Chapter 1: A House Divided

<p>Cub lay on his cot, counting the nails in the paneling above his head. Ninety-seven. He knew the number and locations by heart after 6 years in this place, but when enough pale light shone through the casement window that he could see each of them, he knew it was time to rise and begin his daily duties. In the Summer, anyway. He would take a few nails off the tally as the season waned to Fall and stole the early light. Not as prestigious as one of the clockwork timekeepers his Aunt and Uncle had adorning the walls upstairs or the digital chronometers the officers wore, but good enough for him.<br/>Rolling from his cot, Cub stretched his body to wake it from sleep. His gaze fixed through the transparent pane of the casement window as he moved through the Dance of Dawn's Advent. Though traditionally practiced only on the morn of battle, ritual, or ceremony, this series of poses was one of Cub's few connections to his people and he practiced it each morning he was able. It was the anchor of each day, serving to strengthen his body and remind him of his purpose.<br/>When he had finished, Cub washed the sweat from his body in the cold water of the basin he refilled each night for that purpose and rubbed dried chips of sweet bark to slough off dead skin and leave the ruddied skin smelling lightly of the herb. He bundled his top knot over his head and shaved off the stubble growing on the sides and back of his scalp. Finally, he plaited his topknot into a scalp-hugging braid that kept it out of his way, the end of which hung just at the nape of his neck.<br/>He padded softly to the stairs and squared his shoulders to the door above. Another day of druggery as caretaker of the Drag children. Cub made his face into a mask of neutrality and kept his mind on his goals.<br/>Washing, dressing, breakfast, and tidying came before lessons. While the children took their lessons, he attended some of his own among the other servants and tutors that were not otherwise engaged and could be convinced to teach him. He knew well enough how to cook, mend cloth, and gather food, but the martial instructors of the House of Drag were the finest anywhere. After all, Silas Drag, Supreme Knight of Caltronia was the most famous man on-world. Conquerer of Caltronia, the Beast Tamer, or, as Cub's people called him, Kin-killer. His reach and influence was second to none, even if he answered to the Governor of Caltronia in times of peace. The children of his house would be the future squires of the Knight's Order, hand selected from the finest physical specimens on Caltronia, at least half of them borne of his seed. Only one was the child of Uncle Silas' wife, Aunt Silene. The rest were born from members of the citizenry Silas deemed worthy of having potential, particularly subjugated native Caltronian warriors, and the most promising children of the men under his command.<br/>In fact, the children of the House of Drag wanted for nothing aside from the opportunity to experience boredom. They were exhaustively tutored in strategy, diplomacy, history, and every martial discipline for which Silas could hire a master. The eldest children, those over 10, including Silas and Silene's son, Sam, took specialized lessons that built on their strength and shored up their faults. Those younger, ranging from 3 to 9, received many shorter lessons to ascertain their proclivities. This was where Cub's interest laid.<br/>Cub readied his grappling stance with the burly square-shaped woman. "Come, boy, you've yet to make me so much as bend my knee today, and you've only one round left until I've to work with the crotch goblins."<br/>Cub's lips twitched at the crude nickname. At sixteen, he was bigger and stronger than the children Dotti usually grappled with, but he was no fair match for the woman's iron-tough physique and powerful frame. "The only time I've ever crooked your knee was when you let me, and I know it.", he spat between heaving breaths. He lunged for a hold, but ended up staring at the ceiling with a ringing in his ears as Dotti effortlessly evaded and flipped him bodily onto the mat.<br/>"Time's up, bear cub.", Dotti whispered. "Off you go." She hoisted him to his feet and pushed him through the side door as her young charges began entering the main door of the training room ahead of their short-blades teacher. Dotti was the only instructor that taught him for free. The short-blades teacher, however, not only refused to teach him, but took particular issue with a 'Beast', or native Caltronian, learning any martial art. If the short-blade master caught him training, he would sport another slit in the cartilage of his ear. Two such ragged gaps adorned his right ear, and a third on his left. Rewards for Cub's lack of 'respect' toward the man by practicing 'open rebellion' in the short-blade master's presence.<br/>He slipped soundlessly out of the room. Grappling may not come naturally to him, but stealth did. Cub stole silently to the Cellar, where the herbalist, Catkin, lived and worked.<br/>He entered the herbalist's domain without a sound, resisting the urge to draw in the mixed fragrance of the room in a deep audible breath. Her back was to him and he stalked into the room, suppressing the anticipation of surprising her.<br/>"Greetings, Cub." Catkin offered without turning about.<br/>Cub made a 'tch' sound with his tongue and sagged at the shoulders. Then he drew in the previously withheld breath of earthy musk and botanical richness. "Good morning, Elder."<br/>He could feel the narrowing of her eyes in her voice. "You know better than to call me that. What if your Aunt or Uncle were to hear you, Cub?"<br/>He felt the fire of anger in his belly, but didn't choke it back. "I don't want to hear you call them that!", Cub hissed. He drew closer to her, even in his anger he knew that what he was about to say must not be overheard. "We can call them 'Aunt', or 'Uncle', but they are no family of ours. We are just spoils of war. Slaves to the Kin-killer."<br/>The slap landed across his cheek before he even realized that she had turned around. Her silver mane swung wide from the speed of her movement. Cub reached up to touch the stinging patch of skin, only to find her hand gently resting there already. Her eyes remained soft as they sought his own. "You do well to conceal your passion most days, and it is unfair to ask even that of one your age. However, you must rule your passion if you are to succeed in your goals. Even a moment of poor judgement will render all your efforts until now worthless."<br/>Cub bowed his head in acceptance, the fire of his anger banked. Saved for the right time. "Yes, Catkin." He sat beside her and waited for her instruction.<br/>"Make the blood thistle draught. This time, I expect a perfect color and viscosity. There is no room for error.", she said.<br/>Cub did as she bade. He had an hour with the Herbalist and this draught could only barely be done properly in that time even by a master. He hands moved deftly over the table, gathering the herbs needed. He took particular care with the blood thistle. Only on one occasion had Cub mishandled the herb, but that was sufficient to nearly kill him. Had Catkin not been the most accomplished Herbalist on Caltronia, he surely would have died. As it was he still spent a week in fever dreams and a week after walking stiffly from the caning he took as punishment for shirking his duties to his 'Cousins' the children of House Drag.<br/>A terrifyingly deadly plant when prepared correctly, it was exactly what Cub would need to kill someone with Silas Drag's constitution.</p>