The HaRT Knight Decaverse

Heir of Magic

Chapter 36

Coming of Age

Alexander smiled warmly as he sat listening to a drunken argument between Merrick and Leontes at a large table in The Hanging Wombat. Leontes, the Sergeant in the regiment Alexander was made Special Commander over, had become fast friends with Merrick.
The last two months had been quite a busy time for Alexander who still had to attend lessons with Jared, Dante, and Kohr, on top of which he now had daily duties to attend to as a Special Commander. To his surprise, being the leader of a group of men had come easy to him, born from his natural royal bloodline, according to Dante. Kohr however, frequently reminded him that there was more to being the leader of men than just getting along with them; however, that was important as well. The first lesson Alexander had taken from Kohr was to learn all his men’s names and, if possible, even the names of their family members.
The first day at his new station as Special Commander, the men were a little unsure about this foreigner suddenly promoted above them all. Alexander’s skill as a warrior accompanied by the tricks Kohr had taught him won their respect soon enough, though.
“Aye Commander, the men, and I got a small present for you!” Corporal Kitlamu said, cutting Merrick and Leontes short in their argument.
Corporal Kitlamu, a thin human with a talent for the crossbow unmatched by the other men, stood next to a large Emokin warrior named Oni. Oni was the first Emokin Alexander had met in person. Their race—a group of human-like beings with horns on their foreheads and opaque marble-like skin of different colors for every warrior—was a rarity outside of Wánggá.
The emokin warrior said something in rapid Emekee to Corporal Kitlamu who was the interpreter for their regiment.
“Oni here says he will honor your birthday by slaughtering two bulls in your name tonight, Commander,” Corporal Kitlamu translated.
“Tell him I appreciate the praise and honor he gives me,” Alexander waited for the interpreter to finish the translation before he continued. “So, what have you and the boys concocted for me, Corporal?”
“Wait right there, Commander.” Corporal Kitlamu said before vanishing through the crowd.
Several times through the day Alexander had thought about how odd it was that the original plan would have meant that he would have only reunited with Dante and begin his training today.
Just as the thought of the septim wizard occurred to him, the real Dante appeared next to Kitlamu as the Corporal returned to the table.
“This is for you, Commander,” Corporal Kitlamu said as all of Alexander’s men huddled around the table.
Alexander took what seemed to be a bundle of ropes from the Corporal as Dante sat down beside him. He examined the present closely.
“Reins?” Alexander stared up in puzzlement at his men.
Corporal Kitlamu smiled. “Ah, Commander. We all went to see the Grand General on your behalf. He has agreed that you should have Bucy. So, congratulations, sir, you are now the proud owner of the most aggressive horse in all Pensilisurbis.”
“That is brilliant,” Alexander said sincerely. “Thank you all. Now please enjoy yourselves.”
The men cheered with intoxicated joy, then spread out to all known and unknown corners of the Wombat.
Dante leaned in and said, “I am so proud of you, Alexander.”
“Why? Because of my manners?” Alexander mocked the septim.
“Because of how you have risen to the occasion. Your lessons have progressed faster than I could have hoped for. Kohr tells me you are a natural with concocting battle strategies, and you have men who follow you devoutly,” Dante said, patting Alexander on the back.
“Thanks,” Alexander smiled.
“I am afraid we might have to cut your celebration short tonight, though,” Dante said, his expression changing to match the more serious tone of voice he was using.
“No, Dante, you promised no lessons tonight,” Alexander protested. “I already mastered the silencing spell you taught me. Besides, even Kohr gave me the night off to celebrate with my men, and he doesn’t cancel for anything.”
“It’s not for a lesson, Alexander,” Dante said in a whisper. He stared around to see if anyone was listening before adding, “It is because it is your coming of age at midnight, and for angelians that is quite a visible transition.”
Alexander stared confused at Dante, trying to figure out what this meant. “Visible?”
“Yes. Just like with the Prime Mages, the true thaumaturgic potential in an angelian’s blood is sealed until they have completed the necessary magic rights; for an angelian that right requires the individual to live for threescore seven years. Once midnight comes, you’ll officially turn twenty-one and your true power will be unlocked. Chances are, you will have a strong reaction to it, and we don’t want that in public,” Dante whispered.
