of favored children.
A girl wearing a dress far too large for her rose from her seat and bravely approached the druids. Hushed conversations between family members could be barely made out in the quiet hall. The initiative had been taken and the first person was now decided. Her parents and younger sibling watched on.
“Hello miss,” greeted Druid Relfon. “What is your name?”
“Anne.” The girl attempted to look confident but her voice had betrayed her. She was terrified and Valentin could not fault her.
“Clan name?”
“W-we don’t have one,” Anne meekly responded, somewhat ashamed of that fact.
“Very well,” replied Druid Relfon.
Each of the five druids had a specific role to play in the Ceremony. Druid Relfon would interact with the child and instruct them. One of the druids played the role of scribe and wrote the child’s information as well as the result of the ceremony. This scroll would be sent to High Tiarna d’Gauval so he could recruit promising talent to his court. One druid would draw the blood and help direct it onto the stone. One would mend the knife wound. The final druid would maintain the Bloodstone by cleaning the ritual blood and resetting the energy of the stone between candidates.
“Now I need you to maintain your breathing. Follow my lead.” Druid Relfon ordered as he ensured the girl was breathing steadily. “Now it is possible you will feel a sharp pain. Please do your best to maintain your breathing. Hold out your palms.”
The girl reached out her trembling hands. The druid with the knife grasped the girl's wrist and sliced the blade across the small hand. The girl whimpered and retained her composure. A thin line of blood emerged from the shallow cut.
“Now clench your hand over the stone,” commanded the lead druid.
The girl obeyed and red liquid drizzled over the stone. People watched with bated breath the see the Bloodstone’s response. The crystal sat with no reaction for a moment. Suddenly, a slight warm glow emanated from the crystal. The girl was favored.
The scribe druid wrote the results down. “Congratulations, Anne. Please go to Druid Res over there to have your wound tended to.”
Anne walked cheerily toward the healer. Her parents broke into tears and grasped at each other. Kids in the room swore their poor fortune. Despite the humble glow of the stone, even that much power was more than enough for someone of their standing. She would join Tiarna Lunoult as a foot soldier and never go hungry again. The Conqueror’s First prevailed on this night, leaving Valentin with the erroneous sinking feeling that the amount of opportunities to yield a positive result were dwindling. Rumors dictate that the person that went second was doomed to fail. The Coward’s Second. The person that lacked the bravery to go first did not deserve power.
Valentin, knowing his father’s desire for him to be unfavored, wondered if his father felt compelled to have him rise next but the boy’s father did not move at all. There would be nothing that would stop them from going last.
The Ceremony would now drag on longer. Minutes passed by without another child getting up. Anne had been treated by the healer and was now sitting proudly by her parents who cuddled her and whispered their pride into her ear.
“If one of you does not approach, I will decide for you,” Tiarna Lunoult said plainly.
Perhaps this was the opportunity to reclaim the bravery that was lost by not going first. You certainly did not want to be chosen by the Tiarna. Five children jumped up and made their way to the druids. They formed a line in order of arrival.
“What is your name?” Druid Relfon asked the shaking child.
“P-Pierre,” he sputtered.
“Clan name?” Druid Relfon requested.
“N-none.”
“Very well, reach out your hand and do not move,” Relfon requested, gripping Pierre’s hand and swiftly slicing it.
Crimson blood coated the top of the crystal and dripped onto Druid Relfon’s fingers. The room watched intently for any changes in the Bloodstone. Despite how badly Pierre and his family may have wished for it to react, the crystal remained inert. The scribe druid wrote down the findings and the boy was sent back after his hand had been mended.
Unfavored.
The next four, committed to their position in line, bravely moved forwards to have their verdicts read before all present. There were no further superstitions to rely upon. It was only up to their blood.
Unfavored, unfavored, unfavored, unfavored.
The attempt failed. The five children sat despondently by their parents. Now that the opening moves of the Bloodstone Ceremony had finished and order now became irrelevant, children started lining up to the druids. Now all but the four that had been in the Great Hall during the feast had gotten up and stood in line in front of the druids.
