Core oaths are the most sacred of oaths, as they really put into perspective the idea that a person’s life truly is in their hands. Compared to life or blood oaths, core oaths are relatively safer, as the violation of such an oath would only result in the shattering of one’s core, causing them to lose all their power. i.e., they become sleepers.
Sister Kethriel Lethabo.
High priestess of the sun.
Sunstone Kingdom, year 2272.
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It was the morning after the council meeting, but when Aodhán woke up, he was sure he’d never felt worse than he currently did. A weight lay heavy on his core, and when he opened his eyes, it was almost like the executioner’s blade hung over his head.
Unrid hadn’t spoken a word the entire walk back home, and even when they’d reached the house, he’d barely spoken more than a few words to Synové before heading up to his room with the excuse of a headache.
Aldric had also left the living room a moment after his father, leaving Aodhán to deal with a confused Synové and an extremely curious Daruk.
Aodhán had of course been unable to tell them anything, so instead, he’d said to Synové after she’d kept pestering him to tell her what was wrong.
“I did something, but it didn’t have the outcome I’d hoped for.”
He’d walked up the stairs and to his room after that, but he’d been so conscious of the ethereal chain wrapped around his core that he’d barely been able to sleep; every time he’d shifted, he was sure he’d heard the chain rattle.
He felt worn out and weary as he made his way to the bathroom to freshen up. He ended up spending more time than was required washing himself, and half an hour later, he was dressed and seated on the wooden chair in his room.
He was supposed to visit Jalen’s farm this morning, and although he wasn’t feeling up to it, he couldn’t postpone it.
Aodhán sat for a long time as the rays of the morning sun danced across his face. He wasn’t really thinking about anything in particular; instead, he just basked in the quiet and solitude of the cold morning.
After a while, he grabbed his fur pouch and poured out all the cores it contained on the table. There were a total of 31 cores, and they glittered like gems in the sunlight.
Aodhán took a moment to sort the cores and realized that he had three Tier 6 cores, five Tier 5, eight Tier 4, and fifteen Tier 3 cores. Thirty-one cores might seem like a large amount, but Aodhán knew better.
As an evolved awakened, the energy he required to ascend each tier was double that of mundane awakeneds, and he doubted that all the energy in the cores before him would push him up more than a couple tiers.
He was right too, as when the last core turned to dust in his palms, energy had only surged out to expand his core twice. Still, he was amazed at the strength now flowing through him; at this point, he felt like he had finally crossed the limit of normal humans.
With a thought, he reviewed his status.
….
[STATUS]
Name: Aodhán Ashoka
Title: Neophyte.
Class: Evolved storm awakened: 2%
Tier: 7–56.25%
Skills {Innate}: Storm creation and manipulation, lightning creation and manipulation.
{Other}: Lightning surge, Lightning descent, Create constructs.
Bloodline: Nil
….
He’d managed to ascend two whole tiers, and he was now halfway through the third. He dusted his palms and swept the core dust into a bin before heading downstairs for breakfast.
Everyone was present in the living room except Unrid, and when he asked, Synové said he needed some alone time.
Breakfast was a sober affair, with Synové and Daruk still lacking any information about what had happened yesterday. Aodhán tried to start a conversation with Aldric, but after the third monosyllabic reply, he simply gave up and focused on his food instead.
After breakfast, he went to Jalen’s farm, and immediately he arrived. Jalen wrapped him in a chocking hug as he congratulated him on their victory against the horde.
“Raol, I wish I was there.” He grumbled as he pulled back to grip Aodhán’s shoulders. “I’m so proud of you, son; they say that you fought an aberrant all by yourself.”
“And that you stood up to a Tier 10 Burmehein while only at Tier 4.” One of the farm hands added, staring at Aodhán with wide eyes.
“Yes, incredible.” Jalen agreed and soon brought out a jug of ale to toast to his victory. Aodhán only took a sip of the drink before he subtly disposed of it, as it had tasted like piss.
After another round of congratulations, he thanked Jalen and his farmhands before moving to the center of the farm to begin his work.
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Immediately after the storm cloud appeared, the farmhands rushed forward with wooden pails to fetch the rainwater. After the rumors about his actions in the forest spread, the villagers began taking the rumors of healing water even more seriously, so he wasn’t too surprised by their actions.
His abilities had grown tremendously with his recent advancement, and the storm cloud he’d willed into existence covered an area of about 80 feet.
The cloud wasn’t at its limit, though, and Aodhán felt like he could expand it further by filling it with energy and willpower, but there was no need to. Jalen’s farm was not as large as Cairan’s, so it only took him about three and a half hours to completely water the farm.
After giving his clothes time to dry, he made his way to the Alderman’s house, and after a few minutes of polite talk with Mrs. Alderman, he finally went up to the library, where he promptly began to search for books on oaths.
After searching through the whole library, he found only two books on the subject; the first was written by this world’s equivalent of a judge and was simply titled The Essence of Oaths, while the other was written by a high priestess of the church of Blazing Sun, from the Sunstone Kingdom, and was titled Bound: Exploring the Depths of Oath Magic.
He deliberated for a while before picking up the second book and moving to a table by the window to read. After almost an hour of reading, he discovered that there were so many types of oaths, and although some had been deemed depraved for civilized society, many still remained, the most insidious of which was the blood oath.
The blood oath involved binding the blood of an individual to a contract or another individual, and it came with severe consequences, the least of which was death. The other oaths were pretty much the same, except they all had tiny variations that set them apart from others.
An example was the quest and life oaths, which involved pledging one’s life to a cause, organization, or quest. Some even bound their lives to the lives of others, but the only difference between the two was that the life oath was, well, lifelong, while the quest oath had a set duration.
