Arcemis's Arc

Chapter 1 of 16

Arcemis split the practice post with a wooden sword, then stared at the two halves. He was old enough to fight for Lumera, yet he still had no work, no home of his own, and no path toward the family he wanted. His gold sword hung untouched beside the Temple of Gaia door. He could win a spar. He could not name a purpose. Master Archadious swept broken leaves from the temple steps. Arcemis had called the monk Father since childhood, but the word caught in his throat today. He picked up the wooden sword. “My hands know what to do. The rest of me does not.” Archadious stopped sweeping. “Then say the whole trouble.” Arcemis looked past him, toward the temple’s carved stone doors. “I want a life beyond drills. A wife. Children. A place where people need me. But I do not know what I should become first.” The admission left him hot-faced. Archadious set the broom aside and studied him. “You think purpose arrives before you build a life. It does not. You serve, you choose, and you keep choosing.” A soft step sounded on the stairs. Amira, the princess Arcemis had tried hard not to watch, stood beneath the vines in her red dress. Her green eyes moved from the broken post to Arcemis’s face. “You finally asked him,” Amira said. Her calm voice held a small smile. “I was beginning to think that sword had more courage than you.” Arcemis gripped the wooden hilt. “I did not ask yet.” “Then ask.” He faced Archadious. “Tell me where to go.” Archadious entered the temple and returned with Arcemis’s gold sword. He placed its weight across Arcemis’s palms. “The royal guard is seeking volunteers for the border roads. Travelers have vanished there. Go protect the people who cannot protect themselves. Return only after you learn whether that duty fits your hands.” Amira touched the sword’s jeweled guard. “Come back alive,” she said. “I would like to hear what you decide.” Arcemis fastened the sword at his side. His doubts had a name now: he would test himself in service. He walked from the temple with a task, bound for the border roads where people were disappearing.