Sanguine Prince | Chapter 19: Tylariel (Second Draft)

When he returned to the kitchen, he noticed Jess and Angela bustling around, preparing various items for consumption. There were reassuringly regular eggs, bacon, and toast, but also more exotic fare consisting of blue meats and glasses of purple drink that seemed to fizzle and pop of their own accord—and not merely in the way soda was prone to on Earth.

“Well, I suppose it’s better than nudity,” Tylariel said matter-of-factly, sitting in a very ladylike pose at the other side of the table from where Angela had seated herself—ostensibly occupying the other ‘head’ table seat. “Those clothes are a mimicry of nobility at their best. Where did you scavenge them?”

“I didn’t,” he said with a strange sense of defensiveness over his clothes. “They were a gift from the staff at the Foxy Princess. I arrived on Terra naked. This is all I have to my name, other than my magic.”

“Very well, then,” Tylariel said curtly, and bridged her fingers before her. “So, you wanted to know what training would entail, as I recall.”

Arcturus nodded and shoved his hands in his pockets out of habit.

“I’m not sure I want to commit to something like a Mentorship without knowing what I’m getting into, and I mean no offense when I say that.”

Tylariel, for a wonder, actually smiled at him when he finished.

“That is the first truly sensible thing that I’ve heard, other than your perspective on your heritage. Very good, there is hope for you yet. An Archon should be aware of what they are wading into—no matter how odd your circumstances are. Very well.”

The redhead turned properly to face him and settled her hands in her lap.

“How much do you know about Archons?”

“Diddly squat,” he said honestly, “other than the fact you’re a warrior-elite and the true power behind the Empire. Well… I suppose I know the broad strokes, thanks to Angela, but nothing beyond that.”

“Your father taught you nothing? Not even in the vein of stories?”

“Nothing,” Arcturus confirmed, feeling a little irrationally embarrassed. “Earth—my source-shard—doesn’t exactly have a plethora of magic. It was never relevant.”

Tylariel sighed, glanced at Angela as if this were her fault—to which the other woman beamed at her in response—and then turned back to Arcturus.

“The simplest explanation, and the most truncated for brevity, is that Archons are a decentralized collection of highly potent Aether Warriors with an immense power ceiling and a greatly elevated capacity for affecting change—be it political, social, martial, or otherwise. In the numeric valuation of our existence, one Archon is worth a Legion of regular soldiers; primarily because, at their apex, an Archon can obliterate a Legion single-handedly.”

Arcturus glanced at the others following Tylariel’s explanation, to see if there was any chance she was exaggerating, and found only calm stares and genuine interest in the case of Sumeko and Jess. Jakob looked grumpy, but Arcturus was beginning to suspect that grumpy was his usual state of being. Realizing she was not exaggerating, at least by the at-a-glance reckoning of the others present, he turned back to her.

“Okay. So… what does the training entail? I’m not interested in becoming someone’s pet to show off, or some sort of slave or—”

“What sort of tripe are you blithering about?” Tylariel demanded. “Pet? Slave? Archons are not debased malcontents! Our calling is one of pride and the highest levels of honor. We do not comport ourselves like Southlander barbarians.”

Arcturus arched an eyebrow at that, eyeing Tylariel with faint skepticism.

“I heard a barmaid mention people being flogged for staring at an Archon’s eyes,” he pointed out simply.

Tylariel’s jaw clicked shut at his words, and she grimaced.

“...not every Archon holds themselves to the standards they should,” she conceded, her voice more than a little irritated at the presented example. “Things like that are not meant to happen, especially not to mundanes, but not everyone who walks this path is as adherent to its traditional values, true enough. I will not deceive and claim all Archons are what they should be, but that doesn’t mean that the aspiration loses its value. A few bad apples do not spoil the entire orchard.”

Arcturus frowned faintly at that, but after a moment, he nodded in acceptance. It was a fair statement: he’d seen hatred levelled at entire groups for the actions of a few extreme examples more than once on Earth, and read about the same in his Political Science course.