Alexander mulled this over in his head as he stared ahead to where Kitlamu translated Oni’s request for a song to the bard, a beautiful curvaceous young woman with raven black hair and eyes of the most extraordinary shade of blue. Alexander almost fell out of his chair when he saw those her. It was the same woman who had played The Spider’s Den on his last night in the Wandering City.
It’s probably just a coincidence. It has to be, Alexander thought.
“Of course, I know it,” the bard chimed in her musical voice. She stood up straight and threw her hands theatrically into the air.
The men all cheered, and the bard pulled out her flute. She leaped onto a table and started playing a tune that seemed otherworldly.
“Fine, we can go. But let’s just stay for one song; there is still some time left before midnight,” Alexander told Dante.
Dante nodded. He too stared at the woman playing her alien flute as well. How the woman coax such sounds out of a hollow piece of wood with some holes in the side made no sense, but it was a magic far superior to anything either of the men at the table could conjure. She never spoke a single word, and yet, in Alexander’s heart he heard an epic song of change and hope; of remaining strong when all you want to do is break and crumble. He wanted to cry and laugh at the same time as the musical notes stirred his emotions. The melody seemed to encapsulate the feelings he always felt from the burden he carried, from the pain whenever he thought back to the night he lost his mother, from the doubt in his heart that he could be who everyone needed him to be.
When the song ended, the tavern was so silent that Alexander’s uneven breaths sounded like hurricane winds to his ears. Raising his hands to his face he found that tears had flowed without him realizing it, but as he looked around, he was glad to see he was not the only one.
“Does anyone else have a request?” the bard asked, breaking her own spell.
Life returned to the patrons of The Hanging Wombat and Alexander gestured for Oni and Kitlamu to come to the table.
“What was that song,” Alexander asked the emokin directly and Kitlamu translated.
Kitlamu translated word for word as Oni answered, “It’s called the soul’s truth. It is an ancient melody of his people. He had never thought to come across a human who could perform it even better than an emokin.”
“Who is she?” Dante asked as the woman set her flute aside and picked up a lute to play a song requested by a barmaid.
“Euterpe Mnemosyne. I've seen her perform before,” Alexander said.
“Euterpe Mnemosyne,” Dante repeated the name. “It seems familiar, but I can’t say why.”
Oni said something that Kitlamu translated for him but the rest of the conversation was lost to Alexander as his ears started to ring and his vision began to blur. Sensations he had never experienced before started to rise and fall within him. It was like experiencing the scorching heat of the desert and the freezing winds of the mountains all at the same time. For an instant, Alexander heard every single conversation in The Hanging Wombat at the same time. It all proved too much for his senses and he tried to get to his feet but found his legs would not support his weight.
“Lad?” a muffled voice said, sounding concerned.
A hand closed on his shoulder, supporting him from tumbling to the ground. The muffled voice spoke again, but this time, Alexander couldn’t make out a word.
Alexander grabbed his head that suddenly felt like it would split open with pain, but he could not be sure if his hands ever reached his skull.
Another muffled voice somewhere in the distance called. “Looks like the Commander has had a little too much to drink, eh?”
But when Alexander opened his eyes to see who had spoken, he found himself crouching in the street with Dante attempting to help him up again. Images swam in and out of focus, staying only long enough for him to realize Dante supported him down the streets of the Wealthy District.
Alexander tried to call out to Dante, but nothing happened, at least, he thought nothing happened, but he could not be sure of anything at the moment. It was like he was broken beyond repair—or at least the world he inhabited was broken.
Am I dying? Alexander thought as his head throbbed. This time the pain did not subside; instead, it slowly kept increasing and increasing until he wanted to scream in agony. To make matters worse, a new sensation dominated the rest of his senses; a strange pulsing kept shooting through his body, also increasing slowly along with the pain in his head. He couldn’t take it anymore; it was too much to bear.
Alexander allowed himself to scream, his vision once again returned for only an instant. He was back in his room in the Hour Glass Palace with Dante, but there were some newly added features to the room. Glowing, mahogany pentacles covered every inch of the walls, ceiling, and floor, likely conjured in order to contain the small storm blowing everything apart and throwing Dante backward against the wall. Before he could even sit up darkness swallowed him entirely.

