The great hall of the Thunder Fist clan was packed to the rafters with members of the clan as Severin and his family stood in the middle of the hall. Voices milled about them in a great tumble of sound, all about the room. Severin was dressed in his finery, and his mother clutched his shoulder. Reila had stayed home, but Petrus was there, shooting defiant looks at the different members of the community who he thought were staring.

  Finally, after most members had been seated, an older man stood up from the front of the hall. The clan elder sat behind him, on a raised dias. As Severin saw the old man, he noticed his white hair and beard, and thought that the man looked powerful and immovable. The speaker addressed the hall. The speaker was not the elder himself, but the elder’s voice chosen to pronounce judgment so the clan seat could remain untouched.

  “Gathered members of the thunder fist and clan and its protectorates. We gather today to first address a petition made by Severin of Bjevin against Tyrel Diere. He claims he was attacked, and the goods he carried were destroyed. He further alleges that Seidren Diere was acting for his parents, Ternwit and Selia Diere, who own an establishment in Bjevin. We ask the accusing party to stand forward.”

  Severin nervously stepped forward toward a space indicated by the speaker. There was a large open space towards the front of the room, and he stood on one end of it. Eyes fixed upon him from every angle of the room. Many of them were disbelieving or even angry. Severin stopped walking, and itched his nose vigorously, as it had begun to itch fearsomely.

  “Would the accused please step forward over here?” The speaker asked while he pointed to a space opposite Severin. The boy who had attacked Severin stepped forward, and he was frowning angrily. He was followed by two other people, and one of them was the girl who had called Severin turtle when he first met their group.

  “Honorable speaker, the Diere family is most offended by the allegations, and our honor is smeared by the baseless claims. I have other honorable Seidren with me, among them Clan Seat Pirestin’s own grandson. They will back up my story. The blank here has conspired to smudge my family's business operations to help his family’s business to succeed here. I think it is relevant that his family started the Inn The Hearth and Hammer around five years ago. They are one of the only businesses here in Bjevin who are not owned by members of the Thunder Fist clan. This is already unusual, but now they are resorting to underhand means to try and smear their competition. Blanks are not accustomed to responsibility. If they were truly worthy of being owners, they would have sought the power of Seidren as well.”

  There was a brief shocked silence following the outburst, then like wind on a grassy field, whispers rolled around the room, as the anticipated drama unfolded. In a small town like Bjevin, word of mouth had already informed the audience of what had been said. The incident had occurred only three weeks prior.

  “That’s a lie!” Severin burst out. “They attacked me…”

  “QUIET! YOU WILL NOT SPEAK OUT OF TURN.” The speaker thundered.

  Severin cowered down, with almost everyone in the room.

  “Speak again, Seidren Diere.” The speaker ordered.

  The boy smiled, and stepped forward. “My family and clan’s honor has been attacked. The offending party has doubled down, calling me a liar. I ask for a sanctioned duel of honor with the accuser.

  Let the error of his ways be seen in the weakness of his hands.” As the boy did this, he pulled his clasped hands apart, and they made a sound like freshly dried socks pulling apart, with static zipping between them.

  There was a spattering of claps from the audience. Old traditions indeed declared trial by combat, and the boy had probably spent some time memorizing the proper words under tradition.

  The speaker paused for an extended second, then spoke.

  “The accuser is not Seidren. You are Gravel-Seidren. Are there any here of similar strength who will stand in for the boy?” After a brief pause, the speaker continued because there was no response.

  “Very well. Severin, will you back down from your accusation, and write an apology to Tyrel and the Diere family as well as pay the forfeit of blows to Tyrel?”

  Severin was astounded. “I won’t do that, I was the one attacked!”

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  The speaker nodded sadly, then said. “The duel may proceed, then. To surrender or incapacitation. Boys, please take your places.”

  Severin walked quickly to his place, and turned to face the other boy, who was grinning smugly. Severin knew of the strange magic of the Seidren, but he would not back down. He was right. Severin’s knees shook as he looked across the circle at the larger boy on the other side.

  Just as the speaker drew in a breath to announce the beginning, a voice called out. “I will take his place.” Severin looked around, and the voice was familiar to him as his own. Petrus, his older brother.

  “It has ever been the place of an elder brother to stand in for the younger. I will intercede, and fight this duel of honor.”

