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Chapter 185: Zenom Saintred (1)
🕑 Added 2025-05-08 05:52:16 +0000 UTCWorld: MSS - Loading...
***
“By the fire, they’re still there!”
“...w-who?”
“You know who,” The blonde boy said gravely, “Zane.” He placed his hands on the corner of the dormitory building, peering around the wall.
“S-So we can’t eat again today?” Little Zeph looked up at the larger boy, “But the s-sister said we should–”
“The Sister can go teach her grandmother to suck eggs.” Zeto had blonde hair with blue eyes, the same as Little Zeph –though the shades could vary.
It was the same with every other kid.
The two of them were orphans, picked up from the war by the Church of Light, Flame and Shield. This was one of the orphanages run by the Church, the Flame Branch to be exact. The orphanage was composed of the boy’s dormitory, the Church –where they did their daily prayers and worship– and the cafeteria. In the middle of all three buildings was a small courtyard made of dirt and grass, except the white-marble fountain that sat dead in the middle with a statue of a burning torch.
But this wasn’t just an orphanage, it doubled as a training ground. Those who were found exceptional would move to be trained as Holy Knight. Perhaps even one of the Holy Knights to be bestowed the three names.
The Knight of Light.
The Knight of Flame.
The Knight of Shield.
But for now, the two boys had bigger concerns. Namely Zane, the large bulky blonde teen that was at least thirteen summers passed, compared to the lanky Zeto’s twelve.
“Damn, if I had know that fire-burned ugly was so petty, I would have let him have that last match.” Zeto muttered.
“No y-you wouldn’t have.” Zeph, only ten summers passed, commented. He grinned up at Zeto, his eyes glinting in the cloudless sky’s sun. “You’re the best s-swordarm since the S-Swordsaint himself. M-Maestro said so.”
Zeto puffed out his hairless chest. “Well, that’s only natural for the next Knight of Flame.”
The mention of one legendary title after another only intensified the glint in Zeph’s eyes. “I-I think y-you can do it.”
“Well, that’s only if I can grab lunch first.” If Zeto had a wooden sword in hand, he wouldn’t think twice about crossing the courtyard. But fire be damned, Zane was just so much bigger than he was.
Zeph started coughing.
A horrible wracking cough that should’ve gathered the attention of Zane and the older boys who followed him. But just in time, Zane said something –which, Zeto surmised, must’ve been the stupidest thing ever– because all his friends laughed. Zeph didn’t miss his change, stifling his coughs with both hands.
The entirety of Zeph’s upper body bounced back and forth from the force of the coughs, leaving the boy’s eyes empty of the previous life that had been there. A bit of drool dripped from the corner of the sickly boy’s mouth.
Zeto looked down at his smaller friend –a younger brother really– and noticed the harsh lines of the boy’s collarbones and ribs through the worn tunic.
“Let’s get lunch.” Zeto started out from behind the wall.
“B-but–”
“He won’t try anything. He wouldn’t dare. It’s lunchtime, and both the Maestro and the Bishop are in the cafeteria. I’ll scream bloody murder if he tries anything, I will.” After saying as much, Zeto led the way.
Tentatively, Zeph followed.
They didn’t walk more than ten steps before Zane and his friends lumbered towards them.
For a boy of only thirteen summers, Zane was huge. Meaning that he was already the height of most full-grown men, and rumors said that it was possibly for his Soul to house a Core already. Which didn’t matter, considering that most boy’s fights were done with bare fists. What mattered was the precious statement, that he was huge.
“Look it is, Zeto and his pet dog out on a walk.”
Rumors had spread that Zeph’s mother might have been a beastman. There was no basis in it, except for the fact that Zeph came from one of the rural villages in the western battlelines, where conflict between Turina and Zimmskar was frequent. But it was also at that conflicting line that the delineation between human and beastman blurred. There were places rumored to be rural enough that people lived in harmony –both human and beastman.
Heresy. There was no way Zeph was one. Baseless rumors of cruel boys with nothing better to do.
Zeto scowled, “Let’s just keep going, Zeph.” The two kept walking.
