Undisclosed Location – United Human Kingdom
Raven 2 held up the steaming hot mug of brewed spikeleaf to her lips as she looked over the profile of “Farmboy” on the board, then frowned after sipping. The thing was pathetically sparse, the only information bubbles in green were the most basic of information about the subject, and everything else had the dreaded red circles of uncertainty.
‘This is straight up embarrassing. I’m sure Ignitious is shaking their head at us.’
She knew this job would be stressful the first day she was debriefed on Chosen, but this was not what she was expecting at all.
The churches teach that the Chosen of the eight greater gods are powerful, able to channel the might of their god to perform miracles, are given the authority to act as the voice of their god, and can appear out of seemingly nowhere. What the churches fail to mention however, was the collateral damage left in their wake. Earthquakes, hurricanes, and tornados were often less disastrous than them, and no one was safe from their wrath, especially the queen.
She shivered as she remembered being told the true story about what happened to Queen Atha, and how Ignitious’ Chosen set the precedent for executions. Her barely of age successor was given a single year to correct for her mother’s depraved behavior, before Ignitious returned to cleanse the palace of its cancer. No Spartan has shared a tent with a royal since.
Thankfully, that was an extreme example. Many Chosen never even make themselves known to the public if possible, preferring to only intervene when necessary. They could usually be divided into two categories: temporary and long-term.
Temporary ones were straight forward. A sudden threat appears, and a god answers the desperate prayer of their follower, then uses them as a conduit, killing the poor mortal in the process. During the formative years of the United Human Kingdom’s capital, this type of Chosen would almost appear annually, using their might to give reprieve to the exhausted soldiers.
The second type were the ones to truly worry about. A mixture of blessed birth and a nurturing environment could allow someone to create a personal connection to the god, and become able to tolerate the divine energies of their patron in small doses. These ones were less known for grand displays of magic and more for their temperamental attitude. Oskar, the uniter of the races. Trebellia, the founder of the Logistics Corps, and confirmed minor goddess. Torhild, the minter of currency, and creator of the stocks exchange. Each one a bringer of wide sweeping changes, using force if needed, whether the people wanted it or not.
Travis, Chosen of Apheros, was dangerous.
The kid was a master of manipulation. Gaslighting a newly sworn knight into ignoring the blatant evidence in front of him, making him believe that it was the humble Aelder Tree that performed the feat of magic, despite no existing records of any Aelder Tree ever casting spells. Made a public display of rejecting the church’s recruiter to throw off further suspicion and even garner some hatred towards him. Then passed the entrance exam to the Mages’ Academy with full honors, despite his proctor’s reputation, and as if that wasn’t garish enough, became the kingdom’s first potential Elementalist Mage.
It seemed contradictory on the surface. Why draw the attention of the entire noble caste when you wish to remain hidden while completing your god-ordained task? But every commando knows the value of misdirection, and Travis’ persona of a humble farm-raised prodigy was the perfect cover to explain away any odd or eccentric behavior.
Raven 2 turned her head to look at the yellow circle connected to Travis labeled “father” and rolled her eyes. Nine months before Travis was born, his village was attacked by a monster and required a paladin of Apheros and his team to come eliminate the threat. It was such a common occurrence, that it would have been overlooked under normal circumstances, had that not been the only attack until those “necromancers” showed up to kill Travis.
She sighed as she wondered what the crown should do with him. The kid’s mere existence put everyone around him in danger. Sure, he is a mortal, and thus can be manipulated or killed if caught off guard, but no one in their right mind would consider angering a god, especially Apheros.
‘I don’t even know why I’m feeling so stressed out. I’m not the one risking my life or my loved ones.’
Agent Charcoal was the one in the field, directly interacting with the walking embodiment of sealed away chaos, and the queen was placing her own daughter in a perilous position to act as a peace offering.
