Chapter 39: Kindling

Julius’s POV

The grand hall of House Petrae blazed with light. Chandeliers dripped with crystal, scattering reflections across banners stitched in earthen hues. Long tables groaned under roasted meats and spiced bread, silver goblets brimming with wine. Laughter rippled through the noble crowd, velvet sleeves brushing against armor polished for show, whispers threading sharper than the music from the corner ensemble.

I stood at the center of it all, basking in the warmth of gazes fixed on me. Tonight was mine. My Awakening. My triumph.

The doors opened, and the hall hushed. Count Albrecht Petrae entered with measured steps, each one enough to still the clink of goblets. His silver hair glimmered in the lamplight, his posture unbent by age, his eyes cutting through the chamber like a whetted blade.

Once he was settled, my father, Lord Marcus Petrae, tapped his glass lightly, and silence rolled across the room like stone settling into place.

“Thank you, lords and ladies,” Father said, his voice deep and steady. “Tonight we celebrate my son, Julius Petrae. His Awakening revealed a rare ninety percent Earth affinity. This year, he will depart for the Royal Mage Academy, where he will carry our name with pride.”

Applause thundered. My chest swelled. I stood straighter, forcing myself not to grin like a child. Nobles clapped my shoulder as servants raised goblets in my honor.

But then Father raised his hand once more. The hall stilled again.

“I know whispers travel quickly in our county,” he continued, voice level. “Let me confirm one. Among the recruits training in Stonegate, there is one who broke the threshold of spiritual attributes, naturally. A rare occurrence indeed. Unfortunately, his elemental affinity was shattered in the Awakening. But we may have an elite Tier Three among our ranks to serve our kingdom.”

“Enjoy the feast and the wine,” Father finished. “Tonight is for celebration.”

The hall erupted again. I schooled my face into calm as I saw the Count approach, my blood hammering. When his hand rested heavily on my shoulder, the weight was both a blessing and a chain.

“You did well, Julius,” he said, his voice pitched for me alone. “Tell your father to begin your training in the Stoneheart Avatar. I will personally oversee your progress. Few in our line have awakened with such affinity. Show the Capital we are not a weak county. Make Petrae proud.”

I dropped into a full bow, as was proper before the Count, no kinship excused neglecting the forms. Back straight, head lowered, hand pressed over heart. The silence stretched, heavy with the weight of generations.

“Yes, Great-grandfather,” I said, only rising when his hand shifted in faint acknowledgment. “I will not fail.”

“Good.” He nodded, then straightened. “Enjoy the revels. I must retire for a moment. Captain Varro’s report on this threshold breaker awaits me.” With that, he turned and left the hall, his presence receding like a storm into the distance.

Heat flared in my chest as I shoved through the press of lords, ignoring the curious glances. To walk straight to my father and call on him apart from the others was a breach of etiquette one every noble present would note, but I didn’t care. First Father had ruined my announcement by mentioning that wretch, and now the Count himself, had left me for him. A commoner. I would not allow it.

“Father,” I hissed, my voice sharp beneath the din. “I want him punished. He ruined my night. Great-grandfather leaves for him, not me.”

Father’s gaze was cool as steel. “Your great-grandfather is curious, nothing more. The boy’s affinity is shattered; he will never rise high. Within months, he’ll fade into obscurity.”

“No!” The word burst louder than I intended, drawing startled looks. I forced my voice lower, jaw tight. “He made me look lesser. Small. If Great-grandfather forgets me even for a moment, what will the Capital say? What will the dukes whisper when I arrive?”

Marcus’s lips thinned. “Petulance does not suit you. Still…” He leaned closer, voice dropping. “If fate should see him placed in a squad where recruits rarely last, then the matter solves itself. No noble hand need be dirtied.”

My chest eased, though the burn of humiliation still smoldered. I forced a smile, shallow as a blade’s edge. “Thank you, Father.”

No gutter-born wretch would be spoken of in the same breath as me. Only high blood deserved comparison, never a commoner.

Count Albrecht’s POV

The roar of the feast dwindled behind me as I stepped into the quiet corridors of my manor. Aelius followed, his presence steady as shadow. My study waited: shelves of ledgers and campaign records, maps marked with old blood, reports stacked like stone.

I broke the wax seal on the newest report, the strokes of Captain Varro’s hand sharp and uncompromising across the parchment.

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“Threshold breaker,” I murmured. “Initiate class: Junior Officer.” My eyes skimmed the lines, muscles hardened, recovery sharpened, and ruined elemental affinity. No treasure. No noble backing. And still, the boy carried more spiritual strength than Julius, who had cost me years of resources to raise. A Commoner surpassing my blood. Curious.

Varro’s questioning… adequate. Though I suspect, as with most of his house, he trusts his own analysis over what a boy’s tongue might reveal. Were it my place, I’d peel back every secret until I knew how such strength had rooted. But I lack the Truth skill, and to linger too long risks turning curiosity into scandal.

I set the parchment aside.

“My lord,” Aelius asked quietly, “why speak of such a recruit in the hall? On young Julius’s night? Some might call it… cruel.”

A thin smile touched my lips. “At my age, Aelius, one must find use for such anomalies. The recruit himself is nothing. But his existence serves another purpose: a test. Julius must learn whether envy governs him, or he governs envy. Marcus must show whether he shields the boy or tempers him through fire. Both will be measured.”

The butler hesitated. “And if they act rashly? If they… dispose of the recruit?”

