My gaze lingers out the nearest window. Birds chirp a delightful song just outside in a nearby apple tree. Beyond the tree, a flowing valley of flush grasses and trees descends downward towards a large lakeside city. It is but a fleck in the distance below. Still, it is there in all its glory. Though I’ve never been to the town physically, I want to with all my heart.
“Pay attention, Lady Scarlet,” utters an old voice. It snatches my attention away.
“Sorry, Professor Lorik.” I shift my attention back nonchalantly. My head bows forward slightly in solemn reverence. “I was digesting what you were saying.”
“Digesting?” questions the professor. His brow nestles together in confusion.
“Sorry!” I raise a hand cautiously. “I read the word somewhere, but I don’t know where. I think it has something to do with how stomachs work,” I lie.
The professor rubs his hand through the gray and black hair upon his chin. “I’ve never heard the phrase.”
I beam tensely at his words.
In the past four-and-a-half years, I’ve developed significantly. I pushed up the timeline when I saw how unenthused and uncaring my parents were. In fact, my rapid growth was expected at that point. There was no danger of me being branded a ‘witch’ anymore because my maid can literally shoot fire from her hands. I’m in the clear to act as I please now without holding back too much. Everyone chalks up my brilliance to being “blessed by the Gods.” Paganism at its finest. Not that I’m complaining. It makes my life easier.
I started walking a month after I first talked. Again, those around me gave gratitude to the Gods. When I turned two, I allowed myself to be fully fluent in English.
My parents relished the pace of my mental acuity, thinking it was the product of their genetics and, obviously, divine treatment from their Gods. Oh, how naive of them. But I won’t alter their view, and I don’t plan on it. Ever.
In time, my father allowed my maid, Sonya, to grant me access to the larger library when I started showing interest in stories. Luckily, I could read the language. Unfortunately, I forgot to feign learning that aspect in front of my family and Sonya. When they saw me reading for the first time, I was hailed as “absolutely brilliant” and, once again, “a gift from the Gods.”
At this point, even I’m starting to believe them after hearing it so damned often.
For years, I have spent nearly every day learning about this world. I’m not a super-genius, not by a long shot, but my knowledge from the other world, technologically, philosophically, and mathematically speaking, has put me generously ahead of the collective wisdom apparent in this reality. Most of my time spent has been generating context. History. Magic. Combat.
I plan to not waste this life. There's not much I can do as a small child, but I can start laying the groundwork now for a more exciting future of my own choosing.
More importantly, I can learn everything I need to know about this planet the people call Tellus.
The world is divided into multiple islands. I currently reside on the largest one: Derora. It’s similar to Australia in size based on what I’ve read. Because of the size, Derora is the defacto “leader” of the world since records indicate that the second largest island is barely a tenth the size of ours.
Leaving aside the rest of the world, there’s enough history on this country to engross my mind. The amount of wars, their names, how long they were fought, who commanded them, and much more fills volume after volume all available via a simple request passing my lips.
Magic, or rather “gifts” as they call it here, is totally irrational in the context of my former reality. Out of everything I study, gifts consume most of my time. Their classifications, powers, abnormalities. A lot of it is vague, almost like a national secret. The more I read, the more I desire such gifts.
Their origins? No one is quite sure. There is a myth people tend to go with.
A singular God created the universe, or "the stars" as they call it. Still, there is a consensus that there are more planets with life than just ours. On each one, this God ordained guardians, also referred to as Gods, to watch over the worlds. But our world, Tellus, being most precious to the singular God, assigned himself to oversee us along with his children.
As a physical manifestation of his love, he delivered gifts into the bodies of every person. God had hoped this would lead to a comforting peace, but he was wrong. Human nature resorted to violence, and gifts were used largely for evil.
Angered by this, God sealed everyone’s gifts away, only allowing access to it through fruits subtly labeled “Divine Treats.” They’re rare, but those who eat them gain access to the powers deep inside their souls.
Is that myth real or not? I have no idea. It isn’t proof in the slightest that there are other beings in this reality. Stories are stories, even if they are laced with truth.
The Divine Treats do exist. And yes, only those that eat them seem to be able to use gifts, but that does not necessarily present proof that there are Gods. If anything, it concludes that merely the fruits themselves grant the abilities.
Saying that aloud would be blasphemy. I’m already a girl and an intelligent one at that. Though there are no negative views of witches in this reality due to the wide acceptance and knowledge of gifts, women are still not equal like in my past life. Certainly not to the same degree.
Apparently, a select few, those being soldiers and the wealthy, garner access to Divine Treats. Thankfully, I fall in line with that caliber, though I have not had the privilege yet.
If Sonya ate one, it makes me wonder what she did in her past to get her access to a gift. Was she a soldier? Did my family allow her a gift so she’d be a more efficient worker? I’m not sure, but I feel like asking might lead to too personal a story. I do not like intruding into such things.
“Your mind is drifting again, Lady Scarlet,” notices Professor Lorik.
“Yes, it seems so. I apologize.”
Professor Lorik laughs. “This is no problem, Lady Scarlet. You’re a brilliant student. You know more than most adults at a mere five years of age. Let your mind wander. What you’ve been doing with your life has been the correct path. I do not wish to change you, merely to explore your intellect. To foster it.”