Until Travis publicly declares himself a Chosen, he’ll do anything to keep his secret from reaching the masses. Meaning no direct communication with the crown, no meaningless acts of valor for little gain, and will only allow those deemed worthy to join his inner circle. The reasoning why is unclear, but a Chosen of Torbolt once berated a queen for pestering him, telling her to focus on our war with the monsters, and let the gods concern themselves with the true threats to the kingdom.
Raven 2 turned their head to the other board in the room, this one labeled “Operation: First Date”. She still thought Red Feather was mad when they sent the order, but even she had to admit, the risk may be worth the reward. If they can plant P3 into Travis’ inner circle, then the crown might be able to predict his next move, and possibly prepare for the impending disaster he causes.
She tried to relax as she let out a deep breath, even if the operation doesn’t succeed when it goes live in two weeks, maybe Travis will at least be kind enough to provide some guidance on how we should prepare. The attempt at calming her mind failed though when a [Message] began to broadcast over her headset.
“Princess Seleyna, my apologies for disturbing your lunch, but you have received a verbal invitation that requires an immediate response.”
“What is it Ash?”
“Travis of Aelder Creek has invited you to join his friends at The Exotic Axe for tonight’s supper show.”
Raven 2 loudly cursed, taking full advantage of no one being able to hear her, “That black feathered, chaotic little bastard!”
“Did… did he just ask me out on a date?”
“If that’s his intention, he’s obscured it quite well. Tonight’s performance is that shadow show I briefed you on the other night, and Spartan Reidar will be in attendance as well.”
“Huh… sounds like I can’t really say no then, unless you have a security concern.”
“None at the moment.”
Raven 2 kept cursing as she scrambled to grab the Messaging stones for the security teams. Operation “First Date” was going to have to be enacted ahead of schedule, despite the lack of preparations.
“Well, if it’s not too much trouble then, tell Travis I’ll happily accept his invitation. I’ll need a dossier of his friends though, I know that one girl is from the Mortymer family, and the other is a Bradshaw, but that’s about it.”
“I’ll have a debrief ready for you after class, and don’t worry, it’s no trouble at all for me.”
---
Lancel
Voltsday, the 18th of Fifthmonth
Lancel reached his sore arms overhead to give them a long and satisfying stretch. He closed his eyes, allowing the cool breeze carrying the scent of the approaching storm to fill his lungs, and leaned forward on the edge of the barracks’ roof.
He felt good, really good. Better than a nap after a rigorous workout, better than a sit in the sauna, and if he was being honest, was far more satisfied in this moment than any trip to Lakewell ever left him. The long hours of training guided by the kingdom’s Mages and Knights left his internal mana amped up enough to cause some mild discomfort, but the pressure from the ambient mana trying to burrow through his membrane only reminded him of the fact that he achieved his goal.
He'd been able to sense mana for years now, but it always felt like he was trying to wrestle a cloud whenever he tried to grasp it. He didn’t give up though, his dad was able to become a knight without any higher instruction, his older brother Gaward managed to trigger his mana before turning eighteen, and his other two brothers managed to become knights before turning thirty, so there was no reason he couldn’t as well.
He kept chipping away at that dam, year after year, flood after flood, until finally this spring it happened.
The shield wall seemed to stretch from horizon to horizon, horns were blaring warnings that the bastions would soon be allowing greater varmints and lesser beasts to pass through the gates, and the knight overseeing his battalion was definitely checking out his ass. Soon the familiar bone-rattling rumble of heavy footfalls could be heard, and the monsters rushed headfirst right into the line’s spears. Shields were shoved, spears were thrust, and a horn would sound right before the entire line back-stepped in unison, forcing the monsters to crawl over their dead.
Thrust after thrust, slam after slam, grunt after grunt, Lancel and his battalion fought like a storm cloud, and he loved every minute of it. He didn’t care that his body was brought to the brink of exhaustion every night, or that he needed the logistics corps to wash and clothe him, or that the MRE’s he was forced to eat tasted storming awful, because he was so deep into battle lust that he sometimes secretly wished that the Spring Flood wouldn’t end.
