NOVEL NEXT Chapter 3: Noble Politics
I took a deep breath, feeling the water cascade over my body as the servant, with practiced ease, scrubbed away the grime from my training. It was my fifth bath of the day, signaling the end of my duties as a child.
My day concluded with more lessons in noble etiquette and rigorous training. This was my daily routine—no time for anything but learning and practice, barely even a moment to breathe before being shuffled off to another group of tutors.
A grueling routine, one that normal humans wouldn't withstand. However, centuries of natural selection and genetic manipulation had ensured a stark difference between nobles and common humans.
In this world, so different from the simple days of humanity's past when it was still tethered to its homeworld, a child remained a child until the age of fifteen. That was the point when all training and education culminated, and you were deemed an adult—eligible for marriage and alliances with other noble houses.
Until then, you weren't taken seriously, much less considered a conversational companion. Entire families often barely knew one another, save for semi-formal gatherings. It was a rigid way of life, but one that had served the nobility well over the past eight millennia since this planet's colonization.
Luckily, the planet's day-night cycle lasted over 36 hours, allowing most of my learning to take place during the daylight hours. Afterward, I could rest, recovering from both the mental strain of endless lessons and the physical toll of fencing practice.
I usually retreated to my expansive quarters, more akin to a house than a room, though sparsely staffed save for the servants assigned to clean and bathe me at precise intervals.
It was lonely. Often, I wondered how other noble children coped with this imposed isolation or if they managed to escape it somehow. I knew, however, that I wouldn't be permitted to meet other noble children until I turned ten, when lesser houses would offer their children to greater ones in an attempt to forge alliances.
These bonds would endure through generations, with younger offspring marrying into minor houses or, on rare occasions, being disregarded entirely.
As for me, I wasn't sure what to aspire to. As the son of a planetary governor, I was effectively a prince with nothing left to strive for—or so it seemed to someone who once belonged to the lower class.
Wealth, women, and power—they were already mine by birthright. There was no need to exert effort toward such goals. Beyond self-discovery, the only other options for most nobles were either total decadence or hedonism.
"No wonder so many succumb to that promiscuous god," I thought with a touch of disgust.
I was constantly reminded that demons were real, gods existed, aliens lurked, and the Imperium of Man waged an eternal war. Yet all of it felt distant, like the life of a man in rural China hearing of a Taliban conflict in Saudi Arabia—irrelevant until the day a bomb lands on his home.
Given my limited understanding of this vast universe, I often recorded my theories in a personal journal. Never in Low or High Gothic—I wasn't an idiot. In fact, my enhanced genes had made me acutely aware of the insignificance of my previous life.
I wrote in English, German, and Portuguese—a way to unwind or, more precisely, let my mind rest after a typical day.
I didn't need much sleep, and under constant protection, I wasn't free to train as I pleased—especially in the psychic arts I had discovered at a young age.
A Psyker is a powerful being but also a beacon for demons, known as *Daemons*, who dwell in the Warp—a dimension of raw psychic energy where imagination and emotion take on consciousness. It's also known as literal Hell.
I had no desire to be labeled a mutant or handed over to a Black Ship to become a sacrifice to the God-Emperor. Yet, the powers granted by the Psyker gene were far too tempting to ignore.
They gave me a unique understanding of the universe's dangers and a weapon I could wield.
One ability, in particular, I had yet to master: *concealment*. I could hide my psychic potential from other living beings and meditate to gather my willpower before venturing into the ever-shifting realms of the Warp.
My goal was knowledge—knowledge that might one day serve me well.
I had already confirmed that there were no surveillance systems in my quarters—or at least I hadn't found any—so I considered the space relatively safe for discreet practice.
Simple exercises had allowed me to generate faint sparks of electricity at my fingertips. While far from lethal, it was too conspicuous to risk using for now.
Instead, I focused on something subtler: telekinesis. The ability to move objects with one's mind was a power any Star Wars fan would adore, and I was no exception. However, it required immense willpower and control.
On a more medieval world, I might have had more freedom to experiment. Unfortunately, Kronvar was anything but medieval. Beyond the hive city, the land was too hostile for ordinary humans—a realm of mutants and barbarian tribes.
If this were a fantasy setting, I might call it discrimination against "different peoples." But in this universe, things were often literal. Still a child—or at least possessing the body of one—I knew that greater freedoms might come with age.
For now, I trained in the only subtle way I could: levitating a small adamantium coin I had taken from Z7X's quarters. He hadn't seemed to mind, calling it a trinket from a distant feudal world.
Lying on my bed, I focused intensely. My mind opened effortlessly to the Warp's energies. I kept my eyes closed, aware that they now glowed with an unholy blue light.
Concentration and willpower—it all boiled down to that. Slowly, I envisioned my desired outcome.
"Focus!" I growled. It was exhausting to perform such a simple task, but I knew it would grow easier with time.
I felt the coin slide across my palm. Faint whispers from the Warp's horrors brushed my mind, but I ignored them, reciting prayers to the Emperor as taught by the family priest:
*"Imperator, divina voluntas tua, da mihi vires ad superanda adversa. Dirige voluntatem meam, sanctum nomen tuum gloriosum, quod protegit humanitatem."*
{Emperor, divine be Your will, grant me strength to overcome adversity. Guide my will, holy be Your glorious name, protector of humanity.}
In the Warp, there was no room for doubt—only unwavering faith.
As the coin slid through my fingers, sweat dripped from my brow. A headache began to throb, signaling my limits, but I pushed a bit further, finally closing my connection to the Warp.
My crimson eyes returned to their usual glow, and I let out a growl, banishing stray thoughts born from the whispers.
"Not today, you cursed things... not today."
Exhausted, I sat up in bed and checked my system. The long-awaited notification was finally there:
**Host has learned a new skill!**
- **Telekinesis** (Level 0)
*Description:* Enables the levitation of objects, self-propulsion, or use as a weapon. Continued practice will yield progress.
I smiled. At least the exhaustion had been worthwhile. My body, tingling with fatigue, would recover in the few hours of rest I had before my routine resumed.
After offering prayers to the Emperor in the small sanctuary where I had completed my last training session, I silently gave thanks for not being born into a shrine world. I was certain I'd have even less freedom there.
Even if this freedom was limited, and my life resembled a gilded cage, I found no reason to complain. Perhaps everything had its purpose—something I might one day uncover.