"Commander Corin Sovarl is dead."
"Corin Sovarl? Him? Was there another Corin Sovarl they were talking about, or was it truly him?"
"Infinite gracious! How? What happened?"
The man, most likely his father, shook his head. "I do not know. It was said that he slept and did not wake up. But the Palace is keeping it a secret."
"How can a thirty-year-old strong mage sleep and not wake up? Something sounds fishy."
"Yes, that is what I said, and even Sereia Sovarl, his wife, is not making any statements..."
So it was really him...
From the conversation his parents were having, he was now sure he was dead. He remembered going to bed, and nothing else after that. So what went wrong, how did he die?
"You would not believe that he has been dead for about a month, and the Palace kept it a secret. They are definitely hiding something, that I am sure."
The words of his father bumped Corin from his thoughts; so he's been dead for a month, why was he just gaining consciousness in this body now?
"Almost the same time we had Archer, it is a bad omen," his mother said, as she stretched her hand to Archer and caressed his chin.
"Nothing bad will happen to you, my child," she said, as though saying a prayer.
"So, why are we going to the capital? When have the people of the lowest clans been involved in the matters of the state?"
"Well, it turns out that the king has requested one representative family from each of the five clans for the funeral ceremony, and our family was chosen at random." He said handing her the sealed letter from the palace.
In Erythrea,the people were divided into five clans, according to their status and wealth in society. The wealthiest and most influential clan was the Phoenix clan. They coined their name from the Phoenix bird that appeared once every thousand years.
Legend had it that the Phoenix bird bestows a divine gift on a mage every thousand years. The last mage to receive this gift was the son of the richest man alive at the time. As a result, the Phoenix clan believed that they were the only ones who deserved the Phoenix bird's divine gift.
The second clan was the Crystal Clan. They were also wealthy and influential but not as much as the Phoenix clan. The third clan was the Trix Clan. They were the middle class and were not oppressed in society, but they did not have the finest things in life.
The fourth clan was the Eres, the lower middle class. They could barely afford to eat three square meals. Those who longed to enter the Trix clan sold their children as slaves and servants to the Phoenix or the Crystal.
This text was taken from Royal Road. Help the author by reading the original version there.
And the lowest and worst clan was the Dorks. This clan was the most oppressed in society. They were mostly slaves and servants who fed from hand to mouth and could barely dress well. Archer prayed in his heart that they were at least the Eres Clan.
"Kylo, I smell something fishy. You know the leader does not like you, for him to give you the letter means that it is not for something good. He knows that the Palace never invites the Dorks for anything good, so he is sending us out to the slaughter; we should refuse," his mother spoke, dread written in her eyes.
‘Dorks?’ Archer tilted his head to look at his mother. Did he just hear her say Dorks?
Archer did not know when he began to cry. He actually did not want to, but his lips moved on their own accord and tears flowed freely from his eyes.
It seems his baby self was quite emotional.
"Oh my, why is he crying? Come here, Archer." His mother called softly, stretching out her hands to him. Kylo handed him over, and she began breastfeeding him again.
‘Well, I guess I should eat and forget my worries. There's nothing I can do about my current predicament anyway.’
Archer thought to himself as he shut his eyes and focused on filling his stomach.
That night, after his mom fed and cleaned him, she placed him in the cot to sleep.
Archer waited for his parents' breaths to even out before he opened his eyes and stared at the ceiling.
The moon rays filtered through the openings in the house, and he could see the faint shadows of his parents on the walls.
Except for the few crickets singing harmoniously at the back of the house, Archer had the quiet to think clearly.
How did he die?
He had to think of the events of the night before his death carefully.
He remembered after the initiation of new mages into the fourth worship, a few of the faction members had suggested going to an inn for a drink, but he had turned them down and retired home immediately.
His wife had greeted him with kisses and then served him food...
Could it have been the food? Poison? A shiver passed through him. But no, it couldn't be. Sereia had no motive to harm him. He loved her, and she loved him. So what had taken his life?
Archer spent most of the night ransacking his brain, thinking of any odd occurrence leading to his death, but he couldn't recall anything. Archer did not know when his eyes gave in to sleep; he only awoke the next morning to the sound of his own cries.
…
A few days had passed since he awoke in this body, and he was already getting used to it. His day was mostly dull as he could barely move his hands or feet. He spent the whole day studying his mother's face as she breastfed him – he later learned her name was Elena. He also listened to his father reading him ancient stories.
From their discussions, he learned that they were going to the capital the next day, and he could not wait. Maybe there, he would uncover the reason for his death.
The Dorks clan naturally lived far from the main cities and the capital of Erythrea, not by banishment, but due to their inability to afford the city life. The only Dorks in the main cities were slaves who worked for the other clans.
He didn't know the name of the village they lived in, but if he remembered correctly, the closest Dorks settlement to the capital was a five-day journey away.
As Archer lay in his cot, waiting for his mother to come carry him as he could barely do anything himself, he noticed a faint, eerie glow of red and purple emanating from a hidden corner of the room.
Archer's brows knitted as the glow intensified, casting long, eerie shadows on the walls.
There was no one in the room, his parents were outside the house, and he could not call for them as he could barely speak, he could only stare at the glow, waiting for whatever it was to reveal itself.
Suddenly, a chilling whisper filled the room, barely audible but laden with foreboding:
"I have chosen you, Archer. Come to me."