“What’s wrong with the child’s head, Mother Mirias?” Theron said.

He had joined Akanthe and Mirias, the orphanage’s head, teacher, mother and any role that the children required from her, in the latter’s office.

The two eidolons stood with Mirias at the window overlooking the yard where a few dozen children crowded around Alcaestus, bombarding him with questions and congratulations.

“Much too calm. Didn’t smile or show excitement when I told him that Adras was giving him the greatest opportunity beyond any mortal’s wildest dreams.”

Mirias took a deep breath in a vain attempt to steady the shaking in her limbs.

Her office was small and the eidolons loomed over her as they filled the space. She felt like a mouse trapped in a box with a pair of cats.

“He did smile and thank us at the end,” Akanthe said.

“Yes and I know that you know what’s wrong with him. Though, you refuse to illuminate my way through the darkness,” Theron sighed. “Little Alcaestus is to be my ward. His actions will be linked to me. I’d like to know that he’ll be a boon rather than a curse.”

“It would be a mistake to say that he doesn’t feel,” Mirias began, “oh, he experiences the same emotions that we do. He just simply cannot feel them from the perspective of other people. We have done our best to teach him techniques and rules so that he’ll be able to fit into Adrasian society as a valuable contributor,” she hesitated, “may I speak truthfully, honored ones?”

“Truth is expected. Do not fear reprisal. We are above pettiness,” Akanthe said.

Mirias swallowed. “I beg you reconsider. Alcaestus would do best in a quiet life free from violence and the weighty choices that you face.”

“I’m inclined to agree, however… oracles and such,” Theron waved a hand dismissively as he failed to elaborate.

“The child must have his opportunity,” Akanthe said.

“I’ve known people like him. They make great soldiers and warriors,” Theron said.

“Yes, but what will happen to him when there are no monsters to slay or enemies to battle?” Mirias said.

“It’s a good thing that there are an infinite supply of those,” Theron said.

“Your genuine concern for his well-being will be noted as will the exemplary performance of your duties here,” Akanthe said.

“Speaking of exemplary,” Theron mused. “Mother Mirias, do not fear for little Alcaestus. I will be his exemplar. The touchstone to guide him. With my example he will not stray from Adras’ path.”

“Thank you, honored one,” Mirias bowed.

“We will return after dinner to take him,” Theron said.

“The child, Damaris, she has a valuable Skill. When she is of age she will have a place at the military academy. Until then I recommend you nurture her Skill and prepare her. The Administarium holds a list of former skirmishers and officers or both living in your city. Call on one or more of them to tutor her in their knowledge. If she doesn’t desire to pursue this path then that will be her choice when the time comes,” Akanthe said.

Mirias collapsed into her chair the moment the towering eidolons departed.

Being in their presence had been overwhelming, like standing too close to a raging fire or staring into the sun for too long.

The years passed quickly for young Alcaestus.

Life had changed in an instant.

From Adrasia on the River Icthyion on Othrys, Twenty-seventh World of Its Name to Adrasia beneath the Titan’s Pillars on Othrys, Eighth World of Its Name.

From a relatively peaceful place to one teeming with managed encounter challenges and untouched spawn zones.

From a caring orphanage to a harsh academy.

He was one of sixteen.

One of the first in this experiment by their God.

Of Akanthe, he saw nothing after they had departed his home world.

Of Theron, he could count the number of visits in the seven years on both hands.

He remembered Ms. Mirias’ lessons and her words. He periodically re-read her instructions. He listened intently to Theron’s words and instructions on those rare visits.

What better individual to model yourself after then one of the eidolons?

“What are you staring at?”

The truth?

Nothing.

However, Dorion was an aggressive sort, always looking for an acceptable excuse to challenge someone to the pit.

Alcaestus didn’t want to enter the pit at the moment. It would interfere with his plans for the rest of the week.

He pointed to the iron bar on the stand.

“I’m deciding on the weight.”

Two of the heaviest plates were already on each side.

“Too heavy?” Dorion challenged.

“No. The ten press ups I completed weren’t difficult. It felt as if I could’ve done a handful more.”

“That was my thought as well. What do you think of adding 5’s?”

