The door cnged open.

  Volithur reached his feet approximately half a second ter. He walked straight past Master Liam as the man bent to lift the ewer of water. “You must return to the cell, Ward… ah, never mind. I see you are due to be released.”

  Standing in the cramped hall of the basement level, Volithur felt his heart flutter with excitement. The aesthetics may not be appreciably different where he was, but being on the other side of the door represented everything he wanted.

  “Congratutions, Ward Harridan. Thirteen days must be a record.”

  “Has dinner been served yet, Master Liam?”

  “It’s an hour before lunch currently. You should clean up before you attend a public meal, Ward Harridan.”

  The reflex to thank Master Liam for providing basic information almost got the better of him, but Volithur smashed it with an effort of will. He stalked through the tight basement corridors, leaving Liam to carry the bread and water and chamber pot himself. Volithur briefly became turned around before finding his way up stairs and into a public portion of the pace.

  He reached his bedroom without being noticed and gave himself a thorough washing using the bowl of water and a cloth kept there for the purpose. When he felt reasonably refreshed, he put on a fresh tunic and trousers. Volithur then went to stand at the window and look out upon the grounds. Blue sky, green grass, and gray walls greeted his hungry eyes.

  An urge to run away from everything hit him hard. Would anyone put serious effort into finding him? He could take Khana and just disappear. In two years he could make it to level eight. Well, not really. He wanted to keep his body enhancement closer to his soul level. Call it five years, then. In five years he could be significantly stronger than everyone at the Fifth Household. In a century he could be a lord.

  “Volithur!”

  He spun just in time to catch his wife as she flung herself at him. They embraced with giddy ughter. When he tried to pull back to feast his eyes on her, Khana burrowed stubbornly deeper. For a long while they whispered tender professions to one another. Then their close proximity led to other things and Volithur missed his first chance at a real meal in almost two weeks.

  They didn’t emerge from their room until dinner arrived. By that point, news of his advancement had obviously spread. He received as much attention as he had the day of his wedding. Everyone went out of their way to congratute him. Meanwhile, Volithur desperately wanted to eat the crab-stuffed peppers, curried duck dumplings, vegetable soup, and berry sad.

  He bore the attention with outward good cheer, motivated in equal parts by fear of being locked away again for boorish behavior and awareness that Khana was basking in the reflected glory. Though his hate for the nobles might be immense, it could not compare to the adoration he felt for his wife. Eventually, the well-wishers tired of their small talk and he could dig into his meal.

  That sted only a few minutes before the Marshal appeared. Volithur almost screamed in frustration, but managed to politely greet his boss. “It’s good to see you, Master Marshal.”

  The Marshal frowned. “Yes, yes, Ward Harridan. Enjoy your freedom for the next three days. I will grant you that reprieve in consideration of the ordeal forced upon you. Then we resume your training. I have taken measures to ensure the family will not interfere again.”

  He only had one day of freedom before he was summoned by the family council.

  “You achieved level five in under two weeks, Ward Harridan. This is truly impressive,” Master Evan said. Then Master Sharon took over. “We think you could reach level six in less than three months of closed door cultivation.”

  As Volithur began to hyperventite, plotting his escape to the countryside, Master Rowan cleared his throat. “I don’t think that is the best use of his time. Ward Harridan needs to have combat training, surely. And he is newly married.”

  “Your niece can survive a few months of celibacy,” Master Sharon snorted.

  Master Aria scowled. “This is preposterous. Would you have the family deliver a hollow spear to the Lord General? Ward Harridan needs to focus on skill training and body enhancement. There’s no reason to push for level six. He’s already severely underdeveloped. Ward Harridan has a level five soul while his body his only enhanced to the peak of the third level. That’s only a quarter of his current physical potential realized.”

  “Forcing closed door cultivation again so soon would be needlessly cruel,” Master Liam added.

  The Casteln’s eyes darted around the room, sizing people up. They briefly took in Volithur before fixating on the Marshal. The Casteln’s brow drew down in intense worry. “Master Marshal, would you care to share your thoughts on the pns for the ward pced in your care?”

  The Marshal spoke slowly and casually, almost as if his input hardly mattered. “It would be inconvenient if Ward Harridan isn’t prepared for testing in the next few months.”

