Inmate Transport 046 arrived back in Varnell the next morning. Severin had spent most of the time begging Jefremov for secrets to progressing to grass-stage Seidren. Jefremov had seemed pleased by the greedy outlander’s wishes for immediate progression. He had explained some meditation techniques and told him. “You’ve got to touch the mana. Expand your mana sense until it can touch the mana. You’ll become Grass Seidren when you can touch mana.”
As the carriage rolled into Varnell, Tirren smiled at the familiar sights. He waved to those who passed, in the unaware way of those who live in a small town. He navigated towards the compound that housed the inmates. As he approached, Jefremov leapt from the carriage, leaving a command as he departed. “Tirren, please take care of my disciple. I absolve him of his crimes, please don’t mention them to Gart.”
So it was that Tirren walked into the guard central and found himself addressing Gart.
“No issues sir. It was a smooth journey.”
“The lock was broken?
“No sir, It was that way when I received it at Hep City.”
Gart grumbled irritably before shooing Tirren out. He walked out, to find Severin looking around at Varnell. Tirren found himself looking around at the unhurried pace of the inhabitants of Varnell, his hometown.
WHAT LUCK? YOU HAVE FOUND MORTALS EVEN WEAKER THAN YOURSELF. QUICK, SUBJUGATE AND RULE THEM.
The bass voice had been offering quips in Tirren’s thoughts since his acquisition of the strange ring. He was quickly tiring of them.
He reached his hand idly over to scratch the hand with his ring, and tried to yank it off, but as soon as his fingers closed around the ring, his hand locked up, and he could not remove it. He gave up on removing the cursed ring. He waved for Severin to follow him and he set off for home.
They arrived at the modest home with a short path leading to the front door.
THIS PATHETIC HOME DOES NOT SEEM WORTH OUR TIME, WHOEVER WOULD OWN SUCH A PLAIN DWELLING WOULD CERTAINTLY NOT OWN TREASURE WORTH STEALING.
“This is my home.”
I STAND BY MY STATEMENT.
“Do you think Master Devrius will be back to fetch me soon?” Severin asked as they entered the small home.
“Go wait for him in the sitting room.”
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Tirren was frustrated and as he stalked away he pondered why that might be. He had applied for a master Seidren from Riino to come out and help him reach for progression as soon as he had been allowed. They had told him that he was in line, but as a young Tree Seidren, he was almost at the bottom of the list. There were plenty of older members of the Serventian government who had waited much longer than the few months Tirren had.
He had read the texts that he could find at the headquarters, but they either talked of mana in terms he barely understood, or the authors themselves didn’t understand the exact transition to the next step. The next stage would elevate him from what was called the organic arc, into the stone arc. He would be Sand-Seidren once completed. From what Tirren had gathered, he would need something called an aspect.
Tirren set himself into meditation. He drew mana into his manawell, and he expelled it out through his hands as unformed non-aspect mana. Like breathing, and he found it relaxing. Watching Jefremov, the high level Seidren from the border, help the boy called Severin advance had been distressing to him. As he meditated, he realized that jealousy was bothering him. Tirren had difficulty acknowledging that fact, because he had rarely even been jealous of other Seidren. Nobody advanced as young as him, and he was always sparring with the older students in Jonu’s dojo.
He, Tirren, had never met a younger Tree-Seidren than himself. He was the star of Varnell, having joined the ranks of the government and at least regionally, most knew of his high potential.
Then a border guard named Jefremov had come, and made him doubt his own significance. This nobody, Severin, was hungry for power, and if Jefremov could help him that quickly, then Tirren would have to admit that he was not the strongest. It was easy to acknowledge that those many years your senior were stronger, but a normal outlander boy?
Tirren’s pride needed power. He needed it.
WHAT ARE YOU DOING? Tirren only jumped a little, to the bass voice in his mind.
“I am meditating.”
WHO TAUGHT YOU THIS MEDITATIVE FORM?
“I taught myself, thank you very much.”
THAT MAKES SENSE. THIS IS A WORTHLESS TECHNIQUE.
Tirren sputtered. “What would a demon know of worth?”
THIS TECHNIQUE DOES NOT EXPAND YOUR MANA WELL, PREPARE YOU FOR YOUR SAND ASPECTS, OR INFUSE YOUR BODY WITH MANA. IF YOU ARE PREPARING TO DRIBBLE MANA UPON YOUR ENEMIES, THEN PERHAPS IT IS A WORTHY MEDITATIVE FORM.
Tirren lost his meditative state with the influx of information. “Wait, can you teach me how to accomplish any of those things you mentioned?” Tirren asked quickly.
CAN I? ONE OF THE GREAT FORCES OF THE FELL WORLD. A TYRANT AND LEADER. INCREDIBLE AND WISE. I, IVARMARKTARIUS AM NOT A LOWLY TEACHER. ESPECIALLY NOT TO ONE SUCH AS YOU. YOUR DISDAIN ALONE IS CRIME ENOUGH FOR DEATH. I AM GREAT. YOU ARE TINY.
Tirren cursed silently. That would have been too easy. As Tirren thought about it he realized that the demon had already given him a treasure, he knew that more was possible with his meditation, and even what things he needed to add. He retreated into his mind again, and was just beginning to experiment with the mana when he heard a disturbing crash resound through his home.
I STILL STAND BY MY STATEMENT ABOUT YOUR HOME AND ITS LACK OF REDEEMING VALUE. HOWEVER, THERE IS NOW A TREASURE IN YOUR HOME WORTH BREAKING IN FOR.
Tirren was on his feet and running for the door. He hurried as he heard a panicked scream from what sounded like a terrified Severin.
ME.
