"It got destroyed," I murmured low, disbelief threading through my voice like poison through water.
"It what?"
The words tumbled out of me in a rush, each one carrying the weight of my growing frustration. "It got destroyed! Why in the gods' name did it get destroyed!"
Master's brow furrowed, confusion etching lines across his weathered face. "Wait, what got destroyed?"
"The memory!" I could feel my voice rising, the unfairness of it all clawing at my chest. "Fuck this attribute!"
"Calm down Sinbad." His voice carried the authority of someone used to being obeyed, but I was beyond caring about authority right now. "What attribute?"
"King's Candidate!" The words came out like a curse, which honestly, they might as well have been. "It destroyed the memory. Fuck!"
I could see Master's jaw tighten at my language, but he pressed on with admirable patience. "Sinbad, calm down for the Spell's sake. What does this attribute say exactly?"
I took a deep breath, the kind that's supposed to center you but really just makes you more aware of how screwed you are. The familiar strings of runes materialized in my vision as I called them forth, and I read them aloud with all the enthusiasm of someone reading their own death sentence.
"You are one with the potential to later on become the great king, you bear the responsibility of many, and you can't receive the spoils of others after all what king receives that which he doesn't deserve."
Master's expression shifted from confusion to something approaching understanding, though I could tell he wasn't exactly thrilled about what he was hearing. He drummed his fingers against his thigh in that way people do when they're thinking through a problem they don't particularly want to solve.
"Hmm, that really doesn't sound good," he admitted, and I appreciated his honesty even if it wasn't what I wanted to hear. "But it isn't all bad, after all we don't know exactly what counts as spoils and what counts as deserved."
Before I could respond with what would have undoubtedly been another string of profanity, the familiar sound of approaching footsteps caught my attention. Rashid appeared in the courtyard, carrying a tray laden with what looked like enough food to feed a small army. Bacon, water, bread, eggs - the works. But what really caught my attention was the closed box he held in his other hand.
"Oh Rashid, just in time," Master said, reaching for the box with an eagerness that made me suspicious. I made a beeline for the food instead, grabbing a handful of bacon and stuffing it into my mouth while trying to work through my frustration with aggressive chewing.
Master opened the box with a flourish, revealing a collection of soul shards that gleamed like captured starlight. "Let's try saturating your core first. You know how, right?"
"Break the soul shard, I know," I said around a mouthful of bacon, reaching for a bottle of water and proceeding to drain half of it in one go. My hand stretched forward toward the nearest soul shard, and I crushed it in my palm with perhaps more force than strictly necessary.
I was expecting a rush of soul essence to flow into me, similar to what I felt when I gathered essence from the surroundings to form my core in the nightmare but at a much grander scale, that warm sensation of power seeping into my core. Instead, I got absolutely nothing. Not a speck of essence, not even the faintest tingle. What I did get was another string of runes appearing in my vision, and they might as well have been written in fire for how much they pissed me off.
[The essence has been dissipated. You are a King's Candidate]
"FUCK!"
The word exploded out of me with enough vehemence to make even Master wince. I couldn't help it - the sheer unfairness of the situation was overwhelming.
"It didn't saturate anything," I said, my voice dropping to a dangerous whisper. "Damn King's Candidate. What is it even useful for, or is it just going to complicate my life?"
Master's expression had grown thoughtful, though I could see the concern lurking beneath his calm exterior. "So soul shards from nightmare creatures you don't slay also count as spoils. It seems like we have our work cut out for us."
And there it was. The understated acknowledgment that my life had just gotten significantly more complicated. I wanted to scream, to punch something, to find whoever or whatever had decided to saddle me with this attribute and give them a piece of my mind. Instead, I just stood there, feeling the weight of this new limitation settling on my shoulders like a lead blanket.
I must have looked as frustrated as I felt, because Master's hand found my shoulder, offering what comfort he could. "Don't worry. I'm sure the attribute isn't all bad. Potential to become a great king sounds good, after all."
"I guess," I replied, though my tone suggested I found about as much comfort in those words as I would in a kick to the teeth. I ran my fingers through my hair, a nervous habit I'd apparently picked up somewhere along the way.
