Soulbound: Dual Cultivation

Morning came quickly, Lucas had already risen well before dawn, his body rested and his mind calm despite the strange air that surrounded the inn. There was something about the stillness of the place in those early hours that helped him steady himself, a pause before the day's weight would begin to settle on his shoulders.

After a short while, he got out of bed and moved through his routine with practiced ease. He washed and dressed, adjusting the folds of his robe with meticulous care. Every layer was secured, and every fold sat where it should. He clipped the emblem the king had given him to the hem of his sash.

He did not want attention that morning. Though he knew it would come.

Rather than descend into the noisy din of the inn's main hall, he called for one of the inn's servants to bring his breakfast upstairs. A tray arrived shortly after, carried by a young boy who kept his eyes low and barely said a word. Lucas gave him a small nod of thanks and allowed the door to close behind the boy before turning back to the meal.

The food was simple, some sliced fruits, warm bread with spiced butter, and a small bowl of soft rice with herbs. There was also a cup of hot tea, its steam curling in slow spirals toward the ceiling, he sat at the small desk near the window.

He thought of the day ahead, of the gathering he had come here to partake in. He did not know how it would unfold, but he knew he had not come to simply observe.

When the sun had risen high enough, Lucas stood and straightened his robe once again.

He made his way to the stairwell and descended quietly, avoiding the eyes that darted to him and then away again. The moment his feet touched the wooden floor of the inn's main hall, one of the guards appointed to his detail stepped forward and gave a low nod.

"Master Xavier," the guard said respectfully, "the gathering is taking place in the west building just beside the inn. If you're ready, I can show you the way."

Lucas gave a faint nod, the expression on his face unreadable.The guard understood immediately and turned, leading him out through the inn's side door and onto the narrow path that ran alongside the building.

Ahead stood the building, tall and old, with curved tiled roofs and stone columns that framed its arched entrance. A steady stream of people moved toward it, some in pairs, some in groups, their voices lowered but eager. Lucas followed his guard silently, his robe catching a soft breeze as he crossed the threshold of the courtyard.

When Lucas stepped into the main hall of the building, the shift in atmosphere was almost immediate. Gone was the carefree laughter and drunken mirth of the previous night. The air inside the grand chamber now held a quiet weight, one born of experience and pride, of ambition and guarded egos. Alchemists stood in small groups or alone, their robes neat, their eyes sharp, their expressions composed with the seriousness that befitted the occasion. Conversations were hushed, gestures were restrained, and even the sound of footsteps across the polished stone floor carried a certain solemnity.

It was a large hall, square in shape but designed with artistic flourishes. The ceiling arched high above their heads, adorned with old wooden beams and silver-glass lanterns that hung like stars caught mid-fall. A long table stretched near the front, where scrolls, crystals, and other alchemic instruments had been carefully laid out. Incense burned faintly in two corner bowls, releasing a pleasant, earthy scent that mingled with the crispness of morning.

Lucas walked in with an even pace, his robe fluttering behind him. His eyes moved through the hall, noting the people present, the subtle glances they exchanged, the way many of them carried themselves with the haughtiness that came from decades, perhaps centuries of accumulated knowledge and status.

Isabelle was already present, standing not too far from the central dais, speaking with a man who wore the emblem of the Cameron Kingdom on his sleeve. She looked striking, even in the daylight, her posture regal yet unforced, her robe a rich hue of forest green trimmed with gold, and her hair falling in gentle waves behind her. The moment her gaze caught Lucas approaching, she broke her conversation and acknowledged him with the faintest, almost imperceptible smile.

Lucas inclined his head respectfully toward her, offering her a silent but deliberate bow. It was neither overly deep nor arrogant, just enough to express courtesy without seeming excessive. She nodded slightly in return, the recognition subtle but clear. Then, turning away from her, Lucas cast his gaze toward the other Alchemists standing in clusters, each of them bearing symbols and sashes that spoke of their respective kingdoms and noble affiliations.

With quiet composure, Lucas lowered his head slightly once more, offering a general gesture of respect to the rest of the gathered masters. They were his elders in the craft, regardless of whether they acknowledged him or not, and he would not allow pride to cloud his bearing. But their response...or lack thereof...was telling.

Many of them turned their heads away as if he didn't exist. A few looked at him with undisguised irritation. Others sneered openly, their eyes narrowing as if a bad taste had suddenly entered the room. It wasn't long before one of them, a heavyset man with thin white eyebrows and a sharp tongue, scoffed loudly enough for the others to hear.

"You," the man said, his voice heavy with contempt, "boy, shouldn't you be outside, tending to horses or sweeping the stables? Who let you into this hall?"

Another man, tall and gaunt, let out a dry laugh and added, "Someone's pet snuck in through the back door, it seems. Unless you're here to serve tea, you're out of place."

Lucas remained where he stood, his posture calm, his face unreadable. He met their eyes briefly but did not respond with the heat they were trying to provoke. The heavyset man stepped forward another pace and said, more bluntly this time, "Go on. Get out. Don't embarrass yourself. This gathering is for real Alchemists, not foolish boys playing pretend."

Lucas' gaze did not waver. His voice, when it came, was low but firm. "I am here as an Alchemist. I am from Valerion."

A sudden murmur swept through part of the hall. Several eyes turned toward the only two other Valerion Alchemists present, one a silver-bearded man with dark robes, and the other a man with black hair tied in a knot and sharp eyes like glass.

The silver-bearded man raised an eyebrow and glanced at Lucas, then turned to the others and said plainly, "I've never seen this one before."

The man beside him folded his arms and shrugged. "He's not from any circle I've been part of. Could be another of those palace-trained brats."

Lucas looked at neither of them, he didn't need to. He could already sense that they truly didn't know who he was. And even if they had, they would likely have denied him anyway to preserve their own standing among the peers who now judged him.

He said nothing further, there was no point arguing with men who had already decided he was beneath them. Let them believe what they wanted. The truth would arrive with time, and when it did, it would not require his defense.