"Who's ther—Oh, Jacob! What a pleasant surprise." Alaric said as he cleared his throat, the boy had never been to his study before.
'So this is the genius they've been talking about.' Savant thought as Jacob moved towards the table in slow graceful strides, ones that were unfit for a ten year old.
"I overheard your discussion with your guest and I just thought to chip in, after all, it is about me." Jacob said as he stood beside his grandfather, his bright blue eyes focused intently on the sect leader.
"Well Jacob, our guest here is Savant Hardin, he is the leader of the most powerful sect in the world." Alaric responded by way of introduction, his brows furrowing for a moment, then smoothing out.
"Nice to meet you Jacob," Savant said.
"The pleasure is mine."
'His countenance, it doesn't match his age, I wonder what else I can learn about him,' Savant mused, his eyes narrowing and lingering on the boy, studying him.
"So…" Jacob started, "If decisions are being made about me, I'd like to hear them out."
"You seem quite confident for your age, do you understand what is being discussed here?" Savant asked him.
"Of course I do, and correct me if I'm wrong, but you're trying to convince my grandfather to hand me over to your sect, right?"
Alaric watched in shock as the boy spoke in such manner, no child should have such maturity in his opinion. He kept his gaze on the boy for a moment, and then he burst out laughing.
"Ho Ho Ho! Now that's a true Ironfell, I knew you had it in ya son." He bellowed, patting Jacob on his back and shifting his chair backwards as if to say 'Go ahead and handle it.'
Jacob looked at his grandfather, smiling sheepishly, and then turning back to the other man.
"I thought about it and if you really want me to join your sect, I have a proposal." Jacob told him.
"And what is your proposal?"
"I will join your sect when I turn eighteen, but I will not live within your compound, I will have the freedom to move to wherever I want, and I will only join your sect under an alias."
"…"
The room fell silent.
Savant looked at Alaric, then at the boy, then at Alaric again.
"Boy, do you understand the demands you're making." Savant asked, narrowing his eyes and focusing them on Jacob.
"Yes I do and I do not plan to change them."
"Che!" Savant nearly cussed, he looked at Alaric, who shrugged and said "You heard the boy."
After a brief moment of thought, Savant replied, "I'm willing to accept your offer, but before I do, I will need to witness your power for myself, to see if you're what they say you are."
Jacob was half expecting the man to ask why he wanted an alias, but he never did, so Jacob kept his reasons to himself, in truth the only reason he wanted to join under another identity was because all his life he had been treated as someone with immense power, respected and feared, he would want to experience the life of a commoner, even if it was just for a short time.
"And how do you plan to do that, you want to spar with me?"
"Spar with you? Oh no, I'll send one of my sect's geniuses over, if you can beat him, then I will accept your offer," Savant responded, chuckling at the boy's question.
"And if I don't win?"
"You already know the answer to that."
Jacob nodded and watched as the man stood up slowly.
"Well since we're done here, expect his arrival within the next week." Savant walked towards the door and grabbed the handle, "I hope you don't disappoint me, Jacob Ironfell."
_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _
As soon as Savant found his way out, Jacob was left in silence with his grandfather, who immediately turned him so they could face each other.
"Boy! The way you spoke just now, are you sure you're only ten?" Alaric looked at him, his big hands gripping the boy's shoulders.
"Sorry for interrupting grandpa, I just overheard the conversation and couldn't help but say something."
"Well I ain't mad at that boy! I was running out of things to tell that old sport anyways." Alaric laughed.
Alaric was a man hardened by countless battles, he had seen so many wars, and he had so many scars to show for it. Now that he was almost at the end of his life's journey, he would do everything possible to avoid even a hint of conflict, especially if it meant protecting the clan and its legacy.
"You better win that fight boy, I'm counting on you."
"We'll see." Jacob responded and they both shared a laugh.
-The Host's words are infused with soul force, Qi and intent, allowing him to forcefully influence the thoughts, actions, and perceptions of others.
'So basically I have a cursed speech technique,' Jacob mused, a crooked smile playing on his lips.
He thought for a bit about what the genius he would soon face would look like, if he would be the same age and height as him, but he quickly brushed those thoughts away, he wouldn't let such things derail him.
_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _
A young boy could be seen in a small room, far in the northern end of the continent, in a place called the Norrh Sky Range, this was where the Flying Macabre sect compound was located. He sat in a lotus position, his eyes closed and his breathing controlled, he had been cultivating here for the past 5 hours.
Zaheer was one of the few exceptionally gifted geniuses that the Macabre had set their eyes on, he lived, trained and fought with them from the day of his birth.
"Zaheer!" A little girl no older than four years old called out to him, interrupting his session.
"Yes Jasmine," the boy responded calmly.
"Zaheer Zaheer, it's almost lunch!" The girl ran to him, tugging at his shirt.
"Okay okay, let's go get you some lunch," Zaheer sighed, slowly picking himself up, and patting the little girl on the head.
"Yayy."
"What would you like Jasmine?"
"Ummm… Ummm," Jasmine scratched her head, not knowing what to say.
"You know what? how about some dumplings?"
"Yay yay dumplings!"
Zaheer laughed as he held Jasmine's hand, walking her out of the room.