Golron's light brought a shudder to Mona. He found his body aching, sore. He had been training his Aura throughout the night, and must have fell asleep midway. He could feel the crust in his eyes, shielding them from the strong sunlight that stung his pupils. After a short moment of collecting himself, he got up and faced away from the gated hole he had for a window, and looked around.

  The room was as he had left it. The soap brick was still on the floor, heavy as ever. To the side was his flimsy prison uniform, sitting on the edge of his bed adjoined to the wall. In the corner, he could see two buckets and a pail. One was empty, the other was filled with water, but not much. A drainage hole in the floor was in between them. The Faulkners really outdid themselves.

  This entire prison structure, or rather slave holding cell, was made of heavy dark stone. The walls were bare, except for the occasional pockmark from the engineers who set up these rooms. If there were engineers involved. Mona made his way to the water. It was dark, and didn't reflect his face. Was this all the water he would get? Did he have to ration it?

  He didn't think the eagle heads would be that generous. But then again, he was "pre-selected." He scooped up a bit of the water, feeling the cold liquid sitting in his palms. With it he washed his face, as best a young noble's son could in a holding cell. Good that they thought he was a merchant. If they knew he was from Aurum he'd likely be killed.

  Mona looked at the other bucket, sitting empty.

  "Don't tell me..."

  He went back to his makeshift bed, trying to hold back his disgust. He didn't have to go yet, but when he did... The thought made him shudder.

  After taking a long stretch, Mona Aurum sat on his bedside and sighed. He still hurt from the ropes, and the bad sleep. But luckily, nothing happened to his mind.

  He sensed out his Aura in the way Helena told him merely days ago. He could feel his Aura heart, and the numerous wisps of Aura dancing within. The color was vague, so Mona couldn't tell what his element was. He never got the chance to ask anyone either, yet he didn't trust the Faulkners enough to hazard asking them later. Who knew what they would try?

  "The core is about quarter full. I guess that puts me in early stage?"

  Mona took a guess of where he was at in his training. He could feel the wisps humming with his body, but never taking the time to leave his Aura Heart. Hopefully he could figure out something soon.

  A bang came to his door, jolting Mona awake.

  "Get out!"

  A guard shouted, opening the door. He looked at Mona, still in his old clothes.

  "Put on those clothes you lazy bastard!"

  The guard then pinched his nose in disgust.

  "What kind of merchant were you, purple eyes? Have you never heard of showering? Get to it, you smell like night soil."

  The guard walked away, sputtering expletives.

  Mona looked at the soap brick on the floor, and was just about to take a sniff himself before he stopped. The guard could smell him from a few feet away. He was still unaware of how bad he reeked, and he didn't want to become familiar with his body right now.

  He picked up the brick, feeling the heft of it, and broke off a piece. It didn't break at first, making him confused. He had to use Aura to snap off a portion. Was it that hard, or his natural body that weak?

  He didn't fixate long. He used the small pail, and the piece of soap, to give himself a makeshift shower. Mona tried to use as little water as possible; he didn't know yet if he could get more.

  After a rinse, he used his Aura to gather the water on his skin to one hand, before dropping the waste water into his... toilet for his stay. The idea for using Aura came to him, and sure enough, he could use a wisp to strengthen his skin how he liked, and move the beads of water where he wished. It was wasteful of the time it took getting one wisp, but it was better than freezing under wet clothes.

  Mona walked out, wearing one pair of his prison scraps, the bandit clothing left sitting on the floor. The guard was standing there, glaring at him. He was displeased that Mona took so long. He gestured for the young man to follow him, leading him down the corridors of this prison. Gates opened and closed as he arrived, likely magic of some sort.

  The guard cursed under his breath.

  "Why'd I have to get stuck babysitting the play toy..."

  He shook his head, waiting for another gate to open, before taking Mona towards a main hall of sorts. It looked like it, based on the vast size, and the large windows peering over the mountainside. Mona didn't see any recognizable landmarks; he rarely left the Aurum estate. But he guessed he was somewhere in the mountain range of the Steel Kingdom. Oh wait, that's right. The Steel Kingdom is finished, isn't it?

