Thassily found him quickly, throwing an arm around his shoulder and pushing his own mug of rum into Volithur’s hands. “You’re back, Harridan!”
“What’s going on here?”
“Sergeant…” Thassily swayed, almost fell, and tried to point at the man being paraded around the room on the shoulders of drunk soldiers.
“What about the Sergeant?”
“Level five today,” Thassily managed.
Volithur blinked. He had assumed someone of the Sergeant’s standing would be further ahead of him than that. “Just level five?”
Thassily shrugged, took his mug back from Volithur, and drained it in great gulps. “I’m only level one.”
“I’m level one now, too,” Volithur said.
Thassily patted his head. “Yes! Celebrate! Drinks!”
A mug was in his hand soon, and Volithur sipped at the rum while the soldiers about him stumbled about in a state of inebriation. He lost Thassily soon as his friend had to empty his stomach and then chose to pass out on the floor of their room, fervently declaring his belief that the hammock would spin the room if he used it.
A few soldiers noticed him and possessed enough of their mental faculties to remember he had been absent. They crowded around him, rambling incoherently about ‘poetry boys’, which Volithur eventually realized was supposed to be a joke about him attending an academic competition. He couldn’t tell if the alcohol had revealed their distaste for his special treatment or if they thought they were teasing him as one of the guys.
Eventually, they cleared out as they wanted to get another round of drinks.
A sober face in the corner drew his attention, and the Marshal looked up from his paperwork to gesture Volithur over. “Greetings, Master Marshal.”
“You attuned while on your trip. Congratulations, Ward Harridan.”
“Thank you, Master Marshal.”
“How did the event go?”
“We won second place, Master Marshal.”
The Marshal smiled at that. “Well done, lad. Did you get anything good out of them?”
“The Institute gave me salt, a rock, and an hour in their cosmic chamber.”
“The effect of the cosmic chamber is clear to see. I’m assuming the salt and rock are from Tian?” When Volithur nodded, the Marshal continued. “Consume the salt the first chance you get. It is a stable reservoir of cosmic energy, so rather than empowering your cultivation practice, it directly aids your body enhancement.”
“Master Marshal, what is the rock for?”
“They call them cultivation pebbles. It can slightly improve the quality of your environment. If you had a pile of them, you could build a cheap imitation of a cosmic chamber. Keep it in your room if you want. No one would think to steal it. Or donate it to the family. That might be a good way to start a discussion with the Castellan. He might need a gentle reminder that you were promised fifteen minutes in the fifth household’s cosmic chamber.”
Volithur frowned at the thought of trading one of his rewards for a favor already owed him, but he said nothing on the matter. “Uh, Master Marshal, could I ask what your soul level is?”
“It is no secret, Ward Harridan. Most of us can detect soul level on sight. I am level six.” Volithur must have made a face, because the Marshal laughed. “That is higher than most ever reach. You are good at calculations, are you not, Ward Harridan?”
“I am, Master Marshal.”
“The maximum amount of energy a person can harness doubles with each level of the soul. Someone at the second level is twice as powerful as someone at the first level. Then at the third level, twice as powerful as someone at the second level. And so on. As an exercise, tell me how powerful someone of level six is compared to someone at level one.”
It was a simple exponential calculation that took Volithur only a few seconds. “Sixty-four times more powerful.”
“Very good,” the Marshal said. “The challenge is that it takes much more energy to attain each level than it gives you in benefit. To give an example, reaching the second level requires twice the effort and resources as reaching the first level. And reaching the third level requires three times as much as reaching the second. The fourth, four times more. It gets quite out of hand. Can you calculate how much more resources I had to use to get to the sixth level compared to what you used to get to the first level?”
Stolen from its rightful place, this narrative is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings.
The calculation was simply computing a factorial, but the numbers rapidly grew large enough that Volithur had to count on his fingers. “I believe that would be seven hundred and twenty times more resources.”
“That’s right. Sixty-four times more power, but you pay seven hundred and twenty times more for the privilege. And it only gets worse the higher you climb. Level six is considered extraordinary for someone cultivating on an unempowered world without true elixirs. Going further requires drawing upon primordial chaos. That is not something one should do lightly.”
“Primordial chaos?”
The Marshal shrugged away the question. “Don’t concern yourself with that. It is slow suicide. I waved you over here for a specific purpose, Ward Harridan. You are not to get drunk tonight. I have given the Sergeant tomorrow off and will be covering his duties myself. That includes your private lesson. I expect a sober and well-rested student. Are we clear, Ward Harridan?”