“Huh, look, they’re ignoring you.” One of Zane’s friends, Zee, a boy just a bit shorter than Zane but much lankier, spat on the ground. “Don’t bastards have good hearing?”
“Considering that his mom was a dog, yeah. He should hear us plenty fine.”
Zeph cowered, hunching his shoulders and seemingly shrinking under the Zeto’s shadow. Zeto glared at Zane but he knew how to read the room. No one else was around and he certainly wasn’t willing to scream bloody murder for the Priest and Maestro to hear them. That’d get all of them demerits, which Zeto couldn’t afford. Not if he wanted to replace Zane in the next visit to the Citadel.
So instead, Zeto whispered to Zeph, “Five more steps. Let’s go.”
He heard Zane spit on the ground too, just like Zee did.
“Yeah, keep walking.” Zane said loud enough for everyone to hear, “Coward.”
“T-take that back.”
Zeph spun around, his eyes glistening with tears and his tunic still mussed from the earlier coughing fit. But the small boy stood tall and straight, looking straight at Zane.
“Ah, so the beastman bastard can hear after all.”
“I said take i-it back.” Zeph didn’t cower, but Zeto did see the smaller boy’s bottom lip quivering. It was then that Zeto realized how much it took for Zeph to stand up for himself, especially against Zane.
In a way, Zeto was proud of the younger boy. No one should have their parents mocked in such a way.
“What? That your mom was a beastman whore?”
“N-No,” Zeph said, “What you said about Zeto. Y-you called him a coward. T-take it back.”
Zeto’s world stopped.
Zane frowned. “What? I don’t think I heard you, dog.”
“I said–”
Zee moved like a whipcord, dashing across the ground and kicking Zeph in the chest before either boy could respond.
“Speak up, dog-boy!” He howled.
Zeph crumpled to the floor like a ragdoll, clutching his chest as another bout of coughing overtook him. But he didn’t stay there, he moved his stick-like arms, heaving himself to both feet and glared at Zee.
“Take it back!” He yelled. “Zeto is twice the swordsman you’ll ever be! Admit it!”
Zane, Zee and the third boy with only one eye, Zot, all came rushing in at once.
Zeto met them mid-stride, fists swinging.
This was a boy’s fight. There was no coordination, no fancy battle tactics. Zane simply used his mass to grab Zeto in a bear hug, choosing to simply fall forward rather than trying anything else. Zeto felt a solid ball of wind explode out of his mouth and nose hard enough to see a splatter of snot and blood trailing in the air. He acted fast, bringing both arms to cover his face as Zane brought down a rain of fists.
Meanwhile, he looked sideways where Zee and Zot were wailing on Zeph.
Zeph had crouched into a fetal position, protecting his stomach, face and chest. But the two older boys kept kicking and kicking. At the same time, Zeph kept yelling, “He’s not a coward! Not a coward!”
Zeto, having had enough, brought out the hidden card.
Demerits be damned.
He screamed bloody murder.
“MAESTRO! HELP! SOMEBODY! PRIEST!!! HELP! SOMEBODY!!”
“What in the fire… Hey! Get off! Boys!” The Maestro’s voice.
“Oh.. the Light helps me. Another fight.” The priest’s dry tone, which, if Zeto was close enough, he could tell, would stink of grape-juice.
The last pair to be torn off of each other were Zeph and Zee. Zeph had to be physically torn off of Zee, having laid his teeth into the older boy’s legs. Zee, only twelve summers old himself, was crying. There was a huge chunk of his skin missing from the shin to ankle.
When Zeto looked at the smaller boy, Zeph, his lips were stained with blood and there was a crazed look in his eyes.
“Take it back.” He kept muttering, even as the elderly Maestro led him away. “Take it back!”
***
“Do you boys know what you’ve done wrong?”
“I-I don’t.” Zeph insisted.
Maestro Jihal sighed. He was a well-built man who had aged much better than others. Black hair peppered with bits of gray that was tied into a neat ponytail, a trimmed beard that never seemed to be undershaved or overgrown. He always wore armor, even during outdoor training. Rumor had it that he had been wed once, and was old enough to see grandchildren that was the age of the kids in this orphanage.
“And you, Zeto, my boy?” The Maestro asked.
