Volithur didn’t make it back with Jemmi’s wine before another girl accosted him with the demand to dance. He managed to convince his assailant to allow him to deliver the beverage, but a short delay was the best he could do. Jemmi took the glass, glanced meaningfully at the new girl, and said “stop by later if you get a chance”.
He did not get that chance.
The girl who had snagged him while he was on his drink run monopolized his time for three dances before losing interest as it became clear he did not dance well. She was almost pretty, avoiding such a designation due to the cruel imperiousness she carried herself with. True to form, she found another girl to pass Volithur off to so that he couldn’t have any free time. He knew that was the case because she explained to him that he was being punished for not dancing better.
The next girl possessed a more pleasant demeanor. Unfortunately, her predecessor had gone out of her way to choose the least attractive and most desperate partner available. Silva bore signs of pox along her cheeks, had traces of facial hair, and flashed yellow teeth every time her mouth opened. She also laughed like a hyena at her own jokes and constantly solicited compliments from him on everything – ‘yes, Silva, your eyes are beautiful’, ‘I agree that you dance very well’, ‘you are definitely the funniest person here tonight’. The experience grated on Volithur. She wasn’t mean-spirited, but her casual classism and need to assuage her fragile ego made their interactions tedious. Finally, she tired out her legs and let him escape for the price of kissing her hand like they were courting.
Jemmi was no longer at her table by that point and another noble girl snagged him up for a dance. He was passed through a small group of heavyset ladies who spent as much time insulting him while social convention forced him to smile as he did moving his feet. The verbal barrage hardly bothered him since by this point his feet were growing sore.
At one point he spotted Khana twirling across the floor with Ulysses, her full attention on her relative. A stab of jealousy slid right past his mental defenses. The boy led a charmed life. Receiving expensive elixirs and extensive instruction. Having servants provide for his every need. Inheriting a wealth of natural talent. Being an object of desire for beautiful women.
Volilthur fought off the emotion. He told himself he would rather be humiliated and beaten daily than have the hateful blood of the Lord General flow through his veins. But to have even a trace of talent would be so divine, his thoughts betrayed his heart.
When a lull in the dancing arrived, Volithur found Hazen resting at a table and joined his fellow commoner. While they existed in very different social strata back in the fifth household, they were treated no differently at the Evergreen Institute. “This is quite terrible,” Volithur observed.
“The ordeal will end soon. The chaperons will not want their charges dancing with commoners after sunset.” Hazen eyed him. “You managed to sit out a few songs at the start.”
“I found a partner who wasn’t interested in dancing.”
“Beginner’s luck,” Hazen quipped.
Volithur gestured towards where their team mates moved together. “Those two seem to be enjoying themselves.”
“Khana needs to marry upwards into the family hierarchy to avoid disinheritance. Her mother is deceased and her talent is insufficient for her to remain on her own merits. This time at the Evergreen Institute may be a prelude to a much longer stay for her.”
“You mean she might be forced to go into service?”
“That outcome seems inevitable. Master Rowan has been a dutiful guardian. No doubt he will pay the hefty fee of the Institute to ensure his niece a comfortable transition to her reduced station. Khana will never catch the eye of more prestigious family members who visit to the fifth household so long as she must compete with Rolanda. Ensnaring her childhood playmate Ulysses likely seems possible to her, but his parents expect a better match for him.”
Volithur stared at his team mate as she smiled up at a boy who clearly enjoyed the affection without returning it in kind. “It’s a terrible thing to lack talent,” he said.
“Only if you lack connections.” Frustration marred Hazen’s normally placid features. “Some are lucky enough to enter the orbit of lords based on a happenstance of appearance.”
The Head Scribe approached their table while Volithur was still processing the fact that Hazen might be enough of a fool to envy his circumstances. “Master Rowan is ready to leave now.”
They both jumped to their feet at the opportunity to leave. Their other team mates were recalled from the dance floor and they returned to their assigned cottage as a group, listening to Master Rowan recount tedious details of conversations he had with other chaperons.
Fortunately, the walk was short and Volithur soon found himself in the luxury of his private bedroom. The comfort of the space did little to calm the turmoil of his mind. Being constantly manipulated grated upon him. He could do nothing but go along with it. Judging by his almost nonexistent cultivation progress, he would never be in a position other than that of a bowing servant.
A session of mental cultivation later, he found peace in slumber.
The competition resumed the next day. Rather than a packed examination room like the previous day, he had to perform calculations on stage. Two chalkboards on wheels would be turned away from them while proctors set up math problems. Then the chalkboards were turned back and they had a certain period of time to mark their answer.
The narrative has been illicitly obtained; should you discover it on Amazon, report the violation.
Nine rounds passed before the problems progressed beyond simple arithmetic operations to algebra. Volithur breezed through three more problems before his opponent failed, giving him the win. Hazen did similarly well with the spell-off. Khana won her competition as well, which Volithur mostly thought due to the way she flashed her dimples when she smiled at the judges. Ulysses lost, but only due to being assigned an unfavorable side of the argument. The boy took his loss graciously on the stage, then secluded himself from the rest of the group to mutter rephrased arguments under his breath, seemingly trying to figure out the phrasing that would have improved his outcome.
After lunch they returned for another match. It took twenty rounds for Volithur to secure a victory this time, and on his return to his seat he was warmly welcomed by Master Rowan and the Head Scribe. Ulysses then sat beside him. “You have done very well today, Ward Harridan. I regret my poor showing in our previous match, but I will redeem myself.”
