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Sanguine Prince | Chapter 21: A Whole New World (Second Draft)
🕑 Added 2026-01-05 02:16:16 +0000 UTCArcturus followed Tylariel and Jakob into the small sitting area attached to the kitchen while Sumeko, Jess, and Angela cleaned up the remains of their meal. He’d offered to help, but had been firmly waved off and told in no uncertain terms that his only job was to listen to Tylariel in order to learn what he was in for. While he appreciated the consideration, it did nothing to ease the slight echo of guilt he felt at leaving them the work, nor did it appease his nerves about whatever was to come.
Tylariel took a position near the middle of the room and motioned for Arcturus to join her, pointing to a spot in front of her. Jakob beelined for one of the simple chairs, settling down to observe with an apple held in his hand. For all his feigned nonchalance, Arcturus had a feeling that the big man was there to keep an eye on him as much as he was out of curiosity, especially after the incident in the kitchen.
Given what he’d done to Geran, Arcturus could hardly blame him.
“Now, to cover some basics,” Tylariel began without preamble, “you will be expected to address me as ‘Mentor’, or ‘Archon Tylariel’. I do not mind Tylariel in private, but never in front of outsiders.”
Now this is exciting.
Arcturus nodded his understanding as he stood in front of her, hands tucked into his pockets once more.
“I expect vocal responses to my questions, Apprentice,” Tylariel said while eyeing him critically. “Decorum is a premier requirement for Archons and Princes both. It’s unbecoming of your bloodline, and your new path, to be lax.”
Arcturus eyed her speculatively for a moment, then adopted a tried-and-true stance to settle his mind on her task and inform his mentality: parade rest. He spoke only after his hands were firmly clasped at the base of his spine.
“Yes, Mentor. I understand.”
“Excellent,” Tylariel said with an approving nod. “Now, what else do you know about Archons?”
“Very little, other than what Angela told me, and what I’ve already relayed.”
“Tell me again, in different words, so I can gauge if you missed anything the first time,” she said imperiously, watching him with keen eyes.
“Archons are an elite caste of what I would venture to call Spellblades, that act as the backbone of military power in the Empire. They’re tremendously powerful and are automatically given a place within the Nobilis Imperia upon being identified. Their combat abilities, both physical and magical, are considered peerless. Having a large number of Archons is seen as a sign of great power, and their existence alone can forestall a House War or War of Succession during a coronation period.”
Tylariel nodded as he spoke, and Arcturus noted Jakob’s eyebrows rising a fraction in surprise despite his nonchalance. At least one of them seemed impressed by his second iteration of knowledge.
“Better, in a broad sense, but you are missing some crucial details. That is to be expected, though, given your limited exposure to our world thus far.”
“Yes, Mentor,” Arcturus responded, more curious than anything. He was rapidly growing used to her brusque manner. Oddly, it was strangely refreshing. She didn’t treat him like glass—which, despite his breakdown with Angela, was nice. It made him feel stronger by virtue of being treated that way. It was a reinforcement he hadn’t known he’d wanted, but he silently appreciated it nonetheless.
“Firstly, Archons are not titled so upon discovery, as you likely have discerned. There is a requirement for training, education, and eventual endorsement by the rulers of their Dominion,” she said and started ticking off her fingers as she spoke, “a Bishop or higher of the Church, and the imperial crown representative in whichever city they conduct their Ascension Ceremony within.”
“I have heard the term ‘Sanguination’ before, Mentor,” Arcturus said curiously, “from the barmaid who first assisted me when I arrived on Terra, and informed me about the floggings. What exactly is—”
“Irrelevant at the moment,” Tylariel said with a wave of her hand. “You need to first show your talent to be more than a few Psionic tricks before we move to that stage. It is the last step before the Trials.”
“I...” Arcturus took a breath. “Yes, Mentor.”
Tylariel nodded in approval, her lips quirking at his evident forced self-control. “Good. Now, do you have any weapons?”
“Uh, I had a pistol that Angela gave me, but it kind of stopped working when I tried to use it...”
“What do you mean by ‘stopped working’?”
“I tried putting Aether into it and it just sort of vibrated and started smoking.”
Tylariel stared at him after he spoke, and then reached up to rub her temples as Jakob snorted at his words.
