Far above the wonders of ambition and dreams, deep within a private cellar that would not suffer the light of hope, sat a man with his legs crossed deep in meditation. He took in another deep breath and the whole of the room seemed to buckle, as if the fabric of reality itself was being jostled by just the force of casual intake. It seemed this way of course, because the world did in fact buckle at such minor feats. Mentally, he chided himself for letting his control slip. Today was the day he would be granted the title of Great Scholar, being known as the youngest in history and it was not time to let his control slip.
Today was the day that he would finally be a free man. Despite having been essentially treated as such, he still had a brand of effervescent intent on the back of his left shoulder that always seemed to push down on the fiber of his being. It had long since lessened in power as he had grown to the point that it was simply annoying, like someone using you as an arm rest or a pesky fowl perching on you. But he could always feel it, and that was always a reminder of the control that he didn’t have, the change he couldn’t make. No more… Today that would all change.
All the court of Elders believed that he had made it this far all on his own merit. It's what garnered such great respect and in some cases fear, from them. But what none of them knew was that this was only partially the truth. Since the day he “won” his path to power from the Trials of Exalted, he had been like a man on a mission. Never once did he relent in his pursuit of knowledge and power. He had refused to let even a single peer meet the voracity of his intellect. He stuffed his mind to capacity with what it could hold and then meditated upon what he had learned endlessly. For him, there was no free time until he was truly free. But no one but him and the gods themselves had seen what had happened in the final stage of that trial. No one but him knew that it was all just a cruel joke of fate that he would be here today.
Now though, now it was time to correct that. That day had certainly not been his only sin, or even his last, but to him it was one of his greatest. He would finally make good on his promise that day, to be free of the weight of others' choices and to take up a burden all his own. He exhaled and the world relaxed, freed from the strain of his power. He shifted in place slightly and rattled chains with links the size of a human arm draped around his scar covered body. With another breath in he reestablished his control. He felt the lights in the room gently rise and a woman, a girl really, carrying a tray with a towel, some water, and a fresh shirt walk just outside the range of his training space and kneel. This area of his home was constructed by him in secret so as to practice the true extent of his power in secret, meaning precisely 3 people knew how to enter or exit this place. One of those people, believing they wouldn't be noticed, had snuck out yesterday night to go drinking with her friends and hadn’t returned yet. That left precisely one person that could be kneeling this close to him.
Sar Ymn Azure, or Azure for short, knelt without moving a single muscle. Much to the dismay of her master, she was dedicated to fulfilling his every whim to the best of her ability. Although his acceptance of her and her sister as wards had guaranteed her a path to full citizenship, she was completely satisfied with and fully intended to serve the master for the rest of her life. Unlike all of the other slaves who had found their way to freedom by way of scholastic merit, he never believed himself greater than others even when it was so obvious to everyone else. He had taken Sar Ymn Azure and Sar Ymn Emerald and treated them like his own children or sisters. He personally instructed them as well as maintaining his own studies. He had always insisted upon them sitting at his table while they ate and never missed an opportunity to instruct them on the ways of the world. If he asked it of her, she would kneel by his side for all eternity, but he never would. And that’s why she felt so compelled to assist this man in anyways she could.
The man sighed and let the heavy chains around his body fall off as he lowered and repositioned his arms from their outstretched position. He opened his eyes slowly so as not to scorch his eyes. At this stage of power such a thing was impossible, but old habits of humanity are hard to break. He turned to face his ward and her happy smiling face. Her and her sister's smiles always warmed his heart so deeply. They both smiled with their whole faces, even their golden-green Erzhali eyes seemed to glow in the light… metaphorically speaking. Neither of them had reached a level of power that would allow their eyes to actually glow but still. He returned her smile and stood. He spoke while he approached here.
“That time already? Where has the time gone? I could have sworn that I had just sat down a few moments ago.”
Azure beamed at him as she replied.
“The time has indeed arrived, Great Scholar. I’ve brought you a fresh shirt and laid out your clothes for the ceremony.”
