The might of a person can only be known when they are tried.
Lord Offal' Kest, Great-General of Ochelon
"My ke." Sari tapped on Tez' Mu's shoulder. "Didn't you say my lord general asked you to come to him every dawn?"
"That was before all these damn things happened," Tez' Mu murmured into his bed sheets. "Father will be so busy now; and it's not like I want to go."
Sari sighed theatrically.
"Well, there's plenty of balm in the House of Mu."
Tez' Mu sat up.
"Is he going to punish me if I don't go? But—" he made an exasperated face, "I am so tired; bad things have happened, and people are pointing fingers at our House of Mu. My brothers have also returned, and they don't look like they're leaving anytime soon, so—"
Sari raised his head from the clothes he was folding.
"Are you kidding? My young lords left yesterday."
"What?!" Tez' Mu was appalled, "How dare they! With father swamped in work, they still dare to leave? And he didn't stop them??"
Sari shook his head.
"I think not. In any case, you should go, my ke."
"Fine," Tez' Mu drawled as he stretched, "Give me one of those fur cloaks mother brought back from Darin, Sari. I'm sure it's freezing outside."
The Mu Manor was silent in the predawn light. A black flag still flew from the pole atop the tile roof of the main hall. Tez' Mu's eyes narrowed at the sight of it. Like everyone else, he had been surprised when his father declared that the Mu Manor would host Dor' Yan's funeral.
As the last of his line with no surviving offspring, there was no one to hold the funeral rites for Dor' Yan. Yet, no one expected the Mu patriarch himself to do it. Granted, Dor' Yan had almost become his son-in-law, but that was the point—almost.
Tez' Mu was soon standing outside his father's study, feeling miffed. He knocked twice, and did not expect a reply. Surely Raq' Mu should be in bed?
"Enter."
Damn it.
"Greetings, Father," Tez' Mu bowed as he stepped inside. Raq' Mu barely looked up from the old tome he was poring over. Tez' Mu raised his head and examined his father. He did not look tired. How long had he been up for? Did he even sleep?
"I—is this a bad time?" Tez' Mu stammered.
"For?"
Tez' Mu hesitated, then exhaled. He had been right; Sari had been wrong. This was no time to bother Raq' Mu about training.
"Forgive me, Father. You said I should—come here every dawn," he paused, searching Raq' Mu's face. There was no reaction. Sighing, he continued, "But I wasn't too sure I should come today, what with all that happened at the House of Yan and...everything else."
Raq' Mu glanced up. "That is all the more reason for you to come. Did your servant tell you about your elder brothers?"
Tez' Mu chewed the inside of his cheeks. "Yes. He said they've left."
"Imagine that." Raq' Mu hissed, "Those two behaved like bastards, with no conscience or care for their family. After clearing things up at the Yan Manor, Riel' Mu had the gall to tell me—to my face—that he was leaving. Leaving!"
Tez' Mu smirked as Raq' Mu hurled insults at his older brothers—names and titles his mother would surely disapprove of should she overhear it. He couldn't believe it. For once, his father saw him in a favorable light, all because of his brothers' selfishness. He was now the dependable son—the last hope of the Mu family.
He swallowed hard, a shiver running down his spine. Last hope? He had seen the end of those burdened with that title. No.
He refused to be the last hope.
Riel' Mu was ultimately the heir of the House of Mu; he, Tez' Mu, had seen that in the way his brother had shown off the flamboyance of the Mu Manor to his companions. Riel' was proud of it; he knew he owned it, no matter what. Even if he left Ochelon for a hundred years, the House of Mu would still be his. One day, he could simply return, step into his inheritance, and crush anyone who opposed him.
Tez' Mu had no desire to stand in his way.
"Come here," Raq' Mu said, done with his tirade.
Tez' Mu hesitated before moving to stand next to him behind the table. Over his father's shoulder, he peered at the old book in his hands. The pages were filled with runes—ancient symbols, the foundation of cultivation itself. Unlike sigils, which were infused with aura to produce effects, these were inert. Pure knowledge.