“It’s not that bad,” Arcturus said defensively. “I’d never used one before, and it was a stressful—”
“You don’t even realize how strong you really are, do you?” Tylariel interjected, gesturing to him in disbelief. “Master Tollance isn’t snorting out of rudeness, Apprentice, but out of disbelief. Reactions like what you’re describing only occur when the Aether infused into a weapon is too pure, or too concentrated, for the core to handle.”
“...oh,” Arcturus said after a moment. “So, I didn’t screw up the activation process?”
I’m as surprised as you are, given your penchant for screw-ups.
Tylariel laughed mirthlessly.
“Your only mistake, Arcturus, was being far too strong for the item you were using. It makes my statement about ‘Psionic tricks’ a little idiotic, too—which is mildly vexing.”
“I... apologize?” Arcturus offered with mild uncertainty, as much asking as stating.
“In this case, it’s simply a lesson for me,” Tylariel said and waved the matter off. “We are used to having to beat arrogance and pride out of apprentices—especially when the same was done to us—to avoid them acting recklessly or overestimating themselves. Degradation and downplaying of their abilities is a part of that.”
Tylariel shook her head with a faint smile.
“I will need to grow accustomed to the idea that you are strangely blessed in how ignorant you are, Arcturus. With no true frame of reference or prior biases, you are prepared against such arrogance by merit of being completely unaware of how you actually compare to others.”
“So they usually must ‘unlearn what they have learned’?” he asked carefully.
“An apt description, yes,” Tylariel confirmed with a glimmer of approval.
Arcturus grinned as he imagined Tylariel in a swamp.
“Thank you, Mentor.”
She is far too hot to be Yoda, and you are far too much of a bitch to be Luke.
“I do not know why you are smiling like an idiot, Apprentice, but I have a feeling that it will end badly for you if I decide to pry.”
Arcturus hastily wiped the grin from his face, nodding and trying his best to avoid smiling again—just barely succeeding. “Yes, Mentor.”
“It should come as no surprise, as well, that you are dressed unacceptably for any Apprentice, let alone mine. We will need to rectify that immediately, as previously stated. Is there anything you need to ask before we see to that?”
Arcturus hesitated for a second as he racked his brain, and then realized there was something he’d forgotten in the chaos following his waking up.
“Yes, Mentor. As a Daeva, I have a kind of... reporting system, I guess, which plays flashes of knowledge in my head and across my vision during combat. Mana levels, Health levels, successful spell castings... well, you get the idea.”
Tylariel and Jakob both stared at him uncomprehendingly, but he continued.
“I was wondering if you knew of a way to suppress or mute those? Some way of, uh, pushing it aside unless I wanted to specifically look at it?”
“Is this truly such an issue, Apprentice?”
“I... honestly, Mentor, I’m just worried it’ll distract me at a critical juncture.”
Tylariel glanced at Jakob, who shook his head at her.
She turned back to Arcturus with a grimace that seemed more of a display of annoyance at her own ignorance than anything else. “I can’t say that I have any experience with what you’re talking about, Apprentice, but I’ve never needed to interact with Daeva to any great capacity. I’m sure there could be something to be found in the Church, but I would prefer not to allow them a hook in you just yet.”
Arcturus heartily agreed with that sentiment, especially after the Inquisition revelation.
“Perhaps this can be a teaching moment, then,” Tylariel continued after a moment. “I want you to close your eyes and divest yourself of errant thoughts.”
Arcturus obediently closed his eyes after only a moment of confused hesitation, having needed a second to correctly parse what she’d said. Once his eyes were closed, he let out a quiet breath and tapped into the meditative techniques he’d learned during his time on Earth under his father’s care. Meditation, his father had always said, was the maintenance of the inner self. It had seemed a little hippy-dippy to Arcturus in his youth, but with time, he’d come to appreciate the ability to release stress and tension through the practice.
“Mm… I can see you know more than a little about meditation and focus,” Tylariel observed with tacit approval.
“My father taught me,” Arcturus elucidated with a faint smile. “Though I never saw the benefit in it until I was older.”
“I am not surprised that an Archon of your father’s caliber covered such integral lessons,” Tylariel said with a shake of the head, as if momentarily exasperated by something. “He must have known you would need them at some point in the future.”
That broke Arcturus’ focus, and he blinked rapidly as his building calm was shattered. “You really think so?” he asked with genuine interest.
Tylariel didn’t seem pleased about his distraction, but something in her expression spoke to a willing patience for his lack of concentration. Perhaps she understood, on some level, what he was feeling.