"So we'll just change the training regime a bit," Master continued, his voice taking on that practical tone people use when they're trying to make the best of a bad situation. "We'll focus on skill rather than strength to keep you alive."
"Fine," I grumbled, stuffing an egg into my mouth and washing it down with water. The food helped, but only marginally. At least my body was getting what it needed, even if my soul apparently wasn't allowed to have anything nice.
"Now get back to running," Master ordered, though his tone was gentler than before. "The sooner we build the basics, the sooner we can start training you in actual skills."
And so the morning passed in a blur of physical activity that was equal parts necessary and torturous. Running until my legs felt like jelly, conditioning exercises that left me questioning my life choices, punctuated by brief breaks for water and food. Under normal circumstances, my body shouldn't have been able to sustain this kind of treatment, especially after being in what amounted to a coma for so long. But as a Sleeper, my body was different from those who were completely unawakened. Not quite at the level of an awakened, but close enough to handle the abuse Master was putting me through.
By the time he finally called a halt to the morning session, I was drenched in sweat and my muscles were screaming in protest. But I was still standing, which I supposed counted as a victory of sorts.
"Time to stop," Master announced, and I could have kissed him for those words. "Go wash up. Your survival teacher will be here soon. After that, it's your English teacher, then history and etiquette. We'll finish the day with a bit more conditioning."
I nodded, not trusting my voice to remain steady. Rashid appeared at my elbow like the perfectly timed servant he was, guiding me back toward the house. The promise of a hot shower was the only thing keeping me upright at this point.
"Young scion, your survival teacher Julius is here," Rashid announced through the bathroom door just as I was finishing getting dressed in something more comfortable than sweat-soaked training clothes.
"I'm coming," I called back, taking one last look at myself in the mirror. I looked like hell, but at least I was clean hell. I opened the door, ready to meet whatever new challenge awaited me, and found myself face to face with...
Well, calling him eccentric would have been putting it kindly.
The man standing in my room had messy grey hair that looked like he'd stuck his finger in an electrical socket, absentminded eyes that seemed to be looking at three different things at once, and a pair of bushy eyebrows that appeared to have a life of their own. He was practically vibrating with excitement.
"You're my student?" he said, his voice carrying an enthusiasm that was almost infectious. "I'm your teacher Julius! What's your name? Oh, and it's so good to finally find someone interested in wilderness survival! Sadly, I haven't had any new students in the Academy course this month, so I took this gig in the meanwhile. So what's your name?"
The rapid-fire delivery of questions and statements was a bit overwhelming, but there was something oddly endearing about his excitement. It reminded me of someone, though I couldn't quite place who.
"It's Sinbad," I replied, trying to match his energy despite my exhaustion.
His eyebrows jumped up so high they nearly disappeared into his hairline. "Ah, that's a good name! A blessed name, one for adventure!"
And suddenly I knew exactly who he reminded me of. The enthusiasm, the way he talked about adventure like it was the most wonderful thing in the world - he was like an older, more eccentric version of Darius. The thought sent an unexpected pang through my chest.
"So when do we start?" I asked, pushing the memory aside.
"Right now, of course!" he answered, pushing past me into the room and making himself comfortable in the chair by my desk as if he owned the place.
I glanced at Rashid, who was still standing in the doorway looking perfectly composed despite the whirlwind that had just blown through my room.
"Is this guy actually reliable?" I asked in a low voice.
Rashid's response was delivered with his usual professional calm. "Master Knossos has said he is the best survival teacher around, and he has also been vetted through the proper channels."
That should have been reassuring, but something about Julius's manic energy was setting off alarm bells in my head. "If he's the best around, why doesn't he have any students?"
The question hung in the air, and I watched as Rashid's composure cracked just slightly. He stopped dead in his tracks, and I could practically see the gears turning in his head as he realized he didn't have an answer to that particular question.
Yeah, that was about what I'd expected.
A/N: 100 powerstones = extra chap. 5 reviews = extra chap. Author out.