Hammer of the gods.
An unfathomably high skill—one no regular fire elemental could replicate. Turning lightning into energy was something very few in the continent could accomplish. Magnus was definitely showing off. Maybe one earned the right when they became as powerful as he was. Ambrose certainly had never met a more impressive mage, save for the royals themselves. Though, that was hardly comparable when the Grand Mage was only human and the royals were something else entirely. The king’s Lightning Magick could put Magnus to shame.
Every mage in the empire was some kind of Elemental, and it was their duty to spend a lifetime mastering one of them. They were the physical key to maintaining the balance of Magick and nature. Every element had a major and secondary elements attached to it and some mages had aptitudes for all aspects of an Element, while some had talents in one particular area. Magick and Mana were essential to the natural order of their world, without it, nothing would exist. Mages helped to maintain the balance of all the Elements and Magick; it was the ultimate responsibility for everyone to do so.
It was The Calling.
Some could use minor aspects of the Elements before their calling, like Ambrose. They were called Common Elementals. Nothing special but capable of contributing. Below that, were the Mana-Holders. Beings who only had enough Mana to maintain their life—that many saw as a drain on Magick and the empire. Only a mage with a calling was truly valued in Almuria.
Scowling at her lack of a calling, Ambrose relented that she would just have to keep training for when that day came. Until then, she was basically powerless aside from short-lived bursts of minor elemental work. It would never be enough to protect her.
The hearty smell of meat pies welcomed them as they reached the kitchens. Servants scurried and limbs flew as they hastened around, accomplishing their individual duties.
“Didn’t I tell you to bring breakfast outfifteen minutes ago?” Ms. Asquith shoved servants out of the way to stir something that boiled on the stove and simultaneously pulled a golden meat pie out of the oven and placed it on the counter. Steam rose from the expertly made pie that could only have been done by the fae herself. Nothing less could be expected of Ms. Asquith.
A terrified looking fae squeaked out an apology while moving pies, dishes, and decanters of wine to a dining cart. Accompanied by a bowl of fruit as well as fresh bread, various flavors of jams and butters, and a plate of small cakes with light fluffy frosting just big enough to eat in one bite.
“Don’t be sorry, be faster!” Ms. Asquith barked at the boy. Standing just over a meter tall, the fae blood in her made her facial features appear slightly too small and tight on her otherwise round face. Though she could come across as blunt and harsh, Ms. Asquith deeply cared for the servants charged under her care, but she valued an ordered system as well. She may cook one a home-cooked meal on a day when they’re feeling unwell, or offer some of the best advice Ambrose and many others had ever received, she also demanded structure in her kitchens and couldn’t stand chaos. The boy managed to fill his cart and practically ran from the kitchens as fast as he could, not bothering to wait around for her to yell at him another moment.
“Why do you insist on scaring them, you know they’re absolutely terrified of you?” Ambrose threw in as the small fae vanished from sight.
“Why doyouinsist on being late to your duties almostevery day?” Ms. Asquith tossed back. Ernaline, who had been using her best friend as a human shield froze like a mouse caught in the open, hoping it wouldn’t benoticed by a hungry predator.
“I’m sorry. I overslept again.” Ambrose shrugged in apology.
“And what’syourexcuse?” She whirled around to face Ernaline who had gone silent.
“I would’ve been here on time! But…someonehad to make sure she got up…” Ernaline glanced towards Ambrose with a look of terror on her face.
“It was my fault,” Ambrose declared. “Ernaline was just trying to help, but I’m the one who held us up.”
Ms. Asquith eyed her up and down, made a ‘tsk tsk’ sound and waved them away. She shot a disapproving look at Ambrose and said, “One day, you’re going to get yourself into trouble you won’t be able to get yourself out of.”
Taking that as a dismissal the girls each grabbed a cart, apologized again for their tardiness and rushed out of the kitchens. As they ran, Ambrose could empathize with the small fae who fled the kitchens a little bit more.
The aroma wafting from her cart reminded Ambrose once again that she hadn’t eaten anything yet that morning. There was food in the kitchens waiting for them once they finished their morning duties but wouldn’t be eaten until then. Servants ate last and only once the royals and nobility had their fill. Hundreds of beings to go hungry until they were satisfied. Some days she didn’t get to eat for the first time until late at night, the royals refusing to release them long enough to eat.