He was bringing forth his shield when the dam inside him finally broke. A turtlebear’s head met his shield slam, but instead of stunning the greater varmint, the head snapped back, exposing the armpit in its armored shell, and he instinctually thrust his spear to pierce the heart, boring far deeper than intended. His senses then began to go haywire, his ears throbbed from all the loud noises, everything reeked of rot and body odor, his brigandine armor itched like mad, and his eyes began to see a kaleidoscope of new colors.
The narrative has been illicitly obtained; should you discover it on Amazon, report the violation.
It was all too much to bear, and he soon began to scream in pain as every single muscle in his body began to cramp. He soon found himself in the fetal position on the ground, closing his eyes shut, covering his ears with his hands, and emptying the contents of his stomach from all the nausea. It thankfully didn’t last long, and by the time he felt himself being drug from the frontline, many of his symptoms were already fading.
What happened next, Lancel couldn’t remember clearly, but when he came to, his arms were wrapped around the knight commanding him, eyes filled with tears from heavy sobbing, and was getting strange looks from his battalion. He, of course, was mortified, but the knight just chuckled, giving his back a comforting pat, and ensured him that it was a common reaction to consciously triggering one’s mana for the first time.
Lancel opened his eyes to see the approaching stormfront and let out a deep sigh of contentment. After that, everything changed. The knight helped him for the rest of the flood to flush out the remnants of the blockage inside him and learn how to conserve his mana reinforcement. He submitted himself for inspection, was tested, met the queen and was knighted, then celebrated with his family in the palace. It was a dream finally come true, but something felt “off” the entire night of the celebration, and it wasn’t until he was told that his replacement for Aelder Creek’s Guard Captain was chosen that he finally figured out what was wrong.
Travis, the little brat that he was warned about on his first day of guard duty for Aelder Creek, wasn’t there to celebrate with him. Once the thought surfaced in his mind, he couldn’t concentrate on anything else, and he soon found himself sneaking off to request leave to join the guards when they returned to the village.
The sound of someone gagging pulled him from his memories, making his head twist to the side, and his throat to seize.
That hunky Lakelander goliath who kept catching Lancel’s eye every time they took off their helmet to give their tree trunk of a neck a stretch, was standing nude not even a full horse’s length from him.
Well… not completely nude. But for all intents and purposes, he may as well been.
The pair of fitted navy blue paddle board shorts did little to hide the heavily muscled pair of legs, or the pair of hams he had for a butt. He stood probably a full inch taller than Lancel, even in bare feet, and had the classical body proportions of an orc, with his long torso and arms over short legs. Locks of brown hair were tied in a messy bun, a well-trimmed beard offset the unkempt look, and a dusty coat of body hair seemed to accentuate every shadow on his sculpted physique.
The big guy looked towards Lancel and nervously grinned, “Sorry, bit into a fish flavored MRE, just about chucked the horrible thing back up.”
“That’s alright,” Lancel belted out a bit too forcefully, “I… uh… don’t… blame you.” He then turned to face the oncoming storm once more, hiding his embarrassment, and chiding himself for this behavior.
‘What the storm is wrong with you Lancel! You hang around a pair of awkward teenagers for a couple of days and now you’ve turned back into one?’
He could almost hear his mother scolding him once more for not paying attention to the church service and staring at the depictions of Torbolt.
The Lakelander moved to lean against the edge of the roof, looking out at the oncoming storm as well, still smacking his lips in displeasure, “Ugh, they wouldn’t be so bad if they didn’t melt in your mouth and coat the entire thing.” He let out a pitiful groan, then extended a hand, “Name’s Galehaut Mistgard, I think you and I are the only ones over two cycles old at this camp.”
“Mistgard?” Lancel echoed as he shook the giant mitt that was offered, too stupefied to make proper conversation with the descendant of the famous swordsman who once competed for the title of Knight King.
“Yeah, I know… shouldn’t an inner-ring noble-born already have been knighted long before turning twenty-four?” He slumped the upturned bowls that acted as his shoulders, then muttered, “I’m basically the runt of the litter, my baby brother is the one with the good looks and talent.”
