They were led off the stage through its back exit, through tight corridors, down several flights of stairs into a subterranean section lit only by flickering oil lamps. Volithur couldn’t help but think that electric lighting would be incredibly useful in that space. Of course, no self-respecting Xian would ever countenance the use of Jinn technology.
Deep in the bowels of the basement, a central room held a small stone structure. They were directed to squeeze inside it through a narrow gap in its thick walls. The first student to enter was given a small lantern that gave off just enough light for everyone to crowd into the chamber.
A rudimentary bench was carved around the perimeter, while in the center of the cramped space a pedestal with a shallow impression at its top held a small amount of water. “It’s so intense in here already and they haven’t even started,” Khana said to Ulysses.
The older boy’s voice held a certain stiffness as he responded to the exclamation, no doubt upset that their group had volunteered public criticism of their own family’s facilities. “The Shaocheth cosmic chamber is a different design, Khana. It uses a higher degree of active components so that the quality of a session can be calibrated to the needs of the occupants.”
“Active components,” Jemmi echoed. “What a callous term to obscure the sacrifices made to push your cultivation higher.”
An adult servant poked his head through the door to stare intently at the water, which began to boil, releasing steam into the air. The servant withdrew and a heavy stone plug was maneuvered into place to seal the chamber.
In the dark, Volithur saw Ulysses’ shadowy form turn in his direction. “It may prove helpful to take your salt now, Ward Harridan. Remember my advice.”
“Thank you, Master Ulysses.” Volithur opened the small reward bag, withdrew a smooth round stone the size of his fingertip, and considered the loose powder a moment. He could see no dignified manner of getting to his teaspoon of salt, so he tilted his face to the ceiling and poured it into his mouth. The salt… was salt. While not unbearable, he didn’t enjoy the taste and for the life of him couldn’t understand why table salt from Tian would be given as a reward. It didn’t fill his body with cosmic energy as he had expected. It just left a literal bad taste in his mouth.
“It’s started,” an unfamiliar voice announced. Murmurs of agreement came from the bodies packed into the chamber around him.
“Do we wait for the cosmic energy to increase or cultivate immediately?”
“I have been cultivating since I entered the chamber,” Ulysses answered.
The side conversations between strangers dwindled as everyone brought their focus to the reason the twelve of them were in that tiny room. Volithur practiced his breathing exercise a few times before following the instructions given to him by Ulysses the previous night. He squeezed out a puff of cosmic energy into the aperture he felt most closely associated with the space immediately around himself and prepared to fumble through awkward visualizations.
That proved entirely unnecessary. As soon as he ejected the puff, the flow of cosmic energy reversed and Volithur witnessed a steady stream of power flow into his soul. It happened without any effort on his part. The infusion continued unimpeded, growing stronger as the energy levels of the chamber increased.
About time I had some good fortune, he thought.
Any further ruminations were cut off by what felt like a world-shattering concussion within his soul, as if a bomb strong enough to lay waste to the entire campus of the Evergreen Institute had exploded within him. Volithur slumped in a stupor that lasted a considerable length of time.
He came back to himself when Hazen shook his shoulder. “Are you sleeping right now?”
Volithur shook his head to clear out the murkiness. “No. I don’t think so, at least.” He became aware of an invisible envelope stretching about his body and flexed it with his will, causing it to stretch like an additional limb he had only just discovered. “I think I just increased my soul level.”
“Ah,” Hazen responded. “You chose a good place to do it. You recovered in half an hour instead of a week.”
Half an hour? Panic set in. Half his time in the chamber had passed already and he hadn’t even used the aura cultivation technique yet!
Volithur expanded his newly discovered aura a few inches, letting it pass through the cosmic energy surrounding him. Then he hardened the outer edge and pulled it back, further compressing the density of energy. With the slightest effort, he relaxed his aura aperture and almost fell off the bench at the torrent of power that flooded his soul.
This was real cultivating. Volithur entered into a steady rhythm, expanding and contracting his aura to pull in more and more of the intoxicating cosmic energy. It came easily, effortlessly. For every minute that passed he achieved more than he had in months of mental cultivation and elixir usage.
By the time the wonderfully productive session drew to a closer, Volithur felt he was once more on the precipice, his soul ready to transform again. The energy content of the chamber declined drastically, though, and he could not manage to push through the barrier to achieve a level two soul.
Still, the experience had been his most significant step forward since he entered the fifth household of the Shaocheth family. By attuning his soul, he had become a Xian. While he now knew his past intention of gaining power to enact revenge for the impossible fantasy that it was, Volithur knew that any modicum of comfort he gained in life would depend on his cultivation achievements. He might be a Xian, he might be training with their soldiers, but he was not one of the callous nobles who slaughtered innocent humans to play at war.
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The block was removed to open the chamber once more. With much jostling, the winners of the tournament exited and were guided back to the upper floors of the building. They split apart into their teams with the most minimal parting courtesies possible and Volithur followed his group back to their cottage.
They found Master Rowan sitting across from the Head Scribe, the trophy cradled in the crook of his arm like it was his precious child. “Ah, here is our winning team! Welcome back. I hope your time in the Institute’s cosmic chamber proved beneficial. I had the pilot load our things on the transport already, so we will be leaving once dinner ends.”
Volithur bowed silently alongside Hazen, while the noble children engaged Master Rowan in conversation. Eventually, the Head Scribe surreptitiously pulled Hazen aside for a quick conversation. Volithur slowly edged towards his room, trying not to be noticed as he made his escape.
