The Primordial Record

Chapter 70 Dawn of Battle

Two men sat by an open flame, one of them poked at the flames with his bare hand, to stoke the fire, as a succulent pig on a spit was rotating above it.

Now and then, the figure takes a brush, and coats the roasting meat with a fragrant sauce, the scent of delectable roasting meat fills the air, there was a metal jug by the side of the fire, and a purple colored wine was faintly bubbling inside.

The aroma from the roasting meat and the bubbling wine filled the surrounding, bringing with it a relaxing atmosphere, the full moon overhead poured on the clearing where both men sat, and around them were the sounds of small animals and insects.

"it is unclear to me why you keep doing that." One of the men said, it was a hooded figure that was speaking, his face lost inside deep darkness that defied even the light cast by the fire, in some angles, it may even appear as if he had no head, only a hood covering a ball of darkness and in his hands was a book, that was the exact replica of the Primordial Record.

Unlike the Primordial Record that resides inside the body of Rowan, this one was tangible, and the first three pages could be opened, but it was seen that the pages were blank, and their color was white as bone.

"My spices are running out… What? Oh… You mean this." The Third prince pointed at the barbecue and the wine. "Well, I could say the same of you and your Order, concerning that book. After all this time, you should know by now, that you will not be able to read it, you have a sort of control over it, should it not be enough? You have achieved what many couldn't, even the previous holders could not understand those damned words".

Sigh. "Just because you know how to use something, does not stop you from trying to learn how it works. Moreover, Saying we have control over the Singularity is false… Ten thousand years of sturdy and we have barely scratched the surface."

"Ugh… When you put it that way… Anyway, replying to your first question." The Third prince cut a large part of the roasting pig, and started eating it, he took a long swig from the hot wine and said, "I think it was maybe four hundred, or possibly, it was five hundred years ago, when I came across a particular Barbarian tribe in the North."

"Why am I not surprised that you would visit places like that." The hooded figure said as he carefully closed the page of the black book and kept it inside the fold of his voluminous robe.

"Why wouldn't I? Although our abilities are severely suppressed on that continent, and dying to the countless dangers there is easier than breathing… I am telling you, my friend. Nowhere… And I mean nowhere else in this world would you find food better than that place."

"You don't say…" The hooded figure replied disinterestedly.

"Maybe it's because of the countless herbs and spices they have." The Third prince eagerly gestured as he took a healthy bite from the meat, oil staining his lips, "Or their tradition of selective breeding of their population into various caste, so you have an entire family who for hundreds of generations have always been cooks or butchers, not just that, even in the family of butchers, they have individual units who only kills just one specific animal or cook only a single dish. Imagine perfection honed over countless year's…"

It was clear that the Third prince was very passionate about the subject of food, "I have eaten all sort of delectable cuisines on all five inhabited continents, from the palace of kings to the slums with beggars, I have tried every known dish and also some lesser known ones, but nothing beats the Barbarians."

He took the time to chug down his wine, and swirled the jug, as he did, tiny strands of moonlight gathered inside the jug, and it was refilled by the purple wine, "Back to your question, this particular tribe was of warriors who had a tradition of feasting before a battle, which in itself is not a particularly strange event, everyone else does it but what caught my attention was the spice."

The hooded figure was getting a little more interested in his story, "What's up with the spices?"

"hehehe… This is a good one. Their prisoners of war: men, women and children are taken and nailed on wooden logs that are kept in a few feet of water, so the logs can soak up moisture, and the herbs and spices are grown on their living bodies. I want you to imagine flying over miles and miles of fields with such delightful red herbs that from the skies look like a carpet made of sunset. The scent of the herbs carried by the wind was beyond compare, while, below it… The screams of countless people."

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Rowan pushed the door open, the Captain's eyes became fixed on his chest, no doubt expecting someone smaller, his eyes slowly travelled up to his face, and they widened in surprise. To his credit, he was quick on the uptake, he quickly recovered his composure and his discerning eyes pored over the details of Rowan's face.

There were portraits of him inside the manor, and even though he was now seven feet tall, with a chin that could cut glass, he still had his boyish looks. His golden serpentine eyes only served to enhance his features. His shoulder-length hair resembled gold threads, and they highlighted his face, almost as if he had a halo behind his head.

He was wearing a pressed black trousers, with a white silk long sleeved shirt with gold buttons, he left the first three opened, over it, he wore a dark red long coat, with the emblem of the kuranes family on the left shoulder which was an erupting volcano.

In his left hand was an Axe, that had a golden shaft, with a green Axe head that was tainted by golden veins. A closer look would reveal that the area where the golden veins were concentrated on, was the spot where the snakes had bitten into, when it wanted to eat the weapon.

"Lord Rowan… You are…" The captain, even with his composure, found it hard to describe the present state of Rowan.

He was breathtaking, not only because his appearance could be described as perfect, but his sheer presence was palpable, this was brought about not only by his Massive Attributes, but also his Empyrean bloodline that had repeatedly evolved and transformed his body countless times over.

His bloodline was, originally, extremely domineering and Rowan was a cut above the rest, he had just entered the Legendary State, but his presence reminded Captain Titus of his superiors, those lofty and distant figures whose existence seemed to wrap reality around them.

Only the extreme horror in his heart could shadow his surprise, and then Rowan spoke, the sound of his voice dragged him away from the reverie he was under.

The captain noticed his voice had become deeper, yet possessing a rich quality like a finely tuned musical instrument, he felt his heart shake, and he became slightly confused because for an instant, he had the urge to worship him.

"There must be an important reason why you disturbed me captain, I gave clear instruction that I should be left alone. Did something urgent come up?"

"Yes, my lord. Something happened inside the manor that we found critical enough to bring to your notice. Maeve is busy with setting up the Sigils, and this might turn out to be extremely difficult on morale, if not handled properly".

"If that is the case, lead the way, captain." Captain Titus saluted, and turned around as he began walking briskly towards the stairs, where he began descending to the first floor.

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