Bloodline: Sovereign's Awakening - Chapter 53

Chapter 53: Freedom Confederation: City of Alunsina
Morning arrived with a golden warmth, sunlight spilling through Judio’s room like liquid gold. The Empyrean Shield stretched across the sky, a vibrant barrier shimmering in layers, infused with the power of Negation Obelisks and Weaver Pillars. Its presence was both protective and mesmerizing, casting faint iridescent reflections over the city below.

Judio stirred as his panoramic window slid open on its own—a subtle enchantment designed to wake its occupant by inviting the day’s light and the city’s grandeur. A crisp breeze drifted in, carrying with it the scent of morning dew, distant incense, and the baked aroma of fresh bread from street vendors setting up their stalls.

He rose from the bed, methodically folding his malong, tucking his pillows, and smoothing out the sheets. Small routines like these grounded him, reminding him of home, of his mother’s gentle reminders to always keep order in his space.

Turning to the window, he took a deep breath, eyes drinking in the vastness of the Sovereign Capital. Even from the academy dormitory, the view was breathtaking. Marble spires and towering crystal-laced buildings stretched toward the heavens, their peaks crowned with glimmering sigils of power. Bridges wove between structures like veins of a living city, bustling with morning activity.

Beyond the heart of the capital, the Aether Canals reflected the sky’s colors, their waters laced with shimmering mana, guiding enchanted boats that glided effortlessly through the city’s districts.

Today was Saturday—a free day. And more importantly, his first official visit to the markets.

Instead of his usual barong outfit or the newly delivered pair of the academy’s uniform, Judio opted for something simpler: a plain white camisa de chino and dark, loose-fitting trousers, their cotton fabric light against his skin. He reached for his bakya, their wooden soles smooth from use, and slipped them on with a faint tok-tok as he shifted his weight.

From the corner of his small room, he retrieved the specially made bayong his mother had given him before he left home. Unlike ordinary woven bags, a subtle binding weave reinforced this bag, allowing it to hold more than its size suggested. He smiled at the memory.

Judio checked his coin pouch, ensuring he had enough for necessities. He didn’t have the luxury to waste on frivolous things, but if he found something truly valuable—something tied to runes or forgotten histories—he wanted to be prepared.

With everything in place, he secured his student ID in his belt pouch, slung the bayong over his shoulder, and stepped out into the hallway, greeted by the familiar sounds of the dormitory stirring to life.

The academy’s Grand Gateway loomed ahead, its towering archway humming with protective sigils that flickered as students passed through. The air here was thick with enchantments—barriers designed to keep unwanted forces out and to allow scholars to move freely in and out.

Judio joined the slow-moving line of students departing for the day. Some spoke in hushed excitement about their plans—visiting libraries, exploring magical trinket shops, or indulging in the city’s famous eateries. Others, particularly those from wealthier families, boasted about their invitations to the Grand Merchant Hall, where only the most prestigious traders conducted business.

A gatekeeper in navy and silver robes stood at the checkpoint, his weathered face impassive as he extended a hand.

“Identification?”

Judio handed over his student ID, the etched sigil on it pulsing as the gatekeeper scanned it through a faintly glowing orb.

“First time heading out? ” the man asked, his tone gruff but not unkind.

“Yes,” Judio replied.

The gatekeeper nodded, returning the ID. “Stick to the common market if you’re looking to buy. The palengke is your best bet for cheap necessities, but if you’re after something special, head toward the merchant halls—just watch out for overpriced junk.” His eyes flicked to Judio’s bayong. “Smart of you to bring that. Keeps you from spending on useless carrying charms.”

Judio chuckled. “That was my mother’s idea.”

“Then she raised you right. Go on, stay sharp.”

With a last nod, Judio stepped past the gateway, leaving the academy’s structured world behind and stepping into the lively pulse of the Sovereign Capital.

“Be mindful of the central districts. Pickpockets have been more active lately, and not every artifact vendor is as honest as they claim.”

“I’ll keep that in mind,” Judio replied.

The gatekeeper stepped aside, allowing Judio to step beyond the academy’s protective barriers.

For the first time since arriving, he was about to truly experience the Sovereign Capital of the Kingdom.

The moment he entered the city proper, the change was overwhelming.

The common market sprawled ahead—organized yet lively, like an enhanced talipapa with better stalls and cleaner pathways. Merchants called out their wares, their voices blending into a rhythmic hum of bargaining, laughter, and the occasional heated argument over prices. The air was thick with the scent of roasted meats, crushed herbs, and freshly woven textiles stacked in neat piles.

Beyond this bustling section, towering trade empires dominated the skyline—grand buildings of stone and glass where powerful merchants conducted business with nobles and foreign traders. These halls were inaccessible to most common folk, their goods wrapped in layers of exclusivity.

And then there was the palengke, tucked between the larger districts. It was a haven for those seeking daily necessities at the lowest prices, where vendors sold fresh produce, dried fish, handmade soaps, and secondhand clothes. The scents here were sharper—ripe fruits mingling with the tang of salted fish and the occasional whiff of vinegar from a stall selling pickled delicacies.

Judio made his way through the common market, the rhythmic tok-tok of his bakya against the stone pavement swallowed by the crowd’s energy. His fingers brushed against the edge of his bayong as he surveyed the stalls, taking in the sights and sounds with keen interest.

