Chương 3: Chapter 2: The Three Rules

Torin reached the manse. Unlike the rest of the Residential District, the homes here were larger and far better maintained, intended for trainers at the nearby Roost of Falcons. Grass even grew in a few lawns, their tufts stubbornly clinging to whatever moisture could be gained from the falling ash. This block sat closest to the War District, only partially shielded by the terrain where a ridge rolled through. Cornelius's home sat at the edge, noticeable only by the lack of wear.

The shape, grey color, and size remained uniform. The State did not like divergence amongst its military officers. Despite his best efforts, dust swirled through the door the moment Torin stepped inside. With a sigh, he wiped up the dust into a nearby bin. It would have to be empty again soon. Treat your home as you would treat your body, for each protects the other, Cornelius often said.

Though this "manse" stood barely larger than his family's home in Bairoy's Bog, Torin still took pride in knowing that he had kept it in better condition than everyone else nearby, despite them all having more servants. That the floor remained spotless showed how much he could accomplish if he put his mind to it. He dusted himself off further, lest he track in more grime.

"How was your shift?" Cornelius called from the living room with his deep, gravelly voice. Torin smirked.

"Other than being killed? A normal day. I don't know how they expect the scaffolding to survive."

"You know how it is with the Herons. Each wants to prove they can do the best job at the lowest cost. They'd rather see the statue fall than accept assistance."

"They are happy to see anything fall so long as they're not on top." Cornelius let out a noise that sat somewhere between a chuckle and a grumble.

"Be careful with talk like that. You know the risks." He did. Torin had spent plenty of nights locked in a cell over an ill-advised joke. The scars around his torso stood as a reminder of how quickly the wrong State official could jump to punishment. But his wounds had healed and formed stronger flesh, and Torin had learned where the line sat a long time ago. He had little to fear inside these walls. The fire burned brightly in the living room, and Cornelius looked so much older under its shifting light.

His dark cotton tunic might have appeared like every other high-rank State official, but the creases in his face etched deeper than before, and he wore a pair of spectacles to help with reading now, casting thick shadows across his brow.

"A friend sent me a pheasant today," Cornelius said, still focused on reading.

"Do me a favor and make something useful out of it." Torin bowed.

"Of course." Cooking was one of many skills Torin developed here. With food being so scarce, he learned to extract the most value from every morsel. In this case, Torin first plucked and skinned the bird before removing its organs. Only the feathers got set aside for other purposes. The rest would be consumed in one way or another.

Baking the meat was tonight's goal, but the bone marrow would eventually work its way into a stew once they got more vegetables, and the lard would find a home in whatever needed frying next. Even the internal organs, from the stomach to the brain, were ground into a pâté for later use. Of course, Torin set aside the bulk of tonight's dish for Cornelius, served with the last of their potatoes, keeping only a minimal amount for himself. Torin did not gorge on everything he received like a pig.

Whatever he didn't eat today, he could save for an uncertain tomorrow. Pilas's soup already provided enough extra nourishment for now. Torin set the dining table as Cornelius waddled over. An envelope still sat at the edge, where he left it, official State seal and all.

"I see you still haven't read that letter," Torin said. Cornelius sat back down with a groan.

"I know what the letter says. It is a summons to the Capital for a training exercise."

"Oh? The State doesn't deem you valuable enough for your trainees to come here?"

"This is a very particular session at the Central Academy. It happens only once in a lifetime."

"You should at least look at the date."

"There is no need. The timing is always the same on the summon's request. I have another month to prepare." He cut into his pheasant without another word. Torin chewed his lip. There would be no better time than now.

"Speaking of the Academy," he began, "I am going to apply next semester."

"Will you now?" Cornelius asked, his tone amused.

"And who will be your sponsor since your Trait is still hidden?"

"Ideally, you."

"Which Roost do you wish to train under?"

"Falconry." It was a lie, albeit a small one. He would not reach his true goal without first starting there.