He took the shirt and put it on as he nodded her a thank you. His smile immediately fled from his face as the weight of what today represented settled on his shoulders. He gave Azure instructions before he let himself sink back into contemplation.
“I’m not a Great Scholar yet Azure, don’t let anyone else hear you say that until after the ceremony. Go and find your sister. I want both of you prepared to follow me into the Grand Scribe's court in formation. Everything today must be perfect. Not a single hair out of place.”
Azure’s smile returned to its normal level of glowing radiance as she stood, bowed, and hurried off to fulfill her new orders. The man followed after her pondering.
---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
The man walked at a medium, controlled pace with his arms behind his back. One clasped the other arm giving him a militaristic posture. From the outside it appeared as though a king was striding toward his coronation. Everyone who saw him would believe he was absolutely focused on the moment at hand, such was the precision and control demonstrated by his gait. For him this was nothing more than a thinking posture. He had long ago ingrained such movements into his muscle memory such that he could maintain such composure while sleeping if he had to. He was a man of many plans and endless preparation, and had long ago seen the importance of how one is perceived. This was just another of the results of his tireless and meticulously taken steps toward his ultimate goal.
Today was another step along that path towards his goal, but that didn’t quite do it justice. Today was a leap, the likes of which almost defied the natural order of things. He allowed himself a slight grin before steeling himself once more. He focused forward and saw the line of High Scholars, his former peers, lining the path to the Throneroom of the Grand Scribe. Standing at the front of the enormous ceremonial doors in a long white flowing robe adorned in various symbols and scripts of a gentle light blue, was Azure, but strangely no Emerald. His young ward was a handful and a tad irresponsible but she had never missed anything significant. He pushed it to the back of his mind for later as he approached the doors.
He looked at his ward who WAS present and saw the shame on her face at failing her task. He lightly put his hand on her shoulder to let her know she was forgiven and she raised her head to reveal another radiant smile. Good. He returned to his militaristic posture and spoke.
“I come bidden by the court of scribes to raise my head by the sweat of my brow. I beseech the learned. Open the Halls of Knowledge that I may bring greater wealth to my Kin.”
The doors, six men high and three wide, slowly opened revealing the Court of Scribes and their entourages aligned in a semicircle. Three parties on each side with a closed glowing book of Crimson leather and gold trim sat on a pedestal with a pot of violet glowing ink. The Grand Scribe sat on his throne appearing to be a wise man in his 50’s when in truth he was more than a few centuries old. He gestured for his new subject to step forward, and so he did. The man made his way forward, head down and arms up in supplication. Despite his head being down and his eyes being closed he could still perceive the room well enough with his spacial sense. He could feel the cold disdainful gaze of Scribe Kalaar Arinver.
The scribe's son had been in the same graduation year of his education and had therefore lost out on the opportunity to be apprenticed to a GrandMaster Scholar as was guaranteed to each year's most impressive candidates. The house of Arinver was ancient. They were one of the oldest noble families in the city. It was the grandest of insults that their scion was not chosen over some lowly slave no matter what his accomplishments. Both the scribe and his son had not let that go even to this day. But that didn’t matter now. The man continued forward undaunted as his young ward followed him forward.
Love this novel? Read it on Royal Road to ensure the author gets credit.
He walked until he was a couple arms reach away from the closed book in the center of the room. He knelt and a couple steps behind and to his right, so did Azure. The Grand Scribe arose from his throne and spoke.
“We, the learned Elders of this land of wonders, have heard your plea. We have seen the works of your wisdom and Open the Halls of Knowledge that you might stand amongst its scholars. Rise and add the Wealth of your service to our ledger.”
