“Magister Fermien Aialda sat me down and lectured me on the conceptual elements of the Ardor bloodline. He explained to me that it was not limited to Fire magic and that it concerned the intentions, desires, and passions of people, myself included.

“On several occasions, this bloodline has helped me create a bridge between myself and others in order to align with their intentions and desires. I have even impassioned the Fire spells of others before.”

At this, some eyebrows rose in surprise. Qobesh’s brows creased. Hera-Lienixur showed no emotion.

“From the moment I gripped Stormsong’s hilt, I was able to understand the sword’s intentions clearly. And I could convey my own thoughts and intentions to the sword in turn.”

“A high synergy?” Fenendis asked, stroking his great beard.

“Not exactly, Grand Elder. Stormsong informed me that our synergy, while decent, was not sufficient for me to make use of its primary enchantments. And so, I asked the sword to advise me on how to improve our compatibility. In the third trial, I convinced Stormsong to unsheathe for me, so that I could better follow its instructions.”

“How did you convince it?” Hera-Lienixur asked.

“I made honest arguments, and perhaps the sword sensed my sincerity. But I could also feel, through Ardor, that our goals aligned. Stormsong wanted to be wielded by someone who could activate its primary enchantments. And I needed those primary enchantments if I was to have any hope of completing the trials. Our synergy began to improve from then on.”

“Is this how you managed to use its primary enchantments?” Franzoa asked, looking doubtful.

“Yes and no, Grand Elder. I am not yet skilled in using Ardor, and I kept ‘fluctuating’, as Stormsong puts it. I could not follow all of its instructions, mostly because I misinterpreted the sword's intentions. And so, just before the final trial, I constructed a geas—”

Hera-Lienixur’s eyes sharpened, and the temperature in the room dropped. “A geas, you say? Did you bind my sword to yourself?”

Through Soul-sense, Caen could feel a pressure on his aura, as though he were being held by giant claws that might rend him the next moment. Caen was utterly terrified by the fact that he would not have been able to detect any of this without Soul-sense. A Dream-guarding spell calmed his mounting panic, but he did not hide his apprehension.

“No, I did not, Grand Elder. The geas was only for me. I bound myself to follow Stormsong’s intentions. And I only enforced the contract after I had made sure that the sword was amenable and willing. I made Stormsong aware of all the terms, and it agreed to them.”

The temperature in the room returned to normal, and the weight on his aura receded.

“Continue,” she said after a moment.

“Thank you, Grand Elder. Using this geas, I was able to restrict myself from straying from the very spirit of Stormsong’s words. And for the first time in the trials, I fought the way Stormsong wanted me to fight. Eventually, I could… hear the song of Ardor. I could almost feel our synergy growing stronger. Ardor, the geas, Stormsong’s guidance. These all helped me engage the sword’s primary enchantments.”

“And was this what allowed you to turn them off as well?” echoed Elder Dowdn’s voice through Caen’s mind.

“Not exactly, Grand Elder. Stormsong told me that I couldn’t deactivate the primary enchantments, so I had to experiment a little the first time I managed this. I was terribly injured, and what I needed most in that moment was to reduce the synergy I had built with the sword. So I… undid the effects of Ardor and damaged the geas I had imposed on myself.”

“We noted a change in your fighting style as the trial proceeded,” Fenendis said.

“I did everything I could to follow my instincts and the movements of Stormsong,” Caen said, adopting faux humility, even as his heart thudded in his chest. He was toeing the very edge of truthfulness, and though the geas tightened around him, it did not prevent him from speaking.

No lies.

“You survived injuries that have killed several peak Attuners before you,” Grand Elder Franzoa said. “One of such unfortunate cases occurred in these trials years ago.”

Caen smiled sheepishly. “I am a… surfeitist, Grand Elder.”

If you stumble upon this tale on Amazon, it's taken without the author's consent. Report it.

At this, Qobesh curled up his lips in distaste as he shook his horned head.

“I used Blood-healing, Body-enhancement, and Dream-guarding spells to manage the consequences of wielding the sword,” Caen continued. “But more importantly, my fragment absorbed much of the harmful energy that Stormsong was emitting.

“Furthermore, the next time I used the sword’s primary enchantments, our synergy was much higher, and, fortunately, I wasn’t injured as much as before.”

“Tell us how you achieved that intense expulsion of force you used at the end when fighting Oirick’s children,” Fenendis prompted.