Unfavored, unfavored, unfavored, unfavored, unfavored, unfavored, unfavored.
A boy in ratty clothes whose name was Fils was the next to awaken the Bloodstone. His glow was slightly brighter than Anne’s and the druids sternly reported the findings. His mother, the lone person that came to the hall with him, wept tears of joy and wrapped her arms around her son.
Four children later, a smith’s son named Henri was revealed to be favored. His father called out in pride and draped his arms around another man and woman who beamed equally.
Six more children were processed by the druids. Next, a girl named Emi who was the daughter of a stable hand was graced by a glow bright enough to wash the room in light. The audience murmured over the brightness and Valentin cursed to himself in jealousy. That was the glow he wanted for himself. That was the glow that is required to truly be special. He saw Tiarna Lunoult have a conversation with his marshal. The gruff woman nodded and approached the stable hand and the girl directly. The interaction showcased to all the expedience in which one’s life could change drastically.
A little over half the children had undergone the ceremony and the day fully pressed into darkness. Valentin yawned involuntarily, the constant stress he squeezed himself with sapped his energy.
After Emi was favored, a long procession of unfavored children followed her. Seventeen children walked away without blessing.
Now all that remained were the four children whose families were important enough to receive a feast invitation from the Tiarna. One could say that due to the difference in social elevation between these four children and the numerous commoners that had already gone through the Ceremony that the Conqueror’s First and the Fool’s First had been reset. It was a matter of who would try that logic first.
“It seems like it falls on me to take initiative,” A boy in nice clothing rose from the floor. Valentin did not recognize him as he was not at the Tiarna’s table. Still, he was important enough to have gained entrance.
The three other children did not rise to stop him. He stood before the druids.
“Name?”
“Percy Taill.”
The hand was cut and the blood poured upon the crystal. All watched closely for the reaction. A warm glow of an equivalent level to Anne's. The Conqueror’s First held true once again. Percy looked mildly satisfied in his victory and got his hand inspected by the healing druid. It would not be enough to overturn whatever future was already determined for him. Still, being a blessed craftsman was better than not. The boy’s father puffed his chest in pride and his mother laughed in relief.
The three remaining children could see defeat being wiped off the crystal. There was still a possibility that they could make an impression upon the Bloodstone, but that chance felt remote. It was not so bad, Valentin rationalized. Like Cecile said, the three of them could always inherit the enterprises of their parents and manage their lives in relative comfort.
A girl sighed and got up to get it over with. Valentin admired that attitude even if he could not do it himself. Unsurprisingly, the girl was unfavored and returned to her parents who patted her on the head and tears welled in her eyes. Even if the worst was not so bad, it was still a bitter pill to swallow.
“Remember, you are last,” Roland reminded. “Under no circumstances do you step forward before that.”
The only remaining children were Valentin and Cecile Orelle. In the eyes of the spectators, these children were equals. Both sat at the Tiarna’s table, both were of equal wealth and fame, and both were rulers of their respective villages. Only one thing differentiated the two. Valentin sat closer to the Tiarna by virtue of his sister’s betrothal.
That arbitrary difference decided the duel between fathers. Orelle grumbled and his daughter rose to join the ceremony. She gave Valentin a brief wave before turning to face Druid Relfon and his knife.
“Hello, Young Miss Orelle. Please give me your hand.”
Unfavored.
Despite her rationality from earlier, Valentin could see that she, in some way, was disappointed by the result. A brief frown crossed her face and she touched her wrapped wound tenderly. However, she seemed to brush off those negative feelings quickly and returned to her parents who gave her a consoling pat on the shoulder.
Now all that remained was Valentin. The boy’s heart beat wildly in his chest and his stomach was engaged in a performative dance. He rose from his chair and felt every eye burn upon him. There was nothing more that the boy could hide behind.
He walked stiffly, his joints uncooperative. He felt like a newborn animal trying to walk for the first time. Did he look extraordinarily foolish? It was a possibility. But he was sure that all who had gone before him had felt the same way and that there were none that could judge him.