The core oath was the one he’d taken yesterday, and although it was similar to a vow of silence, the vow was simply a vow with no chains binding the cores, nor was there a risk of core corruption or shattering.
The marriage oath was the only normal oath he could find, as its only consequence was social excommunication and stigmatization. Compared to death or the shattering of one’s core, he found the consequences of this oath to be quite manageable.
As he read further, he came across two other types of oaths classified as divine. The first was called a Geas, which really was an unbreakable magical compulsion that enforced the obedience of a person classified as lesser and prohibited specific actions. Although it was classified as divine, it was used mostly by awakeneds who dealt in the slave trade of sleepers.
Aodhán was disgusted as he read further; the Geas was basically a slave oath, and to make matters worse, death wasn’t even among the consequences of breaking it, but even if it was, it would have been the least terrible.
The last oath was the sacred oath, which was mostly employed by religious organizations during the initiation of new members. It was an oath to serve, sworn in the name of the gods. Its only consequence was divine punishment, which caused Aodhán to wonder about the gods of this world.
From what he’d learned so far, each kingdom had its own gods, like Raol for Ragnarok and Aeloria for the Sunstone Kingdom. What he had learned, though, was that these so-called gods were just the first ascendants the kingdom had produced.
It had all begun as a gathering of admirers, but before long, they became cults, which were then revolutionized into churches.
Aodhán continued reading until it was time for him to go to the second farm. The farm belonged to a man called Oron, but it was in the poorer parts of the village, so it would take him a while to get to it.
His relationship with Oron was strictly business, but Aodhán liked the man as he had been the first to pay him the previous week.
As he walked to the farm, people waved and called out his name; some even offered him food, but he graciously denied them. When he got to the farm, Oron simply waved him in with a smile, and he got to work.
The farm was even smaller than that of Evaris, so it took him less than two hours to completely water the farm.
When Aodhán got back home, he found Unrid and Synové laughing in the living room, and although he still looked a bit weary, he seemed to be doing better.
The days passed quickly, and he spent each one either working, reading, meditating, or training his abilities. Aldric had advanced to the 9th tier, and he’d even started joining him in the garden when he meditated.
Aodhán had also taken up sword training on his free day from a soldier who charged a silver a week. The number of villagers interested in the use of swords was very small, so there were only a half dozen people present for each lesson.
Surprisingly, Tyla was among them, and although she wasn’t a master swordswoman yet, she was far better than him.
A week later, after the fog of the dry season had arrived, Cairan had declared that the rainwater wasn’t really healing water but that it had nourishing properties that made him feel and look about five years younger.
Aodhán was disappointed in the results, but perhaps it was for the best. Even so, the villagers were ecstatic, especially the women, and anytime he created a storm cloud, many would rush to fetch the rainwater rather than go to the Warren streams.
At one point, Aodhán asked one of the women why they were so enthused about the rainwater, and she looked at him in surprise.
“Haven’t you seen Elise Dathemir? She’s positively glowing, and she looks ten years younger.”
Elise Dathemir was Cairan’s wife, whom he hadn’t seen before, but if she truly looked 10 years younger, he doubted it was as a result of the rainwater.
He kept his doubts to himself, though, and before long, the rain water was termed ‘time reversal water.’ Which he thought was an extremely pompous name, but no one asked for his opinion on the matter.
Before long, three weeks had passed, and there were only two days left before the harvest festival.
As they ate breakfast that morning, Synové grumbled. “I warned the mayor against electing that idiot woman, Agatha, as the head of the planning committee, but he refused to listen to me. Now she has insisted on using dark brown and black as the festival’s colors. How are we supposed to wear such dreary colors in this heat?”
“What’s wrong with dark brown and black?” Aldric asked.
“It’s a festival, Aldric, not a burial.” Synové replied with a glare. “Besides, can't you feel the heat? Now imagine wearing dark brown and black in this ascendant forsaken weather.”
“That sounds terrible.” Aodhán replied with a frown. “Is it necessary to wear those colors?”
“It isn’t just terrible; it is horrible.” Synové replied. “Also, it’s a festival, so we're all expected to wear the same colors.”
“Raol, I hate the festival already.” Daruk muttered.
“You see, Unrid, the children hate it.” Synové complained, gesturing to Daruk. “And that’s not all. I told that woman that with the council now complete, the men are supposed to sit on the right of the mayor while the women sit on the left, but did she listen to me?”
When no one replied, she continued. “No, she didn’t listen. She said she wanted to spice things up and rearrange the councilors, but that’s a terrible idea.”
The seat arrangement finally got Unrid’s attention, and he chimed in. “As long as I’m not seated next to Minerva, I have no objections whatsoever to the to the arrangement she proposes.”
“Grandma Alderman said the new councilor is too young and would find it hard to make his opinions heard on the council.” Daruk suddenly said, changing the topic, and Unrid frowned.
“Councilman Warwick is a respectable member of the council, regardless of his age.”
“The other councilors are old enough to be his parents, including you, father.” Daruk argued.
“Councilwoman Elora is also young too, yet her opinions are heard just fine.”
“Who cares about the councilors?” Synové groaned. “I’m talking about the arrangements and colors here, topics far more important than the new councilman.”
“The mayor should have just made you the planning head instead.” Aldric quipped, and Synové gasped.
“That’s what I’ve been telling your father all along.”
“I heard you last night, and I can hear you now, Syn, but the mayor has chosen, and it’s already too late to start making leadership changes.”
Synové glared at Unrid for a few seconds before she sniffed and muttered. “No one appreciates me in this house.”