“I do,” the redhead affirmed. “Arcturus Titus Valoura was one of the most prodigious Archons in generations. Whatever or whoever he became in your source-shard, I can say with certainty—having witnessed his prowess first-hand—that your father knew more about the powers we wield than most Archons thrice his age. He was a savant.”
“Is,” Arcturus said before he could stop himself.
“Pardon?” Tylariel asked with an imperiously raised eyebrow.
“Is, Mentor,” Arcturus corrected. “My father is still alive.”
Her eyes widened fractionally for a moment before she reasserted control of herself.
Jakob, behind her, was less capable at schooling his emotions, and his expression of dawning shock told Arcturus more. He was realizing that everyone still viewed his father as essentially dead. By asserting the reality of his existence, Arcturus had potentially reminded them of something that was likely more shocking than he’d previously assumed: Arcturus Titus was alive, and that meant that there was a distant chance he could return.
If his father was as powerful as Tylariel seemed to believe…
It would be like Hercules suddenly showing up at the Parthenon in Greece.
“Yes, I suppose you’re correct…” Tylariel said and trailed off, frowning in thought, and then refocusing on him a moment later. “It is something to think about later, Apprentice: we do not know the circumstances of your father’s exodus, nor do we know what restrictions—if any—there are on his returning. Until those questions can be answered, all we can do is focus on the here and now.”
“Yes, Mentor. I, uh, apologize.”
“No need. Now, regain your focus. Look inwards and cast aside all distractions and unnecessary thoughts.”
Arcturus nodded and breathed in while closing his eyes, exhaling a short moment later, and sloughing away any unneeded thoughts or distractions. Like taking a loofah to his brain, he started to scrub away at the things that occupied his mind, both actively and subconsciously. It was bewildering that he’d never bothered to try doing so prior, but he also hadn’t precisely been in the most stable frame of mind. Meditation had always been conducted in calm, controlled, and understood environments on Earth: he’d never been in a situation remotely similar to his current one.
“Good. I can see your tension bleeding away, Apprentice. Hone in on that feeling and wrap yourself in it.”
Arcturus did as instructed and allowed Tylariel’s voice to act as his guide.
He suffused himself in the calming cloak of peace that seemed to grow around him, letting his immediate concerns and underlying terror be swept away by the tide of placidity that washed over him. As he did, he slowly came towards an awareness of something else, something flickering within the deepest recesses of his mind.
He was drawn to it like a moth to a flame, and his consciousness drifted towards the light in the infinite darkness of his subconscious. As he drew closer to the source of whatever was magnetising his awareness, Arcturus realised that he had become fully immersed in his meditative state—and while he was distantly aware of the world around him, he was no longer truly paying attention to Tylariel’s voice.
Instead, her words washed over him with a calming and reassuring sense of surety, allowing him to trust his well-being to the fiery noblewoman as he approached the object of his attention within his own inner mind.
As abruptly as his journey began, it ended, leaving Arcturus floating before a flickering white-and-black flame that seemed to give off light as readily as it drank it in. The flickering tongues of fire were perfectly balanced, and the black and white seemed to dance in harmonious yet contentious equanimity before him. A tug at the core of his being urged him to reach out, and he did so—mentally extending his ‘hand’ to touch the very edge of the dancing flames.
The moment he did, the darkness around him ‘shattered’ in a coruscating eruption of the same monochromatic flames, and Arcturus suddenly found himself standing atop a black-and-white tiled platform. No walls or ceiling had formed; only infinite stretches of neutral grey in all directions other than the floor below him. Immensely calm despite the situation, Arcturus lifted his hand as an array of options jumped into being before his eyes. Each one was on the same black and white style of floating screen he’d grown accustomed to, and each had different choices awaiting his input.
As if guided by instinct, he drew one of the dozens of options to him, and it expanded into greater legibility as it came, showing a simple pair of buttons and a question that put a smile on his face.
Would you like to configure your Heads Up Display (HUD) now?
[Yes] | [No]
“Hell yes, I do.”
Arcturus didn’t hesitate to tap his finger to the ‘YES’ option.
His vision lit up with possibilities immediately, and he instinctively understood that this was an initial setup he’d missed entirely. Perhaps it was due to some quirk of his emergence into Terra, but it struck him that there was a lot about being a Daeva he needed help understanding. That, however, would bear thinking about at a more opportune moment.