As he navigated past a stall selling intricately woven mats, a voice called out to him.

“You, scholar boy! You look like someone searching for something.”

Judio turned toward the source—a stooped old vendor, her face lined with years of experience, her hands idly sorting through small trinkets on a low wooden table. Unlike the polished shops lining the streets, her stall was simple, but something about it felt… grounded, as if the objects she sold carried stories of their own.

Judio stepped closer. “Depends on what you’re selling, ma’am.”

She chuckled, revealing a single gold tooth. “Oh, not just selling, lad. Trading. I deal in things forgotten, things left behind. Some call them useless, but those with sharp eyes? They find treasure.”

Judio’s gaze flicked over the items—old carved stones, tarnished pendants, scraps of parchment with faded ink. At first glance, it was nothing but a pile of discarded relics, but he had learned that value often lay beneath neglect.

His fingers hovered over a small, weathered stone, its surface rough yet inscribed with unfamiliar markings. The moment he touched it, a faint tingle shot up his arm, like a whisper against his skin.

He frowned. “What’s this? ”

The old woman smirked. “Ah… a seeker’s hand always finds the right piece.” She leaned in slightly, lowering her voice. “That, boy, is from the old tongue of the Weave. Before the Loom System, before the Empyrean Shield.”

Judio’s breath caught. The old tongue?

His mind raced. The academy had a brief record of such things—only vague mentions, theories buried beneath centuries of controlled history.

“How much? ” he asked, voice steady despite the excitement surging in his chest.

The woman grinned, tapping her fingers against the table. “Ah… now that’s the real question, isn’t it? ”

Judio tightened his grip on the stone. He had come here expecting to browse, to observe. But now, he had stumbled upon something truly extraordinary.

And he wasn’t about to let it slip away.

Judio kept his grip on the weathered stone, feeling the faint tingling sensation lingering beneath his fingers. His mind raced—could this truly be from the old tongue of the Weave?

But the old woman only chuckled, shaking her head. “That little thing? Hah! You’re the first one to show genuine interest in it.”

Judio frowned slightly. “But you said it’s from the old tongue.”

“Oh, it is,” she admitted, waving a wrinkled hand. “Long ago, some explorers hauled in a bulk of artifacts. Someone stamped most of them with metal plates bearing modern writing, claiming that the artifacts were from the Weave’s old tongue. That plate? Already sold off.” She tapped the table with a knowing smirk. “The real prize was the identification tag. No one could read the markings on this rock, so it had no use. Might be important, might be just another fancy-looking stone. But without someone who can unlock its secrets, it’s nothing more than a curiosity.”

Judio’s grip loosened slightly. If that were true, then this stone wasn’t necessarily valuable—at least, not to her or anyone else.

“I’ll tell you what, scholar boy,” she continued. “Pick out something else—something with a bit of worth—and I’ll throw in that stone as a bonus. No extra charge.”

Judio narrowed his eyes, scanning the scattered trinkets before him. Rusted rings, broken charms, and aged parchments with barely legible writing made up most of the trinkets. But as he brushed his fingers across the collection, his instincts suddenly pulled him toward something.

It was a small metallic fragment, no bigger than his palm.

At first glance, it looked unremarkable—worn down by time, edges slightly chipped. But the moment he touched it, a strange sensation ran through him. It wasn’t like the tingling from the stone; this was deeper, heavier, as if something within the fragment was responding to him.

He exhaled slowly.

“This,” he said, lifting the fragment carefully.

The woman squinted at it before scoffing. “Hah! That old thing? You’ve got odd taste, lad.” She held out a hand.

“One silver coin, and both are yours.”

Judio’s heart pounded. One silver coin. He could afford that.

Without hesitation, he reached into his pouch, pulled out a single silver piece, and placed it on her waiting palm.

She grinned, slipping the coin into her pocket before pushing both items toward him. “Pleasure doing business, scholar boy.”

Judio carefully placed the stone and the fragment into his bayong, his mind already buzzing with thoughts.

After securing the peculiar relics in his bayong, Judio made his way to the Confederation’s Courier Post, a sturdy stone building nestled between bustling shops and street vendors. Above the entrance, the Confederation engraved the emblem of the Weaver’s Crest, their official mark, signifying their authority in handling messages across the territories.

Stepping inside, the scent of aged parchment and sealing wax filled the air. The faint sound of scribes scratching quills against paper and the occasional thud of parcels being sorted added to the orderly hum of the post.

Judio approached the counter, where a uniformed clerk—a man with sharp eyes and ink-stained fingers—glanced at him. “Destination? ”

Judio placed his carefully written letter on the counter. “Lower Districts of Davaara. Frontier settlement of Kabunlawan.”

The clerk nodded, flipping the letter over to check the seal and weight before tallying the cost. He reached for a wooden slate, quickly marking the coordinates before looking back at Judio.

“That’ll be two copper coins for standard delivery. If you want it sent through a priority courier, it’ll be a silver.”

Judio considered it for a moment, but two coppers were more than enough. He placed the coins on the counter.

The clerk slid them into a collection box, then pressed an official stamp onto the letter, embedding it with a faint glow—proof of its entry into the Confederation’s records. He silently placed the letter in a sorting bin, sending it on its journey south to the relay stations. Judio exhaled, feeling a slight weight lift from his chest.