Raq' Mu tapped a paragraph with his finger.
Tez' Mu took a slow breath. "I don't know what it says, Father."
"Don't they teach runes at the Academy anymore? In my day, we learned them."
"We do, but only matrix sigils and aura manipulation runes. Not the alphabet."
Raq' Mu sighed, then read aloud: "'Technique for the absorption of surrounding cultivation essence—for overcoming limits caused by aura-blocking matrices or aura repellents.'"
"Oh," was all Tez' Mu could say.
"I reckon it will work for you. Your bottleneck is akin to to an aura restriction, after all."
Tez' Mu didn't respond. Raq' Mu grabbed a clean sheet of paper, dipped his quill in ink, and transcribed the runes with heavy, bold strokes. When he finished, he handed it over.
"Memorize it first."
Tez' Mu looked around for a place to sit. His father's chair was the only furniture in the room besides the table and bookshelves. Looking down, he settled on the plush rug. Raq' Mu didn't comment as he crossed his legs and sat.
Tez' Mu looked at the paper. Raq' Mu had written each step as a bullet point.
Dispel all thoughts
Concentrate on your surroundings
Feel the essence
Draw the summon rune
Absorb
Right, easy, very easy.
Tez' Mu scoffed inwardly. Only a Martial Master could sense the surrounding essence without having to be in cultivation mode. But Raq' Mu was in a neutral mood, so Tez' Mu kept his mouth shut. Not that it would matter. Even if he absorbed the essence, he doubted he could use it.
Unless there was some loophole he didn't know about, all cultivated essence had to flow through an oasis before it could be used. And his oasis was damaged. He doubted Raq' Mu knew and had no idea what his father would do when he found out.
"Are you done?" Raq' Mu asked.
Tez' Mu nodded.
"Then, try to practice what you have learned."
Tez' Mu took a deep breath and closed his eyes. What better way to dispel his thoughts than that? Emptying the mind was easier said than done though, what with the constant nagging at the back of his mind that all this was pointless.
Hadn't Raq' Mu said that it didn't take cultivation to lead an army? Why was the first lesson cultivation, then? Tez' Mu had imagined something else—stamina training, battle techniques, maybe even some strategy. And then, once his father was convinced that he was worth the effort, then he'd tell him about the Breakthrough Matrix Season. Raq' Mu certainly had the influence to hire a king-tier matrix practitioner, right? With his bottleneck out of the way, he'd hit Martial Master, catch up to his peers, surpass them, and—
"Tez' Mu! Clear your mind!"
He flinched, eyes snapping open. How…how did Raq' Mu know? Could he read minds? Was that some hidden Martial Sage ability? He shuddered at the idea.
"I—I'm trying to, Father," Tez' Mu mumbled.
Raq' Mu sneered. Tez' Mu quickly shut his eyes again. Best not to test his patience this early. There was plenty of balm in the House of Mu….He shivered again.
Clear my mind, clear my mind. Don't think, don't think, don't—
…Wait.
How could he remember the rest of the steps if he wasn't thinking?
Don't think.
Feel the surroundings.
Concentrate on the essence?
No, that wasn't right. Or was it? Damn it, this is hard. Which sot wrote this technique? Did they even test it first?
Breathe.
Don't think.
Don't think.
Wait.
What if it meant not thinking about yourself and all your problems...but about the surroundings?
Tez' Mu focused on his surroundings. Strongly. What did cultivation essence look like? White dots swirling through the air? He knew unabsorbed essence was pure white, changing color upon absorption to match a cultivator's affinity. Fire affinity mages aura would then be red, like Raq' Mu's, water affinity blue like Essa-kest' Mu's, purple like who knew what horrible element Chan' Mu's affinity was...
Then he saw it. No, he felt it. He was not in cultivation mode, but he could feel the essence around him. And it was strong. He could also faintly feel a pressurizing aura from Raq' Mu's direction. It was like a resting volcano about to erupt at the slightest notice. Tez' Mu feebly cowered at it and focused on the swirling white masses instead.