"You will be putting Fringelings to the sword once the next Crusade comes." He sliced through the pheasant meat as if to demonstrate this point.

"And make no mistake, Torin, there will be another Crusade. There always is."

"I am aware. Fully aware."

"Let's see if that's true." Cornelius paused to collect his thoughts. Time had not looked kindly on him these past few years. His movements grew slower and responses less prompt by the day. In these rare moments, he really did appear as no more than a feeble old man, his skin pale and sickly where it hadn't wrinkled over. But then he would always meet Torin back in the eyes, and the difference between their capabilities became inarguable.

Cornelius Maximus was a Platinum-Ranked Falcon General who commanded tens of thousands over decades of military service. Though Torin now stood taller by half a head, even a fraction of Cornelius's aura could send him to his knees. Despite pushing one hundred and twenty years old, he still had enough strength to level this entire city block with a single swing. Love this novel? Read it on Royal Road to ensure the author gets credit. That man stared into Torin now.

"Tell me about the three rules and what you think of them." The Avinum State had many rules, but three stood above everything else. They were foundational to this society and memorized by all. Torin held up a finger.

"One: The State is never wrong.

"We know this rule is true because if the State made wrong decisions, then another nation would destroy it. Advanced civilizations always surpass lesser ones, regardless of size and strength. Markus Augorus Septyn proved this when he liberated Yertha during the First Crusade. The original Avinum State held only a small fiefdom compared to their enemies, but where are those enemies now? Nowhere. The State banished them from history." He raised a second finger.

"Two: Nothing is more powerful than the State.

"This rule must be true because no one has ever defeated the State. Barbarians sometimes gain temporary control along the Fringe, but this is because of the scope under which our country operates. Liberating these territories again has never lessened the State's military to any appreciable degree." A third finger.

"Three: No authority is higher than the State.

"The Swan embodies the State and the State embodies the Swan. No other god has ever existed, for She is the most supreme being of all. Even the Regent-Eagle sits below Her. If that were not true, then where is the evidence that says otherwise? Why do the barbarians' prayers go unanswered? We know the answer. The Great Swan protects. No one else can." Cornelius bowed.

"Good. All very good. The examiners would be most impressed with those answers." His eyes tore deep.

"But you are still not ready. You will not get my sponsorship." Like a knife to his heart. Torin met his gaze and did not back down.

"Why, Cornelius? What did I say wrong?"

"Nothing. Everything was perfect… If only you believed a single word of it." Torin had no more words of his own. Could this old man really be so stubborn? Cornelius sighed.

"To join State service is no idle matter. If you aren't willing to surrender your body and soul, then they will destroy you."

"But I am," Torin said.

"Have I ever lied to you, Torin?"

"No." Cornelius was many things, but not dishonest.

"Have I not shown you discipline and hard work? Did I not teach you mathematics and scientific understanding so that you can better navigate this world? Did you not learn how to fight and defend yourself through me?"

"You have," Torin admitted.

"Then don't treat me like some doddering old fool," he snapped.

"You are still clinging to the delusional belief that you can escape your circumstances. One empty speech changes nothing." Torin's cheeks reddened. He should not have been surprised. Cornelius taught him everything he knew. Though he wielded a firm hand, he did not do so without care or cause. His position came from a position of sincerity, not malice. In many ways, he had been more of a father than his father. But Cornelius was also a man of the State, and would always put its interests above anything else.

"Will you deny my citizenship too?" Torin wondered.

"Even after everything I've done?" Cornelius softened.

"No, of course not. I have already taken the appropriate steps. In one year's time, you will be free from my servitude to make your own choices, regardless of how foolish they are. It will even happen sooner should I perish. But for all that you've learned, you have apparently missed the most valuable lesson of all.

"There are only two choices in this world. You can either serve as part of the State or you can serve under it. There is no third choice to explore, no hope for revolutionary ambitions. If you think you can exploit the State for System access, then you will fail like everyone else who tried. No one has ever accomplished what you truly seek." Just because it hasn't happened doesn't mean it can't, Torin almost said, but held his tongue.