I bow my head anew. “I appreciate that.”
Professor Lorik sits before me at a sizable table askew in the middle of the library. A large window crests to my right. Many open books, scrap sheets of paper, and ink wells with feathers splay about between the professor and me.
When I turned three, Sonya, convinced my parents to get me a tutor. I’d ask her questions she did not know the answers to. My parents were too busy to teach me, and I don’t think my mother could, regardless, if she had to.
Professor Lorik is an older gentleman, likely in his forties. Crisp pepper-colored hair sits atop his head. A lengthy beard grizzles his upper lip, cheeks, and chin. It is neatly trimmed to his face. It too contains black and white hairs. Delicate lines of stress dance around his eyes. Three deep ones etch his forehead when he’s thinking. His build is lanky, much to be expected of a scholar of his caliber.
My father hired him from a university in the nearby city, Water’s Bastion. There are only a handful of these institutions in the country, and they’re only found in the wealthiest of areas with the most influence, culture, and power. Luckily, that’s exactly where I live. For the past two years, he’s been my master, teaching me of this world.
Admittedly, I think Professor Lorik thought my family was over-exaggerating my intelligence. Honestly, I do not blame him. I’d think the same thing if a wealthy family hired me, saying their “special” child is a genius. Nepotism indeed fosters in that kind of environment.
Upon meeting me, talking with me, and gauging my intelligence, Professor Lorik learned he was gravely mistaken. He seemed almost afraid. Again, I do not blame him. He likely looked at me and heard the intelligence level of himself represented, maybe even in a vaster context. And, in that regard, he’d be right in some aspects, at least.
“Let us talk about more interesting topics then, shall we?” Professor Lorik allows. Without waiting for a response, his finger gently taps his chin. Eventually, he yields a smile. “Subjects involving gifts always seems to interest you, Lady Scarlet. Shall we discuss the Voiced?”
My nose crinkles. “The Voiced?”
Never have I heard those words in any of my texts. It’s possible I missed a book explaining something about them, true, but I doubt it. There is no television nor internet in this reality. To cure this unenviable position, I’ve read nearly every book we own. Surely I’d have heard about the Voiced by now if my family had access to any reference materials regarding them.
Professor Lorik stifles a sniff. “I’m so happy I can teach you something you do not know.” He sarcastically pumps his fist into the air. “Oh, it’s only happened a handful of times, but I truly treasure the moments.”
I roll my eyes. “So what are these Voiced, sir?”
“Right, right.” Professor Lorik shakes his head. “Yes, the Voiced. They are supreme beings chosen by the Gods as their representatives on Tellus.”
I flinch. “Chosen by the Gods? Supreme beings? Like monsters?”
Professor Lorik chuckles. “No, nothing so nefarious. We already have the Corrupted. There are no other monsters but them. No, the Voiced are sentient beings gifted with special powers by the beings watching over us all. Humans like you and me.”
“So they have gifts? But that wouldn’t give them a special title necessarily. Then there is clearly more to it than that.”
“Much more.” Professor Lorik holds up his hands, gesturing as he talks. “Gifts are like a muscle in the body. Once someone is given permission to eat a Divine Treat, they gain access to this muscle. But the gifts given to the Voiced are different. They become touched by the Gods.”
Professor Lorik points at his eyes. “The color of their pupils turn to a lovely gold, indicating their favor with the divine. With that change, they are granted access to additional abilities beyond simple gifts. These abilities give the Voiced skills to alter the very foundations of reality. They become beyond humans. Like pieces of the Gods themselves planted on Tellus.”
“If they’re that powerful, then who the Voiced are and what they can do is more of a military secret,” I reflect. “They’d act as powerful weapons shifting the tides of military power for a nation, correct?”
Professor Lorik blinks. “How very astute of you. Yes, countries with more Voiced indeed tend to be seen as larger military superpowers. One might say that a country with more Voiced is shown to have the highest appreciation of the Gods.” He shrugs. “But a military secret? Hardly. They’re more like international celebrities with full autonomy to go wherever and do whatever they please.”
Then why haven’t I heard about them before?! Now I’m annoyed. Our library sucks.
Putting all the religious rhetoric aside, the concept is fascinating. It makes me wonder how one becomes a Voiced. Are these people who get really good with their gifts and transcend human capabilities? Does the military give them unique fruits beyond the Divine Treats known by the public to further elevate their powers?
I’m not sure. I doubt professor Lorik has the answers; otherwise, he’d just out and tell me.
“Do you happen to know how many Voiced there are in this world?”
Professor Lorik stares at me for a moment. “Not in the world, but in this country, yes. In the context of our continent, it’s imperative that you know this information.”
Is that so?
“In the center of this continent, there is the country of Brosnock,” begins the Professor. “A vast land rich with agriculture and trade. They are seen as the most powerful country on the continent, supplying goods to others at cheap costs. They are the wealthiest nation of the four state powers, thus, they have the most political control over the other three nations. Our only border is with Brosnock. Skirmishes have been happening between us for decades now, but there’s been no outright war. They have one Voiced.”
