Chapter 118: First Class (2)

He turned back toward them.

"Every person has them. A stable boy has seven. A noble has seven. A king has seven. The Lord Commander has seven. The difference between people is not how many Stars they possess, but how many they can open, how deeply they can cultivate them, and how well they learn to use what they have."

He began writing the names down one by one.

"The first is the Vermilion Star."

He marked the base of the drawn body.

"It is located at the base of the spine and is associated with fire, strength, heat, and the body’s inner furnace. It is the Star that is the easiest to open and the easiest to cultivate. It mainly strengthens the body and makes direct physical cultivation possible."

He moved higher.

"The Celestial Star lies behind the navel. Its principles are light, size, and gravity. Its cultivators can eventually influence the world around them in ways that ordinary people have difficulty understanding."

Another name.

"The Golden Star rests around the solar plexus. It represents raw power and the tempering of the body."

Another.

"The Verdant Star is located near the heart. It represents growth and healing, and most healing cultivators who possess a Star aligned toward restoration eventually trace their abilities back to it."

He paused before writing the next name.

"The Black Star is located behind the brow. Its principles concern perception and the ability to see things that others cannot. It is one of the most difficult Stars to open."

Several students leaned forward.

Encrid continued.

"The Azure Star is located at the throat."

For the first time, he felt several eyes settle more carefully on him.

"Its principles are Flow and Adaptation. Water and ice are common expressions of it, but the Star is not limited to either. Movement, change, flexibility, the ability to adjust to what is in front of you, all of these fall within its nature."

He wrote the final name at the top of the board.

"And the Zenith Star rests at the crown of the head."

He looked at it for a moment.

"It is the strangest of the seven, and the one about which we have the least useful information."

A few students laughed quietly.

"The Zenith Star does not appear to possess a single defined ability in the way the others do. Its expression seems to depend heavily on the person who opens it, which makes it particularly difficult to categorize."

He put the chalk down.

"Those are the seven Stars."

The room was silent again.

Then Encrid noticed something.

The stable boy at the back had his eyes closed.

His face was scrunched up in concentration, his shoulders were tense, and one hand was pressed against his chest as though he were trying to force his body to reveal a secret.

Encrid pointed at him.

"You."

The boy opened his eyes in alarm.

"Me, my lord?"

"You have been trying to feel your Stars since I started speaking."

The boy went red.

Several people laughed.

Encrid shook his head.

"You cannot."

The boy’s expression fell.

"Not yet," Encrid added. "And probably not for weeks."

The boy looked confused.

"And that is normal."

Encrid walked closer to him.

"I want you to remember that because this is one of the first mistakes people make when they begin cultivating. They try something once, feel nothing, and decide they have no talent."

He looked around the room.

"Then they try again tomorrow, and feel nothing. They try the next day again, and still feel nothing. After a week, they decide the person sitting beside them must have some special gift because they can feel something that they cannot."

He looked back at the stable boy.

"You are not failing."

The boy slowly nodded.

"It took me two months to feel my Star."

That was a complete lie because he didn’t know how much time Encrid had. Nevertheless, that earned a few surprised looks.

"And I had someone telling me exactly where to look."

That was probably true since Encrid was the Duke’s son - he probably had a teacher. Encrid returned to the board.

"Do not misunderstand me when I say that I have little talent. I mean that things do not come easily to me. I have to spend more time on things that other people understand quickly, and I have to repeat things more often before they become natural."

He picked up the chalk again.

"But talent is not the same thing as ability."

He wrote a single word.

Talent.

"Talent tells you how easily you can do something."

Then beneath it, he wrote another.

Effort.

"Effort tells you how much you are willing to do when it does not come easily."

He turned toward them.

"I have more respect for a man who reaches the Ascendant Realm without talent than I do for a Grandmaster who was born with monstrous talent and never had to struggle for anything."

The room had become completely still.

"Not because the first man is stronger. He may not be. Not because the second man deserves less respect for being gifted. Talent is a gift, and there is nothing shameful about receiving one."

He rested the chalk against his palm.

"But if you do not have talent, you are not finished."

His voice remained calm.

"You simply have to work longer and harder."

He turned back toward the board.

"Sometimes much longer."

He erased the words.

Then he wrote two new ones in large letters.

DISCIPLINE

CONSISTENCY

He stepped aside so everyone could see them.

"These are the only two things I am going to ask from you."

He pointed toward the first word.

"Discipline means that you train even when you do not feel like training, that you follow the method even when you think you have discovered a shortcut, and that you do not abandon something simply because you were bad at it the first ten times."

His finger moved to the second.

"Consistency means you come here tomorrow."

A few students smiled.

"And the day after that."

He looked around the room.

"And the day after that."

The smiles disappeared.

"Your talent does not matter to me. Your occupation does not matter to me. Whether you are a stable boy, a sergeant, a mason, a cook, or the person who cleans the latrines does not matter to me."

He gestured toward the board.

"You have seven Stars, just like everyone else."

He lowered the chalk.

"I do not know which of you will open one."

He looked at the thirty-eight people sitting in front of him.

"I do not know how long it will take."

He smiled faintly.

"But I intend to find out."

Encrid looked once more at the two words written across the board.

Discipline.

Consistency.

Thirty-eight people had entered this room that morning believing they had been given an opportunity that people like them were never supposed to receive.

Now they had something more useful than an opportunity.

They had a beginning.

Encrid looked at the blackboard, then at the thirty-eight faces watching him with a mixture of uncertainty, excitement, and determination.

For the first time since the Council had approved the school, he allowed himself to think it.

’Let the revolution begin.’

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