As Varian swept the floor, he whistled a tune in rhythm with the sweeping motion of his broom bristles brushing against the coarse stone. He sighed at the sight of the courtyard before him, a mosaic of leaves in every shade and color covering the ground.

  Why must I always be assigned this task? It’s annoying enough usually, let alone when the trees start shedding their leaves like a snake sheds its skin—messily.

  This didn’t stop the young man from dutifully carrying out his task; after all, this life was all Varian had ever known. He had been just a babe when the outer sect custodian found him, weeping alone by the roadside between Whispering Wind Village and the Soaring Swallow Sect.

  Varian chuckled to himself. The old man often joked that Varian might be of noble birth—perhaps an abandoned bastard prince of the local kingdom. He always made sure to emphasize, 'If you weren’t of noble birth, how could your swaddling cloth have possibly been left untouched by nature?' Varian knew better, though. His parents were likely commoners, unable to care for a newborn, especially with the chill of winter encroaching. Besides, noble parents wouldn’t have left him to deal with his ailment, likely a consequence of being exposed to nature’s “gift.”

  As the sun began to peek beyond the curtain of the horizon, Varian slowly wrapped up his task, hoping to finish well before anyone else arrived. However, it was not to be. A wave of lightheadedness struck him, leaving him wobbling and grasping desperately for anything to steady himself. In his frantic scramble, Varian reached for his broom—and promptly fell flat on his back. Now he lay sprawled on the floor, a massive pain throbbing in his skull, as if it sought to expand it.

  How long has it been since the last time? Perhaps a moon cycle, or two?

  Varian had never been a healthy child, plagued by occasional bouts of lightheadedness that had only grown stronger as he aged, though they became less frequent. Initially, his old man thought it was simply the mad screeching that children so often tend to do, but with due time he’d learned it was more than that. As Varian grew older, his bouts of lightheadedness and pain had reduced in frequency but had become far more severe, a trade-off he was not content with.

  Minutes spent lying on the floor stretched into an hour before Varian finally felt well enough to rise and finish his task. He resumed sweeping with great haste and managed to complete the work, though much later than he had originally hoped. Still, the sun was only now fully unveiling its splendor, and Varian paused to relish the gentle warmth of its beams as they tickled his skin.

  With his task for the day finished well before most servants would even think to rise, Varian made his way to the creek south of the servant quarters. It lay beyond the walls, nestled between their quarters and the towering walls of the sect proper. Varian removed his sturdy sandals and slipped out of his grey robes with white cuffs. He paused to gaze at his reflection in the creek—a young man with black hair neatly tied in a bun and piercing brown, almost black, eyes staring back at him. He undid the bun and let his long hair hang loose.

  Varian lowered himself into the creek, his body sinking beneath the cool water as a sense of peace washed over him. His worries dissolved, along with any lingering thoughts of the pain that had earlier wracked his body. He lay still, savoring the sensation of the flowing water cleansing him of dirt and weariness. But all good moments must come to an end, and eventually, Varian rose from the creek and let the sun dry his skin.

  The young man took some time to gather his hair into a neat bun, a habit he’d developed ever since it had grown too long to manage easily. Once dressed again, Varian made his way to the central servants’ quarters. Walls of polished wood greeted him, their scent soothing Varian’s mind as he walked past the oaken gates. If only the walls weren’t painted that sickening shade of white, Varian thought to himself.

  Soon, Varian stepped into the mess hall, the chatter and laughter of fellow servant disciples filling the air, subdued as it may be due to the still early time of day. His eyes scanned the room, as if searching for someone. Spotting his all-too-rambunctious friends, he served himself a bowl of vegetable soup before making his way to the corner where they sat.

  Stolen content warning: this tale belongs on Royal Road. Report any occurrences elsewhere.

  The first to notice him was a lanky young man, his sunken eyes betraying just how much his body protested being up this early. “How come you always look so alive this early in the morning?! Heavens above, I feel like I could sleep for hours more,” Arthur declared, tucking his long brown hair behind his ears lazily.