Great. A geography re-hash. It doesn't hurt I suppose.
“To the Northeast above Brosnock—” Professor Lorik gestures his hands upward. “—is the nation of Viorna. A cold, harsh place. Not a lot of agriculture nor marketable goods beyond oils and coal. As such, the men and women who grow up there are rigid, powerful. They boast the strongest military. They have one Voiced.”
They have one as well, huh? Interesting.
“To the Northwest above Brosnock—” Professor Lorik moves his hand to the left. “—the country of Agias. A similar topography to Viorna, but hot springs and volcanoes supply the place with year-long warmth. It’s more of a tourist nation. They produce enough food and they have strong soldiers to defend themselves. Barely. They do not produce the same amount of goods as Brosnock nor have the security Viorna appreciates, meaning they must still invoke trade with both countries to ensure safety across their borders. The country prefers its isolationist policies. On paper, it maintains a neutral, non-aggressive stance towards all other countries. Agias has one Voiced.”
I’m sensing a pattern. Each country has a singular Voiced, then? That rules out Voiced being created by special government actors. Guess that explains why our countries are in a gridlocked Cold War-style system.
We depend on but hate each other. This was analogous on Earth as well. With the number of nuclear weapons in everyone’s arsenal, the state of war in the world was at a standstill. Yes, there were still the occasional on-the-ground conflicts, but large-scale war was a thing of the past. I’m assuming that’s the same situation here.
“Then we have our country, Zalevet, the farthest to the South—” Professor Lorik moves his hand downward. “—the export country. The warmest country of the four. We have access to the sea, unobstructed by currents and water hazards like with the other countries. We also have the longest established and largest ports of all four countries, making us the epicenter of trade between the four countries to other parts of the world as well as the country with the largest navy.” He pauses. “We have no Voiced in our lands.”
My eyes widen. “None?”
Professor Lorik shakes his head. “None, my dear.”
The implications of that immediately fling themselves into my mind. “We’re in a weakened position then, militarily speaking. Why haven’t the other countries tried invading us yet?”
Professor Lorik releases a brilliant smile. “A great question. So far, they keep interfering with each other, creating skirmishes with no real stakes. However, there will come a time when the opposing three unify to overthrow our lands. If they can find a common cause, that is. And that cause will be due entirely to the Voiced in the other countries.”
“Because we don’t have the favor of the Gods due to our lack of a Voiced?” I guess.
“Precisely!” The professor strokes his beard. “If they convene, the message will be clear. Every other country has a Voiced except for Zalevet. The conclusion will be that the Gods have lost favor in our lands. The remaining countries will then meet, divide our lands on a map, and conquer. The only question is when. A year from now? A decade? Two decades? Three? Or tomorrow? It is imperative that we find our Voiced soon to avoid that outcome.”
“How do the Voiced have so much power?”
“They’re above the law, Lady Scarlet,” mutters Professor Lorik. “Because of their status, they do not heed the warnings of kings. They are the final authorities, the messengers of the divine. They can go between countries at will, impart their own justice as they deem it, and fight for causes adorned in their hearts. Whether they are good or bad does not matter. The Gods gave them their authority, and everyone on this continent respects it. Still, they represent their countries. They are not fully autonomous. The kingdoms have some degree of control as they finance the Voiced in their endeavors, but they are never the final arbiters of their actions. That may also be playing in our favor.”
I shudder at the implications.
Professor Lorik sees the fear on my face and sighs. “Relax, Lady Scarlet. This has been an issue for nearly half a century at this point. I didn’t mean to exaggerate before. I merely wanted to hammer down the importance of our situation.”
Yeah, but you wouldn’t be telling me this if it weren’t a possibility.
“Okay.” I nod.
Professor Lorik smiles. His head turns to the window. “Now I find my own mind wandering.” He closes the book nearest to him. “How about you go outside today? The air is fresh. I hear this year’s batch of cadets will be receiving their Divine Treats in the training yard today if you wish to see it.
“Really?!” My eyes widen. Never have I seen these fruits. Oh, this is a must. “Are you sure I can go?”
Professor Lorik waves me off. “Go be a child for once, Lady Scarlet. Indulge in your impulses.”
Little trembling giggles leave my throat as I run through the halls. I gruffly stop the noises when I realize how childish they sound.
Though my mentality is that of an older man, I find tendencies placated within small children, especially young girls, frequently pop up in my conscious mind, skewing my perspective.
Yes, I can generally control them, but they interfere. For example, Sonya got me a doll a year back. For some reason, I reacted to it strongly because the next thing I knew, I was playing with that thing for hours. I didn’t even read that day.
I was embarrassed when I realized it, but the implications on other aspects of my life became apparent. Would I grow to like more feminine things as I progressed in age? Dresses? Make-up? Men? Is sexuality transmissible with the body or the mind? Are urges genetic? Or is my general confusion masking the nuances of my current existence? Am I reacting in certain ways because I feel I should deep down or are my actions genuine?
It raises a bunch of philosophical questions that I don’t feel like answering. Luckily, the differences in sex between this life and the last haven’t been prevalent beyond these minor things.
Hopefully, it stays like this. Noticeable and easily preventable. If not, overtime, I’ll become someone I don’t even recognize.
