His name was Brian. Just Brian. No fancy surname for little old him. Those were for the nobles. The nobles who had just told him: “This competition is just a formality.”

The second brat of Baron Pavone had just reached an age appropriate for his arcane Enlightenment, so they were commandeering the yearly Knight Tourney as a setoff for his brilliance. Brian, who had been preparing for this ever since his awakening two years ago, was understandably pissed when a courier had come prancing up to him and informed him in no uncertain terms that if he were the one to face the brat in the finals, he was to put up a good show and then lose.

Why couldn’t the brat accept the title of a Baronet like his brother before him? Oh, yes, he had Awakened as a martial warrior all on his lonesome and hence was bound by tradition to become a Knight. With his fists clenched in unwillingness, he watched the pompous courier swagger away. Imagining that the stone by the roadside was the brat’s face, he spat. Bullseye.

Cultivation was like swimming against the current. Everyone started at the same line when they condensed their Theca, locking in and thus accumulating their Aura. Those with talents like eidetic memory or extreme physical coordination had some of their Aspects at a high stage of development. As Aura was an amalgam of the energies of the five Aspects, these talents produced it several times faster than the ordinary man. The addition of Fame or Destiny not only activated the Aura, making one capable of magic, it was like having thousands of people at your back, helping you cultivate.

Daily practice required Aura, improving ones Aspects required a lot of it and every battle with another practitioner drained massive amounts of one’s reserves. Thus, it was all a game of resource management where time, Fame and social dealings had to be balanced in order to get the most Aura for your investment.

The Pavones had three quotas for Iron Knights. Two of them were held by the Captains of the City Watch while the third was used by them as a political tool to attract talents. They allowed anyone who served in their ‘training camp’ for two years a chance to participate in the Knight Tourney. The winner would get to hold the title of an iron Knight for the tenure of one year. Several youths had used this Tourney as a springboard to greatness, thereby spreading its name, making the title of Tourney Champion even more lucrative as there was now a decent amount of Fame involved.

Just an hour ago, Brian was dreaming of the day when the baker’s daughter, who always had her nose in the clouds, begged for his babies as the Bards sang praises of his name and the newspapers wrote of his astonishing victories over his mediocre opponents. Now, he could only bottle up his impotent rage as he imagined the brat substituting him in those dreams.

He was angry, he was unwilling, he hadn’t served the Pavones like a dog for two years only for the measly amount of transient Fame he would get for a second position in the Tourney. As the brat was going to take away the title permanently, there would be no more Tourneys held. Thus, he would have to find some other noble willing to sign him on as a Knight. Only God knew how many years of servitude that would take. Just as he was about to accept his fate, a dark silhouette detached itself from the shadows of a tree near him.

Brian, startled by the sudden appearance of a stranger leapt back, his Aura flaring threateningly. The shadow resolved itself into a man in the garb of a butler, a crest depicting a crow in black thread merging inconspicuously into the dark fabric of his coat.

“Hello, young Brian, tales of your prowess have reached Baron Corvus’ ears. He wishes you the best of luck for the Tourney tomorrow. Know that he has a need for young, talented Iron Knights just like you. Do not disappoint him.” Then he was gone, before Brian could even open his mouth.

For a moment, Brian ruminated over the underlying meaning of the butler’s words, the setting sun behind him elongated his shadow and shaded his glittering eyes. As dusk covered the land, he reached his decision. His footsteps were resolute as he went back to his apartment to rest.

…

The next morning, the sun rose to find Cyn feeding his pet peacock in the expansive backyard of the keep. Pavo had thrown a fit at the boy for neglecting it for two whole days and refused the grain in his hand. Helpless, Cyn had to reveal his trump card. The chilli pepper hadn’t even been taken out of its pouch fully before it had shamelessly sidled up to the boy and started nuzzling his hand affectionately, all the while eyeing the red fruit covetously. Amused by its antics, Cyn threw the pepper in a high arc and the gluttonous bird darted after it, flapping its wings to transition into a low glide to catch it mid-air.

Swallowing it in two gulps, the bird proudly spread its tail and strutted about the lawn, its blue and green plumage a sharp contrast to the reds, yellows and oranges of the autumnal trees.

The concept of a pet, a beast tamed not for meat but companionship, was extremely novel for the Chief who had learnt to treat all beasts as either predator or prey in the harsh environs of the Southern wilderness. Cyn had been brought along by his mother to watch Pavo hatching out of his shell. Filled with curiosity about how the ugly featherless chick would grow into the majestic birds that lent their name to the Pavone clan, the young boy of 10 had driven the poor bird to trauma, chasing after it with measuring tapes and callipers.

Somewhere between recording its growth in his journal and trying to test how ‘omnivorous’ the species actually was, the boy and the bird had become fast friends. The bird even allowing the boy to approach the nest containing its offspring despite the fiercely protective instincts of the species.

Cyn created a bulb of Aura around his fingertip and Pavo stiffened and focused on it. Amused, he watched its head bob as its gaze followed his finger. Even the rest of the peacocks in the lawn were paying attention to his finger due to their high sensitivity to Aura as beasts. Calling the bird to him with a clucking noise, he laid his finger on its head.

Meditating on his soul, he sent his soul sense into the peacock. Delving into its Aspects, he found that those of mind and memory were quite underdeveloped while the bodily Aspect along with the Aspect of emotion were predominant. Reaching deeper, he felt a strange state of detachment and suddenly, he found himself looking at himself through Pavo’s eyes. The world seemed to lose all colour other than the various shades of violet.

Due to his experience inhabiting his soul form, Cyn stabilized himself quickly and gained control of Pavo’s body. Before he could start panicking about being stuck as a bird, his vision snapped back into his body. Opening his eyes, he noticed an amethyst Aura forming around the peacock. Instinctually skilled in restraining Aura, the peacock formed its Theca. With a long, loud cry, Pavo flew to the rest of its brethren. Each of them then began rubbing their necks against Pavo and with his soul sense, he could feel their unbound Aura settling on and merging with Pavo’s. Soon, after rubbing necks with the last peahen a little longer than necessary, its Aura mutated into that of a Mage.

Cyn was dumbfounded by the fact that his pet had beaten him to the status of magehood. His eyes twitched as he desperately sought for ways to explain how he had somehow managed to Enlighten a beast. It probably had something to do with his soul but he couldn’t say that now, could he? As if dodging the probing of the clan Healer and concealing his body’s specialty wasn’t hard enough.

He had somehow managed to fool the old lady with his Aspects of mind and memory modifying what her Aura probes told her. It had only worked because despite her age, she was only an A level mercenary and over the years her cultivation had suffered from her repeated use of her powers.

A pair of pale arms seemed to materialize out of nowhere on both sides of his head and wrapped themselves around his neck. The back of his head came into contact with something soft, alerting him to the identity of his assailant. Artemis had a lot more Aura than Cyn as a S ranker and thus, when she was using her concealment technique, it was impossible for him to discover her even with his soul sense. “You are a bag of surprises, Aren’t you, young master? Elder sister is getting more and more curious about you.”

With a hollow laugh, he unsuccessfully tried to disengage before giving up, depressed. They both watched Pavo strut about like a king among courtiers for some time before Artemis broke the silence. “We shall discuss this later. For now, we need to get you ready for your Tourney match and Knighting. Ready?”

A grin slowly started to spread on his face at the prospect of a fight, the Chief’s militant disposition shining through. He could finally run his new body through its paces.

Eagerly, he nodded his head. “Always.”