  Taking a more careful look, Mona realized he was in a multipurpose large room. Sure, it could be a main hall, but right now, it was closer to an arena. High up, another old man stood in a wooden seat, rather elaborate in its carving. He looked down towards the prisoners, his face plain and simple with a bit of scruff on his upper lip. The guards moved the groggy prisoners to sit down right below the old man in a semicircle formation. Mona was shown his seat, and his personal guard left to go get others to sit down.

  After a short while, a chime could be heard. The old man on the seat woke up, staring down at the audience of inmates. He didn't introduce himself. Nor did he bother looking at the prisoners with much respect either.

  "I will only say this once."

  He spoke with a gravelly voice, before his "lecture" began. It was carried further with his Aura, a steely timbre to it. He spoke on the history of the Faulkners, and without restraint spoke grandly of its accomplishments and triumphs. The old man didn't care about the hardness appearing on the faces below; he long considered them all ants, and his time here barely worthwhile. But a request of the emperor was not something he could get out of.

  "...the crest of the eagle is a proud one. A great one. One that flies free, and soars in the sky undeterred. It has many wings, and each wing has many feathers. Each feather, many threads. You are a thread in that feather, that feather in that wing, the wing of that bird. Yes, I am a thread in that feather, a feather of that wing, a wing of the Faulkner empire..."

  The words were filled with the man's tone, carrying a certain rhythm to it. The audience below were captivated, their eyes sparkling. Sparkling... strangely?

  Mona could feel something creeping into his ears, and climbing into his mind. He was going to cover his ears, but the stares of the guards on the perimeter of this room gave him a bad premonition. Instead, he called on his armor, right before his eyes began to glaze over too.

  With a shudder, the armor sitting in his mind space glowed, and seemed to carefully thin and eradicate the incoming fog. Mona couldn't see what it was, but it left countless dark particles all over his mind space. The armor glowed again, reducing these particles to nothingness. The time it took was a few seconds, but for Mona, it felt much longer unconscious.

  He "woke" up from his condition relieved that his mind was alright. That speech, it was clearly some kind of auditory technique, and it had taken over the other inmates. Luckily, his brain was still safe.

  Suddenly, one of the guards looking at the audience noticed Mona was acting unlike the rest. He began taking steps towards him, heavy against the stone floor.

  Mona saw the man coming, panic setting in. He was standing out too much. Looking at the other prisoners nearby, seeing their eyes were still glazed over, he tried his best to mimic the man's posture and appearance. For added measure, he even let his jaw fall slack, a bit of spittle gathering below.

  Out of the corner of his eyes, he could see the guard halt his steps, and squint at Mona. The young man did his best to maintain his earlier expression, and it seemed to work. The guard returned to his post, standing next to another and spoke briefly about why he moved out of place. A few took notice of him again, noticed his appearance. Then let him be.

  After a while of looking like a puppet, Mona heard the old man in the seat clap his hands with a technique, and sure enough the audience stirred, waking from their reverie. The man next to Mona noticed his mouth ajar, closed it with a shut, and grimaced as he wiped away his saliva. Mona could see the concern on his fellow inmate's face, wondering what happened.

  "Congratulations, you are now part of Faulkner and have received the emperor's grace. I will now go over the Aura Foundational Technique, listen closely and follow along."

  The old man carried a wicked smile now. The crops have been conditioned, and now it was time to make them grow.

  Based on what Mona heard, it wasn't much different from what was written in the book. The Faulkner Aura Foundational Technique was a common technique in the Faulkner Empire, and every subject received it to train. Faulkner "graciously" hoped these former citizens of Steel would take up the technique, and prove valuable to their later conquests. Of course this part was left out, but given the best position Mona heard they could attain was that of a war slave, he could only expect they would be frontline pawns. No one believed the Faulkners would give away freedom to them no matter how long they served.