Will I even notice if that happens? Or will my past me fade away? Is that something I should even be worried about? It’s not like I had everything figured out as Felix. Maybe Scarlet alone would do better.
Gods, I’ve spent too much time thinking. I’d do something else if I could. It’s not like I have friends. Only my parents, Sonya, and some of the staff. It’s, well, lonely. Of course it is.
My feet continue to bring me along the massive stone corridors throughout the building. I’ve memorized them all. With so little to do, as soon as I started walking, I began exploring. Now I know this castle like the back of my hand.
It turns out my father is a baron, not a king. Highly prestigious, but not absolute royalty.
My father controls a section of the lands within the middle of the country. The South of Zalevet consists of pretty beaches and tourist areas while the North deals with border crossings and military skirmishes. Here, we plant food.
Father’s territory can’t produce as much as Brosnock. Their soil and climate are too perfect for agriculture. The hope is that we can eventually at least sustain our country if Brosnock were to ever cut off its food exports.
It explains why my father is so distant. The survivability of the country weighs heavy on his shoulders. Being the best country for trade can only get you so far.
It also explains why my parents are married. My mother is the daughter of a wealthy merchant with high connections in the agricultural trading community. My parent’s relationship is not one born of love. It is no wonder we do not seem like a family.
My body ducks from corridor to corridor. Light from small windows illuminates my path. Singed torches line the walls, but they are currently out. A servant will relight them as supper approaches in preparation for the night.
A smile, for some reason, stretches across my face.
Putting all that aside, I get to see the Divine Treats in action! How exciting! It is a yearly thing with a handful of people. I have always been too young to see the ceremony. Well, I say ceremony, but it is a small-scale thing with only soldiers present. Father doesn't even watch it.
Finally, now's my chance! If all goes well, I'll have more knowledge on these "treats" that influence the world so much.
“Ahhh, watch where you’re—Lady Scarlet, my apologies!” stumbles a servant I nearly run into rounding a corner. “Please, be careful!”
“I will! Sorry, sir!” I wave back without stopping.
Another corner. A turn. Sprinting.
I veer into the kitchen.
“Lady Scarlet! What’s the rush?” the head cook, Chef Rumsley, utters in surprise. Not entirely unwarranted, considering I rushed into his domain like a bull with no context.
“Sorry! Just passing through!” I comment, waving back. There are many ways to the courtyard. From the library, the quickest is to cut through the kitchen.
“Wait a moment! I tried making that sauce you suggested,” says Chef Rumsley.
I stop in my tracks. “Oh?” I turn my head around, a wry smile appearing on my face. “And?”
“It’s wonderful! Who would have thought that combination would work?!” The Chef seems surprised. “You truly are gifted, Lady Scarlet.”
Sheepishly, I lick the top of my lip, averting my gaze. The weird habit from my former existence remains in this life as well. “Oh, it’s nothing. I am only a curious child willing to try new things.”
“Eggs, vinegar, lemon juice, water, salt, and oil,” Chef Rumsley lists the ingredients. “It took a while to get the consistency, but I believe I know what you were going for.” He walks to a bowl sitting nearby. A spoon sits within. Chef Rumsley brings it towards me, holding it out. “Care to try it?”
A chunky white glob sits on the spoon.
Oh?
I taste the substance.
“!”
I make an audible noise.
Mayonnaise! Or close enough! This is a fresher, non-preserved version. I didn’t know the consistency, but I knew the ingredients to make a homemade version. Having tasted Chef Rumsley’s food before, I knew simply handing him a list of potential ingredients would produce the desired results.
The narrative has been stolen; if detected on Amazon, report the infringement.
“Delicious! What are you going to call it?”
It’s new to this world, and I don’t even know why it is called ‘mayonnaise’ in the first place. Even though I know what it is, I can’t explain why it is what it is, so I’m leaving that up to the Chef.
“I believe you’re the one who created it, so what would you like to call it?” Chef Rumsley throws back at me.
I grin. “Oh no, you’ll be the one using it. You figured out the consistency. You’ll create dishes with it. I just had an idea. You made it a reality. This one is all yours, Chef.”
“Hmmm,” Chef Rumsley reflects. “I will call it an egg paste then.”
Oh.
I guess that is what it is.
How anti-climactic.
“Wonderful!” I feign. “If I may suggest other things, would that be okay?”
“I expect you to do so at this point, yes,” signals the Chef.
“Then…purée tomatoes, add sugar, salt, powdered onion, and herbs. That should create a delicious, tangy red sauce.”
Chef Rumsley looks upward in thought. “Hmmm. Like a spiced version of tomato paste. Okay.”
“When you find a good consistency, name it what you want. It’s not quite tomato sauce, but close if that makes any sense. I dunno. I was reading about the cultural differences in cooking between the countries on our continent and the idea came to mind,” I lie. “Anyways, I think adding that with the, um, egg paste, ground black pepper, and ground garlic will create a delectable sauce for poultry.”
Chef Rumsley rubs his chin. “Hmmm. I will try some things and get back to you.”
I beam. “Great!”
