"You're full of interesting questions, Julius," my valet chuckled. "I don't even know how to answer. We just call it 'Will'; it's simpler that way. Everyone who finishes military training takes an exam on 'Will,' and upon passing, they give you a key like this."
With these words, Vasily loosened the collar of his shirt and pulled out a chain, on which a small crystal of pure blue colour hung alongside his tags.
Twisting it counterclockwise, he unclasped the chain, but to my surprise, he didn't remove it from his neck.
Instead, he stretched it out—like a leash.
"Don't touch it," Vasily chuckled, moving my hand away. "It'll zap you like electricity. Each person has their own charge, unique to them."
"And what's this? A key?" I asked, pointing to the crystal.
"A key, a battery, and much more. But above all, it's a resonator, obeying the will of its owner. The stronger the will, and the closer you are to the resonator, the more power you can draw from it," Vasily explained cryptically.
"Many associate the resonance effect with ancient bloodlines... aristocracy's blue blood, but I think that's nonsense. It's not about the blood—it's about upbringing, absorbed with a mother's milk."
"Then, my dad…has willpower, so much at that, truly?" I muttered, recalling the scolding his wife had given me.
"You're wrong there, Julius. In the Zuvorin family, wives are sacred. When war breaks out and you're sent to the front, who do you think will run the household?" Vasily asked mockingly.
"And war, my friend, is no short affair. It can drag on for years, like the Second World War, which raged across World for twenty years before the United Countries and our people reached an agreement."
"What about mages? I saw a Witch throwing fireballs and stopping bullets mid-air. Is that also 'resonance'?" I asked curiously.
"Magic, you say?" Vasily chuckled but paused in thought before answering. "You could call it that. 'Gifted' are chosen by the Aldar and God—those who can resonate with the universe through crystals using their will. The highest manifestation of will is altering the properties of matter and energy. But even regular officers can do much. Have you read about the cruiser Peter the Great?"
"No, I haven't gotten to it yet. What's there?" I asked in surprise.
"The greatest battle aircraft of the second half of the 20th century," Vasily said proudly, as if he'd built it himself. "Twelve regimental resonators—and that's just for propulsion! Three six-barrel turret guns of 180mm, two decks for defensive aviation, and eighteen rapid-fire anti-aircraft guns."
"How did that thing even fly?" I asked, stunned, imagining a hybrid of a giant airship and a ship. Instead of answering, Vasily rummaged through a pile of books and opened a photograph.
The image was truly astonishing—melding a hedgehog with a snake in one's imagination would be easier.
And military folks were always practical, far from wasting resources frivolously. If so why did the built something like this?
Peter the Great, Alderstone Empire's linear air cruiser, resembled a five-deck sausage bristling with dozens of machine gun turrets and covered in additional armor plates.
The three turret guns, as Vasily had said, were six-barreled, positioned at the edges—two below and one at the front hemisphere.
"You have some interesting questions, Sashka," my teacher-caretaker-bodyguard-and-nanny in one chuckled. "I don't even know how to answer. We just call it 'Will'; it's simpler and clearer that way. Everyone who graduates from the military department takes an exam on 'Will,' and upon completion, they're given a key like this."
With these words, Vasily slightly unbuttoned the collar of his shirt and pulled out a chain, on which a small crystal of pure blue color hung alongside some tokens. Twisting it counterclockwise, he unclasped the chain, but to my surprise, he didn't remove it from his neck; instead, he stretched it out—as if it were a leash.
"Don't touch it," Vasily chuckled, pushing my hand away. "Otherwise, it'll zap you like electricity. Everyone has their own charge, unique to them."
"And what is this? A key?" I asked, pointing at the crystal.
"A key, a battery, and much more. But the main thing is the resonator, which obeys the owner's will. The stronger your will, and the closer you are to the resonator, the more power you can draw from it," Vasily explained cryptically. "Many associate the resonance effect with ancient lineage… the blue blood of aristocracy, but to me, that's nonsense. It's not about blood, but about upbringing—absorbed from the mother's milk."
"I haven't noticed that the prince has much willpower," I muttered, recalling the scolding his wife had given him.
"That's where you're wrong, Sashka. Wives in the Suvorov family are sacred. When war begins, they'll send you to the front lines, but who will manage the household?" the errand-runner asked mockingly. "And war is such that it can drag on for years, like the Second World War, which roamed across Europe for twenty years before the Brits and our people came to an agreement."
This content has been misappropriated from Royal Road; report any instances of this story if found elsewhere.
"What about mages? I've seen a Witch throwing fireballs and stopping bullets in midair. Is that also 'resonance'?" I inquired.
"Magic, you say?" Vasily chuckled but paused in thought before answering. "You could call it that. 'Gifted' are chosen by the Tsar and God—those who can resonate with the universe through crystals using their will. The highest manifestation of will is altering the properties of matter and energy. But even ordinary officers can do a lot. Have you read about the cruiser Peter the Great?"
"No, I haven't gotten to it yet. What's it about?" I asked, surprised.
"The greatest skyship of the second half of the twentieth century," the errand-runner said proudly, as if he had built it himself. "Twelve regimental resonators—and that's just the propulsion part! Three six-barreled turret guns of 180mm, two decks for defensive aviation, eighteen rapid-fire anti-aircraft guns."