“I’ll accept that, my lady,” he said with a decision toward courtesy, and thought about what he really wanted to know. “I suppose I just need to understand how this is going to work, regarding deference, obedience, loss of agency, that sort of thing. I don’t come from a world where Mentor-Mentee relationships are quite as rigorous as what you’re loosely implying, at least, they haven’t been that way outside of particular cultures, for a very long time.”

“You want to know how much self-determination you will have,” Tylariel ventured, her green eyes glimmering.

“Yeah,” Arcturus said simply.

“It’s a good question to ask, and shows you have more than your fair share of foresight. Blind agreement to anything is foolish, outside of extreme desperation, and the fact that you are still asking these things despite my earlier threat shows you have a spine, at least.”

Tylariel’s gaze appraised him after she spoke, and she smiled again, with another sign of approval.

“Very well, then, I will summarize it simply once more: I will be your teacher, your protector, and your immediate point of ultimate authority for so long as I am your mentor,” she explained candidly. “Everything you do, Arcturus, would reflect on me—in turn, that means anyone you offend, or who decides to target you, implicitly is offended by me, and also targets me. An Archon’s Mentor is not quite their keeper, but they are responsible for their Apprentices—much like a Knight with a Squire.”

That, at least, made sense to him. He was familiar with chivalric codes.

“How long will the mentorship last?” he asked after a moment.

“Until you are deemed proficient enough to stand on your own.”

“Who decides that?” he followed up immediately.

“You do,” Tylariel answered directly. “Once you can pass the standard Trials, you will be considered a fully-fledged Archon, and my authority over you will become ceremonial, not literal. I would hope, after everything is said and done, that I would enjoy the trust and respect of any Apprentice I were to train—though it is not always the case, as history has taught us.”

Arcturus let that percolate and glanced away from her in thought, mulling over it. He knew she wasn’t kidding about her threat, but he also wasn’t letting that dictate his future. He had a feeling that she had meant what she said about high treason, and that gave him some enviable freedom. Angela had obviously called Tylariel over for the purpose of training him, and after everything she’d already done, he was inclined to give the woman some well-earned faith that she was doing her best by him.

That left only one final point of clarification, and he turned back to Tylariel to qualify it.

“Will you respect my right to refuse?” he asked her carefully.

“Pardon?” Tylariel asked with an arched eyebrow.

“My right to refuse,” he repeated before explaining. “If you ask—or command, I suppose—me to do something, and it goes against my core moral or ethical values… will you respect my right to refuse you? I know it may sound strange, but I have no desire to be robbed of my right to that choice. Every man must be responsible for his own actions, and the consequences thereof, no matter the circumstances behind their undertaking.”

Tylariel’s eyebrows rose faintly, and Angela let out a chuckle, while Jakob whistled, and both Jess and Sumeko looked at him with faint awe.

“It really does run in the blood,” Tylariel muttered, glancing at her sister, who grinned back at her smugly.

“Pardon?” Arcturus asked, faintly annoyed by the repeated meaningful glances.

“Have you ever read Terran history, Arcturus?” Angela asked before Tylariel could answer.

“No,” Arcturus said with a slight shrug. “I only know what you’ve told me, more or less.”

Angela smiled in satisfaction and turned to her sister, who sighed heavily.

“What’s the big deal?” Arcturus asked with another pang of faint annoyance.

“Arcturus,” Jakob said in a voice equal parts gruff and faintly resigned, “you just reiterated, word for word, something said by your grandfather during his coronation. ‘Every man must be responsible for his own actions, and the consequences thereof, no matter the circumstances behind their undertaking’,” Jakob quoted. “Word. For. Word.”

Arcturus opened his mouth and then clicked it shut. It had just felt right.