What now?
How would he absorb it?Was it like cultivating?Tentatively he started to make his oasis accommodating...
Gahh!!
Tez' Mu gasped, wiping blood from the corner of his mouth. His chest burned, and his breathing was erratic.
Raq' Mu was already crouched beside him. "What happened?"
"I can't—" Tez' Mu clutched his chest, rubbing furiously in vain to get rid of the pain. "I can't—absorb it. My oasis—is burning—"
Raq' Mu pursed his lips. "Did you clear your mind?"
"Yes, I did."
"Were you able to sense the essence?"
"Yes," Tez' Mu nodded, suddenly feeling proud of himself. He had done what only a Martial Master was capable of!
"Did you draw the summon sigil?"
Oh?
"Ah—I forgot."
Raq' Mu knocked him upside his head. Tez' Mu rubbed it, feeling aggrieved.
"Start again!"
Tez' Mu groaned inwardly but obeyed. At least he knew what to do now. In three minutes, his mind was clear. He concentrated on the surroundings and before long was 'seeing' the swirling white masses again. Summon sigil! He didn't bother drawing it in the air—his sigil work was too precise for that. That was what he spent his time honing while his peers cultivated during the General Classes.
Whoosh!
The white masses of cultivation essence suddenly rushed at him. But they didn't rush into his oasis. They stopped on the surface of his body and moved at the slightest tilt. He realized that he could channel them wherever he wanted. He imagined landing an essence-imbued punch. How satisfying that would be.
Tez' Mu's eyes snapped open. Raq' Mu had gone back to his seat to his relief. He was still poring over the book and did not seem to realize that his son had succeeded. Tez' Mu wondered how he should call his attention.
He raised his fist and shot the accumulated essence into the air. It exploded into a shower of sparks.
Raq' Mu raised his head. "I know that you have done it," he sneered at Tez' Mu's childish display, but his eyes betrayed him. They crinkled at the edges in what was clearly a smile, "You are not without talent. Well done."
The tiny smile at the corner of Raq' Mu's eye was quite enough for Tez' Mu but the praise stunned him. He blinked. Did...did his father just compliment him?
Raq' Mu rose.
"Come," he said, crossing the room, "Let's put your new strength to use."
Tez' Mu knew he wasn't going to get off easy, but this still felt excessive. And to make matters worse, he was hungry. The earlier mistake still had his oasis burning, and he doubted his father would let him eat until this was over. Nonetheless, he rose and followed Raq' Mu out of the study and into the main hall. His father did not speak as they crossed the rugged floor, the silence only broken by the soft haunting chimes of hanging brass bells—remnants of the rites of Dor' Yan's funeral.
Raq' Mu opened a door on the west side and they stepped into his private drill arena. The wind hit Tez' Mu in the face and he was glad for the fur coat. The training grounds of the Mu Manor were sacred, built in the old tradition—open to the elements, bound by a high fence of iron and pine. Over in the east, beyond the treetops, a faint red hue brushed the sky. Dawn had begun to break.
At the center of the arena, Raq' Mu stood with his sword, Nightshaft, planted in the ground. The weapon was forged from the heartmetal of the Mu bloodline and rumored to hold the echoes of every battle it had seen. Even standing still, it seemed to hum faintly, as if anticipating bloodshed.
"What are you standing there for?" Raq' Mu himself was no less intimidating. At six-five, he was a mountain of a man, broad-shouldered and solid as a war monument. His stance was easy, but Tez' Mu knew better—every Mu servant grew up hearing how their lord could break a man's ribs with a casual backhand.
Tez' Mu gulped. This was not good!
"Don't be afraid," Raq' Mu said, noting his expression. He flexed his arms, "I will fight you at your level."
That was not exactly comforting.
Tez' Mu moved forward, selecting a sword from the rack. The Mu forges only crafted weapons for their own, each blade marked with a family sigil along the hilt. He hesitated before gripping one—Stormfang, a training blade with an edge honed sharp enough to slice through leather, but not steel. It was not his blade, but it would do.
