Later that afternoon, Yatze and Dellan explored the inner palace. At its center was a large courtyard consisting of man-made hills and streams, an idyllic garden nestled within the architecture. From there one could easily access the various interconnected buildings, which consisted of residences, offices, and special facilities reserved for the Union’s nobles and elite members.
The officers passed through silently, trying to not gawk too obviously into the windows of the rooms and private gardens. Though the palace was not bursting with splendor, there was a quiet beauty to its clean and spartan style. They walked along an open-air hallway, windows and doorways rimmed by sky-blue tiles on the left, an endless series of arches framing the gardens on the right. They found their way to a doorway in a small, cobbled courtyard. They stood at the doorstep, taking a moment to look back at the path they had just taken. Yatze looked up, the sky a square framed by windowless facades on all sides.
“This should be it,” Dellan said, leading the way as they entered.
The inside was ordinary—at least visually. There was only a bare hallway, with doors spaced out every hundred paces or so. At the entrance there was also a stairwell, likely leading to more floors of similar doors and hallways.
But what was not-so-ordinary were the sounds that Yatze could hear as they walked past each door. Cloaked in all manner of sound dampening arrays, the noise that emanated was deep and low, powerful vibrations that traveled through his feet and enveloped his body. Each room was different: The low thuds of collisions and explosions, the whiz of high-speed projectiles, and a crackling and humming so odd that Yatze could only guess at the kind of energy behind it. That there was no way to see into the rooms only made these sounds more intriguing, as they capitalized on his rather overactive imagination.
“Finally,” Dellan said, stopping at a door after they rounded the corner of the hallway. “This chamber is free.”
They stepped through. The chamber was large and spacious, with a high vaulted ceiling that towered above them. The walls were perfectly white, but the material was neither stone or stucco. Yatze placed his hand on the wall and found it cool to the touch, almost like some strange metal or alloy.
In the center of the room was a massive cube frame sitting atop a pedestal. Dellan had already made his way over, climbing into the cube by way of a series of footholds etched into the pedestal. Yatze hurried over.
“What is this exactly?” he asked.
“An elemental chamber,” Dellan replied, preoccupied with a control panel which had somehow risen out of the center of the cube. “Pretty standard design, no real bells or whistles, perfect for standard drills and exercises.”
“But what does it do?”
“Just wait,” Dellan said, flashing a mischievous grin which Yatze had seen before.
The lateral sides of the cube bursts into flame. The heat is scorching, drops of perspiration budding instantaneously—
Yatze was prepared for the walls of fire that appeared all around them, and stood perfectly still. Calmly he crossed his arms and gave Dellan a disapproving look.
“I was hoping to surprise you,” Dellan said sheepishly, turning off the fire with a tap of his finger.
“I am literally the worst person to surprise, you should know that by now.” Yatze walked over to Dellan and looked down at the control panel. “So this cube can produce the elemental stuff?”
“Pretty much.”
“What about rock?”
Dellan fiddled with a panel for a second, before cascading sand began to fall from all four sides.
“Huh.” Yatze walked over to the falling sand, reaching out to let it fall between his fingers. It was fine and smooth, rippling almost like water. Looking up, he saw that the upper part of the cube was hollow, the sand flowing out from the dark recess.
“So the sand travels from the pedestal to the top of the cube, before collecting again at the base?” he asked.
Dellan shrugged. “Something like that.”
Yatze wanted to continue the stare at the waterfall of sand. In fact, he would have liked to flip through all of the chamber’s elemental settings just to marvel at them. But that was not why they were here.
“I should let you get to work.”
“Right,” Dellan said. The cube was now encased by thin walls of water, and Dellan lowered the panel into the ground. “What are you going to do?”
“I’ll just sit here,” Yatze said, crossing his legs and leaning against one of the cube’s corners, “and do my own practice.”
With that, Dellan turned to his own task. His eyes half-closed, a calm expression washed over his face, erasing the contours of that furrowed and expressive brow. This was Dellan’s most natural state, absorbed in his Moon affinity and the powers it granted him.
Dellan’s family, the Murstas, were almost legendary across Ho’ostar for their power over land and its fertile potential. Yatze had heard stories from Dellan himself of how his great-grand Patriarchs had first called upon Sun and Moon to bless their crops and pastures, and it was from that bloodline of affinity and prodigious wealth which Dellan descended.
The tale has been stolen; if detected on Amazon, report the violation.
But Dellan was also different from the other Murstas, Yatze thought as he watched comets of water orbit around his friend. The Murstas were talented, but not exceptionally so; their success was the product of years of toil and patience. This was not the case for Dellan: he had been a prodigy marked for greatness from an early age. His talent had been self-evident, and so the family had decided his fate was not within the fields, but among the higher echelons of society. Through talent Dellan had been granted the freedom to forge his own destiny, to find fortune for himself and his family.
While Yatze was lost in thought, Dellan had begun his exercises. With methodical precision, he moved streams of water between the faces of the cube, guiding them with the movement of his arms. These physical movements were unnecessary: elemental control ultimately has little to do with the body, but young practitioners are taught to first associate the body with the element, for true awareness is something that comes with age and practice.