  The old man simply gave his own experiences with the technique, pointing out that the Aura should travel up this side of the body, the breaths should take this long, and other details like this. The people below, practicing the technique, watched their Aura gradually collect in their Aura Hearts. A few even had smiles on their faces.

  "Wow. It's faster than before."

  "This is something else."

  "Maybe this life isn't so bad... What?"

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  The people near these murmuring idiots gave them glares. The old man in his chair only smiled, enjoying the sight of these ants fighting each other.

  Based on what I experienced before, Mona thought, that speech before must affect the mind space. He felt grateful having the armor to protect him from whatever was happening before. But something gave him pause. Watching the other people practicing the technique, they didn't seem to daze out of place like he did last night. Instead, a flicker of light seemed to glow in their eyes when practicing the technique, and their speed of cultivation seemed to surpass his? What was this?

  Mona practiced the technique, using the parts the lecturer gave out, and dazed out for a moment. Coming back with the help of his armor, he noticed that while the Aura increased in his Heart, it didn't increase in volume by much. His speed, at least based on what he sensed earlier, was slower than the others around him.

  The lecture. The crawling sensation in his mind. The technique. The sense of daze. Whatever was hidden in these gifts was being blocked by his armor, and slowing down his cultivation. Compared to the others, he'd have to work twice as hard to gather Aura. Mona mulled on this, but ultimately sighed and accepted his fortunes. He didn't need to know what was going on exactly, and decided to stay cautious instead. If the armor was blocking out the additional progress, then it wasn't worth having, he thought.

  "What's wrong purple eyes? Can't cultivate?"

  "I guess he has shit talent. Well at least he doesn't need to worry."

  "I wonder which noble likes him. What a life is waiting for him!"

  A few nearby saw Mona trying to cultivate his Aura, and snickered not too quietly. He wasn't making much progress compared to them, and they felt good mocking him. They felt somewhat envious of the young man because at best, they would be fighting in wars, while he would be catering to the elite. A dismal end versus a palatial decline, they wish they too could evade the brutality of war or slave labor work.

  Mona paid them no mind. Focusing on charging his Aura instead, he followed the tiny wisp as it entered his lungs, circulated from his right arm, to his right leg, to his left leg, to his left arm, then returned to his heart from his back. This single loop took a long time, and the flimsy bit of Aura joined its friends, harmonizing with his circadian rhythm. Progress was slow, but it was progress.

  The intelligent in the crowd did the same, feeling out the Aura dashing within their bodies. The speed brought joy to their dull hearts. To some of them, it seemed like life wouldn't be so bad.

  "Ahem."

  The lecturer cleared his throat, the sound carried by his Metal Aura filling the room. It silenced the ants beneath him, returning their gaze back to the man.

  "After your meal, you will be taken, one by one, to select out a method in the common library. Take only one method. One. And do not, I repeat, DO NOT enter the military wing. That is off limits. There will be guards posted, but if any of you have any bright ideas..."

  The old man gave a smile.

  "You're welcome to meet the general once again."

  "Now, get out of my face."

  He shouted this last bit, annoyed this process took so long. He didn't feel any good about these new captives of war. These ants were worthless, just like all the others. He shook his head, turning around and leaving the main hall through a back door. After the door clacked shut, the guards about began moving towards the crowd, yelling at the onlookers to get up and start making their way to the mess hall. Mona's guard, who's name he didn't have but decided to call Cross in his head, came over. Like his nickname, he crossed his brows and said in a quick voice.

  "Get up Purple Eyes, to the mess hall. Hurry up."

  Mona thought about correcting the guard, and giving his name, but decided against it. His time in the prison was easier with his nickname, and he didn't have any good ideas on what fake name to take on to help hide his identity. Better to stay silent and go along with what was already in place.

  The guard ferried Mona past the crowds of people, getting a few glances here and there. Whispers about his special pre-selected status flew about, followed by a few knowing gazes.

