Rating Zero (Alpha LitRPG Book 5), page 2
But Elements alone were actually of minor significance. They’d make me stronger, but hardly bring me to a new level. By themselves, the attributes and talents they might grant me wouldn’t be enough to compel me to do something as bold as traveling to the center of the Empire, where my clan had enough known enemies, let alone the unknown ones, the likes of which had cost the Crow their remaining lands and their clan elder’s life.
And so I finally made it to that cesspit of a city. Even this part of the plan seemed incredibly hard at first, although it proved quite manageable. Still, it was too early to rest on my laurels. Now was the time for Stage Two, which involved getting to the Steel Palace and proving that I was no riffraff with a grand ambition but someone with the right to an education.
Unfortunately, no one would be waiting for me there at such an early hour. But that suited me just fine. I resisted the urge to linger awhile in some modest tavern open around the clock, or perhaps even in a more refined place for those who could afford it. I could skip a night’s worth of sleep at my age without any catastrophic repercussions, and after the Primordial Temple I hardly needed to rest during the night at all. If I wasn’t developing any parameters or pushing myself hard in training, sleeping through the night once a week and taking an occasional power nap here and there were sufficient, very conveniently so.
I had to wander the empty streets aimlessly for a while until I chanced upon a talkative night guard. He told me where I could find what he had claimed to be a decent stable. Not one of the cheaper kind, the likes of which one found outside the city gates. A single look at those had been enough. No self-respecting aristocrat would consider leaving their horse in such a filthy place. And an aristocrat from an old family like mine was bound to treat himself with respect and never settle for anything less than what was rightfully his.
I had no particular need for a horse, so I considered selling it and having one thing less to worry about. But what if I ever found myself in need of one during training? It made sense to keep the mount for the time being.
Dawn broke while I was still at the stables, so it seemed I ended up spending my time on something useful, after all. I was happy about that; the guy I bought the horse from had been telling the truth, and it was worth every penny I paid for it. It hadn’t given me any trouble whatsoever along the way and turned out to be an intelligent, obedient, and resilient animal, not too prone to getting scared. I was happy about my decision to keep it. Leaving the horse at the stables didn’t cost that much, even though the place in question was in fact fairly upscale. I could see as much even without the night guard telling me so.
At any rate, money was the least of my worries.
I continued on foot; my luggage was light, and I was a good walker. I thought I could well do without a rickshaw or a posh-looking carriage. Besides, it was really early. However, that was when I began getting second thoughts—namely, those about whether it was considered acceptable for a young nobleman to walk to the Steel Palace of Crimson Glass on his own two feet. The books were silent about it.
So I’d have to find that out on my own.
Chapter 2
The Steel Palace of Crimson Glass
I ended up hiring a carriage after all. The maps of Nami and the drawings of the city I had seen in atlases and books differed quite a bit from the real thing I saw. This wasn’t Earth, and street names and addresses were in a state of utter chaos. Besides, local artists weren’t any different from their Earth counterparts in depicting everything the way they saw it rather than the way it really was.
I got slightly lost as a result, but then chanced upon a square with the very carriages I had initially decided not to use. Even though the day was still young, some of them were already waiting for their fares. I chose the most distinguished-looking one and told the cabbie to take me to the Steel Palace. That was the sum total of our conversation; unlike his counterparts on Earth, this cab driver wasn’t chatty.
He may have felt like sharing his frustrations with me, but our class difference wasn’t conducive to a candid conversation. I didn’t have to introduce myself; recognizing an aristocrat for what he was did not present any difficulties for the locals. There were certain details about one’s hair, clothing, and demeanor that spoke volumes even to people you wouldn’t normally pinpoint as observant. After all, I had been raised and educated by a woman from one of Rava’s oldest families. That was serious business, and she made even a palsied wreck like myself look presentable back then. And now, of course, I was way past all that and exuding the right kind of aura.
The journey took a while. Nami was a large and populous city, and you could get stuck there early in the morning even though motorcars didn’t exist in this world. The experienced cabbie took wide detours around already-teeming markets and other places that were likely to be congested at this time of day. Besides, we had to go all the way around the Imperial Quarter that occupied most of the center. That part of town was usually closed off for most, and a lowly civilian carriage didn’t stand a chance of passing through.
The Steel Palace itself occupied an entire sizeable urban block, which was once a standalone bastion outside the city limits built to control one of the strategic heights. It was a perfect platform for shelling an invading army trying to storm the city. You could easily hit any siege engines or troops milling around in front of the city gate.
However, the city kept growing, and at some point, it swallowed up this nearly independent citadel. Some of the fortifications were dismantled, while others remained and were transformed into an elite training facility. Still, you could see right away what that entire complex had once been used for. Indeed, it would be hard to miss such a thing as a fifty-foot-high wall. Some of the turrets were intact too. They were round and compensated their shortness with sheer girth. They had once been used as platforms for stationary catapults capable of delivering heavy projectiles to enemy positions hundreds and even thousands of feet away. This world’s siege warfare was a great deal more advanced than back on Earth. Even a complete layman like me could see as much.
