Rested in Seth's hand was a transparent orb of something that looked and felt like glass and streaks of light flashed from its center, striking its boundaries where it met the skin of his palms, multiple strikes at different random points. Would it be grand or would it be weak? He wondered, hoping its size and color was a testament to being better.
The ache in his head rose quietly and his left arm abruptly gave out on him. The orb fell from his hands and landed on his mattress without a sound.
Seth frowned at the hand. He hated it whenever that happened. Now that it had given out, it could remain this way for as long as two days before it would work again.
He cast the thought aside for now, refusing to get angry, and proceeded to maneuver the orb back into his pack with one hand, then toss it beneath his bed where all things go to die.
Five minutes later, he stood shirtless under the shower with a smirk but didn't turn it on. Today he'd survived a gold rank soul beast, even if it was playing with him. Not many unsouled could say that.
Stories had it that as one evolves through the authorities, their senses grow extensively. At fragmented, the first stage of being souled, the difference isn't so noticeable. At Iron, the second authority, the differences become noticeable. The muscles are stronger, reflexes faster. This is when the core of a mage is forged; when the body begins producing its own reia, and abilities begin to manifest. At silver, people began moving differently; more precisely, their abilities becoming more powerful. Walking away from accidents that would kill a normal person were not unheard of.
Gold was the first step to being supernatural. Everything about a Gold was powerful. It is said that at least ten silvers were required to face a full-fledged Gold.
Amazing as it was, it paled in the eyes of the highest authority. Barony.
Where a Gold was to be faced by ten Silvers, should they wish to face the higher authority, the number multiplied by one greater than itself were required to stand against a Baron. Barony, as his brother had once called it, was the realm of gods.
Seth took off trouser and underwear with one struggling arm, thoughts of power and magic running through his aching head, and turned on the shower. The water was warm and he was glad his parents had money. He'd heard of people who couldn't afford the runes required to run a rune powered shower. Any hot water they had, they had to boil themselves.
He would have to go down to greet his father's guests soon, but first he needed to wash off the stench of piss before it settled properly on him. He'd never thought the day would come when he'd piss himself in fear. Then again, he'd never thought the day would come when a snake would almost swallow him whole.
He let the warmth of the shower calm his muscles as he wondered how Jonathan had been able to stand next to him for so long without showing any sign of discomfort. With gold senses so strong he would've probably been able to taste the smell of piss in the air.
An hour later found Seth seated in the living room downstairs. When he'd walked in, conversations had ceased until he took his seat.
The place was filled and his father sat on a single chair situated in a way that made it seem like it was the head of the living room. The seat itself was a simple yellow. There was nothing grand about it, no embroidery to show some craftsman's inability to control his creative impulses. If anything, aside its color, it looked like something to be expected of a peasant's house and not a gold soul mage sworn in direct fealty to a Baron. By simple definition, it made them something of royalties in the Baron's massive territory. Their father, though, didn't allow them enjoy perks of their station.
His mother sat beside his father; a queen beside her king, the arrangement seemed to say. Where his father wore a blue cotton shirt and brown combat shorts, she wore a long flowing gown with a smattering of glitters that made the blue dress sparkle even in the absence of light, her pale skin and black hair somehow complimenting her husband's blonde hair and bronze skin. Seth often believed if she hadn't married their father even the mansion they lived in would've been a mere hut.
His mother, bless her, was the perfect opposite of their father. Where Lord Christian Darnesh was simple, she was sophisticated. Where he was calm, she was a cauldron of necessary chaos. Jonathan had once said while their father wielded the power, their mother executed it.
Beside Seth, Derek sat. Older by four years, they'd fought a lot as kids before Derek had gained his first fragment. When that happened, their fighting had seized. This was neither due to maturity nor a fear of killing Seth on Derek's part, it was because he was punished every time, bearing the brunt of it all where it had once been split between the both of them.
Even after two years of not fighting, managing a level of civility between each other, Seth couldn't bring himself to like his brother. There were varying reasons for this but the real reason was petty, selfish, and insignificant. Seth knew this but couldn't change it.
It was not that he hated his brother, he merely didn't like him. He would take Derek's side in the presence of outsiders at any time without hesitation, but not in private.
Derek sat beside him, ignoring him as well as he did. His attire was a calm blend between his mother and his father's sense of fashion. He always kept it simple, yet made everything he wore look like something from one of the old fashion magazines in his mother's shelf tucked away in her study.