  Petrus strode forward. Severin saw him, and saw his angry eyes. Those angry eyes were for everyone in the room except him. Severin saw worry and love in those eyes when they fell on him. He quickly ran to his waiting family as Petrus took his spot. The eyes of the crowd shone with the drama of the situation. A brother stepping forward to take a beating from a Seidren.

  Petrus stood opposite the thunder fist Seidren, Defiance in his eyes, and he closed them. A purple mist spread from outwards from him, and there was a collective gasp from the audience. Severin thought he even caught a quickly covered raise of the eyebrow from the clan elder. Petrus was Seidren?!

  The eyes of the speaker flashed dangerously as he observed his, but he spoke. “Petrus, brother of Severin, Sand Seidren with aspects of gravity and flame. Who is your master, Petrus?”

  “No master, honored speaker.” There were a couple laughs from the gathered audience as if the statement were an admission. Petrus was self-taught. Severin had heard that these were called wild Seidren. They didn’t have the same education, and never had the same authority and support that a Seidren from a clan or sect would have. How had Petrus managed that? Severin saw the awesome mist emanating from his brother, and he realized in a startling moment that he could have that too. Severin had not known that the power of Seidren was even among the possibilities for a boy like him.

  Seeing his brother, welding the forces of mana, Severin wanted it as well. He wanted to be just like his brother. The speaker called for the parties to ready themselves and then the fight began.

  The lightning Seidren drew his hands in a swirling pattern through the air, and bright yellow lightning followed them in a building arc. It sizzled like a large slice of bacon on a heated stove, and the sound was mesmerizing to young Severin. However, when he turned his head to watch, he saw his brother standing still, with a fire building in one of his palms, and a dark purple sphere building in the other. He had a wild look on his face. Severin assumed he must be mistaken, because it looked like his brother was smiling.

  Severin was interrupted in his telling of his story by the arrival of the second of the two meals which were brought by guards of Crystalline frost Sect. They placed the meal on the floor and then shoved it in. Severin thanked them, then set into his meal. It was meager, but Severin was quite hungry. As he ate, he watched the guards, and he noticed them talking.

  “Is this the one we need to bring to the head Seidren?”

  “Yeah, I think so, they all look the same.” The other guard responded. Keys jangled in Severin’s lock, and he hastily stuffed as much food in his mouth as he could before they opened the door, and one of them came into the room and retrieved Severin. They dragged him along by his upper arm out of the room and into the row between the cages.

  Severin stumbled occasionally but painfully appreciated the strength of his captor’s grip. It seemed even in a small thing like grip strength, higher Seidren were quite apparently much stronger than him.

  Severin was marched along, passing many cells as he did, through a door, which was unlocked for him and his two guards, and they passed through long hallways of damp stone, ever upwards. He trudged quickly along in order to keep pace with his captors who remained silent.

  Finally they emerged above ground in a frozen courtyard with an icy gate surrounding it on all sides. The frozen air bit at Severin’s robes, and he was dragged across the frozen surface and tossed to the ground in front of a large man. Severin glanced up from his place on the frozen earth and got a glimpse of a pale man, who was short and muscular. He was wearing a small vest which whipped in the winter wind blowing through the compound. He had ordinary brown hair, and facial features that seemed to be friendly at first glance, but were cast in the wrong light as if the person using them was unsure of how to actually portray happiness.

  The man was wearing a gauntlet on his left hand that radiated pressure. That pressure also issued from the man himself, and it felt like something was shaking Severin’s bones. His joints ached and he felt pressure building all over his body simply from laying in front of the man.

  The man watched Severin grimace for a second before he started speaking. “A Stem Seidren? Hello, I am Tyladriel. I had you brought here to help me allay the assault against my organization.”

  “You’re the one who ordered me kidnapped? You’re shameful to take a lower Seidren like me.” Severin spoke through his aching jaw.

  The man answered unbothered. “Yes yes, I know, very shameful, whatever. You are with the Serventian school that came to town, the Sunflower Cult, Correct?” Severin nodded in response.

  “I need to know about the Serventians and their leader. Tell me, boy.”

  “I’m not actually Serventian. I’m from Castellana.” Severin told the man cautiously.

  The man raised his gauntlet over his head, then seemed to stop himself before striking Severin, who had closed his eyes against his impending death.

  “Take him back to his cell.”