“Well, if I had any doubts left…” Tylariel muttered and eyed him speculatively, before sighing in quiet acceptance and shaking her head. “To answer your question, though, Arcturus, yes: within the scope of reason—as in, so long as you do not try to wiggle out of training or standard conditioning—I will accept your right to refuse.”

That’s probably the best offer you’re going to get, meathead.

Arcturus turned back to Tylariel at her words and then nodded once.

“Alright,” he said to her after a moment, hesitated, and then dipped into an awkward bow. “Mentor.”

A clap broke the silence that followed a second later, and Angela looked between them gleefully. “Oh, wonderful! I can hold this over her forever, now! I found her Apprentice! Ah, thank you, Arcturus. This is a priceless gift.”

Tylariel affixed her sister with a withering look when she spoke, and then, with a grunt, turned back to Arcturus—who was trying not to laugh.

“Do you have any talent with swordsmanship already?”

“No, ah, Mentor,” Arcturus said as his mirth faded, awkwardly adjusting to the word. “Not outside of some basic stuff my dad taught me. We mainly focused on unarmed combat.”

Tylariel blinked at that, but then nodded after a moment.

“I suppose that would make sense, given your source-shard lacks any real Aether, from what Alyerial told me. Fine. We’ll remedy that—but first things first, what is your Elemental Attunement?”

“Uh, I’m sorry, I don’t understand. My what?”

“Your Elemental Attunement,” Tylariel said more slowly, in that way that implied she worried for his intelligence. “I had assumed Air, since you threw a gust when you lost control.”

“That wasn’t… what is this, a joke? Am I going to master the four elements and restore balance to the world?”

His lips split into a grin at the joke, only to fade at seeing Tylariel looking at him with consternation and evident lack of comprehension.

“How can you use Air if you aren’t attuned to Air, then?” she interrogated. “Is this some Daeva power, to harness elemental abilities absent attunement?”

Arcturus sighed and shook his head, folding his arms over his chest in a natural default into defensive posture. “I don’t use elemental magic. I’m a Psionicist.”

A plate smashed nearby, causing him to look around in alarm, only to find all four of the others staring at him in disbelief. When he turned back to Tylariel, he saw her doing the same, her eyes wide. “You’re lying,” she said as if it were instinct.

“I’m not lying. I don’t lie, even when I should. It’s just what came to me naturally, since I have a higher-than-normal Willpower because of how—” he hesitated “—how I came to be on Terra, which I think was probably rougher than other Daeva.” Not a lie, but definitely an omission. It wasn’t the same, though, he reassured himself. “I didn’t think it was a big deal. No one ever mentioned Elemental Attunement to me anyway.”

“Show me,” Tylariel said quickly, lifting a plate sitting on the table in front of her. “Lift this psionically.”

Arcturus glanced at Angela surreptitiously, only for Tylariel to slap her hands together. “I am your teacher, Arcturus Regis! Heed me, not my sister. Lift this. Now.”

Suppressing a grumble of rebellion, he activated his Aether flow and catalyzed his [Telekinesis].

[Telekinesis] Activated!

[Telekinesis] Casting successful!

[Telekinesis] Channeling activated!

Your [Telekinesis] is draining 3 Mana per 8 seconds!

Mana at 127 / 130. Mana Regeneration disabled!

Arcturus wrapped the plate in an invisible bubble of force, distantly marveling at how easy it was to do with his recent increase in telekinetic proficiency, and lifted the plate off the table smoothly. He spun it around a few times for good measure, rotating it end over end, then spun it rapidly like a disk, and finally left it to sit perfectly still in mid-air.

Your [Telekinesis] is draining 3 Mana per 8 seconds!

Mana at 124 / 130. Mana regeneration disabled!

“There’s no deviation in its position,” Tylariel said out loud. “By the gods, there’s not even a sliver of a passive bounce!” She reached out without warning and grabbed at the plate, her hand framing the bubble of force around it, which stopped her progress dead. “No air current, no subtle gyrations, nothing. Alyerial, he’s really doing it! He’s a true Psionicist!”