He then faced Raq' Mu, who was staring at him too seriously for his liking. His father's sharp gaze scrutinized him the way a disgruntled blacksmith examined flawed steel. He knew he was being analyzed, his strengths and weaknesses being weighed. He did not bother doing the same. As far as he was concerned, Raq' Mu did not have any weaknesses. And even if he did, he would not be able to exploit them.
"Shall we fight without battle auras first?" Raq' Mu asked.
The ground cracked beneath his father's first step, the force of his charge rattling through the air. Tez' Mu had only a second to think—already?!—before steel clashed against steel. His arms shook from the impact as he barely managed to block the strike.
Raq' Mu backed up a step, and then swung at him again, in a sweeping gesture towards his stomach. Tez' Mu staggered back, dragging his sword against the ground, sparks flaring where metal scraped stone. He barely had time to recover before another blow came down, this time aimed for his shoulder.
Tez' Mu ducked, parrying in desperation. The weight of his father's strikes sent vibrations through his arms, his grip slipping for a fraction of a second.
"Now use your essence!" Raq' Mu barked, his voice cutting through the relentless clang of their blades. He struck again, not relenting. "I will continue to fight without mine!"
But how in the world would he clear his mind, concentrate on the surroundings, and do all those other absurdly complex internal adjustments while fighting for his life?
A wild idea came into Tez' Mu's mind and he swung his sword in an arc to parry another blow, and then spun to dodge yet another.
Cultivation essence! Summon! Absorb! Hand! Sword! Channel!
He just yelled the commands in his mind, raw and direct, imagining the summon sigil with his subconscious. And, due to whatever miracle, it worked!
The essence rushed to him in a torrent, surging into his veins like molten fire. He forced it into his wrist, pushed it further, and then—
The steel glowed red, veins of heat pulsing along its length. Fire affinity. Of course.
Blast! Tez' Mu launched at attack immediately, shooting out a wave of fire as he swung his blade in a semi-circle towards Raq' Mu. Since Raq' Mu wasn't using his battle aura, he sidestepped, avoiding the blast that licked the stone floor with sizzling hunger.
He recovered immediately, countering with fast, calculated footwork and masterful swings that never wasted motion. Tez' Mu managed to throw off Raq' Mu's attacks with the added power of the absorbed essence, and also side-stepped and thrust repeatedly. None of his attacks made an impact on Raq' Mu, though, as his defensive skill was way above what Tez' Mu could imagine.
Tez' Mu pressed forward, sending wave after wave of fiery strikes, his body straining under the duel's intensity. His muscles burned, breath came ragged, but he had the advantage now. Raq' Mu, without his battle aura, had to dodge. And dodge he did, effortlessly, his blade a blur of silver light.
Sudden searing pain exploded in Tez' Mu's chest. His vision blurred, legs faltering beneath him as he fell to the ground, propping himself up with his sword. Raq' Mu was mid-strike, his blade raised, but then he saw Tez' Mu's pale face.
He threw his sword into the air and Nightshaft rotated at a fast speed and then disappeared. Raq' Mu fell to his knees beside his son and grabbed his shoulders.
"What's happening?" His voice was rough with concern. "What is it?"
"It's—it's burning again," Tez' Mu's voice was oddly slurred and he started to lose consciousness, "My—my oasis is—burning—"
And all went black.
He awoke to the musky scent of aloeswood and the distant murmur of passing servants. Above him, a wooden ceiling stretched, its smooth paneling varnished to a shade of warm cream. Gold-threaded curtains, yellow and deep blue, hung from the rafters, rippling gently in a breeze that carried the scent of dust tinged with the first whispers of rain.
Tez' Mu blinked. He turned on his side and flinched. Raq' Mu was seated on the bed, next to him, channeling blue tinged essence towards his oasis; but he was not touching him. The air between them vibrated faintly with the force of the healing energy. The throbbing ache in his chest had dulled, though an odd emptiness remained.
Raq' Mu's face, however, was pale.