Caen’s brows rose in surprise.

“Fenendis,” whispered Dowdn in what sounded like a… groan.

Franzoa touched her forehead as if in exasperation, and Gahairis simply chuckled.

“What?” Fenendis asked, looking confused. When they didn’t answer him, he turned back to Caen. “Answer the question.”

“Yes, Grand Elder. I merely asked Stormsong to compound the shock waves.”

Hera-Lienixur gripped Stormsong by the hilt and met Caen’s gaze. “I am going to confirm that you did not, in fact, coerce my sword. If you did… your life is forfeit.”

Caen was certain that he hadn’t manipulated the sword, but being threatened by someone this powerful was terrifying. He gave her a respectful bow.

Hera-Lienixur vanished immediately.

Grand Elder Dowdn twiddled one of his mustaches. “You know, my great-niece forged the spirit tool known as Blight. I’d like to know how you were able to survive the negative effects of that weapon.”

“Mostly thanks to my fragment, Grand Elder,” Caen said. Though he hurried to add, “Blight is an excellently designed weapon. I could feel its intentions, which let me know that the sword was only interested in inflicting harm.

“So I held on until it lost interest. Doing this was very painful, but… well, I’m used to pain. I used a few spells to counteract some of the sword’s effects, and thankfully, the arena healers were able to save my life.”

“Fascinating,” Dowdn muttered. “I’ve never heard of an Attuner as young as you are achieving feats like this with Ardor.”

“He’s clearly gifted,” Gahairis said, smiling.

“More fortunate than gifted, I’d say,” Franzoa mused, fiddling with her rings. “Hmm… having heard all these explanations, I’m not as impressed as I’d thought I’d be.”

“Indeed,” Fenendis said, gazing thoughtfully at Caen. “The boy does appear to have promise, however.”

Qobesh folded his arms and scoffed. “He’s a surfeitist. That clearly lends itself towards his Dampening magic, but I’d hardly call that a reasonable trade-off.”

Fenendis said something in that hastened speech of theirs. Qobesh replied to him in the same manner. Gahairis said something, and soon they were all talking at ridiculous speeds.

Caen stood there quietly. A part of his mind struggled to believe that this had gone as smoothly as it had so far. He was still waiting for the other shoe to drop, however. He had achieved his goal. He’d gotten all the points he needed. The grand elders summoning him on a whim was not something he or Vai had anticipated. But hopefully, he had sated their curiosity.

Fenendis and his peers stopped talking. The heavily bearded man cleared his throat. “We have made a decision,” the man’s voice boomed. “Kneel before your grand elders, Ar’Caen.”

Caen complied quickly, dropping to his knees as his brows furrowed in confusion. Decision? About what?

“For your outstanding performance in the 167th iteration of the trials, we grant you the first out of ten vaunted positions of Patronage, and thereby name you a child of favor.”

Caen’s eyes widened in shock as he bowed deeply. “This child of the family thanks his esteemed grand elders for their immense generosity.”

Positions of Patronage, or Patronage slots, were reserved for the most talented and highly skilled members of the family. This didn’t apply to the trials alone. Zeris had earned her slot by demonstrating her grasp of spatial concepts, as well as her exceptional spatial acuity, at such a young age.

Top participants in the trials didn’t always earn slots, as doing so required them to impress the grand elders. Upon being granted such a slot, a participant could make one request that the family would grant, within reason.

“Tomorrow morning, at the awards ceremony, we will publicly acknowledge you before the world, not just as a prodigy but as a favored child of the Ereshta’al family. Since you did not register for the trials with any faction, we will hear your request from your own mouth. Rise, favored one, and tell us what you desire.”

All the plans that Caen and Uncle Vai had made would need to be severely altered, but this was a good thing. In his wildest estimations, Caen had not supposed that he would be able to keep all his points while also getting a Patronage slot.

Uncle Vai had intended to approach a faction and trade in some points to have them sponsor Caen for the entrance exams into the Imperial Citadel of Magic. And the citadel could still have rejected him. To say nothing of the outrageous cost of studying there if he did get in. Whatever was left over from the points would certainly have helped, of course, but this was magnitudes better.

He could get a full scholarship to the Citadel just like Zeris had. But that wasn’t all he wanted. He needed to grow, to advance, and he completely intended to have the family fund all that.

“Thank you, esteemed Grand Elders,” Caen said as he rose to his feet again.

And then he told them what he wanted.