The night was far gone. Three shadows met in Marquoc Berher's private office. The room was dark, lit only by the dancing flames of the fireplace and a few candles on a massive black oak table.
Marquoc, the Head of the Family, sat in his leather chair. His white hair was pulled back, and his piercing red eyes were fixed on the two men before him.
To his right stood Aldric Berher, his arms crossed. His face was sharp and his expression cold as ice. Opposite Marquoc stood Gareth, the head instructor. With a scarred eyebrow and a shaved head, he stood tall with a military posture.
A carafe of red wine sat on the table, untouched. The silence was heavy, broken only by the crackling fire. Finally, Marquoc spoke in a deep, commanding voice.
"So, Gareth. Tell me everything. How did today go?"
POV: Gareth
Gareth straightened his back and organized his thoughts. "Everything went well, Lord Marquoc. Everything is moving according to plan." He paused. "Among this year's five-year-olds, we have already identified several remarkable prodigies."
Marquoc nodded, waiting.
"First, your son, Iode," Gareth continued. Marquoc showed no emotion, but his gaze intensified. "He is quite good. Intelligent and determined. During weapons training, his mastery of the spear was impressive for his age. His foundations are solid; his family trained him well."
Marquoc nodded slowly. Good. At least he is not a disappointment.
"Next, we have Nicole," Gareth said. Aldric's brow furrowed slightly. "The child sent by the Black Shield."
A heavy silence filled the room. The Black Shield—a vassal faction from the North. Once loyal, now... uncertain.
"She is special. Very atypical," Gareth added. "But she handles herself well. She chose an axe, and her movements are surprisingly fluid for a beginner."
Marquoc tapped his fingers on the table. The Black Shield sends us their child. Is it loyalty... or spying? He kept the question to himself.
"And finally, Teresa," Gareth said. Marquoc narrowed his eyes. "Daughter of the Earth Shadows."
Aldric's face hardened. The Earth Shadows were a vassal faction from the South. Rebels. Ambitious. Dangerous.
"She is shy, but she does well in training," Gareth reported cautiously. "For now, her level is standard, but I am keeping an eye on her."
Marquoc crossed his fingers. Three prodigies. Two of them from vassals who are slipping away from us. "Fine. Three prodigies is acceptable." Then, his voice turned grave. "And the boy? Our little... singularity? Tell me, Gareth."
Gareth smiled despite himself. "Arthur."
POV: Gareth (Continued)
"Where do I even begin?" Gareth took a deep breath. "He is a true singularity. A genius, without a doubt."
Marquoc leaned forward, clearly interested.
"He has an exceptional physique. It allows him to adapt to anything," Gareth explained. "Liora told me that on the very first day of mana breathing... he succeeded on his first try."
"Yes," Marquoc said. "She already reported that."
Gareth's smile widened. "But what I haven't mentioned yet is what happened during weapons training with Fire-Skull. When Arthur picked up a sword... he showed exceptional mastery."
"How exceptional?" Marquoc asked.
"At first, his movements were strange. Precise, but useless in a real fight. It looked like 'sport fencing'." Gareth shook his head. "But then, he watched the other children—the ones trained by their families. In less than thirty minutes, he adapted completely."
Marquoc sat up straight. "Adapted?"
"Yes. He analyzed them. He understood the difference between his style and theirs, and he changed. No more 'pretty' movements. Only lethal strikes. The throat, the heart, the arteries. He targeted every weak point. By the end, his movements were smoother than Iode's. No... more dangerous."
Total silence followed. Marquoc smiled slowly. "Good. Very good. So he is as brilliant as I hoped."
POV: Marquoc
Marquoc was deep in thought. A physique for adaptation. A superhuman learning speed. And only five years old. He pushed the thought aside for now.
"And how did Iode react?"
Gareth grimaced. "Jealousy. Intense jealousy. He insulted Arthur, called him a 'bastard,' and tried to look down on him. Then, he tried to challenge Arthur to a duel right then and there."
Marquoc laughed—a deep, satisfied sound. "And?"
"The twins stepped in. They defended Arthur, pointing out that Iode had years of training while Arthur just started."
Marquoc calmed down and looked at Gareth seriously. "But Gareth, you set this all up to push Iode, didn't you?"
"Exactly, Lord Marquoc."
"He was becoming too arrogant," Marquoc said. "I wanted to give him a rival. I hope they can push each other. Because those two... they will carry the future of this family."
POV: Aldric
Aldric finally spoke, his voice cold and calculating. "This year... the presence of Nicole and Teresa is worrying. Our family is growing weak."
Marquoc frowned.
"Our alliances are failing," Aldric continued, looking Marquoc in the eye. "If our Father—our Protector—were gone, the other two Great Clans would have devoured us by now. Especially the Wertos."
Marquoc clenched his jaw. He knew it was true.
"The vassals are starting to disobey," Aldric said. "The South—the Earth Shadows—practically blackmailed us into accepting Teresa. They don't respect us as lords anymore. They treat us as equals."
POV: Marquoc
Marquoc sighed and ran a hand through his white hair. "Aldric is right. And the worst part... is the bloodline."
He stood up and walked to the window. "So far, no one in the younger generation has awakened our Ethereal Bloodline. Not one."
He looked back at the men. "In other clans, two or three people per generation awaken their bloodline. They are born with a natural sync between their bodies and their powers. But us? Nothing."
Gareth spoke up. "Lord Marquoc... Arthur has an exceptional physique. Could that mean he is perfect for bloodline synchronization?"
"Perhaps," Marquoc said. "Bloodlines awaken when the mana core forms. If a person has a physique that syncs naturally with that power, they become exponentially stronger. Like Nyssal."
"But Nyssal's bloodline isn't as strong as yours, or mine, or Father's," Aldric added bitterly.
"Exactly," Marquoc said. "She is a good asset, but not enough. We need someone truly exceptional. We must increase the intensity of the training."
Gareth looked worried. "Lord... the training is already intense."
"Then increase it more!" Marquoc commanded. "This is how geniuses are forged. And Gareth... create a deep rivalry between Arthur and Iode. Make them fight. Make them compete. But also... make them work together. They must become obsessed with surpassing each other, but they must also learn to lead this clan together."
POV: Aldric
The meeting ended. Gareth left, leaving the two brothers alone.
"Arthur," Aldric said quietly. "That... bastard. Is he really going to be the savior of this clan?"
"He is our best hope," Marquoc replied.
Aldric felt a storm of emotions. On one hand, shame—Arthur was a bastard. On the other, pride—Arthur was a genius. His genius. And he is already surpassing my legitimate sons.
Marquoc put a hand on Aldric's shoulder. "Arthur is your son, bastard or not. If you want him to be loyal to this clan, show him he belongs to it."
Marquoc left the room. Aldric stayed behind, staring into the fire.
Arthur... my bastard son. My shame. My pride. Will you save us? Or will you surpass me? I don't know which one scares me more.
Meanwhile, in the dormitory...
Arthur woke up briefly, feeling a strange sensation. To his right, Iode was still training, covered in sweat. To his left, Nicolas was talking in his sleep.
Three five-year-olds. Three different paths.
Arthur didn't know that powerful men were currently deciding his fate. He didn't know that he, the despised bastard, had become the secret hope of the entire clan.
He closed his eyes and went back to sleep, unaware of the political storm gathering around him.