"What would you have me do then?" Torin asked instead. Cornelius grimaced.

"If you do not wish to serve as a member of the State, then you should pursue the alternative. There is absolutely nothing wrong with that choice. Especially with so much masonry experience working State projects, it would be easy to get an apprenticeship in the Artisan District. You could get paid a respectable wage, find a woman of your own, and enjoy a comfortable life, more so than what you have gained here. It would only take accepting your fate as immutable."

Or, if you persist in this nonsense, then you can wait another year to consider military service more seriously. I can't guarantee I'll still be here to protect you from your stupidity, but we can have the conversation again then, when you're more mature." Another year, Torin considered, his stomach in knots. It was about then that he realized he had not touched his dish. He buried his thoughts under the pheasant meat, not interested in pursuing this conversation further. Cornelius spoke honestly, of course.

Torin had a roof over his head and a full belly. He could find work easily to ensure he lost neither. For many, this would be paradise. Why press his luck by pushing for grander heights? He returned to his bedroom after dinner. His eyes fell on the map of Yertha, studying the world he had only ever seen on paper. Vrisgard sat at the southern end of the Northern Reach.

Its influence spread thousands of kilometers, from the mountains in the northeast to the swamps southwest, with plenty of towns between before eventually disappearing into the Mire Seas along the Eastern Fringe. Reality lost cohesion within that thick fog, and the map reflected it with white gashes wherever the Mire spread. Where would Bairoy's Bog be out there? Torin spent many hours watching this map in the hope of answering that riddle. But it was to no avail.

Without exploring for himself, he had no frame of reference. Vrisgard's walls blocked out everything, the Great Swan mocking those who tried to pierce beyond Her veil. He let out a deep breath. Somewhere in this vast world, his brother remained alive. Pollo waited for him still, if only Torin could find a way out. Could he truly put their reunion off by an extra year? No, it was more than that. Torin closed his eyes and examined his status again.

Trait: Hidden The soldiers in that first State camp had only been half-right. His Trait remained hidden over the years, and no one had a good explanation why. But this circumstance was more frequent than they assumed. For every one hundred thousand people, the System would keep a Trait "Hidden" for one. It could manifest itself randomly over the years, or it could perhaps be forced.

Many suggested that he might trigger this recovery by initiating mana cultivation, as his soul became attuned to his body during that first level up. This, more than anything else, motivated Torin to continue without delay. Just passing Academy exams with top scores would be enough to elevate him into Early Bronze. If his Trait revealed itself, it would be then. But this required getting a sponsor to bear the burden of his entry.

Hidden Traits incurred a risk of revealing a poor Trait, so the State did not spend mana crystals without first being sponsored by a Gold-Ranked official or higher. You're a special boy, his uncle had said. More special than you can know. Torin desperately wanted to believe that was still true, and he would only know by uncovering his Trait. Stats and Skills were the bread and butter of this world, but nothing could affect his life more than uncovering his Trait.

It was the source of power that affected everything beyond, from their inherited Immunities and Resistances to corresponding Affinities for elements or magic. Without knowing his inheritance, he would forever be trapped at level 1. Cornelius could not understand this loss. He possessed one of the rarest and most powerful Traits of all.

Being "[Battle-Sighted]" meant he could foresee attacks coming a week before they happened, and could therefore manipulate the wheels of fate to ensure victory for the army he commanded. The State had recognized this strength and raised him to the highest echelon of their society, with his Platinum Rank only beaten out by Diamond. And Torin needed that kind of power for himself. He had to grow. He had to fight. He had to tip the scales of justice back to him.

After losing everything to the State, he could never be content living under it. He would either carve out his own path or die trying. Fortunately, Torin had anticipated this obstacle. If Cornelius would not sponsor him on this journey, then he would just go through less scrupulous means.