"How did that thing fly?" I asked in astonishment, imagining a hybrid between a giant airship and a ship. Instead of answering, the errand-runner rummaged through a stack of books and opened a photograph. What I saw was indeed impressive. Combining a hedgehog and a snake in one's imagination isn't the hardest part; making it practical is. And the military had always been very practical people, far from wasting resources foolishly.
Peter the Great, a linear air cruiser of the Russian Empire, looked like a five-deck sausage bristling with dozens of machine-gun turrets and adorned with additional armor plates.
The three turret guns, as Vasily had said—six-barreled—were positioned at the edges: two at the bottom and one in the front hemisphere.
"And how did it fly? It's not a plane, and shooting it down probably wouldn't take much effort. A couple of missiles..." I said, mimicking an explosion by spreading my hands apart.
"If His Imperial Majesty hadn’t been aboard, along with Princes Mendy, Dimitry, and Karl, that’s probably what would’ve happened," Vasily replied.
"But together, they could easily shoot down any incoming missiles, disabling them before they even approached. And your grandfather, Miroslav Zuvorin, with his combat squadron, easily eliminated any resistance from manoeuvrable aviation."
"So, Miroslav is a pilot?" I said, though it wasn't surprising—the man still looked lean and wiry, even the burden of peaceful life hadn’t softened him or caused him to put on fat. "And how can I learn to use my own resonance?"
"The crystal is only issued by the secret chancellery upon enlisting in active military service," Vasily said, giving me a peculiar look. "Every child in the Empire knows this—if you want to drive a car, fly, or aspire to personal nobility—join the army."
"So, training in resonance begins only at the academy? What about magic, are there any combat faculties?" I asked, trying to change the subject.
"No, the academy trains technicians, fighter pilots, mech operators, and junior officers. Magic, as you persistently call it the 'gift,' cannot be learned. You can only sense it yourself and then find a mentor who will help you develop your existing abilities," Vasily replied.
"But usually, gifted ones go down this path alone, because no family would want to reveal their family secrets to outsiders."
"What about the Zuvorin’s? It seems there is no gifted one in our family," I quickly corrected myself, seeing my valet frown.
"An experienced assault trooper in good armor is far stronger and more useful than an ordinary gifted one," Vasily replied, and selecting one of the books, handed it to me. "Here’s a list of the most popular and relevant models. They are all currently in the troops."
Flipping through a few pages, I realized that before me was something between an encyclopedia and a catalog for orders. Armor’s of various categories and prices were very different from the usual infantry Armor, resembling more medieval knightly plate Armor equipped with jump packs or just assault shields and firearms.
Following the individual armor were light armored walkers, also bipedal, but more resembling ostriches. And at the end of the catalog, I found a strange hybrid of a spider and an elephant— named The Mammoth, a six-legged contraption with a turret-mounted cannon of quite large calibre.
Among the specifications of each machine and armour, aside from the list of weapons and armour, there was a note "resonator capacity," the values of which ranged from hundreds for armour to tens of thousands for the Mammoth.
"And how much resonance do you have?" I asked my Valet, pointing to the numbers in the book.
"In polite society, such a question could lead to a duel, and in less polite circles—just get punched in the face," Vasily smirked, shaking his head. "We'll go over this in our etiquette lessons. And don’t look at the numbers too much—the Mammoth has twelve crew members, ten of whom are engineers with high capacity. It’s not that simple, but it’s too early for you to study this. Better focus on the rank table."
Arguing with an old soldier was completely pointless, especially since my status as an heir had suddenly become completely uncertain. So, I dove headfirst into studying, setting aside thoughts of my missing "mother" and gradually increasing my physical workload.
By the end of the allotted month, I could confidently distinguish nobility from commoners, the troop armour from multi-functional armour, and Vasily was very stern while teaching me the ways of society and etiquette.
But while training my mind, I didn’t neglect my body.
Daily stretching eventually turned into light workouts by the end of the month, and I could already not only walk to the bathroom unaided but also do ten push-ups and three pull-ups—a vast improvement from the nothingness of a coma-stricken body.
Thanks to the gradual infusion of man into my chakras, I achieved the impossible—restoring muscle tone, strengthening my skeletal system, normalizing blood circulation, and even making some progress in unlocking the higher energy centres.
I began forming energetic connections in my frontal lobe and pupils, preparing for the awakening of my third eye. The only thing that greatly puzzled me was the presence of an unfamiliar eighth chakra.
I had absolutely no control over it, yet it constantly drained part of the energy I was cultivating.
On the designated day, I woke up before dawn, reviewed my notes to refresh all the key points in my memory, and started getting dressed. Just as I was finishing, Vasily burst into the room, his face oscillating between horror, disgust, and confusion.
"What happened?" I asked, watching my normally composed valet pacing nervously.
"The Mirans happened," he replied grimly. "The exam has been rescheduled. Now it’s going to have two parts: theory and practice."
"As if using the Zuvorin name wasn’t enough for them, now they’re plotting treachery?" I said, frowning as I imagined the schemes swirling around to keep me from becoming the Zuvorin heir.
"The practical part this year will take the form of duels," Vasily added, his tone even darker. "And you have no chance of passing it."
"Is that so?" I said, closing my eyes and directing energy into them. "You think I have no chance? We’ll see about that. Let’s go!"