Arcturus was thankful for his experience with online gaming as he reviewed the HUD options before him and started sorting through them. First things first were his Health and Mana bars. Red and then blue were sorted to the bottom right of his vision, with an option to display numerical values so he could see his remaining points at a glance. His recovery times were enabled above each bar, allowing him to see how fast he would regenerate each. Beside them in the bottom corner of his vision, he also enabled a silhouette of himself that divided his body into head, arms, hands, upper and lower torso, legs, and feet. Each section lit up in green to show his status, and he nodded in satisfaction.
“Yellow for damage and red for critical, I guess. Probably black for severed or dead.”
Some awareness told him his preferences had been noted, and he moved on.
Next, he placed a handy minimap in the left corner of his vision, opposite his status bars and silhouette, enabling him to expand or contract it with a thought. He was also able to zoom in or out, he discovered with a sense of glee. His position was at the center of the map, which was fixed facing north. Information he had no source for told him that as he turned or changed direction, the gold chevron that marked him at the center of the map would turn towards whatever direction he was facing without rotating the map.
“Not as intuitive, but at least I won’t get turned around easily.”
Next was an everyday notifications pop-up area, which he placed near the top of his vision so they wouldn’t be too obtrusive. The experience bar he placed at the bottom of his vision, showing both percentage and exact numerical values, was followed by a combat log, which he placed above his minimap and minimized. He could access it whenever he wanted, but he didn’t need it regularly.
He minimized the quest log to the right side of his vision, above his silhouette and status bars, ignoring the blinking notification that he had updated quests. He hadn’t had a Main Quest pop-up since his fight with the Dire Wolf, and it appeared to be a result of his not having his HUD configured to access the updates. He could rectify that later, when he had time.
“More things to worry about.”
He noticed he had an inventory screen, but it was greyed out.
That, he realized, he’d need to ask someone about, and he tucked the screen away below his quest log. After that, there was a simple ‘Codex’ interface that categorized and stored his acquired knowledge, and he placed it in a minimized window above his combat log for easy access when needed. In fact, the moment he thought about easy access, a semi-transparent bar of options appeared at the very top of his vision with ‘Codex’, ‘Inventory’, ‘Quest Log’, ‘Status Sheet’, ‘Contacts’, and ‘Skills’ listed in order. Between ‘Quest Log’ and ‘Status Sheet’ was a digital clock in 24-hour time.
“Well, that’s handy. Nice.”
After that, he was done and began looking for a way to save his settings. Seconds later, a prompt appeared in the center of his vision.
Would you like to save your Heads Up Display (HUD) now?
[Yes] | [No]
Arcturus tapped ‘YES’ and the prompt vanished, though his HUD remained as it was. Satisfied with his changes and having accomplished his goal, he thought about leaving the ‘settings menu’ as he thought of it, and the mental image shattered, followed by a sudden return to awareness of the world around him.
“Arcturus?” Tylariel asked with a flicker of genuine concern on her features as he opened his eyes. “What happened?”
Arcturus blinked at his new Mentor and abruptly grinned as he saw his HUD still filling his vision in full force.
“I got my—” he hesitated when he realised that the explanation might just confuse her and Jakob, “—abilities as a Daeva properly managed. I’m much more comfortable now, Mentor. Thank you.”
Tylariel stared at him for a moment, searchingly, before seemingly deciding to take his gratitude and results in stride.
“Well, good,” she said with an immediate return to confident form. “Now, shall we see to your change of attire and Aetherblade? Or do you want to spend more time clearing your head?”
“I think I’m okay. I like the sound of the clothes and a weapon.”
Tylariel nodded in approval.
“We’ll be taking Sumeko and Jessica, as they both seem eager to assist in civilizing you. Master Tollance, meanwhile, will remain here with Alyerial to await our return.”
Jakob grunted his assent behind her.
“Yes, Mentor,” Arcturus said again, still marveling at how much better it was to have his HUD active. “When do we leave?”
“Five minutes,” Tylariel said crisply. “I shall meet you outside.”
“As you wish,” he responded simply, offering an awkward but sincere bow—earning a flash of amusement from Tylariel—and strolling out to where Angela’s repaired shop front entrance awaited.
Well, at least now you’re semi-capable instead of completely useless.
Arcturus chuckled to himself as his subconscious roused itself.
After all, that was very nearly a compliment!