  The guard took him straight to the mess hall, leaving him standing in line before going about his duties. The young man looked frail and barely fit his prison clothes; Cross didn't worry about Mona trying anything. No one would fight him, and he didn't seem like the type to try anything. Besides, his body and Aura were too weak to pull anything off anyway.

  Standing in line, Mona moved ahead one position at a time, waiting his turn to receive his gruel. Sure enough, there was a pot of gruel, a sickly green color with weird crumbs blanketing the surface of the pot. However, Casado was missing.

  Seeing his silence, the guard tending the pot spoke up.

  "The chef is busy carving bowls for the staff. He'll return tomorrow."

  He didn't say much else. The man picked up a bowl from the stack besides him, poured in an even spoonful and some into the bowl, and handed Mona the bowl of green slime. He signaled with his eyes to keep going.

  Mona held the bowl in his hands, feeling the heat warm his fingers. It was warm unlike yesterday, but the gruel clung to the sides of the bowl.

  He moved around, looking for a place to sit. The first space he saw away from the center, he walked over there and sat down. He didn't want to stand out like yesterday for taking too long. His table mates didn't say a word. The aged and tiredness was evident on their faces. Maybe they were thinking of their families, they didn't say. All these men did was take sips of the green gruel, frowned at the taste, clicked their tongues and looked in the distance like there was something there.

  Mona brushed his hair back. It was getting long and hiding his sight. He held the bowl in one hand, leaning it back and forth in the bowl. Today's special clung to the sides, refusing to budge. Tilting his head back, he waited for the food to fall in. And waited. It took its time before a bit fell into his mouth.

  Sour. And bitter. And gritty.

  He grit his teeth like the others, and swallowed it down. Just what was this stuff? It didn't look fit for anything to eat.

  He repeated this a few times, until the bowl was largely empty. A bit clung to the bowl, but he didn't bother to use his hands to scoop it out. His mouth was tired of the attack, and his stomach felt numb digesting it all. He felt waves of nausea, and didn't want to tempt his gut.

  No one fought today, so once sufficient time had passed, the guards all came over and began moving people away. A few of the prisoners had bitter looks on their faces, looking back at their bowls. Mona was surprised. There were people who actually liked this stuff.

  Cross came over, shaking Mona. He had called out Purple Eyes a few times, but the guy ignored him and kept looking at the crowd.

  Mona turned around, internally bothered. He waited for Cross to speak.

  "Let's go. The library. Get up."

  Mona stood up, and followed along, leaving the bowl and his table guests. Another guard came to guide the other prisoners also, the bowls left for remaining staff to take care of, carefully making sure none fell on the floor.

  *****

  Mona occupied himself by thinking about Casado, and how he had to carve out all the bowls. He must have a low rank, he thought, if he had to carve wood himself to make the eating bowls. But that didn't match his Aura level and technique. Cross in front of him was just an Aura Fighter. Something must be going on behind the scenes then. Mona didn't care much. He wasn't interested in befriending the eagle heads.

  The two came upon a set of double doors, elaborately carved. Cross guided Mona in, letting the spectacle in. But Mona didn't react. It's size was alright.

  The room may have looked large, but Mona could see that many of the books were referential. The language of the continent was the same over, so he was already familiar with most of the books. He read a few growing up, and had some understanding of the others. Cross took Mona in front of reception, where an elderly lady sat on a stool, pulling at the ends of her hair with a bothered expression.

  "It's thinning even more... Oh hello. What do you need?"

  She tucked her hair back, looking to the guard and Mona.

  "He's here to select his Aura method. Third floor. Noble Herkruz is vouching for him."

  The elderly library aide blinked her eyes, then squinted at Mona with a look of disgust and sympathy.

  "I see."

  She pulled a few drawers, taking out a card, before using a Method with some writing instruments. Mona felt a bit of his Aura link with the card handed to him.

  "Since the noble is vouching for this one, he has two hours. No more."