“If you ever want to be my sou-chef, let me know! Your ingenuity is greatly appreciated in this line of work.”
Yeah, sure. That’s what we’ll call it.
“I’m just a kid with an overactive imagination.” I bow. “Thank you for indulging my crazy ideas. I appreciate it.”
“Heh heh! Do keep them coming!”
“Later! And thanks again!” I wave back to Chef Rumsley as I spring out of the room.
In the beginning, people were quite reproachful to my ideas. I’m a child, so I can hardly blame them. It took a lot of persuasion, manners, and proper language on my part to build any of the relationships I have.
Now, even though I’m five, people treat me with at least enough respect to hear me out. It’s more than I should have at this age, but I’m a special case. Everyone thinks I’m blessed by the Gods after all. It’s my one advantage right now and I run with it freely.
My feet drag me along many more hallways until I feel a lightened level of heat in the air. The courtyard is near.
“Gotta go upstairs,” I end up muttering to myself. “Don’t want to be told to leave.”
There is a balcony overlooking the courtyard. I should be able to hide up there. Not only that, it’ll give me a better view of the whole situation. Not as up close as I’d like, sure, but, like in sports, a view from ‘stands’ provides a broader perspective on an event.
As I search my memory for the layout of this section of the castle, the directions pop into my head. I veer down a hallway until a set of ascending stairs shift into view. I go up them, turning right at the end. A large crest of light protrudes down the hall. Loud shouts come from that direction.
There it is!
I carefully approach the opening. My head peeks out.
There’s no one there.
I turn, crouching until I’m on the balcony. My chest drops to the ground as I carefully scrutinize over the side into the courtyard, obstructing my body from view. Don’t want to get caught now after all this effort.
Explosions of noise violently assault my ears.
“—aining! The pack has been weeded out. The three of you shall be inducted into the baron’s special garrison as cadets,” a manly, gruff voice booms like shrapnel. “The remainder will continue their training back with the guard corps. The territories around Hopeful Lake are vast. Good men are needed. However, only a select few are chosen to partake in the fruits of the Gods. They become leaders. Champions. Heroes. Kings.”
The voice in question belongs to a large man by the name of Captain Van Gallan. He’s in charge of the guards here at the castle.
Every few years, the captain takes the cream of the crop from the nearby towns. He then converts them into advanced soldiers by conditioning them at the castle for a few years before sending them out as high-ranking officers or keeping them here.
Captain Van Gallan looks as if a bull was suddenly granted human form. He doesn’t wear any armor, but his muscles look as if they could take a blow from a sword, and it’d merely bounce off. His skin is a deeper tan from being outside frequently. His hair is short on top while wholly shaved on the sides and back.
A large scar decorates the sides of his mouth as if a blade had been pushed through one side and out the other. It only makes him look that much more intimidating. Not only that, he towers over everyone. He’s around six-foot-six if I had to guess. The perfect soldier. A literal giant. In another life, a good small-forward for an NBA team.
“Be proud of yourselves!” Captain Van Gallan booms to the three children before him. They all seem to be around thirteen years old, give or take. I have no way of knowing. They’re older than me at least, that’s for sure. “You have the potential to be great. You all possess the willingness to fight for what is just! For that, I recognized your value. In that value, a Divine Treat shall elevate your abilities to new heights!”
Behind Captain Van Gallan stands another soldier; this one is fully armed. He holds a large chest in his arms.
Captain Van Gallan turns to said soldier. His hands fiddle around his neck, pulling out a string with a key attached to it. He inserts it into the chest’s lock, turns it, and releases the latch. His hand presses it upward, revealing a collection of faded, gold-looking orbs inside. He picks out three, gently cradles them in his hands, shuts the chest, and locks it back up.
The soldier bows before walking briskly back into the castle. Captain Van Gallan returns the key into his shirt for safekeeping around his neck.
Hmmm. Lots of security for those things, but not as much as I thought. Then again, to get to the Divine Treats, you’d need to either beat up or steal from Captain Van Gallan. No thanks. Seems impossible.
“These are the Divine Treats,” comments the captain. He holds one up. “They never spoil. They never lose their potential. Be honored that one will be bestowed upon you this day. They are given only to the best of the best; those who will do great things for their country.”
Is that it? No other info? Come on! Where do they come from? How many are in the box? How often is the box replenished? Do the provinces have control over the treats or does the Kingdom? Is there a finite amount or are they grown or created?
Why is no one curious?! I’d be screaming out questions! Someone do it, please!
Nobody? Really? Shameful.
“Upon eating these fruits,” Captain Van Gallan continues. “the Gods shall lend you their strength. Each person is given a piece of power placated with their innate abilities. One element. One ability. One nature. With exceptions. For example….”
Captain Van Gallan holds up his hand. Before I can blink, his arm sheens of metal.
My mouth tumbles open.
He turned himself into steel, didn’t he?
The soldiers in the yard all stare as well.
Captain Van Gallan merely looks at them. “Observe.”
The captain walks over to a nearby practice dummy. He flattens out his hand. Carefully, he brings it back. With an immense amount of force, he hurls it forward in a slicing motion towards the dummy.
There’s a ‘ting’ of steel that rings in the air.