The man stood and lifted his head while letting his arms rest at his sides. With his eyes open he could see the Head of Arinver’s son glaring at him. The man didn’t usually like to tempt fate like this but he let himself savor the helplessness of his peer who had done everything in his power to sabotage him on the way here. Technically, the Head’s son, Kaalor wasn’t even an aristocrat. He was born to a slave mother which, by law, made him a slave too. If he wanted to claim the benefits of his house after his father’s death he’d have to make it to Great Scholar too. The man had originally thought that he and Kaalor might end up as friends when he first met him in school, but bringing up the nature of his birth had received the exact opposite of the intended reaction. But as with the anger of his father, it didn't matter now. The man smiled, stepped toward the ledger and opened it, and the voice of Scribe Kalaar Arinver plunged into his peace like a dagger in the night.
“The Scribe welcomes the sight of a new brother, but an issue must be addressed before the ledger can be altered, Grand Scribe.”
The Grand Scribe gestured and the ledger closed. He Gestured towards the Scribe in a manner that said “You have the floor.”
The scribe stepped forward and began.
“The Great Scholar is a kind man for taking on wards of such… obscured merit, but in doing so he, as all others who take on wards, becomes liable for their actions.”
The man’s mind twisted in horrified disbelief. No. No, no, no, no, no. They were so careful. He was careful. His girls were careful. Even when Emerald had snuck out she left such a set of distractions and illusions that only another of his power could have noticed. Whatever this was, must be a trick. An offense that would warrant a punishment that affected the completion of this ceremony was far outside the realm of Emeralds capabilities both as a person and a practitioner. The Scribe’s people brought forward a beaten and broken girl who could barely stand and was covered in cuts and bruises. As she slowly staggered forward in chains and opened her eyes, they met those of her masters. The relief in those eyes was palpable. They were the eyes of someone who had endured knowing that the storm would end and that she had a rescuer on the way. Those were the eyes of someone who could finally see the shore. She offered him a radiant smile, tinted with blood.
“The ward of the proposed Great Scholar was caught this morning attempting to steal from the Halls of Knowledge. It was ascertained through her own admission that she intended to escape with the secrets of the city and sell them to another nation. The punishment for such a crime is Death, and in the case of a ward, the execution must be performed by the master.”
The man screamed in rage internally. It was all he could do to restrain his power and not immediately throw a meteor the size of an elephant at the man. He stepped back from the ledger, and walked toward the Scribe while he gave his explanation. As he got closer his hands became covered in a stone spike and it began to glow with a heat. He was stopped by the Scribes guards leveling their spears at him when he was 10 or so arms away. He stared at the Scribe intensely. He knew that his ward hadn’t done as she was accused, but that didn’t matter much against an accusation from a Scribe. To question the truth of a Scribe was to question the Throne of the Learned Grand Scribe as the one who approves their selection. At this point all he could do was hope to poke holes in the tail through lack of proof. Even a Scribe can’t demand execution despite evidence to the contrary of its worthiness. The Scribe spoke again.
“It is most fortuitous for the young ward that in this special case another option does exist.”
So that was his game. The man hadn’t liked the Head of Arinver previously, but at least he wasn’t as petty and debased as his son. Or that’s what he had thought. He was revising that judgment here and now as a childish grudge that should have ended almost a decade ago. The man walked to his ward and placed his hand on her face, gently caressing it the way a father would… the way his father had a lifetime ago. The Scribe continued.
“The law permits a master to spare the life of his servants if he is willing to offer something to the Halls that outweighs the stain of the crime. The offering of knowledge that would be worthy of the title of Great Scholar is the only thing that this master has to offer.”
The man stared into his adoptive daughter's eyes as if to say, ‘it’s all going to be okay’, before meeting the staring into space as spoke in a calm and collected tone.
“And which of these acts was seen personally by the Scribe?”
The Scribe’s sick grin almost split his face in two.
“Will the Witness come forward.”