“If they stain Stonegate with such folly, I will strip them both of resources and duties until they learn restraint. Stonegate is my wall. My seat. Not even my blood may foul it.”

“And if they act beyond Stonegate?”

“Then they show cunning. Should they rid themselves of him cleanly, without dishonor, I may increase their burdens. More power. More responsibility. Let them prove whether they are sharp enough to wield it.”

My gaze lingered briefly on Varro’s report, though the boy’s name was already fading. “The recruit is kindling, Aelius. Whether he burns away or sparks something greater in my kin, that is where his value lies. Ask the Intelligence Division to add details on this recruit’s progress to their monthly reports.”

“As you command, my lord,” Aelius murmured.

I moved on to the next parchment. Julius’s feast, the recruit, all of it, passing sparks against the stone of centuries.

Edward’s POV

My head was blank after that interrogation. For a minute, I even forgot what I was supposed to do now that I had awakened.

After collecting my thoughts, I remembered, report to the quartermaster. Awakening results, then division choice.

I pushed myself up on the bed. The door opened again. I stood automatically and gave the salute drilled into us these last eleven months.

“Sir,” I said to Lieutenant Clifford.

“At ease,” he replied. His face didn’t look happy.

“That was the captain of the Intelligence Division. You caused quite a scene three days back.”

“Three days!” My eyes widened.

“Yes. Now, you can go to the quartermaster, record your awakening, and choose the division you want. By tomorrow you’ll have your placement.”

“Yes, sir. Thank you, sir.” I hesitated. “Sir… my affinity is low. Will that cause problems in my future growth?”

He waved a hand, dismissive. “We’re aware of that. You’ll be fine. Might even be stronger physically. Good until Tier Three, at least.”

I excused myself and made my way from the infirmary to the supply office. Afternoon light was already spilling in when I reached the quartermaster.

I saluted. “Sir, Edward of Oxspell. Reporting my Awakening and start of service.”

He squinted at me. “Edward… ah, the one who caused the scene a few days back.” He started rifling through papers.

How many people know about this? And why? Why was my fainting that big of an issue?

After a moment, he pulled out two sheets. “Hmm. Good physical scores. Oh, academic too, top of your class, top hundred overall.” His eyes lifted to me. “Right. Next is the spiritual stone test, which gives us an idea of where your spiritual stats are. After that, physical trial.”

“Yes, sir.”

“What is your class? And what division are you hoping for?”

I hesitated. At first, I considered hiding my stats, but if I was already being tested, it was better to ask directly. “Sir, [Junior Officer] class. I’ve got two high spiritual stats, and my Strength’s around fifteen. Could I apply for the Knight Orders or the Knight Academy?”

He double-checked the papers, then shook his head. “Lieutenant updated your file. Says your elemental affinity’s too low. Sorry, kid. No Knights. Any other choice?”

I sighed. Disappointed, though I hadn’t expected much. “Yes, sir. Intelligence and Counter-Operations.”

“Much better choice if you ask me,” he said with a grunt. “Alright, let’s get this done.”

He handed me the spiritual stone. I pricked my finger, pressed it down. The clear stone clouded, runes shifting faintly as it collected the result.

“Stats are really high,” he muttered.

Then came the physical test. Full soldier’s kit strapped on, spear thrusts into a rune-marked wall that flared to measure force, sprints across the yard, loaded marches, shield blocks against a veteran private. The whole trial lasted close to ninety minutes.

“Good enough,” the quartermaster said. “You’ve got strong numbers. Might even qualify for Vanguard.”

“I’m good with Intelligence, sir.”

He gave me a long look, then nodded. “Smart choice. I can see why. By tomorrow, you’ll get confirmation.”

Finally done, I realized how hollow I felt. My stomach growled. Three days without food, and yet I’d managed the tests. Maybe the healer had kept me going somehow. Either way, I was starving.

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By lamplight, the quartermaster sifted through the day’s remaining stack of files, stamping one after another. Most were routine, supply tallies, new postings, disciplinary notes. Then he paused, frowning at a name.

He rose, file in hand, and made his way down the corridor to Lieutenant Clifford’s office. The door creaked as he stepped in.

“Sir,” he said, laying the page on Clifford’s desk. “Awakened today, Private Edward. Approved for Intelligence, embedded with frontline infantry. His direct sergeant will be Infantry, though he’ll file reports separately. That part isn’t unusual for rookies…” The quartermaster hesitated, lowering his voice. “But assigning him to death-row conscripts? That’s a dangerous choice. Did he offend someone?”

Clifford took the file, eyes narrowing as he scanned the sheet. “Most front-line positions are rough, but this, ” He shook his head. “The boy’s from Oxspell. No noble ties. Doubt he offended anyone.”

His gaze stopped at the placement line. He exhaled sharply. “I thought at first Captain Varro might’ve dropped him into something hard, testing him. But this? This isn’t a test. A Tier One recruit can’t handle this.”

The quartermaster leaned back, grimacing. “They’ve slotted him into the Infantry Division. Assignment says: keep tabs on four conscripts pulled from death row. Forcibly drafted, no discipline, barely leashed. That’s suicide duty.”

Clifford’s jaw tightened. “And the sergeant of that squad… I’ve heard the stories. Bad reputation. If the beasts don’t get him, his squadmates just might.” He set the file aside with a heavy hand. “I’ll draft a note to my captain, but… orders are orders. Doesn’t look like we can stop it. Still, this isn’t good. This reeks of meddling. The Royal Army should not be a stage for noble games.”