But nothing happens.
The steel color of the captain’s arm fades. With a smirk, he walks back to his prior position before the cadets.
Puzzled, everyone looks around, including me.
The hell wa—
The dummy’s top half slides forward, falling to the ground. A clean line segments the top half from the bottom half. A pile of excessive dust explodes upward as the heaviness of the dummy’s top slams into the ground.
My mouth topples open.
Gasps rain from the soldiers standing nearby.
For the three cadets receiving the God’s Fruits, their excitement builds. And why wouldn’t it? They’re going to get what is essentially a superpower. Lucky them.
Captain Van Gallan carefully walks before the line of cadets, staring each of these pre-teens in the face. Each one appears to cower below his glance. A few steps later, he returns before them.
“Are you prepared to give yourself to the kingdom?” bellows Captain Van Gallan.
Without missing a beat, the three young cadets stand at attention. “Yes, sir!”
“Do you pledge your loyalties to the Kingdom of Zalevet?”
“Yes, sir!”
“To Baron Embers?”
“Yes, sir!”
“To the Gods above that grant you their favor?”
“Yes, sir!”
I watch in amazement at this cult-like phenomenon. But it is typical, I’d guess, of soldiers. This type of loyalty is necessary for the job that is required of them.
“Step forward, Alexander!” shouts the captain.
The boy at the furthest left, Alexander I take it, gulps. He appears to be around twelve, but his height reigns in around five-foot-five. If he’s this tall now, he’ll be a giant later on, much like the captain. I can see why he has potential. He’s already built rather muscular, though in a lean way like a swimmer. Wavy blonde hair explodes from atop his head. It is further accented by his oval-shaped face dotted with concerned green eyes.
Alexander steps forward. He holds out his hand in reverence, placing one below the other as if receiving communion.
Captain Van Gallan raises his voice. “Take and eat, soldier.” The fruit is placed into his hands.
Gulping, Alexander nods. He opens his mouth. Little shivers take hold of his body. His hands shake as he goes to plop the fruit in his mouth.
Can you imagine what would happen if he’d dropped it? Ugh! Wouldn’t want to be him, but I kind of wanted to see that.
Alexander swallows. His eyes widen.
Nothing happens.
My brow crinkles.
Captain Van Gallan takes a step backward. A few, actually. Seeing that reaction, the other two cadets standing in line move their formation back several paces.
Alexander looks back and forth between them nervously.
Then finally, something happens.
Alexander ducks forward, gasping. His legs, now too shaky to hold him, buckle underneath his weight. He falls to the ground. Before he face-plants, his hands brace the top half of his body. Gasps of pain tear from his throat.
“Oh, that sucks,” I grunt to myself quietly.
Rocks begin sticking to Alexander like glue. He cringes as if in severe pain until he is buried beneath the rubble.
Everyone stares in horror.
Sighing, Captain Van Gallan steps forward. Without missing a beat, he slams his fist gently onto the rock pile where Alexander’s head would be.
The rocks crumble away, leaving Alexander gasping for air.
“Congratulations! You’re a Typical,” commends the captain.
Alexander, still shaking, manages to speak, “A T-Typical?”
“Yes. You have been gifted the power of the dirt. You control the very ground itself. Mountains move at your will. Rocks defend you at your behest. Yes, it is a good ability. Be proud.”
Alexander, nodding, is ushered back into the line.
Even I knew what a Typical was. He received a fruit and asked such a stupid question. Eh, his martial prowess might not necessarily reflect how intelligent he actually is. Could be a gifted fighter who hates books. That is probably not too uncommon given how education is not as important as many other things in this reality. Or maybe he merely forgot because Alexander turned into a rock popsicle. Either reasoning would make sense.
A Typical is a Divine Treat eater with a general ability to access a natural element. The main elements are fire, water, earth, wind, light, and darkness. Light and darkness are extremely rare even though they are classified as Typical gifts. Still, they're considered building blocks for life, so I'm assuming that's why.
While magic was foreign to me, this concept of "elements" is not. It says something about the collective unconscious back in my world that in multiple forms of media, these elements were used as power systems. Maybe it's because there's such a human connection to these elements that it creates a natural desire to control them. Who knows?
“Remi! Come forth!”
The only girl in the group finally steps forward. From the sun showing on her arms, I can tell she’s strong, even for a brat. Based on her build, it wouldn’t surprise me if she does something close to parkour or whatever its equivalent is in this world. Her extremely straight black hair is cropped short at the base of her neck. It seems to shadow her face on the sides, completely hiding her left eye from view. Why would she allow that? Her hazel eyes sparkle like honey when the light catches them. She’ll become a beauty.
Remi holds out her hand, one under the other, as Captain Van Gallan places the fruit in her palm. Hesitation does not hold her back as she pops the golden orb into her mouth. With a crunch, it is swallowed.
“She’s a badass,” I predict.
Sure enough, Remi begins grabbing her head. A scream leaves her throat as she buckles backward, neck craning into the sky.
“Oh?” I hear the captain mutter.
Remi begins to float above the ground. Loose objects twirl throughout the courtyard. The watching soldiers dodge them. Captain Van Gallan smacks the top half of the severed wooden dummy away from his face as it flies towards him.