“Perfectly, Master Marshal.”
“Then I’ll see you at breakfast tomorrow.”
Back in his room, Volithur discovered that Thassily had emptied his stomach once more and carefully stepped around the mess to climb into his hammock. Though tired from barely sleeping the previous night and an eventful day, he decided to spend an hour at mental cultivation. The lure of actually progressing after so much wasted time was too much for him to resist.
That choice didn’t help his lingering exhaustion the next morning. The best he could say about his condition was that at least he was better than Thassily. His poor friend claimed he was most definitely dying as he cradled his head and groaned.
The barracks was unusually quiet that morning. He discovered that only Instructor Lisbet, Instructor Gordo, and the Sergeant were present for breakfast. The two instructors appeared less than their best, but were obviously determined to power through their normal schedule.
At some point, Instructor Lisbet noticed he had attuned. “It’s about time you made some progress, Ward Harridan.”
As he tried to decide if he could get away with making a snarky response, Volithur noticed a phantom shimmer overlaid on her body. The unexpected visual effect caused him to stare. The shimmery phenomenon remained in place, yet did not interfere with his sight or distort it in any way.
Volithur shook his head and glanced at Instructor Gordo, who also possessed a faint glow. Blinking to clear his vision did nothing. Then his gaze passed over the Marshal and his jaw dropped. The man shone like a flood light. The brilliant illumination did not degrade his sight in any way.
I think I’m seeing their cultivation level, Volithur thought.
He continued to steal glances at the others while he ate a quick breakfast. When they lined up for morning exercises, the number of participants was half the usual due to the soldiers having the day off. The militia members seemed confused by the poor turnout as Instructor Lisbet led them through the normal warm-up routine.
Volithur studied the men around him, analyzing their phantom luminosity and comparing them to each other. Members of the militia could be lumped into two roughly equal groups. The first possessed shimmers approximately equal to what Instructor Lisbet and Instructor Gordo displayed. The second were dimmer – if Volithur were asked to quantify by how much, he would estimate by a factor of two.
They moved on to the next segment, and Volithur discovered that having a level one soul had done absolutely nothing to improve his performance in weaponless combat. He found himself picked apart in sparring and by the end had a bloody nose in addition to the usual collection of bruises. The men he trained with had given him harder rounds ever since he had fought Little Nero to a tie while under the influence of blood boiling elixir. They believed he could actually handle himself if pushed hard enough and no amount of contrary evidence managed to convince them otherwise.
At the end of class, he went to the dining hall where he usually had his lesson with the Sergeant, but then he Marshal called him into the office instead, where he began a conversation with an unusual request. “Tell me what you have been taught about cultivation so far.”
The Marshal watched impassively as Volithur explained the methods he used for body, mind, and aura cultivation. Finally, the Marshal cut him off. “That’s sufficient, Ward Harridan. Your understandings are formed from the instruction of soldiers and it shows. Let us first address the fact that you have failed to distinguish between two separate elements of cultivation.
“The first major goal of cultivation is to enrich the soul through absorption of cosmic energy. This absorption happens through the various apertures. In your case, you have absorbed cosmic energy through your body, your mind, and your aura. The second goal is to improve the various elements of your existence with cosmic energy. Improve your body. Improve your mind. Improve your aura. This second goal exists in tension with the first goal. You cannot simultaneously prioritize saturating your soul with cosmic energy and pushing cosmic energy into your external aspects.
“This simple truth is handled by cultivating in phases. You train to improve your soul for a time. Then you train to improve your other aspects. Then back to the soul. It is a never-ending process. Simply empowering your soul is not enough.”
“The Sergeant had me push energy into my bones while I absorbed the blood boiling elixir.”
“That was premature,” the Marshal said. “I want you to focus on achieving a level three soul before you begin body enhancement practices. This isn’t Tian. Any enhancements you do will be hampered by the environment.” The Marshal tapped a finger on his temple. “Mental enhancement is the best area for you to focus your improvement efforts. Don’t worry about your aura for now. And while you could begin using your domain now, the energy expenditure would hamper your attempts to improve your soul. Do you have any questions?”
“What soul level do the instructors have?”
“They are both level four. But to be clear, I wanted to know if you had any questions about what we had discussed here.”
“I do not, Master Marshal.”
“Then spend the remainder of the time before lunch seeking out the Castellan to gift him your cultivation pebble. Say something like ‘I think the household can better use this resource’ and then go quiet. Even if he dismisses you, a seed will have been planted.”