“Thank you for your kind words, Master Ulysses.”
Ulysses nodded in agreement. “I suspect we may finish in the top three. You have not achieved a level one soul yet, Ward Harridan. That will make it difficult for you to absorb cosmic energy through your aura.”
Volithur sank into the chair as his mood deflated. Despite the outcome of his match, he was not truly a winner.
Beside him, Ulysses reached some conclusion. “I would offer you assistance in aura training tonight, Ward Harridan. That method of cultivation is my specialty and you have proven yourself deserving.”
The offer seemed very sincere, yet Volithur felt only dread at the thought of enduring another lesson where an instructor slowly transitioned from optimism to open disappointment. He could not refuse such a generous offer, however. Indeed, he had to display a proper degree of enthusiasm to demonstrate his appreciation. “I would be most honored to receive your instruction, Master Ulysses.”
“Good. Then it is settled.”
The overall outcome of the second match went in their favor. Ulysses won his debate, Hazen won after more than forty rounds, and Khana lost to a much prettier opponent. That moved them into the top four, which thoroughly satisfied the expectations placed on their group. Master Rowan abandoned their table during dinner to make the rounds and receive congratulations from his acquaintances. The Head Scribe hummed contentedly to himself, stopping only once to mention to Volithur that he would be inclined to provide personalized tutoring in the future.
No doubt Volithur had secured a permanent spot on the competition team. He wouldn’t mind repeating the three day trip once a year. It gave him an opportunity to extort extra resources from the Head Scribe. If he intended to make any progress, he would need as many resources as possible.
When they returned to their cottage to prepare for the show, Ulysses made a formal request to Master Rowan to skip it so that he could instruct ‘Ward Harridan’ in aura cultivation. Master Rowan hemmed and hawed for a few minutes before finally granting the request.
While everyone else prepared to attend the show, Ulysses sat across from Volithur and stared at him intensely. “Everything you have read about cultivating the aura is wrong.”
Volithur nodded along with the statement. He had not actually read much on the aura.
“The authors of all the common guides are from Tian, where cosmic energy is a hundred times denser than a world like ours. Their method of passive soul respiration barely works here, and not at all if your soul isn’t attuned yet.
“The better method is priming and pumping, similar to what you would do during mental cultivation. Create the smallest gap possible in the aura aperture of your soul, then squeeze out a puff of cosmic energy. It seems counter to common sense to emit energy instead of hoarding it, but your aura will become much more responsive with the infusion. You should be able to harvest about ten percent more than what you invest in the process, even in a poor environment. While in the cosmic chamber, you can expect to double the initial investment.
“When you harvest cosmic energy from the environment, you want to expand your aura in a permissive state, then harden it and draw it back towards your body. So from start to finish, the process is: squeeze out cosmic energy from your soul into your aura, expand your aura in a permissive state, harden it to cosmic energy, draw it close to your body, and inhale the energy through your soul aperture. Then you repeat. Do you understand?”
“I think so,” Volithur said.
“Good. Then we arrive at the largest challenge. Since you are not attuned, your aura will be an ephemeral construct. I would be surprised if you can even feel it. So we will be doing sensitization drills for the remainder of the evening.”
And they did so for several hours. As they sat awkwardly across from one another, Ulysses extended his invisible aura to crush that of Volithur. Meanwhile, Volithur strained to his utmost to sense anything. There was nothing at first. Then, towards the end, he began to trick himself into imagining phantom sensations. That proved even more disheartening than feeling nothing.
The others returned from the show, making polite comments about the performances, and Ulysses took that as his cue to finish the lesson. “Gather as much cosmic energy as you can in mental cultivation tonight in preparation for tomorrow.”
“I will try, Master Ulysses, but I can usually only perform a single round of mental cultivation before I need to sleep.”
The horror on Ulysses’ face eclipsed the stoic resolve the boy wore by habit. “What have those simpleminded soldiers been teaching you?”
Volithur worked his jaw, unable to formulate a coherent response. They hadn’t taught him mental cultivation. “It was a book,” he finally managed.
“You’re learning mental cultivation from reading a book? Before your soul has even attuned? How is that ever supposed to work?” Ulysses plopped himself back down on his seat. “If you are straining so hard you lose consciousness after a single cycle, you are doing something very wrong, Ward Harridan. The aperture between your mind and soul is keyed to thought, so when you form a conceptual framework representing cosmic energy and pair it with the intent to filter, it should result in a pure stream of cosmic energy.
“Whatever insight you have into cosmic energy must be woefully inaccurate if you are experiencing such inefficiencies. It would be like breathing through your nose while you suffer from a cold. A lot of effort is required to bring in a small amount of air. You need to forget the things you’ve read about cosmic energy. Those are paltry words. The greatest poet alive couldn’t capture the essence of true power with a thousand lines of verse. When you perform mental cultivation, focus on the sensation of cosmic energy and its illimitable potential. Feel your way to an insight and use that as your conceptual.”
Volithur shot to his feet and bowed deeply to the other boy. “Thank you, Master Ulysses. Your instruction is a gift I can never hope to repay.”
“You are the ward of my great grandfather and a future member of his retinue. This type of instruction should have been given to you long ago. But I will be content if this helps you take advantage of the cosmic chamber tomorrow.”