“Ah, magnificent!” says Captain Van Gallan with glee as Remi flops back to the ground. The floating objects do the same. His face stretches into a brilliant smile. “An Admix! Thought you were a Wind Typical for a second, but they usually just float and fall. You’re a bit better than that. Not sure what, but we’ll find out in time.”
Remi grabs her head as if it hurts. “An Admix?” asks Remi as she gasps for breath.
Yeah, I am not sure what that is either.
“An Admix is a catch-all term for abilities outside the six major elements. I myself am an Admix. It’s an extraordinary gift. You, it seems, can control objects at will. You are blessed, Remi.”
Oh, wait. I did know what that was. I forgot. Silly me! There are only two classifications of abilities. Typicals and Admix. Admix are already extremely rare concepts, so I don't read about them too much.
Remi, nodding, still out of breath, moves back into line. The others compliment her. It brightens her otherwise stoic face into a weakened half-smile.
I continue to stare.
“Next!” Captain Van Gallan shouts towards the last person. “Nigel! Come!”
Nigel? Poor boy. What a weak-sounding name.
Fortunately for him, he’s anything but. Nigel has the makings of a typical fantasy hero. He’s tall for his age, although not as tall as Alexander. Dark brown hair sits atop his head in a textured, flat fashion. The sides are short, but not bare, while the hair on top swirls towards the right side of his forehead. It’s flat, yet bouncy. A bit shiny. Layered. Not too long, but a lot of volume. The part in the middle is stylish and is either extremely manufactured or the result of lucky cowlicks. Very K-Pop inspired, not that anyone in this reality would know what that is. The skin around his eyes is thin as if he’s perpetually tired. His face is square with an accented jawline. When his baby fat disappears, he’ll likely be a looker. Eyes like precious amber shine through his bored slits. He looks around twelve as well. While his demeanor is lackadaisical, I cannot tell if it’s honestly because he doesn’t want to be here or simply nerves. People put up fronts in situations like these. It wouldn’t be surprising.
Like everyone else, Nigel takes the fruit, placing it into his mouth.
“Wonder what it will be thi—”
Nigel explodes.
I blink.
“OH! Hahahahaha!” Captain Van Gallan laughs.
I stare in horror at the captain’s pure, evil noise.
The hell, man?! That’s some dark sh—
The smoke clears. Nigel lays on the ground, groaning, but okay.
“HUH?!” I yell.
Luckily, no one hears me. I hope. Everyone is just as shocked as me.
“Dammit, I love this group!” cries Captain Van Gallan. “Two Admix! That’s unprecedented!”
Nigel, on the ground, groans. Unlike everyone else, he does not say anything. He merely expresses his pain, not bothering to ask what exactly he is.
“It appears you control explosions, my boy!” Captain Van Gallan towers over Nigel with a large grin. “An advanced version of a fire Typical if we’re simplifying things.”
“Is…that…so?” groans Nigel from the ground.
Yeah, that response is right on par with how I’d reply if I randomly went ‘boom.’
Captain Van Gallan ignores the attitude. “Can you imagine the possibilities?” he says as he gestures around the group. “A man swings a sword at you, and you block it. Upon impact, an eruption rips outward on contact. There’s no way to defend that. And based on his body’s constitution, with training, he’ll be immune to the force. We have us a powerhouse on our hands! Gah, I love this group!”
Wow, he seems a lot more excited than when we began. What happened to that soldier-like reverence at the start?
“I’m glad we could impress Lady Scarlet with our candidates this day,” expresses Captain Van Gallan.
Huh?
The captain turns. He looks towards me, gesturing with his hand. A smile plays upon his lips. “Lady Scarlet, there is no need to hide.”
How the heck did he see me?
Oh, he probably heard me shout. Damn.
No point in hiding, I guess.
Annoyed, I stand up. My hands gingerly pat down my dress.
The soldiers nearby begin to mutter.
“Is that the prodigy child?”
“Apparently, she’s some sort of genius.”
“She’s cute.”
“Imagine what she’ll look like when she grows up.”
“Oh, it’s just some kid.”
These noises come from those not chosen to join the castle guard. The three given Divine Treats, however, do not speak. Even Nigel, once on the ground, stands, quaking, to rejoin the line.
“That person right there,” Captain Van Gallan points up at me. “is one you shall defend with your very lives. By the time you all turn fifteen, I’ll have you fluent with your gifts, unprecedented in ability. Your lives are that of the Embers family. Scarlet is brilliant far beyond her years, but she is weak in body. Lend her your strength.”
“Sir!” the three shout. They turn to me and bow.
I flinch.
I’m weak?
What’s that supposed to mean?
Yeah, I can’t use a sword, but I can fight with my hands. Jujitsu. Taekwondo. Kickboxing. For a while, I was doing it all. Nothing made me happier than figuring out the puzzle that is fighting.
I’m a little out of practice, but I bet my abilities are on par, if not better, than the physical fighting styles taught here. Not that it would necessarily help with someone charging at me in full armor, sword in hand.