‘Say something you cloud-headed idiot. He’s clearly desperate to talk to someone.’
“Umm… yeah, I’m… kinda the same way. My brothers are the talented ones. Tristan is the smart one, Percy’s never lost a duel, and… Gaward… was the prodigy.”
Galehaut nodded along, then smiled, “What does that make you?”
“I don’t know…” Lancel lamented, looking down from the barracks that housed the other fledgling knights, each one with an elemental affinity like him, “maybe the lucky one? I sure as death know that I’ve had more than my fair share lately.” He held out a hand, “Lancel Hopkins.”
The goliath grinned as the two men shook once more, then suddenly stopped mid shake to widen his eyes, “Hold on… Hopkins?” Deep rumbles of laughter escaped the oversized Lakelander, “You weren’t kidding about lucky. You skip going to a bunch of parties to go recruit some farm-lad from the cowflops, fight off a dozen and a half necromancers when you get there, come back to the capital with a Jarl’s head metaphorically strapped to your belt, and then a few days later, that farmboy you rescued becomes the kingdom’s first Elementalist Mage.” He leaned hard against the edge of the barracks, his laughs mimicking the approaching storm’s, “I’ve heard more believable tales from bards at the tavern.”
Lancel grinned, feeling his swagger finally returning, “Try reporting such a tale to a general sometime, I was convinced I was going to get carted off to the mental ward at one point while they were busy Messaging the castle.”
The storm winds began to pick up, chilling the air, and reminding the two men that rain will soon come as well. They both turned to see the storm front, activating their mana sight to see the masses of blue, silver, and red mana gathering.
Galehaut broke the silence, “Did you come to observe the elements too?”
Lancel nodded, remembering the mage’s words from earlier this week.
“The elves and dwarves are jealous of what every single one of us in this room have, an elemental affinity. It is the powerful advantage that counteracts our shorter lifespans. It is a paradoxical one though. Human’s mana specialty is mana reinforcement, an instinctual ability that can amplify your strength, resilience, and speed. It requires you to use all four elements in concert though, so continual use will eventually scrub away your affinity if you fail to exercise it.” He paused to draw the room’s notice towards a group of beardless Lakelanders, “That means the younger you are, the more likely you are to still retain it. I am going to spend the next four months teaching you to exercise your affinity, starting with the most basic step, observation.”
A crack of lightning boomed as it jumped from cloud to cloud. Lancel strained his eyes, hoping to make out the pink mana that he had hoped to observe, but all he could see was the red Fire Mana rubbing against the silver Wind Mana. Rain soon began to trickle down, frustrating the Packer, he wanted to get a chance to observe his element in the wild, and this rooftop was the best location.
The rain slowly stopped, but only right above his head. He looked around, seeing the goliath standing closer to him, closing his eyes in concentration before they opened and smiled.
“Sorry, not very good at [Water Aura] yet, can only extend it a few feet around me.” Galehaut shuddered for a moment, goosebumps present all over his lightly tanned skin, “Rot, should have dressed warmer though, forgot it was still Spring.”
Lancel chuckled as he ramped up and shaped the Fire Mana sticking to his membrane, creating a [Fire Aura] to raise the temperature of the air, “I’ve got you covered.”
Galehaut relaxed as Lancel surreptitiously scooted slightly closer to him, “Lightning affinity? Don’t suppose you can block the wind too?”
Lancel grimaced but decided to try anyways. He synced with the Wind Mana attached to him, and tried to focus on his goal as he shifted his mana but was having difficulty. He glared at the approaching clouds, wishing that the storming thing would…
A patch of Fire Mana rose, forcing the Wind Mana to warp around it, grinding and grinding until… an arc of pink Lightning Mana formed, followed by a bright flash.
Inspired, Lancel modified his Auras, lacing the two together instead of keeping them separate, forming a pocket of still, warm air for the two knights as the cooler wind from the storm whipped around the bubble he created.