Then Hazen strode past, hooked his arm, and dragged him along. When they were inside Volithur’s room, Hazen pushed the door shut. “Ward Harridan,” Hazen began in a stilted voice, “I have been asked to have a frank conversation with you.”
His breath caught. “Did I do something wrong?”
“On the contrary, you have performed admirably,” Hazen said. “However, in recognition of the particulars of your background it was deemed wise to explain the expectations of you before we depart. While the academic tournament was in progress, the two of us were on a team with nobles. We received courtesies from our teammates not normally extended towards commoners. That stops once this final dinner is over. Your social status will return to what it was before this trip.
“Master Ulysses is not your friend. Master Khana is not a valid target for your affections. And Master Rowan most assuredly is not an acquaintance of yours. We are servants of the household and are expected to comport ourselves appropriately. Do not seek out any conversation with our former teammates after we return. Do not even try to make eye contact. Your behavior must return to its previous pattern.”
Volithur shrugged. “I never felt like I was more to them than a useful resource.”
“Good.” Hazen crossed his arms and looked away. “And… our association will also be returning to the previous pattern.”
That one stung a bit. “So we’re not friends, either?”
“Mere acquaintances, Ward Harridan. I wish you well, but our lives have dissimilar trajectories. My future path is serving the fifth household. Whether you enter the Lord General’s retinue or fall into obscurity, you have no benefit to offer me, only the political risk of associating with an outsider.”
“I see.” Volithur stared at the floor. “Well, at least I finally attuned my soul.”
“Congratulations on that. You appear to be close to the second level, which will confer considerable benefits to you.”
A surge of annoyance struck him. “How does everyone know my level of progress?”
“We use the senses we developed through mental cultivation, Ward Harridan. You should be able to do the same soon enough. I will leave you now to prepare for dinner.”
Volithur sat on the edge of the soft bed that had been his for the past several days and ordered his thoughts. If his easy access to answers and advice would end soon, he needed to prioritize a list of questions to ask during dinner.
Ulysses had already provided him with invaluable guidance for his mental and aura practices, which left body cultivation as the obvious area needing improvement. He should definitely inquire about steps he could take to improve there. He could ask some more about mental enhancements, but Volithur suspected a lot of his previous problems had come from the fact that his soul hadn’t been attuned yet. Xian powers simply did not work well for non-Xian.
Should he ask about training his domain? The Sergeant seemed proficient enough in that area, so there was no reason to pester a noble for details before he even had a basic understanding of the subject. Maybe asking for book recommendations would be the best course of action.
By the time they left for dinner, Volithur had his questions primed. His plan to sit beside Ulysses, however, encountered an unanticipated obstruction. The Head Scribe subtly arranged to sandwich Ulysses between himself and Master Rowan on one side of the table. A frustrated Khana moved to sit directly across from Ulysses then, which left a spot to either side of her for him and Hazen.
Volithur found himself across from Master Rowan, which automatically made asking any questions presumptuous. So instead of dinner being his last opportunity to gain sage advice, it became a painfully awkward spectacle of social suicide as Khana tried to find ways to ask Ulysses what he had thought of her final recital performance and Ulysses went out of his way to politely change the topic of conversation.
The entire affair made Volithur cringe reflexively in secondhand embarrassment. He concentrated on his meal as much as possible, which was another series of tiny plates of exotic items. Though many of the plates utterly eclipsed his usual fare, Volithur found himself missing the hearty dinner stews served in the barracks, which he always consumed in the company of an actual friend.
The Head Scribe studiously ignored the drama unfolding before them, while Master Rowan seemed utterly intent on polishing the trophy he refused to let out of his sight. Volithur couldn’t discern whether Master Rowan possessed true ignorance of the humiliating rejection or if the man preferred to avoid recognizing it.
Dealing with the fallout of Khana’s failed courtship likely meant he had to decide whether to send his niece to the Evergreen Institute as a disinherited petty noble. No doubt that was a conversation best saved for home. And, judging by how Master Rowan all but made love to the shiny trophy, the conversation should be delayed until after he had the opportunity to play show and tell.
The dinner ended, the Head Scribe took him and Hazen to stand at the exit, and the three nobles `made the rounds of the room to give their farewells to their peers, knocking on the doors to various private rooms while the Head Scribe whispered a lecture on the virtue of being circumspect when one overheard private matters of the family.
Their flight back on the transport passed uneventfully, and upon landing the Head Scribe gestured towards the barracks building. “I trust you can find your way home, Ward Harridan.”
“Yes, Master Scribe. Thank you for allowing me to accompany the team, Master Rowan.”
Master Rowan blinked at him as if Volithur had suddenly appeared out of nowhere. “Ah, yes, Ward Harridan. Good job. Perhaps we shall see you next year.”
No one else said a word, so Volithur bowed and marched towards the barracks. His low mood steadily rose as he grew closer to the place he felt most comfortable on this strange world, eager to share the stories of his time away with Thassily.
However, the moment he entered the barracks, he found himself in the midst of a celebration. At the center of the revelry, he saw the Sergeant being hoisted into the air by a dozen pairs of hands while many more were pouring alcoholic beverages and absolutely everyone was singing off key ballads of victory – Volithur couldn’t tell if they all sang different verses of the same song or if half the room had unintentionally switched to a different song altogether.
All Volithur knew was that he had arrived just in time for a party.