The Sins of the God King

Chapter 3: Lest

Sunlight streaming through the window woke Lest. He opened his eyes, blinking against the brightness, feeling the warmth prickling his skin. He sat up and looked around for his cloth shoes, noticing the familiar silence of the house. It was always quiet when he was alone, but it shouldn't have been—his mother was supposed to be home.

Rising from the bed, he made his way to the dining table, where he saw a loaf of bread and a jar of what he assumed was orange juice. He glanced around the empty house, confirming his solitude. His mother must have gone to the market for supplies.

Lest sat on a stool, grabbing the loaf and beginning to eat. The bread was stale and dry, but his hunger overpowered his distaste. As he chewed, he remembered that today was the day young conjurers were supposed to go to Master Pontius to learn the basics of conjurer warfare. He wanted to go, desperately. But how could he? He couldn't conjure. He couldn't even call himself a conjurer.

Sadness welled up inside him, overshadowing his hunger. He couldn't face his peers with this failure hanging over him. The weight of

his predicament pressed down on him, sapping his appetite. With a heavy heart, he let the loaf fall from his hands, dropping it onto the table.

He walked over to the window and looked out, watching as many of the young people his age made their way toward the Hall of Rugartha. There would be a few hundred in attendance, and the Hall was an ideal place to hold such a significant event. Envy filled Lest's heart. He had always waited for this moment—the moment when he could be free and not stuck in this place, living on the scraps the kingdom provided to his people.

Out there, he could finally call his life his own. It was a chance to make a name for himself, not to be known merely by who his parents were. The opportunity to forge his path beckoned to him like a distant star, promising adventure, purpose, and a sense of belonging he had never felt before.

Lest clenched his fists, feeling the ache of missed opportunities. The other young conjurers walked with anticipation, their faces alight with the excitement of the unknown. They had no idea how lucky they were, how much he longed to be among them, to share in their journey.

Elly appeared out of nowhere, startling Lest so much that he nearly lost his footing and fell onto the dining table. "Shattering gods!" he exclaimed.

Elly burst into uncontrollable laughter. "You should have seen your face," she said, mimicking his startled expression with exaggerated wide eyes and a gaping mouth.

Lest, regaining his footing, got off the table and brushed himself off, trying to remove the flour that had gotten onto his tunic. "Why are you still not dressed?" Elly asked, her laughter subsiding into a playful grin.

"Why would I be dressed?" Lest asked, still confused.

"We're going to the warfare lesson," Elly replied quickly, as if it were the most obvious thing in the world.

Lest's confusion deepened. "But I can't conjure," he muttered, more to himself than to Elly.

Elly's expression softened. She reached out, placing a reassuring hand on his shoulder. "It doesn't matter, when you be able to conjure, you'll regret not coming at these lessons." she said firmly. "You're still one of us. Come on, you'll regret it if you don't at least try."

Lest hesitated, glancing back at the untouched loaf of bread on the table. The thought of facing his peers, of being seen as a failure, gnawed at him. But Elly's unwavering confidence and the warmth in her eyes stirred something inside him.

"Alright," he said, nodding slowly.

Elly's smile widened, and she gave his shoulder a squeeze before letting go. "Good. Now hurry up and get dressed. We don't want to be late."