Chapter One: Roosters

Chapter One: Roosters

Chapter One: Roosters

The worst thing about living in a city were the fucking roosters. Proud little shits, screaming about how safe they were from monsters. Couldnt just wake up quietly, like everyone else. Or with a massive sigh, like Tom.

Tom made his way from his familys compound, passing through the high walls and locking the gate after himself. It had been years since theyd had guards there, but he preferred not having someone wait on him every time he came and went anyway. His family was noble, one of the great Houses of Wayrest, and hed always hated the reminder. The Cutter name was a lot to live up to.

Being an Idealist didnt automatically make one a Noble, but a Noble House was only Noble so long as it housed Idealists. With Tom looking less and less likely to manifest as each year passed, the other Houses had slowly distanced themselves. Without the support of the peerage, the Cutters had fought a losing battle to maintain their prestige. A Noble House without prestige was even less of one than one without Idealists.

He began making his way to the Academy, a route hed walked thousands of times before. It wasnt far, and nearly a straight line down the main boulevard from his familys manor too. His morning walk to the grounds was the most relaxing part of his day. He savoured every minute of them, but he never dawdled.

This close to the city centre the streets were wide and clean. The houses were large, clad in slate-grey stone, and snug behind walls of mortared river rock. Dawn rose over the roofs, tingeing tiles pink. Smoke trickled from chimneys, tickling his nose with the scents of bread and wood.

Further from the city centre the houses were wooden, and the glass that was a common sight in windows here would become rare. Out in the village-rings, luxuries like glass were a frivolous expense. Far too easy for horn or claw to shatter.

He walked at a good clip past other noble Houses compounds, joining the sparse foot traffic. He could hear distant hammers pinging off metal and the throaty grate of saws on wood from the Artisans district. Horses whickered, dogs barked, children laughed - all the myriad sounds of Wayrest sighing, stretching, and slowly waking up.

The city bustled even this early in the morning. He passed through Market Square, walking along the edge, tuning out the familiar cry of hawkers plying their wares. Some were city residents, already perched under awnings in-front of their shops in the dawn light. Some were goodwives, in from the village-rings to sell produce or crafts, or traders, come from Safe Harbour or Horizon, or even further beyond. All were a-clamour, their shouts jostling atop one another.

Tom rolled his broad shoulders to limber them. He was taller than average, but not so much that it was the first thing that leapt to mind when meeting him. Just enough so that he could see comfortably over the steadily growing traffic as he moved through the growing throng. He took a deep breath and sighed it out again, letting his eyes range over the growing bustle.

The people were all cut from the same cloth, stocky with their farming roots, even if the majority here in Wayrest proper were too clean for farmers. Most had the same earthy brown hair as Tom, and straw-blonde was not uncommon, but black and ginger stood out like coals in a fireplace.

The citizens of Wayrest loved colour, and it showed in their clothing. Wayrests main export was food-crops, but their few luxuries like wine and dye brought in a tremendous amount of coin. The village-rings afforded Wayrest rare security for agriculture, and it paid dividends for its citizens. Dyed coats and jackets in all manner of colours flitted and weaved, buying and selling, creating a tapestry of colour as much as noise. The ever present stone walls, cobbled streets, and tan skin common to Wayrest lent an earthy undertone to the scene.

Wayrest, a fortnights journey from the next nearest cities down the trade roads, still drew visitors and merchants on all kinds of business, and Market Square always had interesting sorts to see.

One of his favourite pastimes was to meander round the square. Tom could spend hours marvelling at the foreign wares, loitering near travellers trying to catch news from abroad, and imagining what it would be like to travel.

Focus, he thought. Worry is a worm that eats calms crops.

Easier said than done though. He neared the Academy, feeling the weight of his responsibilities settling on to him as his day neared its start.

The carriage that had passed him had pulled to a stop outside, and a man dressed in servants livery was helping a young woman down. Her long black hair swayed in silken waves as she descended. The morning sun gleamed on her smooth, tanned skin, just slightly darker than typical of Wayrest natives where her hair definitely was not. She stopped as he approached, turning eyes of liquid black on him.

The Raventos family had made a fortune when they moved to Wayrest a few centuries ago, bringing their knowledge of viticulture with them. They had been quickly accepted into the peerage, and were now one of the most prestigious Houses in Wayrest.

While the rest of his peers ranged from merciless bullies to snide gossips, Rosa Raventos was an anomaly. She was the only one of his peers who ever stuck up for him, but she was just as quick to cut him with words as the rest.

Tom was a stark contrast to her. Where he was patient and methodical, she was sharp and quick. Tom was not stupid, but next to Rosa he felt a fool. He was always slow to build relationships, where his father even allowed it, but she made quick friends, and lost them just as easily. She was friendly and fiery in equal measure, as quick to ruffle someones feathers as she was to smooth them. Tom had never known what to make of her. The positions of their respective Houses only made things worse.

The Raventos family was firmly established, and their fortunes continued to rise. Rosa was everything such a family could hope for in a scion, too. She had always been exceptional at everything the Academy taught: combat, strategy, history, sciences and philosophy. While Tom could also say that he was at least not far behind her in these subjects, there was only so much that counted for without an Ideal and Rosa, of course, had manifested Fire during the last Reaping. Ever since then she had him hopelessly outmatched.

Her aquiline face was impassive. For a long moment she stared at him, her cool eyes making him squirm. As he opened his mouth to greet her, she gave a loud snort, then turned and swept smoothly through the gates of the Academy. It seemed she was in one of her sour moods today. Or maybe not, he could never tell.

Tom sighed to himself. Ive got more important things to focus on than friends, anyway.

Like not dying in the Reaping. Or worse, embarrassing father and ruining his Houses reputation.

Truth be told, he would love some friends. Even just one. He always thought of himself as a friendly and kind person. But his father ensured he had no chance to build relationships of any kind. Distractions he called them, and he had punished Tom for a lot less than being distracted. His failure to manifest made certain that none of his peers wanted to taint themselves by association with him anyway.

Nothing to do but move forward, he thought. Maybe once I manifest people wont mind knowing me again.

Somehow, he knew it would never be quite that easy though.

Tom sighed inwardly, steeled himself, and started through the grand gates of the Academy.