  She pointed to the stairs leading up, a thin layer of dust on the stair railing. Mona followed his guard up the stair well, the soft sound of their steps against the wood tiling following their pace.

  After 30 or so steps, they found themselves on the first floor. Guards and prisoners were milling about. A few of his fellow inmates were concentrating on books in their hands, trying to choose. A few in the corner were fighting over a title, the guards stepping in with their hands and slowly breaking down the fighters to their knees. A few took a glance at Mona and Cross, who quietly made their way to the second stairwell.

  The sets of stairs were layered atop each other, so they had to walk a fair distance on the second floor to reach the flight going to the third. On their way there, Mona could see the various titles.

  "Grasping Claw."

  "Rising Eagle."

  "Beak Strike."

  The books had different colored covers, and a thin layer of metal finishing at their edges. The wood here was slightly better than the first floor. It seemed to be a Magic artifact of their own, holding the methods in a controlled environment, yet able to allow anyone to pull out and read. Interesting, Mona thought.

  Going up the second set of stairs, Mona felt the light of Maget bathe his skin. It was well into midday, and the third floor had a few windows letting in the sunlight, and the darker corners were lit with sigils.

  The floor here was carpeted in a tawny brown, and compared to the last floor there were shorter bookshelves and fewer at that. Some prisoners surprisingly was also here, mixed with guards looking at books. To the right, on the other side of the room, he could see a heavyset door, leading to the library's military wing. A set of guards stood in front, and occasionally some members of what seemed like higher ranked staff would enter and exit that sole door. When Mona looked too long, the guards focused on him, their gaze sharpening. Do not approach, that's what Mona felt they were conveying.

  "I'll be back in two hours. Find a method to take back to your cell."

  "Ok Cross."

  Mona let out by accident, the guard rotating immediately, staring at him.

  "...What did you say?"

  "Ok, boss. I said boss."

  Mona lied. Cross folded his brows in his namesake, glared at him for a moment.

  "Be down in 2 hours."

  He headed for the stairs, making his way back to the first floor. He had other assignments to take care of.

  Mona stood there for a moment, taking in the room, the carpet, the smell of books and wood. The quality here was a level higher, and he almost felt at home. Besides the guards watching him throughout the room, of course. He wondered what could be in the books of the Military wing, but didn't look back in hopes of avoiding their attention. He began to walk through the bookshelves, back and forth, trying to find a method that fit him.

  "Hidden Claw Strike."

  "Screech of the Eagle."

  "History of the Faulkners, Volume III."

  Wait a second, that last one was a history book? Wasn't there supposed to be only methods here? Mona thought that maybe the floors weren't strictly for methods, but simply a storage library for all the books this company had. That made sense. He kept his search up.

  "A Guide To Cooking Eagles, From Beak to Claw."

  "Wings of Abandon."

  That last one sounded promising, but Mona sighed. It was a romance title. Okay, this library floor was a mess. The books were all over, and he couldn't seem to find a method to use with his Aura. He thought about asking the other guards, or prisoners, but being alone and knowing no one he didn't go up to them. He decided to just keep looking, even if it meant he would lose some time. He was somewhat of a loner though, and used to doing things on his own.

  After passing shelf after shelf, and finding nothing that called out to him, Mona perused a few of the history books. He skimmed a few lines, and put the books away once he felt the information was going into hyperbole. Soon enough, he found himself in one of the darker corners of the floor, standing before a shelf.

  Down there, just three shelves from the floor, was a book. It wasn't tattered, or old, by the looks of it. From the outside it seemed better off being on the first floor. He brushed the title, hoping to clear away some dust, but no the title really was written in such thin lettering. It was small, palm sized, but the writing inside was incredibly well spaced.

  It read: "Onas Rise and Fall: A Summary." The author's name was scratched out by someone, long ago.

  Mona's interest was peaked. Something about this book just felt right. He began to read.

  "...And there was Onas, proud was he. For he made all, all there was to be..."