Now all that was before him were the druids. Nothing else existed in the room except for him and them. At least that was the mantra that he was attempting to use to calm his nerves. It was not serving him as well as he had hoped. However, Druid Relfon always had a kind and patient face and his smooth words helped slightly.
“Hello, Valentin. Please breathe with me.”
The boy matched his breath to the druid’s. He felt himself calming down slightly. He held out his palms and tried his best to steady them. It would be a disaster if his uneasy heart caused the bladed druid to misjudge his cut and severely injure Valentin.
His wrist was grabbed and a streak of hot pain shot through his body. His breathing went ragged again and he clutched at his hand. He gritted his teeth. Was this what everyone felt? Had he handled it as well as the rest?
“Breathe, breathe. Good. Now clench your hand over the Bloodstone.”
The warm red liquid trickled from his hand and onto the Bloodstone. It was done. There was nothing more that he could do at this moment. A feeling of relief hit the boy before the Bloodstone could even deliver its final verdict. Valentin had been trying to prepare himself for the moment of disappointment all night. He redoubled his efforts after Percy’s success and he hoped that he would be at peace no matter what happened.
However, his thoughts died when he saw the Bloodstone. A glow formed in the stone. Murmurs fluttered in Valentin’s ears.
The light within the crystal grew. It surpassed most of the children in the room. It was second only to Emi’s impressive reading. It did not stop there. It shone more brightly to now be the brightest of the night. Joy spread through Valentin’s body. He could now be like his uncle without concern from his parents. He was strong. He was favored by the Great Spirit and the call for higher things.
It grew brighter. Uncomfortably so. Valentin averted his gaze from the brightness and shouts could be heard from all sides of him. He could hear his father and Tiarna Lunoult. And though he could no longer see him, he could hear Druid Relfon in front of him.
“I’ve never-”
A loud crack cut through all the noise of the Great Hall and the light abruptly died. A cacophony of voices filled the room. Valentin looked down upon the Bloodstone in front of him and saw that a massive crack bisected the crystal. The druids looked tentatively at each other; the shock of the scene fading and an understanding of what they had witnessed grew on their faces.
Tiarna Lunoult and Roland hurried over to the crystal. Valentin was shuffled to the side. He felt a hand tap him on the shoulder and the surprised, but friendly face of the healing druid looked down upon Valentin. The boy extended his hand so that it could be treated.
“What happened? Was the crystal dropped?” Tiarna Lunoult inquired as he inspected the crystal with a shocked expression. He ran his finger along the crack and tiny sparks shot across the gap. The shock forced the tiarna to withdraw his hand immediately.
“I did not drop it,” claimed the druid responsible. “I had it firmly in hand.”
“You dropped it,” Roland responded, not believing the druid. “You dropped it!”
“How dare you accuse me of-”
“You fucking dropped it! You hear me!” Roland gripped his hand on the druid’s shoulder causing the others to shy away in shock. “Or the stone wasn’t cleaned properly. We need another Bloodstone. We need to do it again.”
“Roland!” Valentin’s mother called out as she ran to her husband. The druids went to their fellow’s aid and the guards stepped in to separate the parties. Roucotte’s marshal grabbed Roland and dragged him away. A shocked silence fell upon the Great Hall. Valentin had not expected such a reaction in his wildest dreams.
“You know what this means, right Roland?” Tiarna Lunoult said firmly. He looked towards the scribe druid who had his quill prepared to write the final verdict.
“You can’t call it yet Bernard. We need to use another stone,” Roland demanded and pointed at Tiarna Lunoult but the marshal pushed him further away.
“I’m sorry, Roland,” Tiarna Lunoult replied apologetically. “But a result like this is conclusive.”
“The Bloodstone cracked,” Druid Relfon reported now that he had regained his composure. He nodded to the scribe who quickly scrawled out the outcome. “There is only one thing that something like this could possibly mean. Valentin’s favor is so great that it was too much for the crystal to take. Valentin Duvin is a Storm Heir.”