The sturdy gate completed the picture. However, it wasn’t as monumental or archaic as the stone battlements. The leaves of the gate were clearly modern, baroque and lavishly decorated. Looks had been prioritized over defense here, and the shoddiest battling ram would tear right through without even slowing down.
There was a commotion in front of the gate. A bunch of workers were installing a massive table and unrolling a red carpet. Apparently, that was where the candidates were to be greeted, but the preparations were not over yet. I looked around and didn’t see any huddling youths of my age. I must therefore have been the first to arrive and would now have a reputation for impatience.
If I were in a closed cab, I could have ordered the cabbie to go around—say, to the outskirts of the Imperial Quarter, to look at the sights there, and then back, by which time, surely, more candidates would have arrived. However, a nobleman couldn’t behave like that. What if I got noticed? That would tarnish my reputation immensely. Besides, not even a closed cab would guarantee invisibility; the group of important-looking people by the side of the gate could have all kinds of talents. They looked very much like the welcoming committee waiting for the place to be prepared.
Therefore, moving on would be a big no-no. Impatient was a great deal better than shy. A shy aristocrat didn’t make sense. A member of the elite could not be shy by virtue of their sheer social standing.
I let the cabbie go, placed the heavy pack and the bundle of weapons tied to it on my back, and headed towards the entrance looking as nonchalant as possible. I crossed the red carpet and walked around the table, watching the workers hastily arrange chairs as they eyed me quizzically. However, no one uttered a word.
I even started to hope I’d be able to walk right through the gate without anyone calling me out or trying to stop me. A vain hope, I must admit, but what would you expect from a naïve provincial youth?
One of the lavishly-dressed men standing in a circle with others like him turned his head and also gave me a surprised look, and then turned his head and said something that made the rest of the group stare at me. Walking past five clearly distinguished characters, all of whom were looking at me at once, would be impolite. However, obsequious behavior was out of the question too. That wouldn’t befit an aristocrat either.
I approached them, stopped, and spoke up, without a slightest hint at bowing.
“Good morning, gentlemen. I’m here to enroll at the Steel Palace of Crimson Glass as a student, but I don’t see the reception committee. Would you kindly assist me?”
The five of them just kept staring. A second. Five. Ten. The entire situation was beginning to get on my nerves, but I stood still, my face being the very image of nonchalance and composure. Finally, one of them, a painfully thin man with a face that seemed incredibly round for such a frame and every single hair on his body white as snow, nodded slightly instead of bowing.
“Good morrow to you too, sire.”
Then he continued, as if looking right through me.
“The young sir bears the seal of a Primordial Temple. The supreme seal.”
I barely kept from smiling, my demeanor a mixture of understanding with slight condescension. That nerve-racking Clonassis project surely paid off. Anyone capable of seeing certain things would know that not only did I visit a temple, but I passed the supreme challenge too. Every functioning Primordial Temple in Artha was controlled by some old family. The priests were leaders in name only. The higher-order Circles of Power were unavailable even for minor aristocracy, and commoners, even those who had money, couldn’t even dream of approaching them. You’d need to belong to the inner circle.
Receiving such a key outside Artha was possible, but in that case you’d find yourself dealing with a different cluster of temples, independent from the Empire and its vassal territories. Those seals were different, and this difference would be immediately obvious. It was also said that such marks could not be faked; anyone asserting anything to the contrary would usually be telling tall tales. Thus, bearing a supreme seal was akin to a passport of sorts that couldn’t be lost or counterfeited.
The amulet concealing my ORDER was far from simple. Though not unique, it was expensive and provided a decent disguise. However, the Steel Palace wasn’t a roadhouse inn serving stale beer. It was Rava’s top training facility, and potential candidates were checked by specialists of the highest order. That white-haired man with a round of cheese for a head must have seen all my attributes and everything else. The Primordial Temple’s mark was instantly visible anyway, no matter how hard I might have tried to hide it.
There was a certain risk that the man might be something greater than just a high-level specialist—some kind of a living legend, perhaps. Theoretically, someone like that would be able to see through both layers of disguise—the amulet’s and the one given to me by the temple’s talent—realizing that my ORDER was highly suspicious, and that there was more to me than met the eye. There was a minuscule chance of getting exposed that way, and I was, to some extent, ready to take that risk. Strange numbers and the fact that the Primordial Temple was among those considered lost did not constitute a crime.
But even an observant legendary master wouldn’t consider me dangerous or suspicious because of that. A lost temple’s mark was just as good as one received from a temple used by Rava’s ancient aristocracy to open their circles of power. To be sure, some of the seal’s hidden parameters could shed light on information I’d prefer to keep hidden. However, as far as I knew, no strange party could access it, or even if they could, it would be fraught with immense complications.