Tez' Mu pushed himself up. That was weird, he thought. A Martial Sage could go without food or rest for fifty days and remain unharmed. Why would his father look so drained? Cultivators didn't get tired easily, much less the current strongest on the continent.
"How is it?" Raq' Mu's voice came out raspy. The blue light pouring out of his hand had stilled and his red aura momentarily flaring around him, making the room spike in temperature. "How are you feeling now?"
"I'm fine now," Tez' Mu replied, adjusting himself so he could sit against the carved wooden headboard—two wings spread in an intricate design behind him. "It's not burning anymore," he murmured.
Raq' Mu nodded and shut his eyes recouping his energy in silence.
With nothing else to do, Tez' Mu let his gaze wander. It was a strange feeling—being in this room. He had almost no memory of it, maybe faint recollections from childhood. All his interactions with his father ended in his study.
A long, arm-less couch stretched along one wall, like the one in Royan's room and his own, apparently a standard feature in House Mu's chambers. A massive wardrobe stood near the windows, next to a glass door bordered with polished wood, leading to a private balcony. The carved ship model, the Arkan had been moved from the storage for whatever reason and now sat atop a small desk in the room.
But what caught his attention was the portrait.
On the stretch of wall on the other side hung a ink painting of a young woman who could only be Essa-kest' Mu. Young, barely out of her twenties, eyes sharp, lips curved into a reluctant smile.
Tez' Mu had seen several portraits of his mother but his resemblance to her in this one struck him as odd. He always thought that he inherited Raq' Mu's looks but it now seemed he was wrong. Asides the red hair he had, Tez' Mu was a younger, male reflection of Essa-kest' Mu.
Below the portrait, on the floor, sat a ten-inch-high iron box, its surface etched with faint matrix engravings, locked away by a formation only an adept could decipher.
A knock at the door startled him from his thoughts.
"Enter," Raq' Mu said.
The door swung open, and in came Heng with a tray of food. His eyebrows went up at seeing Tez' Mu on the bed, but he amended his expression quickly.
"Shall I fetch the young master's portion, my lord?" He asked instead, bowing slightly after setting the tray down.
Raq' Mu did not answer. Tez' Mu hesitated before answering himself.
"Don't worry. Have Sari send it to my room." and he scrambled off the bed.
Heng bowed and departed. Tez' Mu wanted to escape as well.
"Do—I have your leave, Father?"
Raq' Mu sighed rubbing his forehead. He seemed to be thinking of something way serious than meals.
"I probed your oasis and I was not pleased with what I sensed." He said in an even voice, "I don't know what you've been doing to yourself before now but it's not good."
Tez' Mu looked down, shifting on his feet. Royan' Mu blamed the oasis repressor pills he'd been taking for the damage, but he knew it was that pill that still kept him alive. Raq' Mu would not want to know this, though.
"I will find an expert healer; perhaps Royan's master," Raq' Mu continued, "But there is no hope that it can or will be fully healed no matter what we try."
Tez' Mu nodded, saying nothing.
"The solution now," Raq' Mu said, rising to his feet, "is for you to acquire a contract creature."
Tez' Mu looked up in surprise. A contract creature? But that required stable cultivation energy—to subdue, tame, and make contracts with mystic creatures. Since he couldn't control his own aura, how would he do that?
"I will find a mystic creature for you as well," Raq' Mu said, now at the table where the food tray was, "This would have been a good use for those wayward brothers of yours, since they roam the mainland," he shrugged, "Never mind. You may go."
Tez' Mu bowed. "Thank you, Father."
He didn't know why he said it. He meant it as gratitude for being allowed to leave, but Raq' Mu took it as appreciation for his involvement in resolving his bottleneck. His eyes crinkled at the edges.
"I have let you battle it alone for too long. Don't worry about it anymore."
Tez' Mu blinked. Unsure of what else to say, he nodded and exited the room.
Walking along the corridor, he opened a door and entered the main hall. Golden sunlight streamed through the high archways, spilling across the floor in warm patches. Chan' Mu sat on the dais, one leg slung over the other, her lance balanced lazily across her lap.
