Chapter 68. New Rules.

  “Lief?” The Mystic hiss, faint notes of fury were hidden in her voice. “What in the Seven names are you doing. Did you not read the rules set aside for you. Instead, you work the quill to your amusement.”

  She slithered to an Embryx and gently brushed its brow. The milky orange eyes gleamed with her touch. Its head slowly swiveled while it scanned the room.

  “Where are the scriptures?” she asked.

  The blue creature looked from bookshelf to bookshelf. Shelves filling with volumes of his own writings. From fabled imagination of laws to forgotten stories his mother would tell. The Mystic guided the vision from one hanging pot to another. Each grows with a strong family of tea or robust tobacco. It then looked at the short tea table placed over an old rug.

  The table was scattered with parchments of gardening techniques. Fertilizer mixtures. Flower petals and lotus bark. Ink slates and jars that were half full. There were also rolls of finished writings of who knows what.

  “I didn’t care for the rules you had.” Lief answered, causing the Mystic to scowl. “I believe I can write a better set of rules.” He said again, walking to a bookshelf, removing a breaking red leather tome, he fanned through the empty pages, placing the one from his back pocket onto the opposite shelf, as if he was rotating them.

  Lief was brilliant with the quill, without a doubt he had shiny stars in Writing. If not, then it had to have been Penmanship.

  His imagination, however, was a horrid pit of wrath. Dark with envy. And steepled with greed. The boys’ thoughts were purely fueled by that of trepidation, temptation, and hate. He was not marked by any of the siblings, no, but since the day his mother was murdered in pure prejudice Lief seen the world differently and something about him was broken. Others need to suffer—you know that old saying ‘misery loves company.’ Lief would be sure of such things.

  The Embryx looked between the bookshelves while he sat on the simple wooden cot. No wonder the boy looked so tired just look at that straw pillow—basic perhaps less than basic, there were absolutely no buffs towards sleeping. Draped across the simple cot was a dress that had been cut. Spread open for a makeshift blanket. A dusty, old red, tattered blanket. It had been patterned yellow and green.

  “Lief… your mind is clouded; just write the rules the siblings sent for you or have the quill be confiscated.” Words managed through the stretching of stitched lips.

  “HA, confiscated, by who you?” He laughed and continued scratching something in the fresh pages of the book.

  Orange eyes of the Embryx watch while the boy wrote something inside that old red leather-bound book. Its ears flicked with each scratch of the quill tip.

  One of the Embryx scanned the last wall. A wall with a single window. Not a large skylight like the panes above. This was a small round window with a single plank of wood acting as a shelf. Upon that plank was a single pot. Inside that pot was a blue dandelion—you know those white dandelions that you would pluck as a child and blow all that fluff off. This was the same concept only it was a lovely sky-blue in color, anyways.

  Whenever a soft wind came through the gentle blue umbrellas would lift from the bud and carry out. Lief had hoped the plant would pollinate in the mountains and surrounding valleys.

  “Ammarosa will have another wield the quill if you are unable to fulfill your duties Lief.”

  “Ammarosa won’t do a thing.” He glanced at the quill in question, then up at her.

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  “She will see that you are punished Lief, you don’t want to anger her or her sister, they have great plans for you—"

  “Punished?” he interrupted with a dull laugh. “I’d like to see that bitch come down here and try.”

  The Mystic could sense the boy was upset so she restrained herself. Really she wanted to lash out and scrape the boys’ thoughts—however it would accomplish nothing in this state of mind. She took a subtle breath and tried again.

  “Lief Amarosa has already written out what she wants of you, and Tatheliea too. The sisters have something great in return if you abide to the rules and adjust the Game Set for the Seven—"

  “This.” He interrupted again.

  Lief held the quill eye level with the fire hound. He really had no care for what she had to say. He was a determined boy making his way into those defiant teen cycles we all go through—he just might have some sparkling twinklers in Rebelling, maybe even some developing in Mutiny.

  Whatever the goddesses had lined up for him couldn’t have been that great. He was sure he could accomplish far better things once he understood more. Once he knew how to write with the Phantom Quill of Envy, he was sure he could enforce his own set of rules. Lief’s Laws as his mother liked to call them.

  Lief fantasized about these laws daily. Like it was ritual. Strict rules to protect the common folk like him. Helping those who can’t rely on the help of adventurers—like his mother. “How exactly does this work, if I want to make a permanent rule, or demand something of someone, like a quest how would I go about that?” he asked, glassy-black eyes dance from her to the Embryx.

  In the book he was adding to that fantasy. He was sketching up the blueprints for a very special building. Structures specifically designed with punishment in mind. Rooms made of iron bars. Shackles with chains bolted to the ground only this high, keeping all his rule-breakers half bent. All bowing to his law. All receiving their spankings as the sun makes its stretch across the sky. All being reminded of the rules and order of the land.

  “The rules are simple. If one is of the same religion, or of lesser status then the quill will demand them of what you write. It will bend them against their own free will. Unfortunately for you, Andric was a low rank follower to Fannon as you know is the God of Glutton. Not only that Lief but you have no status, or rank, so, the quill was unable to accept the request.” With her slight connection with her hound, she could sense the question about Monte. “As for Monte. Lief you were extremely lucky. In fact I might suspect he may have been placed there as temptation for the quill, as he was a very low player to Ammarosa Goddess of Envy.” She smiled down on the boy who was writing all this down quickly as he can. “But as far as wanting to warp the mind of others, its simply much like a request, write what you want, and have who it is your tempting write over their will for your uses.”

  Liefs eyes looked like they had taken a breath, they swelled twice their size, and now he was just as excited as the Embryx. “So, in other words, something like a signature?”

  The Mystic nodded making her way to one of the many hanging pots. The blue flamed hound at her side looked up at the pot. She plucked a mint leaf from the stock and slowly rolled the lovely green.

  “Wonderful.” He chirped. Quill still scratching, feather dancing with each stroke.

  The Mystic rolled the sugar mint into a tight roll before sliding it past her stitched lips. Smile mor sinister than that boys’ gaze.

  “But first, you must start the procedures for the new cycle of seasons. This round in the Game is nearly complete. And at the start of the new round, the beginning rotation of season. Lief you will be considered that of a demigod, so long as you follow the steps laid out for you. Lief the game is about to change, and you’re going to rewrite the rules.”

  This actually really excited Lief, and his mouth salivate with a foul taste. He wasn’t excited for the consideration of that of a demigod, but more so the fact that he would be writing the rules to the Sevens Game.

  A soft knock at the door, and Beck could be heard from the hallway. “Lief my boy you got any spirits in there? Hmph, I’m getting thirsty boy.”

  The Mystic turned her face, along with one of her hounds. Both—well, actually, all of them were looking at the door now. She spoke after swallowing the mint leaf. “Is that the one you’re going to tempt?” she asked.

  Lief had nearly forgotten about Beck. Quickly standing he shouted at the heavy wooden door. “Just another candle flick Beck, just stay out there.”

  One of the Embryx’s walked infront of him. The Mystic coiled him, friendly, comforting. As if she was with kin of her own. Before she could speak though, Lief was quick with a question. One she preplanned.

  “How do I get status? What’s my rank?” he asked.

  She smiled at the boy. Pebbly skinned hand rubbing the bruise under his eye. Her touch was so cold. “You want status? Then you’re going to need to acquire a set of the Primary Seven Minerals. Climbing in rank though.” She straightened his hair while she let the thought hang. “That requires allegiance to a religion. And in order to wield the Quill you will be playing for Ammarosa.”