Another year of Khaal's life had passed. At the last feast in honor of his birthday, he was introduced to his future... wife. She was only four days old. So to say that the prince was in shock would be an understatement. Besides, he always knew that among the nobility, such marriages were quite commonplace.
In addition, the girl was the daughter of the head of a large trading cartel. Well, large by the kingdom's standards. But if you believe Southern Wind, a merchant fleet numbering seven hundred ships was a meager enterprise.
Fortunately, besides a wife, the prince was given a normal quantity of all kinds of "thingamajigs." That's what Khaal himself called them. The scholar named them quite pompously – artifacts. True, all these swords, bows, sabers, books, and so on – were at the level of mortal artifacts. The next level in power – spiritual artifacts, each of which cost almost as much as the entire royal palace.
Not surprisingly, only Haver himself and Primus possessed them. Each owned a special, spiritual blade. Khaal did not yet know how artifacts differed in power (the neural network again complained about the small amount of data – useless piece of metal), but he certainly intended to find out.
Actually, this was one of the questions he planned to ask Southern Wind soon. Fortunately, half a year ago he had mastered the local language and could now express himself quite decently. And he finally learned to read fluently.
The scholar kept lamenting that despite all his genius, speaking and reading somehow took Khaal too much time. Well, of course – after Earth languages, these squiggles barely resembled speech at all. If not for the help of the neural network, who knows how long it would have taken him.
Now, swinging his legs, Khaal sat in the corridor with his father, uncle, and a dozen warriors. Each of them was capable of lifting a stone weighing three hundred kilograms, throwing a spear nearly four hundred meters, and cutting through a thick oak with a sword.
The main thing was just to have a good sword.
Bodily Rivers, fourth stage – such was their level.
Previously, Khaal thought they were insanely strong. But memories of Earth faded more and more, contributed to by Southern Wind's lectures. Now Khaal knew that the Heavenly Soldier was not the pinnacle of development. That there were even stronger adepts.
Those who were almost immortal. Who could overturn seas and mountains with a wave of their hand. And what both frightened and fascinated simultaneously, Khaal didn't know – was this an exaggeration or not.
A week ago, they even took him outside. Well, not exactly outside – to a balcony. From there, he could see the seemingly endless city and the valley stretching beyond the titanic walls.
The wind blew, tousling his wavy black hair.
The wind called to him.
"Who do you want more? A brother or a sister?" his father asked for the umpteenth time.
Khaal pondered for the umpteenth time. Each option had its advantages.
Haver laughed and habitually ruffled his son's hair.
"Southern Wind says you can already pass the official's exam, but for some reason, you can't answer my question."
"It's complicated, dad," Khaal protested. "If I have a brother – I can play with him. And if a sister – I'll have someone to protect. Plus, a sister will obviously be prettier than a brother."
"Well, I wouldn't say that," the king smiled. "If you believe the nurse – the court ladies can't go a day without squeezing you. The healers say that over time you'll break many girls' hearts."
Khaal barely contained a smug smile. By local standards, he was growing up to be quite a handsome young man. However, what else could you expect from such genetics and such parents?
"I can't stand girls. And anyway – why did you give me a wife? A boat would have been better."
The king roared with laughter and ruffled his hair again.
"When you grow up, I'll definitely teach you some secrets."
"Southern Wind teaches me!"
"Oh, believe me, the old man won't teach you this. I'm afraid this is one area where he has only theoretical knowledge."
The warriors laughed quietly, and the King winked at his son. Khaal made an uncomprehending face, which caused a new burst of laughter. Fortunately, remarkable acting abilities had awakened in him. Although it helped that, despite everything, he needed to play the role of a two-year-old child. Even if a genius one.
So if you want to live – you'll learn to do even this.
Finally, the doors opened, and the nurse came out into the corridor.
"A daughter," she smiled.
Haver picked up his son and rushed with him to the chambers. This time they barged in without Primus. Uncle had gone on a military campaign to the southern borders. Nomadic tribes were raiding villages and settlements there.
Khaal quickly hugged his mother and settled down next to the small, pink, crying bundle. His... sister was already wrapped in golden blankets. She looked quite ordinary, but something stirred in the prince's chest.
Sitting on the bed next to his mother and father, looking at his newborn sister, he suddenly realized what he had been deprived of on Earth. Not the ability to walk and talk. No. That wasn't the main thing.
From early childhood, he had been deprived of this very warmth.
The warmth of family.
"And yet we were expecting a son," the tired Elizabeth smiled.
In two years, she hadn't changed at all. Not a single wrinkle had appeared on her beautiful face. Not a single gray hair in her thick black mane.
"What shall we name our daughter now?" The King gently rocked the bundle.
"Elaine," Khaal said. "Let's call her Elaine."
The parents exchanged glances and nodded.
So Khaal got an eternally crying, but already beloved little sister named Elaine. And with this, something changed in his heart. Without noticing it himself, he suddenly realized that the act about "having someone to protect" turned out to be not an act at all.
==
Just a month after Elaine's birth, Khaal finally managed to get permission to visit the training grounds. There, in the holy of holies of the palace complex, he wouldn't have crawled even if he were the son not of Haver IV, but of James Bond.
The grounds were protected even better than the chambers of some high officials. There the Master taught the future elite of the country, and he couldn't allow anyone to steal his knowledge.
So Khaal had to work hard to earn Southern Wind's trust and force him to touch on the topic of development. The development of martial arts, of course. The scholar generally didn't like to touch on this topic very much. And from the nurse, Khaal learned that once the old man had every chance to enter the Black Gates sect, except that during the exam, his meridians were damaged. These channels in the body through which the force flowed.
So outwardly the scholar was healthy, but internally he remained crippled for life.
Speaking of meridians.
Khaal did find out several points about the stages of development.
The first of them – Bodily Nodes. Nine stages. At each stage, special, invisible to the eye passages opened in the practitioner's body. Something like acupuncture points. Through them, a warrior could absorb energy that saturated the local air.
Subsequently, having accumulated energy at these points, he sent it through the veins, opening meridians sealed from birth. This was the stage of Bodily Rivers.
When all the points were opened and all the meridians saturated, the practitioner hit the first so-called "threshold." A state when the next level was within reach, but crossing that distance was incredibly difficult.
Many couldn't handle it at all.
They simply couldn't condense the energy and reach the formation stage. That level when, inside a person's soul (and not only, but more on that later), a seed woven from force was formed. The first stage.
Then the seed needed to be split into several parts. This would be the stage of fragments.
And finally, gathering the fragments together, creating a core. The third stage of the formation stage.
And then, after a simple threshold, the transformation stage. Adaptation not of force, not of the body, but of the human soul. And it also had three stages. Mortal shell, awakened spirit, and new soul.
And about these, Khaal knew nothing, because Southern Wind did not possess information on this topic. According to him, only the king himself could teach his son how to pass these stages.
As for the transition from mortals to adepts, overcoming the threshold between transformation and Heavenly Soldier – there was no knowledgeable person to be found in the entire kingdom.
Only in sects or larger states were there those who knew how to do it.
"But, one way or another," Khaal said to himself, "I've already taken the first step."
He stood at the edge of the grounds where warriors trained. A cunning plan had long been brewing in his head. It only remained to put it into action. And with that, he would begin his development.