From behind the crowd of Scribe Arinver’s entourage a boy sheepishly shuffled forward. A familiar boy. A boy the man had known for almost as long as he had known his girls. Eveem was the servant of a young prince from Melvin who had come to study in the city. The man had been a huge fan of Eveem. He was the reasonable voice to reign in his daughter when she got too excited. He had been friends with the girls almost all their lives. The man had had Eveem eat with them more times than he could count. He was a good boy, an honest boy. What was going on? Following behind him was Eveem’s master, the Melvin Prince Arrendale von Jormung. The Prince of another nation had dozens of servants, so Eveem had likely never even been allowed to speak to him for most of his life. He was an accessory at best, meant to bring knowledge back to his country that the prince himself could not be bothered with learning. He’d have sooner had Eveem executed than follow him into a formal hearing of any sort, too much trouble. So why was he here? There could be only one reason. This was a transaction and a set up. The Melvin Prince Spoke.
“On the honor of my family I have heard this servant's words and bound him in blood to speak only the truth.”
The Prince stepped back and struck Eveem to coax him into speaking. What came out was a terrified whisper from a boy who’d rather be anywhere but here.
“I saw Emerald sneak into the Halls of Knowledge. She unleashed a scroll on the guards that put them to sleep and erased her face from memory. I ran to find help so that we might stop her before she escaped and came across the Scribes' son. With his assistance we overpowered and imprisoned her this morning.”
Well that was the end of that. This lowborn welp who had dared to slight the noble house of Arinver had no recourse now. He had not the standing to challenge the words of a Prince and with the accusation of a Scribe there was no other path forward for him. He would offer up his works to the Halls and would no longer be eligible for a title. If he had been a true noble this would have been nothing but a set back, as he could merely bring forth another work. It would take years of his time but it could be done. But that was not so for a lowborn. His privileges as a citizen were conditional on his ascension to the rank of Great Scholar. This type of removal of a work from another legally counted as declining the title which would then invalidate all of his freedoms. He would be stuck in Limbo as a slave of the state. But his wards would be allowed to live. The Scribe held in a laugh of triumph as he watched that wretch fall. The Scribe closed his eyes and waited to savor the taste of those words of defeat falling from…
There was a sharp scream that cut through the air. The Scribe’s eyes shot open as he turned to see a large sharp spike of earth impaled through the man's young ward. The man pulled his arm out of her chest. He caught her as she fell, letting the earth crumble away on his hand. He made no outward show of expression. He lifted her body up in his arms and carried her away.
Azure sat in absolute shock. She couldn’t process it all, there was just too much happening at once. Her master carried her sister’s body and placed it next to her. He tore off a piece of his clothing to use as a shroud. Before he covered Emerald, he closed her eyes and prayed for her soul. The man stood and returned to stand before the ledger. With a stony face, he addressed the court.
“May I proceed Learned Elder?”
The Grand Scribe had been around a long time and knew better than to get involved with the politics of the Nobles anymore than he had to. That’s why he had let this play out without any interjection, but such a show was not something he could allow to become the norm at such ceremonies. This was meant to be a momentous occasion, and now everybody's day was ruined. He would have a talk with his Scribe later about the etiquette at such affairs. He gestured for the man to continue on.
What he had just done would haunt him for the rest of his days. He knew that beyond a shadow of a doubt, but it was precisely because of things like this that he could not allow himself to be stopped. He had no idea how he was going to face Azure after this. Hopefully, after he explained she would understand why it was the only choice, but she may not and he would understand. The House of Aniver had done this in the hopes that it would break his resolve, but now they had only strengthened it. He had now sacrificed his daughter for this plan of his, there was no turning back, no failure. Only absolute, unconditional success would suffice.
He dipped the quill into the violet ink and it thrummed with the power of the contract he was about to become a part of. It was common for slaves to take a new name once they had found a path to freedom, and so he had gone by one ever since he had won it all those years ago. But the Ledger would only recognize the name of a person that was on their heart. In the interest of privacy the ledger was unreadable to anyone other than the Grand Scribe who never had a reason to do so anyway. There was no risk of him endangering his family in any sort of political scandal. They were worlds away anyway. With a slow influx of his own power into the quill he inscribed his name for all time: Ayaal Ay Abinsuuri.