Darkness surrounded him again. A dense black mist swirled around his feet. He couldn’t see anything here, but somehow, he knew there was something here, something important—and something dangerous. He tried to grab his swords from the scabbard on his back, only to realize they were not there anymore. He was defenseless against the thing in the dark, the deadly—What was it again?
“Finally, we can talk now,” a voice said from out of the darkness.
“We were hoping to get through to you much sooner than this, but unfortunately, you weren’t ready to hear it,” another added.
Alexander stood still, not daring to make the smallest noise.
“We told you, you would need to find us soon,” the first voice said as a white wolf came into sight.
“And now that time has come. Within the next few hours you will realize why you need our help,” the voice of the black wolf added as it joined its brother.
“You will know what it is we speak of when the time comes,” the white wolf said.
“And the time will come soon,” the black wolf added again.
Alexander tried to speak, to ask the wolves what they wanted from him, but nothing came out. His throat was dry and raw.
“You know where to find us when you are ready,” the white wolf said.
“And if you require help, go to page seven-hundred of the witch’s book,” the black wolf added.
“We will wait,” they said in unison.
They turned and strode off into the shadows, slowly fading from vision while everything around them started to fall away into nothingness.

Alexander opened his eyelids an infinitesimal amount, afraid of what he might see. He was lying on the floor of his room, or at least he thought it was his room. The room looked as if a gang of angry trolls had fought in it. Dante was close-by, putting Alexander’s bed the right way up again.
“What happened?” Alexander asked with a hoarse voice as he pushed himself upright.
“Ah, welcome back. I was just about to move you to your bed,” Dante said, not bothering to look around as he made the bed. “And to answer your question, you happened.”
Alexander shook his head, trying to separate the dream from reality and to recall the previous night’s events. A rush of images bombarded his senses as he remembered losing control in The Hanging Wombat, the trip down the street, and the small explosion in his room.
“Bloody Tartos, Dante, you could have mentioned that would happen a lot sooner to me,” Alexander said, getting to his feet.
“One drawback of old age, I’m afraid, my memory is going a little. I completely forgot I never told you until last night. But we averted any catastrophic results. Your men all believe you just had a little too much to drink,” Dante explained.
“Avoided any catastrophic results? My room looks like there was a tornado in here,” Alexander said, looking at the chaos.
“Well actually, there was one in here.” Dante steadied the bookcase with a tap of his staff. “As I told you last night, when angelians come of age, their true powers are unsealed. This can sometimes be a lot for the body to handle, so it lets some energy out to make it easier for the body to handle.”
Alexander ran his fingers through his hair as he stared around at the remains of his room. “Is it always such a dramatic event?”
“No. It depends on the individual in question. The more powerful the angelian, the more traumatic an event it will be,” Dante explained. “So, for the next few days, be very careful about using your abilities. They might surprise you with how much they have increased.”
Alexander nodded, staring down at his hand and trying to feel his thaumaturgic energy pulsing through him. It felt a little different, but it was a good different.
“Here,” Dante said, tossing Alexander his sword. “Merrick and Kohr will be sparring in the courtyard by now. You can test yourself against them. I want to see something, anyway.”
Alexander nodded and led the way out of the room. When he was in the doorway, Dante hastily added, “Just to be safe, begin by sparring with Merrick today, okay.”