The Maestro only called Zeto, ‘my boy’, and everytime he did, it filled the boy with a sense of pride. He swallowed, wracking his head for what might please the elderly swordsmaster.
“A good knight must always be in control.” Zeto said, paraphrasing what he already knew, “We lost the battle the moment we let Zane’s words take control of our emotions.”
Maestro peered at Zeph for the boy’s reaction, but the smaller boy was busy fussing with the bandages. With a sigh, the Maestro slapped the boy’s hands away and began to redo them. “Now, are you just saying that or do you truly believe it, Zeto?”
“I believe it, Maestro.”
“Then why did you not help your peer, Zeph, who is much younger than you, to reign in his temper?”
Zeto opened his mouth to respond then stopped. In a strangely uncharacteristically boyish gesture, he shrugged. “I don’t know.”
“I know.” Zeph said proudly.
“Oh?” The Maestro tightened a bandage over Zeto’s arms.
“Because Zeph wanted to protect me. Just like a Knight would do. H-He’s going to be the next Knight of Flame.” Zeto said proudly, in the innocent way that only a younger boy could do when talking about someone older.
Maestro Jihal didn’t smile, but Zeto saw the way his eyes danced with amusement. “He is now, is he?”
Zeto felt heat flush into his cheeks and he suddenly wanted to hide under the blankets. Why would Zeph say that now? In front of Maestro Jihal? Now he just looked like a fool. A foolish boy with foolish dreams.
“Then he better train hard, the Light Festival is coming up.” Maestro Jihal continued, changing the topic. “I doubt the village people want a Knight who’s getting into fist fights with boys.”
The Light Festival.
It was one of those things that the adults said didn’t matter, but all the kids knew it mattered. Every village celebrated it, no matter how small and far it was. Zeto was willing to bet that even those heretical villages where Beastman married Humans celebrated it. It was a celebration of the Light, Flame and Shield goddess bringing the Humans out of Darkness, helping the founding fathers slay the evil dragon that ravaged the land where the Turinan Empire stood today.
Every place had their own festivities. Including, a performance by the church. Oftentimes, it was a dance. Sometimes, it took form of healing provided by priest trainees. Othertimes, it was a sparring match by boys who were training to be Knights. Not squires –those who were actually apprenticed to knights– but boys like him. Orphans, farmboys who were sent to the Church for free sword-training and all the rest of them.
And sometimes, the rumors said, just sometimes, if you did well enough…
You could become Selected, to be sent to the Citadel to be trained as a Holy Knight.
Zeph brought Zeto out of his thoughts. “Zeto’s the best sword hand among all the boys in the village! You said so yourself, Maestro.”
“Indeed, I did.” Maestro Jihal finished the last of Zeph’s bandages and stopped the boy from picking at it immediately. “But a sword is not everything that a Knight needs.”
“Self-control. Perseverance.” Zeto said.
“Yes.” Maestro Jihal agreed. “And don’t forget, Unsurmountable Will.”
“Uns-surmountable? What’s that?” Zeph asked.
For a long second, Maestro Jihal stared at Zeph. Then a grin broke out among the wrinkles and he mussed Zeph’s hair, much to the boy’s chagrin.
“You will know, when you must.” He stood up from the small stool, starting to shoo the boys out. “Now off you go. I told them to save a plate for each of you. Don’t get in trouble and for the light’s sake, keep Zeph away from Zane. I’m talking to you, Zeto, my boy. Understood?”
“...Understood, sir.”
Strangely, Zeto didn’t feel as good hearing ‘my boy’ anymore.
No, he definitely didn’t.
He looked at Zeph, wondering why Maestro Jihal had given the small sickly boy that look when he talked about this ‘Unsurmountable Will’.
Shaking his head, Zeto left after Zeph.
Comments
Samuel Beatty
I’m curious to see which of the boys is Zenom, I’m assuming they change his name for some reason, probably speciesism. I like the chapter! Thank you!
rickeyyy rick
OHH A BACKSTORYY!!! Uh i think I have deja vu
Seungmin Lim
Super fun chapter to write. Hope you guys enjoy it as much as I did writing it.