“Agreed.”

He took one 5 kilogram disc from the rack and slid it into place while Dorion did the same on the other end of the bar. He laid down on the bench and gripped the knurled bar.

Up it went to the sky, down it came to his muscular chest.

His arms began to shake on the third, finally failing after the fifth repetition.

“Not bad,” Dorion said as he helped rack the bar back on the stand. “Let me show you how it’s done.”

He made it to eight before calling for help.

“I can do better,” the bigger boy spat in the sandy ground.

Alcaestus regarded Dorion’s face.

It had been an intriguing sight at first.

He had never seen a person that looked different from him before coming to this world.

Dorion came from yet a different one. His flesh had been a pale pink, like one of the domesticated pigs they kept at farms back home. Time in the sun had darkened it slightly. He had broad features. A wide nose and mouth with thin, almost non-existent lips. The strangest thing was the shock of orange hair on his head. Almost like the sour-tasting fruit that grew on many trees scattered around the school grounds. He was also the tallest and broadest among the students.

“Shall we add more weight?”

“Nah, I’m going for a personal record this weekend,” Dorion said. “Got to save something for that, right?”

“Prudent.”

“Say, Al? What’s up with your name? Why’d your parents name you after a weapon?”

A common question from the other students when they had first arrived.

Truthfully, he didn’t know.

No one did.

His parents had died in the war and he had no other family.

He had never thought about it until coming to the school thanks to the others’ poking and prodding. He almost explained, but then remembered the saddened looks on most.

He thought of Theron’s instructions.

“A warrior doesn’t reveal vulnerabilities,” the eidolon had said often.

Still, he couldn’t think of reason not to be truthful.

“I don’t know. They died in the war and I have no other family.”

“That’s what I heard,” Dorion nodded.

Then why did you ask? he almost said.

“It doesn’t matter anyways. The only thing that matters is what we do in the future with only our strength. Not our family’s or anything else. Like Adras, we rise and fall, we take glory on our strength.”

Dorion mentioned strength twice.

It was odd to Alcaestus.

He knew that Dorion was part of a powerful family that ruled over an entire region of villages, towns and cities.

A region of snow-covered winters.

He had seen pictures and videos.

Which was helpful as he might’ve otherwise called the proud Dorion a liar when he had described the place he had come from.

Cold and wet sand.

He hadn’t been able to comprehend it from simple word. He was learning thanks to the lessons.

Adras was primarily the God of physical strength, but the school sought to strengthen not just their bodies, but their minds and souls as well in this grand new experiment.

Days became weeks became months became years.

The beginning of their final year commenced.

“Students of the first and hopefully, not the last, class of The Eidolon Academy of Adras,” Headmaster Demodokos stood at the front of the small classroom. 16 pairs of eager eyes and ears focused on him. “You know your general purpose here. We have kept the specifics from you because we are learning alongside you. I am pleased to announce that our collective hard work will appear to achieve our goals. You strove for excellence and are so very close. You have gained and leveled the classes we believe you’ll need. This final year will be focused on fine-tuning everything. And at the end?” he paused to allow their anticipation to build.

Alcaestus’ heart beat stronger.

He wondered if the other students felt the same way.

To become an eidolon was an achievement that stood above all things possible for mere mortals.

“One of you will be granted the highest honor. Adras himself will make you one of his greatest servants. An eidolon!” the headmaster waited for the cheers and whoops to die down. “Throughout the year you will compete in and complete your own curated version of The Thirteen Labors of Adras. You will continue to strive for excellence. Though, I don’t doubt that you won’t. We’ve taught you well-enough to know what this means not only for you but for all that walk in Adras’ mighty shadow. Now enjoy the party, for tomorrow the work begins anew.”

Hundreds of people milled about in the great yard.

All the great and powerful names of the city and from all corners of Adras’ holdings on this world.

They dined and chatted with each other and the students.

The planting of seeds that may bear fruit in the future.

It was something Al had learned in politics classes.

He stood alone, eating a small pile of fresh grilled meats.

As a growing young man he had muscles to feed.

