Chapter 4

Tyrian sat in his room, staring at the same ceiling he had woken up to for the past fifteen years, the same sight that twenty other kids had shared nearly all that time.

It was suffocating, the walls of the large room always seemed so close, like they were pressing in on him, crushing the air out of his lungs with every passing second. He wanted freedom, he wanted to sleep in a room alone, he didn't want to wake up with a foot in his face just once.

Only two more days if Sister Meredith was to be believed, and he would be free. New horizons would open up, new sights, new people, new challenges, he could taste them.

A wave of sound, like a titan striking the earth, violently thrust Tyrian out of his musings. The orphanage shook with violent force, dust and debris cascading down from the ceiling.

Panic shot through Tyrian as he raced to prepare in anyway he could, be it natural disaster or great monster, he would defy it with all his might. Words called with unrestrained power and authority halted him in his tracks.

"Meredith. You have called, and I have answered. Tell me, which of your fine coterie shall be initiated into my tutelage?" 

Hope and relief flooded through Tyrian like a great flood, his master was here.

...

Sister Meredith was relaxing in her study with a fresh cup of tea and a worn book, yes she had read the thing a hundred times, but a good book is always good. A contented sigh escaped her lips as she took a sip of tea, life was good.

An explosion from outside caused the rest of the steaming tea to splash into the old woman's face, a flurry of curses not fit for a woman of the cloth erupting from her. The words that boomed out across the country side didn't do much to dissuade her fury, the mace on her wall was looking rather tempting.

Pushing down her violent thoughts, Sister Meredith stormed down the stairs and out of the building, roaring as she flung the door open.

"QUITE YOU OLD COOT, DO YOU WANT HALF THE CONTINENT TO KNOW YOU'RE HERE?"

All she got in response was a laugh that shook the world and a cheery response of equal volume.

"Nary a profanity nor curse? Truly this life you have sought has dulled your venom, or mine presence is truly a boon and delight"

"NO ONE'S IMPRESSED THAT YOU TALK LIKE THE WORST WRITTEN LOVE POEM THIS SIDE OF THE HOLY EMPIRE. AND THE ONLY REASON YOU AREN'T HEARING ENOUGH CURSES TO RID YOUR CHAPELS OF THEIR HOLY LIGHT IS THAT KIDS ARE PRESENT. I SWEAR IF ANY OF THEM START USING NEW CURSES I WILL RAM A BAR OF SOAP DOWN YOUR THROAT"

A hearty laugh echoed throughout the hills as Helion marched up the dirt road of the orphanage, his golden armour almost as blinding as his smile.

"There be naught a fear of the young tykes straying from the path of pristine vocabulary" Helion declared as he reached the front gate, getting many stares of awe and wonder from the gathered children.

"Come in quick" Sister Meredith grumbled, "You're making me go blind"

With a chuckle, the armoured giant of a man strode into the cottage, giving a beaming smile to each of the children as he passed.

"With the formal veneer and social conformities done away with" Helion said offhandedly as he tailed Sister Meredith through the orphanage, looking around the quaint building with jubilation, "If mine recollections speak no falsehoods, you deigned to request mine presence over a lad. Well my fair Meredith, mine presence is gifted, and mine tutelage is forever at your disposal"

Sister Meredith scoffed at the flowery declaration, pushing open the doors of her study with a scowl.

"Just so you know, you were my third choice"

Helion stumbled, clutching his chest in mock distress.

"Him and his friends are in the dorms, third door on the right, now get out of earshot before I make good on some of my old promises"

After giving a courtly bow, practiced and perfected through year of constant use, Helion gave an ear to ear smile, and rushed down the hallway like a child on Winter's Joy, his footfalls crashing and echoing with such force Sister Meredith feared for the flooring.

She shook her head in disapproval, ever the child that one.

...

As Helion raced through the hallways, he began to tap into an ethereal web encircling the world. As the sheer breadth of the web confounded and stunned him, regardless of the myriad times he had beheld the sight.

Centring himself in the vast web with a ease honed through decades of commitment, he let the world dissipate into a suffocating silence. A continues buzz, like the droning hum of a thousand flies, rushed through Helion's mind like a raging maelstrom. Silencing such a torrent was of the simplest of tasks, the kink of this serpents tail lay in wading through the white noise to dredge the prize from the swamp of scattered thoughts.

But for Helion? A task completable even in his deepest slumber. Without a single stagger, Helion located the small buzz he sought, the hope of his soon to be protegees. A simple hope, an easy hope, yet still one that called for much while returning little. A hope that Helion was more than happy to fulfil.

Inhaling sharply, he became a conduit for their ideal, an avatar of what they hoped to see, and with a minor application of mystical skulduggery, he hoodwinked both himself and the world into becoming that ideal. Hope magic was a burdensome undertaking, but one that paid dividends.

With all his hands could control set in place, and gods willing aligned with that he could not, all that stood between him and his fresh charges was a feeble barrier of timber. Letting out a sharp breath, he pushed the door open.

"Well now" Helion chuckled at the four children that greeted him like startled cats, as though each one had been caught in the act of some shenaniganry they were forbade from, "Four of you eh? Seems mine work shall be long and glorious. Now, onward mine proteges, for we have much glory to earn!"

...

'The master holy knight Helion took young Tyrian and his closest companions under his wing, taking them to the heart of the holy order to train in their ways. With his guidance, he will learn the secrets of one of the many chapters of the holy order.

