Mikoto and the Reaver Village (Amaranthine Saga #4) - Forthright . Page 0,1

offered. You are grieving.

Mikoto blinked hard. He hadn’t cried once since they’d found father. Couldn’t. Wouldn’t. He left that to his mother and his sisters, his half-sisters, and his nieces. Not because they were girls, but because Mikoto was himself.

Expressing wasn’t his forte.

He tried to think what to do, but his emotional vocabulary—if you could call it that—was limited to vague hums, sympathetic grunts, and the occasional shoulder clap. His father had been so much better at connecting with people. Knowing what to say. Being in charge.

Resorting to a half-hearted pat, Mikoto mumbled, “You okay?”

“Time takes its toll, but it offers a way forward.” Yulin whisked away a tear. “I daresay I will be okay. With your help, noble son.”

Mikoto was used to Yulin finding new ways to tack noble onto his name. It was a moth-ish joke, playing off the kanji for Mikoto’s given name, which was written with characters that implied nobility, lordship, and even divinity. Today, the endearment felt more like a taunt. Mikoto hadn’t asked for status or its obligations.

Yet they were his. So he asked, “What can I do?”

“Work with me.”

Mikoto cast one last, longing look at the slope where, even now, battlers might be learning new skills. “I know my duty.”

Yulin’s laugh was like rustling leaves, and his light touch was a plea. “The heads of the clans acknowledge your succession. Wardenclave is in your care.” His words carried weight, as if this morning, this very moment, marked Mikoto’s induction. “However, it has been suggested that your years are insufficient, compared to the full scope of the responsibilities that are your inheritance.”

“I am not ready.” It was an honest relief to hear someone else say it.

Yulin’s gaze softened. “That is why you have been made an apprentice.”

Mikoto longed for an outlet for all the tension that was building. “Whose?”

“Wardenclave’s.”

TWO

Five Mentors

Across all classifications, reavers received training suited to their inherent strengths, usually in classrooms or in summer courses like those offered at Wardenclave. Group training. But an exceptional young reaver might be tapped for apprenticeship, either by a senior within the same specialty or by an Amaranthine mentor.

Selection was an unparalleled honor that opened many doors. One of those being the gates of Wardenclave. Glint Starmark’s standards for attendees were the highest, so their village mostly welcomed in reavers with prestigious connections.

No one could help their parentage. Pedigree was a matter of record. But the only guarantee that came with good breeding was more breeding. Those with rank could expect excellent offers for maternity, paternity, and matrimony. And monetary incentives that encouraged large families.

Pedigree was about potential. But having promise assured nothing. That’s where individual effort came into play. Those who worked hard were more likely to turn heads. And to gain the patronage of a powerful mentor.

“I do not understand,” said Mikoto.

Mentors took one apprentice at a time. And apprentices only ever had one mentor. One-on-one. Personal attention. Mutual dedication. If the mentor was Amaranthine, the bond was so close that the apprentice could wear their mentor’s crest and colors. It was the stuff of stories and dreams, for few could aspire to such intimacies.

It was different for Mikoto. Almost backward.

“How can I be apprenticed to a village?”

“You are the future of Wardenclave. You must build on its foundations.” Yulin’s fingers fluttered. “I am speaking of the Five.”

Mikoto had grown up with the Five. Not the world-famous Five who’d brought about the Emergence. Theirs was the original Five—the five founders of Wardenclave. The Amaranthine who had allied themselves with Mikoto’s ancestor.

Starmark.

Fullstash.

Duntuffet.

Alpenglow.

Dimityblest.

The clan leaders still considered Wardenclave home. Visitors were often impressed by them. Historians could get especially starry eyed. But to Mikoto, these guys seemed pretty normal. They were nice folks. Good neighbors. Family friends.

“I do not understand,” Mikoto repeated.

“You are the first headman to take charge before his fortieth year. And you are the first to be inducted because of his predecessor’s death.” Yulin’s voice softened with sadness. “Traditionally, you would have been mentored by your father.”

But he was gone.

Yulin said, “Gabe left you to us.”

Mikoto swallowed hard. “How could he have? It was sudden.”

“Your progenitor lingered as long as he could. He lived to meet a great-great-granddaughter, but he knew he would never see your fortieth year.” Yulin heaved a shaky sigh and repeated, “Gabe left you to us. Well, to me. But the others demanded their share, and you can only benefit from their council.”

“I … I really do not understand.” Mikoto knew this should have been a great honor, but