The two of them walked in silence towards the dining hall as she tried not to think about the knots her stomach was twisting in. She didn’t get extra food for sneaking out to train with Adym every night, so every calorie had become as precious as every swing of her sword. Her sword that had to stay with Adym, lest she be executed if caught with it. It made the purpose of training with it feel mute entirely. Charged with serving the gods and the realm, any free citizen of any kingdom could make a demand and have authority over her and she would be powerless to refuse it. Which meant, she could never be free of it. But it made them both feel better knowing she could use a blade, even if it was a skill she’d never use. Even if it was one she had grown rather adept at. Training with Adym had been trainingamong one of the best, whether the empire recognized him or not.
Rage tickled beneath her skin but she pushed it down and summed it up to how hungry she was before it consumed her. Since her training sessions started, she managed to eat when, and as much, as she could. Her body that had once been malnourished and under-used had become a solid foundation and a womanly frame. Muscles filling in where they hadn’t been before and curves forming where there used to be little. Though, she was more often hungry than not, she was aware of how her skills were evolving. Over the years she had become stronger. Faster. It still felt like she would never be strong enough to ever feel safe. Not really. Not while she lived in the empire and there was nowhere else to go. It might have been a false sense of safety, but it was something.
Carts clinking, they approached the carved oak doors that loomed above them and opened into the dining hall. The doors were held open by two members of the Imperial Guard standing at royal attention, as was custom at every official entrance. The only movement between them being their eyes as they scanned each being going in and out of the dining hall. Ambrose pushed her cart through the entryway and found her place among the other servants.
Silverware clattered and wine flowed freely as the royal family and the highest ranking nobility in the palace dined. Each noble was adorned with gold and jewels on their fingers and around their necks. Dressed in the finest silks and clothing in Eltoria’s mid-autumn fashion the kingdom could produce. The colors a stark contrast to the white the servants wore, but a reminder as well. As if every rich color was telling the dull white ones, “Remember your place.”
At the head of the table, King Tallis was eating what looked to be every item on the menu while servants swept around him, carrying away empty plates and bringing full ones to replace them. His silver beard caught bits of food as he treated each plate like a vanishing act. Though he ate for an entire feast, his belly never grew and his body stayed strong, the perfect specimen of a warrior king. No one knew if the royals actually needed food or if they simply ate out of gluttony. Watching the king, Ambrose wasmore inclined to believe the latter.
The seat next to the king sat empty, though it had a full table setting. King Tallis could be ferocious in his anger and the queen had been known to be the only one who could satiate that temper. When she died, all of Eltoria was cast into a tempest that lasted seven days and seven nights. Lightning rained from the sky while the Grand Mages begged him to let them bury her so they could return to their kingdoms. Half the kingdom attended her burial ceremony. This was long before Ambrose was born, but the story had become legendary.
It wasn’t often a royal died. In fact, it wasveryrare.
Ambrose turned her attention to the seat next to the empty queen’s, where the spitting image of the late queen sat. Princess Inanna had the same soft, gentle features that her mother once had that the kingdoms had loved her for. With dark, raven-like hair and violet eyes that could pierce the toughest of souls. While her mother had been a warrior and one of the greatest to ever live, Inanna owned a much softer air to her given to her by her oracle gift—one of the rarest powers to form and highly coveted by the royals. Because of this, Inanna had never left the palace and lived her entire life within its walls for her protection as well as her use.
But to Ambrose, she was a friend.
Or as much of a friend as their stations would allow. When Ambrose was still young and a juvenile, Inanna had taken her under her wing and showed her how to navigate life at court better. Which nobles to avoid if possible, where she could find moments to herself where no one went, how to stay hidden in plain sight. Those years had meant everything to Ambrose and she could consider the princess nothing less than a friend. Inanna had never been anything but kind and warm. A drastic contrast to the rest of the nobility.
“Would you like some cake, princess?” Ambrose asked just loudly enough for the Oracle to hear as she reached for a plate off her cart.