Nothing was ever certain, and there was always a risk of having your cover blown. However, in this particular case, I assessed my chances of being unmasked as close to zero.
Therefore, I nodded in reply, looking perfectly earnest.
“Yes, it is indeed a supreme seal. But I asked about something else.”
“I’m sorry,” the hoary geezer hinted at a bow again. “We didn’t expect to see anyone at such an early hour. The first candidates usually arrive somewhat later.”
I shrugged.
“The admissions begin in the morning, and it’s been about an hour since dawn. Am I doing something wrong?’
“No, everything’s fine,” an incredibly bulky man standing to the silver-haired old-timer’s right responded. “I’m Master Brasse, and this year I’m in charge of admissions. As far as I understand, you have come here to enroll. May I inquire about your name?”
“Chuck of Norris family.”
The fat man’s eyes didn’t reveal any reaction. He was looking at me the way a sated fish would look at a dead worm.
“Chuck of Norris family, do you know what is expected of the contenders?”
“To honor the Emperor, to honor the Steel Palace of Crimson Glass, not to be too much younger than fifteen or too much older than seventeen, be able to read and count, be at least a beta starting with the Fourth Degree of Enlightenment or an alpha starting with the Twelfth Degree. There have to be at least fourteen Degrees altogether. One must hail from a respected family and uphold its honor. One must also give a ritual donation to the Imperial Treasury. A contender is expected to abide by the laws and regulations during training and be in possession of a personal sword.”
“Excellent, Chuck. It is a rare contender who can roll off the entire list without any mistakes. I am somewhat surprised to be seeing you for the first time; such knowledge of detail is more typical of those who have already attempted to enroll in the Steel Palace. I apologize that we have to deal with you unprepared as we are—the hour is indeed early. Yet you are absolutely right; it is the morning already. So should we go over the list that you appear to know so well?”
“Certainly.”
“Do you honor the Emperor, Chuck of Norris family?”
“The Emperor is great. It is an honor to serve him, and to my family honor is everything.”
“Are you prepared to honor the Steel Palace of Crimson Glass?”
“It’s the most distinguished school of the great Rava Empire. How could anyone fail to honor it?”
“Just answer ‘yes’ or ‘no,’ Sir Chuck.”
“Yes.”
“How old are you?”
“Sixteen.”
“You are aware that one’s true age is easy to establish, aren’t you?”
“I am.”
“And you insist on being sixteen?”
“I do.”
“Excellent. Please read the writing over the gate.”
“One who enters here becomes an equal among equals. There is no one above you or below you. Remember that always.”
“Fine, so you can read perfectly well. Can you count? What are eight times seven?”
“Fifty-six.”
“And if you add a dozen?”
“Sixty-eight.”
“Fine,” the fat man turned to the white-haired man. “Master Daunth, could you describe the contender’s first degrees of ORDER, please?”
“Certainly, Master Brasse. Sir Chuck uses an amulet that distorts the direct effect. According to the amulet, he was born a beta, and the stats typical for a beta begin at Degree Four. He became an alpha by Degree Nine. That implies the fifteen attributes all the alphas get at the beginning. He’s got sixteen Degrees altogether, with seventeen attributes opened on the last.”
“And what’s underneath the amulet?”
“It’s hard to tell for sure,” the white-haired man replied, sounding uncertain.
“Master Daunth, is there really anything left in this area of knowledge that remains a mystery to you?” The fat man sounded surprised. “Do you believe Sir Chuck is trying to confuse us?”
“Our lives are all about uncertainty and complication, but I’ll refrain from waxing too philosophical about it. Just trust my ample experience on this one: Sir Chuck is not as simple as one might think, but he isn’t pretending to have more attributes than he actually does. I’m almost sure of that. Don’t ask me why ‘almost’. Old men are suspicious. My intuition is telling me that this youth might conceal a surprise,” the master bowed to me. “Pray pardon my words, Sir Chuck. I am in no way being disrespectful, but it is customary for truth to be spoken at all times here.”
“So what’s underneath the amulet?” Brasse asked impatiently. “Spare me your suspicions. Just tell me what you see.”
“The picture underneath the amulet is vastly different and only coincides with the distorted version in that he is a born beta,” Daunth replied. “Four attributes have been open, starting with the First Degree, all with decent embodiments. Starting with the Sixth Degree, he’s been an alpha with fifteen attributes, with maximum embodiments on some and near-maximum ones on the rest of them. He has twenty-one Degrees of Enlightenment all in all, with twenty attributes open on the last one, also with high embodiments. I can swear there aren’t fewer, no matter how hard he tries to conceal the original picture. Theoretically, someone could hide something like that from me, but they’d have to possess much higher parameters. Therefore, I guarantee that Sir Chuck does not exaggerate his parameters, which makes them more than adequate to the school’s requirements in terms of attributes and degrees.”
