Edrei's eyes snapped open.
He stood up into a fighting stance, only to find himself standing on a large, soft bed.
His eyes darted around.
The size of the room, the elegant curtains by the window, the lampshade with sophisticated design on the small table beside the bed, and the intricate patterns of the chandelier on the ceiling all told him he's inside a wealthy house.
Where am I? He muttered.
Am I… am I still in the manor house?
He jumped out of the bed and went straight to the door, opening it, he peered his head out, checking for any threat.
He walked in the hallway, then something stirred his senses.
The smell. And the faint sizzle. Someone was cooking.
Edrei sprinted toward it and skidded to a stop in a kitchen.
There stood the man from the dining hall, the one who beat him with a single stroke. Looking weird with an apron over his fitted tunic, holding a wooden spatula.
"Good morning, kid," the man said, casually clicking off the fire under the pan.
"Have a seat," He pointed the spatula at the chairs lined against the counter.
Edrei stood still, trying to make sense of what was happening.
"I said sit," the man said plainly.
The tug.
Edrei felt it.
But he smiled.
The feeling that he hasn't felt since he got his strange abilities. He was afraid.
Edrei walked over and sat at the counter.
The man set a plate in front of him, scraping scrambled eggs on it.
"Eat, while it's hot."
"So, what's your name, kid?" the man asked.
"Edrei… Sir," he replied.
"Name's Audric," the man said.
"Please tell me what happened," Edrei said.
"Do you know what's an Areclar?" Audric asked.
Edrei just stared blankly.
"That tells me you have no idea. Can't blame you. Most people out here in the outskirts—what's the town's name again?"
"Briarholt."
"Yeah, Briarholt. Most people around here wouldn't know what an Areclar is. Too far from the drama."
He set the spatula down and leaned on the counter. "Areclar are a certain people. Chosen of the Ink."
"Chosen of the ink…?" Edrei echoed.
Audric nodded. "The Areclar Oracles. From time to time they enter a trance. Their hands write by themselves, spilling words that are not their own. An oracle."
Audric leaned closer, locking eyes with Edrei, then recited:
"In the outer skirts, where a corrupt noble's shadow rules,
There walks a youth of brown hair and green eyes.
He lives by the rust of fallen gears, by the scraps of broken metal.
Poor is his dwelling, broken is his body,
beaten and scorned by the young lords of his age.
Yet the Ink has marked him.
And the Ink does not mark in vain."
Audric slipped the apron off and set it aside, "Edrei…"
"…the Ink has marked you as an Areclar."
"What?" Edrei blinked, trying to let the words sink.
Audric pointed at his plate, "You're not eating? Well… if you're not in the mood for breakfast…" Audric said, motioning for him to follow.
Edrei stood and followed him down the manor's hallway into the main hall. Tied against one of the stone columns were Baron Fahcrud and his three sons.
Baron Fahcrud's eyes widened upon seeing Edrei.
"You… you bastard! This is all your fault!" the baron roared, his three sons echoing his fury.
"The oracle has led us, hitting two birds with one stone," Audric told Edrei. "Finding you, a new Areclar and exposing the baron's crimes."
"But Briarholt is far, so it took us a few days to reach it. By the time we arrived, you were already finishing the job."
"We?" Edrei asked.
Audric nodded. "Yes. I brought my Areclar apprentices with me."
"But… Why did you attack me?" Edrei said.
Audric chuckled. "Did I?"
"From what I remember," he went on, "I only asked what you were capable of. You're the one who attacked me."
Edrei rubbed the back of his head. "I'm sorry. I thought you were one of the baron's sentinels."
"So… these abilities that I suddenly gained. These are Areclar's abilities?"
"Correct," Audric replied.
"Them," Edrei nodded toward the nobles, who were still whining. "What will happen to them?"
"We're taking them." Audric said. "The Areclar Order already informed the High Dominion about the baron, and in a few days—maybe a week—they'll send a replacement to govern this town better."
"Master Audric, we're all set for departure," came a male voice.
Edrei looked and saw a young man and young woman, both about his age, bowing slightly to Audric. The man was tall, blond hair, green eyes, and a wide jawline, while the woman had narrow brown eyes and long black hair tied in high ponytails.
"The sentinels. Are they all bound in the aircraft?" Audric asked.
"Yes, Master Audric," the young man replied.
"Good. Take those noisy nobles to the aircraft as well," Audric said, pointing at the baron and his sons.
The pair moved toward the nobles, who grew more hysterical. Their hands were swift, pressing their fingers against the nobles' necks as they went limp and quiet. They untied them and dragged them off, two each, letting their bodies skid across the smooth floor.
"Master, how about the Areclar?" the young woman asked.
"He is the Areclar," Audric said, gesturing toward Edrei at his side.
The two froze. They exchanged amused glances, then silently resumed dragging the baron and his sons.
"As for you," Audric said, turning to Edrei, "I'll give you a week to prepare. When I return, you will be my third apprentice."
Then Audric started following his two apprentices.
"Wait… Sir," Edrei called out. "What if… if I refuse?"
"I'll still come for you," Audric replied without turning. "Not as an apprentice. But as a prisoner."
Edrei froze. "What…?"
Audric gave no answer, his footsteps quiet as he started following the two apprentices.
After a moment, Edrei followed them outside the manor house. And as soon as he pulled the door open, his breath caught.
A massive craft stood in the courtyard, its body built from sheets of brass and iron bolted together. Copper pipes ran along its sides, hissing with small bursts of steam, while its large propellers thrummed. It was about half the size of the manor house, gleaming in the early sun.
By the open hatch, Audric called out, "Remember—one week!"
The door slid close with hiss. Steam curled off its frame as the propellers roared, and it started to lift. For a moment it hovered, then slid aside and climbed toward the sky.
Edrei stood there, looking at the aircraft now fading on the horizon, still struggling to comprehend everything that unfolded.
I have a week to decide. He muttered. I will become an Areclar Apprentice, and then what?
Those thoughts lingered and he started heading outside the manor courtyard. He was still deep in thought, tracing his steps, letting his feet guide him back to the familiar alleys of Briarholt, when a sound broke through—slow claps.
Edrei raised his head. Townsfolk were gathered outside the manor gates, watching him. More hands joined in, the clapping swelling into applause. People were cheering for him, their faces deep with gratitude.
And through the crowd he spotted familiar faces. Reena, Pin, and Orren, standing together.
The three hurried forward and pulled Edrei into a tight embrace.
"Those people who arrested the nobles," Orren said, pulling back slightly. "They're Areclar, aren't they?"
Edrei nodded. "You knew about Areclar?"
"The peacekeepers," Orren muttered.
"That explains my abilities, Uncle," Edrei said. "Audric, the one leading them… he told me I'm an Areclar."
Orren's brow furrowed, then he shook his head. "No. Impossible. They must be mistaken. You… you cannot be an Areclar."