Lancel started grinning, happy for not only his success, but for the fact that the handsome knight next to him was only inches away from their arms touching. The two stood there in silence for the rest of the evening, watching the storm pass overhead.
---
Steelsday, the 28th of Eighthmonth
“And then,” Lancel blurted out in an emotional drunken state to the table of fellow knights while a dreamy-looking goliath sat close to him, “when I finally banked up enough courage to ask the little bastard how he learned magic, do you know what he said?”
It was the final evening of the training camp for the young knights, and as a reward, the trainees were treated to a feast and entertainment. Unbeknownst to Lancel, someone (most likely an inner-ring noble given the bribery involved), managed to arrange for Novrin the Shadowweaver to perform their highly popular shadow show.
Lancel, of course, felt the need to correct the blatantly false tale.
“I learned from watching you!” Lancel shouted, his voice turning into a moan as he leaned over the table, prompting Galehaut to give the intoxicated Packer a backrub.
“Little brothers always know where to stab the knife, whether they mean to or not.”
One of the Northman knights at the table, Oddvar Stensrud, cocked their head in confusion, “Umm, can you elaborate? I’m lost…”
Galehaut gave Lancel’s back a pat, “I’m just guessing here, so let me know if I’m wrong about anything, but from what I’ve gathered, it sounds like Travis didn’t become a mage overnight. Unlike us, he started training at the age of ten, but since there were no mages or witches to learn from, he went with what was available.” The goliath patted Lancel once more with his large hands to direct the table’s focus to him, “Mages aren’t the only ones that learn magic, knights do as well, and there just so happened to be someone training to become one in his village. Add in the fact that the kid’s a genius, and instead of the usual fifteen years it normally takes for an unaided commoner to become a knight, the little bastard was able to trigger their mana consciously before turning eighteen.”
“Fifteen!” Lancel shouted as he bolted upright, “He was fifteen when he triggered his mana. Early enough to make puberty sprint towards the finish line. I literally watched him grow four inches and add a couple stones of muscle in the period of a month, but somehow didn’t think anything was odd.”
Chuckles erupted from the table, but another Northman knight, Annette Ibsen, stopped suddenly, “Hold on, if he’s eighteen now, does that mean he was illegally staying in his village?”
Lancel calmed himself enough to explain, “No, it’s the job of the local Jarls to do regular inspections of the villages and see if there’s anyone luring monsters towards them. A kid under the age of eighteen isn’t considered mature enough to overcome the instinctual need to not abandon their loved ones.”
“No wonder that Jarl is getting executed then.” Oddvar commented, “Letting a mana-user squat in a farming village for at least two years… he’ll probably get his spear broken and everything.”
Nods went around the table as the group went silent, but was quickly broken by a few wandering knights wanting to know why Lancel didn’t propose to Trent. He groaned once more, leaning back in his chair this time, but cheered up after feeling a muscular leg rub up against his. Lancel turned his head to see Galehaut telling the newcomers to go duck around somewhere else, then sneak him a friendly smirk.
Lancel grinned, showing off the teeth he inherited from his mother, and sneakily reached his hand under the table to massage the side of beef rubbing against his leg. Galehaut let out a low grunt, clearly not expecting the intimate touch, and tried to cover his expression with another pull from his flagon.
---
Rocksday, the 29th of Eighthmonth
Lancel checked his appearance in the tiny mirror that came with his kit, still amazed at how fast hangovers dissipated (if felt at all) now that he could use mana reinforcement, and made sure he looked proper before receiving his assignment.
His friend Galehaut exited the room containing the Brigadier General, completely stoic upon exiting, but once the door closed, his expression changed to anguish, and he silently began to curse as he kicked the stone floor.
“Let me guess, sewer duty?”
“No, worse.”
“Worse?”
Galehaut nodded, then approached Lancel to set a hand on his shoulder, “You and I are both on babysitting duty.”
Lancel swore.