Am…I not allowed to fight? To use a sword? I suppose I’ve never asked, and I’ve never considered it. All my time has been spent on my studies. I want to travel someday, but am I in a position to do that? This world isn’t as safe as my past reality on Earth. Besides, I am a five-year-old kid. No one expects me to be an expert in combat right now. But someday maybe....
“Thank you. I appreciate your loyalty,” I release to the soldiers below me.
They do not raise their heads.
“You may head back inside, Lady Scarlet,” says Captain Van Gallan. “We appreciate you watching over us today. I must begin training these men and women.” He turns back to the crowd. “Now, time to get into full dress. We will all be running back to the city in full armor.”
Groans erupt from the courtyard.
I turn back inside. My brain lights up with new thoughts for the future.
“Never thought about the idea of people sacrificing themselves for me,” I mutter out loud. “I mean, I should have, but to actually see that level of loyalty is shocking.”
My feet lead me down the stairs to the bottom floor.
I pause.
“Am I okay with that?” I whisper. “With being weak? Sure, I’m a child, but not really. Not mentally. Dammit. I neglected the body. What was the old saying? The earth cannot exist without the heavens, nor the heavens without the earth? To coexist naturally, one must have a good body and mind, a stable earth and heaven. All this talk about getting a better start on my second chance, and I’m spending all my time on knowledge. I need balance.”
I hum to myself in silence as I think of a resolution for my problem.
•
A large door beckons before me. A singular soldier stands by it. He looks down at me in surprise. That’s a given, as I’ve rushed him.
“I’d like to see my father,” I communicate to the fellow rather loudly.
The man hesitates.
“Let her in,” says my father beyond the door.
Relieved of the stress of having to make that decision, the soldier opens the door. I move past him inside.
A large desk sits in the middle of the room. In a broad, wooden chair, my father rests. Books surround him. A large window backlights the entire room. Mounds of papers fill his desk. It gives me flashes back to my old life. A cozy fireplace lays dormant nearby.
“Yes, Scarlet?” Father pursues. The attitude is expected. Given my advanced intelligence, he doesn’t see me as a tiny infant. I think he respects me on some level, but there also isn’t any fatherly love.
I shake my head once, straighten my back, then speak. “I wish to learn how to use a sword.”
My father, Lord Embers, flinches. “Hmm?”
“I-I wish to learn to fight. To use a sword, Father.”
“Is that so?” My father leans forward. “And why is that?”
He’s not saying no.
“Every day, I learn of war and its history in our kingdom. Even now, war threatens us because a Voiced will not emerge in these lands.”
Father frowns. “Already aware of that at such a young age, eh?”
I nod. “One must be able to defend themselves in these uncertain times.”
Father sighs. He leans back in his chair. “Learning to fight is unladylike. You are a noble, Scarlet. Education is one thing. A life of hardship earned in battle isn’t in your future. There’s no reason to risk your body in such pursuits.”
“Can you use a sword, Father?”
“I can, but it is required of me. Your mother cannot use a sword. There is no need to disrupt your feminine qualities with such garish activities.”
Great. Gender roles. I thought they’d interfere. Glad to be on the sharp end of the stick. This is a first. So this is what it feels like? It kind of sucks.
“We employ female soldiers at this castle, Father,” I dispute. “Surely it is not unprecedented for a woman to use a sword.”
“It is not,” agrees Father. “but it is for women with status.”
I bite my lip. “I cannot in good conscience let those around me die for my sake simply because I am too weak to fend for myself, father.”
This isn’t what a hero would do, as corny as that may be.
At that, my father seems to recognize my passion. Surprise enters his pupils as he takes in what I say. “You are…truly…exceptional, Scarlet. The Gods really have blessed me with a gifted child. Sometimes, it's hard to see you as one.”
I blink. “Thank you, sir. You honor me.”
“More of me in you than I thought, though you’re a spitting image of your mother,” he mutters. There’s a pause. He stares at me. “Are you sure?”
Without hesitation, I nod. “Yes, sir.”
Father hesitates for a moment. “Guard!” he eventually calls. “Fetch Talbert.”
There’s a shuffling of steps.
“Talbert?” I ponder.
“Master Talbert to you. He’s my advisor. There’s no finer master of the sword.”
A few moments later, the door to the study opens. In walks an older gentleman, roughly in his forties, with graying hair tied back into a ponytail. The shadow of a beard plays on his lips. His frame is thin but agile. His beady black eyes scan the room then finally land on me.
“You called?” expresses the man I’m assuming is Master Talbert. The lack of respect in his words throws me off slightly.
“My daughter wishes to learn the sword,” says Father. “Teach her.”
“Oh?” Master Talbert expresses the noise, but there’s not much surprise on his face. He leans down before me. “Are you sure?” His voice darkens coldly. I nearly quiver at the words.
“…yes, sir.”
Master Talbert stares at me. Eventually, his lips play around with a slight smile. “Ah…what fine resolve.” He stands up, looking at my father. “I’ll have her.”
“O-Oh?” My father says, somewhat taken aback. “Fine then.”
Huh? What was that?
“Come.” Master Talbert begins walking out of the room. “No time like the present, child.”
Child? Not even Lady Scarlet?
Ah.
He’s going to be…difficult… isn’t he?