Today he wore a simple shirt of expensive cotton. It was gray in color with long sleeves that stretched down to halt at his wrist, but he pulled it up high enough to expose a half of his forearm. At the neck, the shirt was without collar and bore a slit down the middle nor more a finger's length that was held together loosely by a latticework of woven threads. The black jeans he wore fit him snug and he kept his face in a quiet smile.
When puberty had hit him, the girls had come running, stunned by his blue eyes and blonde hair peppered with strands of black. They had loved him and he'd loved them just as much. Now that he was souled, his eyes were a deeper blue that seemed to glow, and the ladies loved him even more.
Jonathan wore the same thing he'd worn when he'd saved Seth, his clothes bearing no sign that he'd clashed with a soul beast within the last two hours. He was, in a simple word, pristine.
Beside him was Jeremy, the baby of the house. At ten years he was the youngest of them. His clothes were clean and superior. His blue shirt was made from some exquisite material Seth was certain he didn't know and wouldn't be able to pronounce, most likely picked by their mother. His shorts were equally blue and the attire made him look like a school student. All he needed to complete the look was the knee length white socks and a pair of sandals.
How their mother babied and controlled everything the boy did often annoyed Seth. She raised him gently, never really punishing him for his misbehaviors. Even at this age the effects were showing. Jeremy was disrespectful, pompous, and believed the world revolved around him. Oddly enough, he kept his manners around Seth. After all, with him, Seth was the only one unrestrained in calling forth violence upon him whenever he misbehaved. This was easy, considering he was the only one in the house incapable of killing the boy in a single strike.
As for their visitors, much could be said.
To call their visitors guests was understating their position. The house of Darnesh had known the house of Landlefern for over eight years. The head of the house, Lord Noel, was a beautiful mirror of Seth's mother. Today he wore a red robe, with the family crest of a broken sword emblazoned on its left breast. The robe screamed quality from a mile away with a material that looked like wool but was glossy at the same time, and each time he moved, the robe streaked with cascades of silver. His wife wore the same thing and did so in a more effeminate manner.
Their only daughter, Natalie, sat beside her mother on the three sitter they shared. She, too, wore the same thing. There was a downturn to her pink lips and her face was slightly reddened in displeasure. Her brown hair, braided down the back loosely earlier in the day was tight now and it pulled on her scalp. Seth knew it was too tight. He also knew she hated the robe and couldn't wait to get home and take it off.
As her parents exchanged words with his, words he wasn't paying attention to, she glared at him, her frown becoming more of a scowl. She could see his amusement and it angered her. It was all he could do not to laugh. Still, he saw her relief to find him still alive. He only hoped his expression mirrored it adequately.
Being of the same age was part of the reason the got along, at least according to their parents. Natalie had been born towards the heart of winter where he was born at its genesis, if the story their parents told was to be believed.
When he'd met her when they were younger, she had been lovely, innocent, kind. Sadly, she was growing to accept her place as the daughter of a lord, which meant accepting she was better than others; that there existed people who were meant to kneel beneath her feet.
Seth didn't hold it against her. She was, after all, the daughter of a lord. His only displeasure was that she was beginning to display the good and the bad. The arrogance, he'd begun to see not too long ago.
They'd met as kids when he was six and had been steady friends ever since. Their parents often joked that their friendship was the only reason both houses ever spent time together. And while Seth suspected it was true, he had an aching suspicion that her father and his had some conspiratorial situation they often interacted upon.
Perhaps their friendship was the reason the families spent so much time together, but he didn't believe for a moment that without it their fathers would not have grown close. By the Christian God, he suspected they'd been good acquaintances even before he'd head-butted young Natalie on the field all those years ago when she'd called him stupid.
Seth watched Natalie glare at him, holding back his smile. Difficult as it was, he found strength in the mix of emotions she always evoked in him with her mere presence.
Growing up, she'd always taken his side each time Derek had caused a fight and was always spending time with him. She was his best friend, his oldest friend, and two years ago, he'd developed a crush on her. It changed nothing. In any place, at any time, he thought of her as his family.
But she often evoked—amongst the many emotions—betrayal in him. As cliché as it was, and Seth hated how much so it was, she was the reason he couldn't bring himself to like his brother. After all, he knew the things she'd done with Derek.
He was the third son to the Lord of West Blue, one of nine territories owned by the Baron of the Deep, holding a grudge against his brother because another lord's daughter fancied him in a way she did not fancy him.
It was pathetic even to him. But emotions weren't such easy things to rein in. A few hours ago he'd almost gotten himself killed because of them.