“Is that even possible, Lady Archon?” Sumeko asked carefully, looking from the floating plate to Arcturus. “I didn’t think it was, from what I’ve read…”

Your [Telekinesis] is draining 3 Mana per 8 seconds!

Mana at 121 / 130. Mana regeneration disabled due to Combat!

“It shouldn’t be,” Tylariel replied with a tone that almost seemed pleased. “It goes against every law of magic that we know. Elemental Attunement is the bedrock of Aetheric Manipulation. One cannot access the Aether Sea if one is not attuned to the fundamental forces of reality. Earth, Fire, Air, or Water must be harnessed before greater magic can follow.”

Her eyes examined Arcturus as if he were a particularly fascinating scientific experiment, and their green depths brightened faintly as she continued.

“Psionicists are almost always Air or Water Attuned at their base, and even then, they are so rare that you might find one Psionicist out of a thousand Archons, and they’ll never be too proficient. The discipline is not one that easily lends itself to anyone.”

Your [Telekinesis] is draining 3 Mana per 8 seconds!

Mana at 118 / 130. Mana regeneration disabled!

Arcturus lowered the plate to the table as he listened, turning his attention to Tylariel as he snuffed out his Telekinesis.

[Telekinesis] Deactivated!

Mana Regeneration enabled! You are regenerating 2 Mana per minute!

Mana at 120 / 130.

“So what does that mean, Archon Tylariel?” Jess asked, looking from Arcturus to the redhead and then back to Arcturus. “Is something wrong with him?”

“What it means is that the Prince—” Jakob didn’t even blink at Arcturus’ annoyed look “—is both a prodigy and a cripple. An Archon without an element is like a swordsman without hands. He has tremendous power, in the same moment as having very much none at all—though one thing still bothers me.”

The four women had their eyes fixed on Jakob in surprise, as if stunned he knew what he was talking about.

“What’s that, Master Tollance?” Angela asked curiously, lifting her glass of purple liquid to take a sip.

“Kid, when you used your telekinesis to hold Sumeko and me at bay, before you passed out, I saw sparks outlining the bands and the lance you created,” Jakob said intently. “With hindsight, I can recognize both iterations of telekinesis for what they are. What I can’t understand is those sparks. Black and white, like light and dark. Care to explain?”

“I don’t know,” Arcturus said honestly. “It’s always just been there whenever I’ve used my telekinesis, and when I was in the depths of that rage, it felt like, for a moment, I accessed some sort of reserve inside myself that I can’t really access again. It’s like it was there, but only in that instant, and then it was gone.”

“Perhaps there is an element lurking within you, then,” Tylariel said after a moment, consternation bringing a frown to her features. “Either way, it doesn’t matter at this juncture. Before anything else can happen, we have to undertake a few formalities. We have agreed to an Apprenticeship, but we’ve not even covered what that actually means in detail, nor started your education on the significance of the implied expectations—a crucial thing, given Alyerial tells me you’re utterly ignorant.”

“Yeah,” Arcturus said with a faint hint of annoyance. “That’s me, Mister Ignorance.”

“No need to be put off, Arcturus,” Angela said from nearby, as Sumeko finally started to clean up the broken plate. “My sister is a very capable Archon, and when she remembers that she can actually be charming, she’ll make a fine Mentor as well.”

Tylariel released a low ‘hmph’ and focused on her food.

“Charm has no place in mentorship, Alyerial. Regardless...” she motioned with a hand to Arcturus, then the table. “Sit, Arcturus. Eat. Once you’re done, we’ll cover the essential knowledge of what becoming an Archon entails, before we move to the next step.”

“The next step?” he asked as he joined Jakob, Angela, and Tylariel at the table while Sumeko and Jess laid out more food.

“Well, yes,” Tylariel said with a raised eyebrow. “We need to find you an Aetherblade.”

It was the first thing Tylariel had said that Arcturus wholeheartedly enjoyed.