Dellan, who had done these exercises for years by now, went through the movements anyway out of habit. He spoke to Yatze in fits and starts, the strain of exertion occasionally reaching his voice.
“The others seemed nice, didn’t they?” Dellan asked, guiding the water past his head.
“I liked Je’ri a lot, he’s friendly.”
“And the others?”
Yatze gave him a noncommittal shrug.
Dellan laughed as he sent two horizontal pillars of water forward, guiding them around the chamber. “You don’t have to like someone just because they’re royalty, you know.”
The passing reference to Jairinka set Yatze off. All afternoon he had been irritated, mulling over the thoughts he finally put into words.
“It’s not his fault, really. It’s like he couldn’t help but rub me the wrong way. But there he goes, casually dropping that he went to Academy in the East—meanwhile, I haven’t set one foot inside an Academy.” As the words spilled out, he grew excited, anger swelling in his throat. “And then he goes on, acting like this whole officer thing is a big joke. Meanwhile, I’m sitting there thinking, this is my one chance, because unlike him, I haven’t had everything served on a crystal platter, I actually know how lucky I am to be here and I want to spend my damn time wisely.”
Dellan had stopped his routine, and looked on at Yatze in concern. “Jairinka is careless because he doesn’t know better, I’m sure he didn’t mean anything like that. Once training starts he’ll realize that he has plenty to learn.”
“I hope so.” Yatze looked dejected. “Everyone we’ve met in Ichormai just seems so talented already. Am I that outclassed? I feel like I know nothing compared to them.”
“I think we’re all still learning,” Dellan said, kneeling down on the floor. “Maybe think of it this way: we’re both nervous because for us this is a rare opportunity. A week ago, we were mere soldiers, and once we finish training we’ll be officers. Jairinka—on the other hand—was already a prince before the officer program, and once he gets out, he’ll still be a prince. For him it doesn’t mean anything.”
Yatze lifted his head towards Dellan with an expression of perplexed awe. “You are always so patient with people, so eager to give them the benefit of the doubt...I don’t think I could ever think like you.”
Dellan waved his hand dismissively. “Oh that’s not me, it’s something my parents taught me. They used to say that nobles and royals and the like had so much on their minds, so it is not their fault if they are rude at times. When it comes to dealing with the powerful, being ingratiating always helps.”
Yatze laughed. “I bet you ate that up.”
There was a brief lull in the conversation. Water was still falling softly all around them.
“Earlier, you said being an officer means something for both of us,” Yatze said. “What did you mean exactly? Or rather, what does it mean...for you?” Yatze sighed, frustrated. “Ugh, I’m not being clear at all—”
“I get what you mean,” Dellan replied. “You were wondering what I want to do after I’m an officer?” Dellan was now sitting cross-legged in the center of the chamber, his head resting in his hand. “I’m not sure yet. Once I’ve finished my service, I’d love to travel, try dueling, just try to make a name for myself beyond Ho’ostar, you know. But that’s not what my family wants. They haven’t said it outright, but I know they want me to become an official, someone that can represent them from the inside.”
“Maybe you can do both?”
Dellan shot him an exasperated look. “We’ll see about that.”
Yatze knew Dellan was perceptive enough to not ask him the same question. Besides, the answer was obvious, for what other choice could he have made? Growing up as a regular in Jivena, the options were few and far between. There was always extraction work, but while pay was decent, few lasted more than ten years before the physical toll mounted. Had he done nothing at all, he would have taken over his parents’ store, locked forever to that cursed plot of land.
So he enlisted, figuring it was the easiest way for someone to notice. He remembered the day as if it was yesterday.
“Any affinities?” the official had said, shuffling through Yatze’s paperwork.
“I can see...the future?” Yatze replied, not sure how to explain it properly.
The official’s face brightened, his bushy eyebrows raised both in confusion and pleasant surprise. “Ah, a Regret affinity! How excellent. Though I would like to conduct a potentioreading first, if you don’t mind…”
Yatze held the black orb and felt as it grew warm to his touch, powered by some unknown energy he contained. It swirled like a storm cloud before giving way to a golden-yellow color, and Yatze marveled at its transformation. It felt like a sign: of things to come, an affirmation that he had made the right choice. That finally his life would begin—
Yatze surfaced from his thoughts. “Dellan, what do you think Jairinka aspires towards?”
Dellan scratched his head, slightly confused by the question. “I wouldn’t know, but there’s no lack of role models. Take the Crowned Prime for instance. He’s only slightly older than us, but is at peak levels of both Regret and End affinities...apparently he can look into the future thousands of times every minute.”
“That’s impossible! How would he even keep track of all that information without going insane? But if that’s really true...y’jeni.” Yatze shook his head in disbelief. “I can’t even imagine living like that.”
“I guess it’s a matter of perspective.”
“Umm, obviously?”
Dellan shook his head. “No, not the Crowned Prime. I meant Jairinka. I’m sure he feels just as inadequate as you do when he compares himself to the other princes. We’re all in the shadow of someone, or something. And I’m sure you’ll be fine, once you get over that feeling. You are not the only one who feels overshadowed.”
“Unless you’re the Crowned Prime,” Yatze corrected.
“...Unless you’re the Crowned Prime,” he conceded.