  “Well, Arty, maybe if you didn’t spend your evenings whining about your heavy workload and just went to bed, you’d feel better,” Varian replied with a chuckle, patting his friend on the shoulder.

  At this point, the others at the table let their conversation pause long enough to acknowledge Varian’s arrival. “You know how Arthur is, Varian. He complains just for the sake of it! How could anyone hope to reach the heights of cultivation with that lackluster attitude?” William teased, his broad frame and black buzz cut giving him an almost intimidating presence.

  Arthur shot him a fierce glare but couldn’t hold it for long, and soon both broke out into laughter. The last member of their ragtag group chimed in with a smirk. “They’re not wrong, Arthur. If you were more diligent, maybe you wouldn’t lose to William every time you spar,” Ren said, his tone dripping with mockery.

  Arthur scoffed. “That doesn’t stop you from losing to all of us every time, does it now, little Ren?” Ren wasn’t as big as the rest of the group, which meant he had yet to win against any of the others during their regular sparring matches. For a moment, it looked like he was about to fire back, but he eventually shook his head and smiled instead. “Hey, let’s not get too frustrated now, guys. We’ll be stuck together for a long time once we are cultivators—better get used to being amicable,” Varian said, half-joking.

  “Speaking of cultivation, what aptitude do you think we’ll end up with?” Ren asked nervously.

  The rest of the group fell silent at his question, the weight of it settling over them. They all knew the odds weren’t in their favor—spiritual roots were rare, and the likelihood of all of them possessing one was slim.

  Upon hearing this, Varian’s thoughts drifted back to his old man’s words:

  'Becoming a cultivator is something every young man and woman strives for. To claim immortality from the jaws of the Heavens themselves and have your tales regaled for all eternity—it’s a prospect hard to ignore; I know that. But not everyone can be a cultivator. It requires an aptitude, one determined by how easily your body can absorb Qi.

  Qi exists all around us—it’s the energy that flows through everyone and everything. But absorbing more than what your body naturally holds, Varian, requires talent. It’s not easy to go against the natural order. Nothing comes for free, after all.'

  The question went unanswered, each of the four young men lost in their own thoughts, all of them occupied with the same question. The mood had shifted, the earlier lightheartedness replaced by a more somber atmosphere.

  Being a servant disciple was no simple task. Tasks needed to be fulfilled, and without sufficient energy in their body to do so, said tasks cannot be done.Despite the weight of their thoughts, the group ate with gusto, finishing their meal in companionable silence.

  “Well, that was fun, guys,” William said despondently. “But I’m on cesspool cleaning duty today.”

  Varian chuckled. “Hey, you’re a big fellow; I’m sure you’ll scrub like no other servant or disciple possibly could.” William raised an eyebrow at him, holding back a laugh.

  Varian decided it was time to take his leave, knowing he still had a busy day ahead of him. “I’ll be leaving too then; I’m already done with sweeping the courtyard, so I have the rest of the day off,” he said while smirking at Arthur. Arthur glared jokingly but did not respond, simply waving him goodbye. Ren nodded at his friend good-naturedly, lost in his own thoughts.

  Varian stopped at the line to hand in his bowl, aware that even the servants in charge of meals would be tired at this early hour. A few minutes passed before it was his turn to hand in his bowl.

  “Oh, I do love it when people eat my food so lovingly,” Lady Wang said as she took his bowl out of his hands. Varian knew the lady loved it when they left nothing in their bowl. And so, despite him not particularly loving everything in his soup, he made sure to finish his meal in its entirety for her.

  “Well, one cannot help but finish their food lovingly when it’s so delicious,” Varian added exaggeratedly. Lady Wang chuckled at that, whacking him on the head with a ladle. “Aren’t you a sweet talker? Now, this old lady still has plenty she needs to do.” She shooed him away.

  Varian shook his head as he exited the mess hall, making his way toward the courtyard where the servant disciples trained. He stretched his arms before proceeding to start jogging at a brisk pace. Better be warmed up now, so I don’t have to warm up there!