With young Tyrian's aptitude, he has many chapters he may enter. Which will he choose?'

A long list of increasingly convoluted names scrolled down the screen, each tinted in holy synonyms and phrases. After sorting through the options four stood out the most.

'Order of the Fate Weavers

While fate is seen to many as a domain exclusive to the gods, this is true only for most. Those of the fate weavers, with the blessing of the gods above, take the stars and their alignment into their own hands, shaping the future itself by using one of the most complex schools of magic. This order never moves alone, always seen in groups where their magic can truly thrive, twisting fate to let their allies land impossible strikes.

Core stats: Intellect, Charisma, Magic potential, Perception, Luck'

While it did look like an interesting pick, there was a small problem with it. For an effective support to work, you needed teammates, something the early game would lack slightly.

An interesting option if this was his second or third character, but not a fine pick for his first. With a sigh, he moved to the second that caught his eye.

'Witch Hunter Legion:

Despite their archaic name, witches are not the prime target of this order. First formed during a more zealous era of the churches, their witch hunting ways has shifted towards making them the most effective monster hunters on the entire planet. While this does drag them away from the frontlines, a witch hunter will never engage in direct combat, if any force tries to breach the churches back line, they will never be heard from again, the Witch Hunter Legion will guarantee it.

Core stats: Strength, dexterity, intellect, perception'

Another interesting choice, but a it seemed to share the same problem with the Fate Weavers, back line specialists that needed something between them and an enemy to be effective. Onto the next.

'The Oath Bound Order:

One of the many elite orders under the holy church, knights of renown and valour that strive into peril and strife to fulfil their binding oaths. While many orders are known for their combat prowess and devotion, the name of this order is synonymous with hope to many of, as their oath magic binds them tighter to their convictions than others. So while a usually unneeded incentive, they are mandated by their magic to defend the weak and innocent with sword and shield in hand.

Core stats: Strength, endurance, charisma, magic potential'

This class seemed to fit more into the knight archetype, and was just what Kody was looking for. The flavour text also fit the heroic image he had of Tyrian, so it was a win win overall. But there was still one class that had caught his eye.

'Knights Exalted:

The elite of the elite, the finest the holy orders have produced. To be counted among this hallowed order is the height of honour and status, and requires flawless devotion and ability. With a sword in one hand, and light magic in the other, they become spectres of dread to the enemies of the holy order, and lights of brilliance to those who the holy light has touched.

Core stats: Strength, endurance, dexterity, magic potential

Warning: High likelihood of developing the 'Zealot' and 'Blind faith' character trait'

The picture of a paladin, a holy crusader dishing out smites and healing at the same time, this was what Kody was looking for. Or it would be, if not for the last line. This was the correct choice from a pure stat and ability lens, the game practically screamed it was the best class by far, but it didn't fit the image Kody had of Tyrian. Holy warrior? One hundred percent. Obedient zealot? Definitely not.

Kody was at an impasse, story or stats. he mulled it over for a little while, staring at the ceiling of the apartment. Memories of his job flashed in his mind, the endless spread sheets, the meetings without end, and optimization. Optimization, always optimization, ruthlessly slashing anything deemed inneficent.

The desperate clawing fervor his superiors would have to that bastard of a word, their very being driven by that one single thought. Kody hated that word, and he did not come here to escape the world just to pursue that coveted ideal like a starving hound to a steak.

With little extra thought, Kody selected The Oath Bound Order.

...

"Your mind is to set young Tyrian, thou must break the mould set in thine mind" Helion paced back and forth as he spoke, gesticulating wildly, "We traffic in the magic of ideas, concepts, that which can't be truly defined. Mages of the elemental ilk leverage their understanding of the tangible, they fight through intellect, we have no such concretes through which to draw parallels"

Tyrian sat motionless in a bare room, the cold stone of the floor biting at his hands and feet, if the training did not call for him to be exposed to the cold, he would have swaddled himself in enough layers to make a wool merchant blush. But the discomfort was needed, it served as both motivation, mental whetstone and marker for success.

"An oath need not be a binding of the present, the reasoning holds more sway than the spoken words, was it forged from the past, present or future? For now, focus on what could be, promise not what you are but what you will be"

Tyrian breathed in deep, letting the icy cold air fill his lungs like a thousand frozen needles. Stilling his mind, he let the magic within him flow in controlled stream, weaving into esoteric patterns that he understood little yet came as natural as breath. With the preparations formed, the words of power leave Tyrian's lips.

"I swear to resist this cold"

The magic spilled forth in a torrent, wrapping Tyrian like a shroud, smothering the cold in a warm embrace. It was a momentary feeling, the magic fading in seconds as a shock passed through Tyrian, like the magic was giving him a scolding slap.

"Squire Tyrian, thou art attempting to deal in absolutes with a force that punishes constraints. Thou offers what thou doth not hold. When trafficking in oath magic, loopholes and flaws are to be expected, yet the oath must be fulfilled, dost thou understand?"

It was infuriating, this temperamental magic. Brute force seemed to work at first, he could simply will the simple things to occur and they would, but the moment he did anything more complex than making himself run an extra ten seconds, the magic failed him like a temperamental horse. 

"Enough" Helion sighed, shaking his head as he made for the door, "That mindset shall choke thy potential and smother thy future, it shall need changing"

With that, Tyrian was left alone in the bone chilling room. Sighing discontentedly, he moved out the room cursing his choice in path.