"Tez'?" She called out, her voice carrying a smug edge. "Where are you coming from?"
Knowing that Raq' Mu was training him personally wouldn't bode well with his little sister, Tez' Mu's instincts told him. He made a face, letting her assume what she would. Punishment, no doubt.
Chan' Mu smirked. "Come here."
Tez' Mu frowned as he turned towards her. "Is a bolt loose in your head, Chan'? I'm your elder brother. You don't order me around like a servant."
Chan' Mu sneered. "Alright, elder brother Tez'," she rolled her eyes, "could you please pretty please come here to your darling little sister?"
Tez' Mu ignored her and continued to walk towards the entrance.
"Are you really not going to answer? I've asked politely, too," Chan' Mu huffed, reverting to her original demeanor, as she hit the shaft of the lance on the floor, "Tez'!" she shouted.
"Chan'!" Raq' Mu's amplified voice boomed from his chambers.
Chan' Mu shot up like a startled cat, wielding her lance. In a flash, a streak of flame hurtled toward Tez' Mu. He dropped flat to the ground, the heat grazing over his back as it dissipated against the stone walls. Tez' Mu barely had time to drop, feeling the heat lick over his back as it dissipated against the stone.
By the time he looked up, she was already stalking toward Raq' Mu's room. She threw him a glance just before disappearing inside, making a rude face and pointing two fingers at her eyes, then at him.
Tez' Mu rolled his eyes. The Arkan would disappear today.
Outside, the sky had begun its transition from deep blue to soft gold, the sun peeking over the horizon. The estate grounds glowed in the morning light, long shadows stretching across the stone pathways. Tez' Mu inhaled the crisp air, the coolness refreshing against his skin after the heat of Chan's fire.
He made his way back to his quarters.
Stepping inside, the scent of fresh porridge and spiced tea—still warm—greeted him. Sari had placed a heat matrix over the dishes, a quiet consideration that Tez' Mu had grown accustomed to. He didn't need to be told to eat. He simply sat down and did, wiping the plates clean in minutes.
"So..." Sari murmured as he packed the plates, "what did my lord general teach you?"
Tez' Mu said nothing.
Sari stilled, then bowed his head. "I overstepped my bounds. Please don't be angry, young master."
Tez' Mu stood abruptly, walking past him to collapse onto his bed. He spread his arms, staring at the canopy above.
Sari spoke again. "So... Will you visit Joavir? Should I prepare your clothes?"
"It's the House of Rion I visit, Sari, and not Joavir," Tez' Mu snapped.
Sari shrugged. "Will you go?"
"I don't know. I'm tired."
"Shall I fetch you some balm?" Sari asked quietly.
Tez' Mu sneered. "No. I'm just tired."
"I'll leave you to rest, then."
Sari gathered the tray and turned toward the door. Tez' Mu didn't watch him go, but he heard the hesitation in his movements—the brief pause before stepping out into the hallway.
Now alone with his thoughts, Tez' Mu let out a slow breath. Would he regret this? One lesson with Raq' Mu, and he was already pushing Sari away—the only person truly loyal to him. What if his father's approval was fleeting? What if things went back to the way they were?
Who would stand by his side then?
His eyes drifted shut. Ten years ago, Sari had been just another face among the war prisoners Raq' Mu brought home from his campaign in Huijan. A boy slightly older than him, thrown into an unfamiliar household, yet always smiling, as if this place had been his all along. Loyal. Unshakable. And then he had awakened his cultivation spirit, to the shock of the others. Servants weren't meant to cultivate. Heng forbade it, the manor staff whispered of crushing his talent, and Sari had wilted with fear. Until Tez' Mu, then seven years old, had laughed in the face of it all.
"Who would dare touch my servant without my permission?"
Sari had believed him. Trusted him. And now, Tez' Mu thought, I'm pushing him away for a father who never even looked at me before.
Outside, Sari lingered with the tray in hand. He sighed, adjusting his grip before turning away. Tez' Mu did not hear him go.