  “Testing? What are you talking about, Marshal?” Master Sharon scoffed. “You can dey your testing for a while.”

  “It’s not my testing,” the Marshal said. “I pced an extraordinary requisition request to the main household for special resources, the same as was done for Master Ulysses. The typical result of such a request is that a senior family member comes to conduct an evaluation of worthiness. It may reflect poorly on the Fifth Household if Ward Harridan is unprepared.”

  Volithur watched the Casteln’s reaction for a portent of the upcoming decision. The subtle nod of respect given to the Marshal said it all. The two professionals in the room knew the score. The Marshal had won the round already, whether or not the council was ready to admit it.

  “You should not have made such a request without consulting the council first,” Master Evan whined. “It is very improper, Marshal.”

  “My apologies, Master Evan. I did not have time to follow normal procedures.”

  “If he reached level six fast enough, that should impress the evaluator,” Master Sharon began.

  The Casteln interrupted then, talking over Master Sharon in a manner that screamed overstepping his authority to Volithur. “Before finalizing any positions on this matter, I would remind all members that votes are recorded. Should the evaluator from the Main Household be displeased by a decision, meeting minutes may be consulted.”

  Master Sharon folded her arms and gred down at the table, looking startlingly like a sulking toddler. As Volithur gnced around the room, he realized that he was equal to most of the people here in level. The Marshal and Master Aria were at level six, but everyone else was his match.

  “No elixirs,” Master Evan muttered. “Just the fat and yeast and salt.”

  The Casteln jumped on the apparent capitution. “Shall we vote, then?”

  They all voted in favor of the request the Marshal had initially made over two weeks prior, at which time the Marshal excused himself and pulled Volithur from the room. As they descended back to the first floor of the pace, the Marshal almost glowed with pleasure. “Now let’s get you those resources from the store room.”

  They approached a vault with an immense steel door in a corner of the pace, where a panel had been slide aside to reveal security bars. A clerk sat behind the makeshift window, watching their approach. “Greetings, Master Marshal. How can I serve you?”

  “A package of fat, two of yeast, and a standard salt ration.”

  The clerk hesitated, then made a show of looking through paper spreadsheets. “I don’t have any notices of this order being approved.”

  “You won’t have the record until ter today. The approval has just happened.”

  The clerk cleared his throat. “I’m not comfortable doing things out of order, Master Marshal.”

  “Memorandize my cims and I’ll sign the requisition slip.”

  “Very well, Master Marshal.” The metal window slid closed and they stood there for a time before the window reopened. The clerk passed through some paperwork that the Marshal signed. Then several items were passed through.

  The Marshal unwrapped the waxed butcher paper to reveal a strip of rubbery white streaked with bits of red. He pulled his side knife and began to slice the fat into small chunks. Volithur watched in horror. “Master Marshal… I’m supposed to eat that raw?”

  “I recommend you avoid chewing. That can be distinctly unpleasant.”

  Volithur stared at the Marshal, who stared back at him. With a dramatic sigh, Volithur picked up a piece of cold, solid fat the size of his knuckle and tossed it as far towards the back of his mouth as he could. With stoic resolve, he swallowed the fat. It went down his throat a painfully solid lump, leaving behind a slime trail. “That was unpleasant.”

  “Keep going, Ward Harridan.”

  He had to repeat his performance eighteen more times. Then the Marshal took him on a walk to the kitchen, where a gss of water with yeast and salt mixed into it was pced before him. Volithur drank it down, grimacing all the while. It was as briny as seawater and the yeast clumped up to add an unwelcome texture.

  “How does yeast help my body enhancement, Master Marshal?”

  “It has nutritional value and rapidly digests as a powder. Cosmic energy within resources is bound to a pattern more than the actual substance. That lets the energy migrate to simir body tissues within yourself. A human is made of fat and salt and whatever constitutes yeast as well. If the body aperture of your soul expends some effort, the cosmic energy you ingest will be incorporated directly into your constitution. Now, you still have two days of freedom before your training resumes.”

  Volithur turned to leave, then paused. “Thank you for coming to my aid, Master Marshal.”

  “I simply did my job, Ward Harridan.”