“You are less a mighty tree than a chiseled boulder,” Theron’s booming voice filled the air with laughter.

Eidolons had arrived.

Sixteen of them, dispersed in the crowd to seek their wards.

“Still, an impressive physique, nothing at all like the scrawny boy I laid eyes on all those years ago.”

Al bowed.

“Bah, none of that,” Theron waved a hand.

It had been almost two years since the eidolon had last visited.

“I’ve been keeping an eye on your exploits. I can’t say that you’ve disappointed. In fact, I’m proud,” he lowered his voice, “I’ve been a poor patron. You’re not like the rest. They had foundations to prop them up. Be it in the form of wealthy families that can purchase whatever they need from the finest gear to high-leveled outside tutors. Or they’re scions of great heroes, generals and scholars,” he shook his head, “not like you, no. An orphan with nothing at his back. Driven only by the flame that burns within. You are here because you want to be. Not because someone out there expects it of you. That is what will drive you to become one of us.”

“Theron,” a thought struck Al as he watched the other lavender-skinned and blue-haired eidolons standing in the crowd as trees did over bushes, “how many eidolons are there?”

“At least fifteen,” Theron chuckled.

Al could count. “Sixteen,” he corrected, “Akanthe doesn’t have a ward like you… does she still live?”

“Ha! Of course! My elder is the mightiest among us.”

“Seventeen then, at least.”

“Let me share a secret,” Theron bent over to whisper in his ear, “even I don’t know. More than ten and less than twenty. That was what Akanthe told me once long ago,” he straightened. “Adras’ will must be served on many worlds and lands. None of us are privy to the totality of it. After all, only a God can know how a God thinks. You’ll find out once you join our order.”

“I will do my best to honor your confidence.”

“So long as you try harder than any of the others you won’t make me look bad.”

Al searched for something to say to keep the conversation going as he had learned was expected as a matter of course in a standard social interaction.

“This cow tastes good,” he held up the skewer of thinly sliced meat.

“Indeed,” Theron reached over to a nearby table and ripped an entire haunch from the roast pig, “I prefer this. That reminds me. I just returned from my first new world in decades. They had this strangest sea creature. Not at all a fish. It had these things called flippers. The locals said they were rather smart for being base creatures. But, get this, they didn’t have scales and they breathed air, while living in the sea. Very fatty. Tasted good.”

“Interesting.”

“They also had those odd horn-less unicorns. Dumb and not in anyway magical though.”

“What about different monsters?”

Theron shrugged. “Monsters are monsters. Kill them long enough and they start to look the same.”

That was wholly inaccurate.

“Er…” Theron must’ve noticed something in Al’s face. “That is to say when one becomes as strong as me most monsters can be solved with a simple strike,” he held up a fist bigger than Al’s head. “However, that isn’t to say you shouldn’t be cognizant of the strengths, weaknesses and tendencies of different monsters. You’re not an eidolon yet,” he grinned. “So, how much weight are you moving these days?”

Odd.

Al knew that the results of the students’ activities were made available to their eidolon mentors.

Thus, he concluded that Theron didn’t read his or the eidolon was performing the expected social duties.

“140 on the bench, 200 on the squat and deadlift,” he went over all his personal record numbers to Theron’s approval.

“That’s impressive for your age and size. And no strength enhancing Skills.”

“The trainers believe it will be more difficult to gain levels otherwise. I intend to obtain it once I have reached my plateau.”

“True, true. You are yet fully grown. Best for you to go as far as you can before taking such gifts from the spires.”

Night turned to day and back again.

They strengthened their minds inside the classrooms.

No subject was left untouched.

Politics, tactics, strategy, logistics, all known sciences, philosophy, art, literature.

Everything.

It was often said that an eidolon may be called upon to be anything and everything from a general, to a warrior, to an administrator, to a governor and even a teacher.

All roles that Adras needed was theirs to fill.

They strengthened their souls through meditation on the aspects that made up their universe. On the nature of the Gods that guided them on the divine paths. On the spires that served as the framework of it all.

And naturally, they strengthened their bodies.

They pushed and pulled great weights.

They strained and struggled against each other. Unarmed grappling and striking, along with a variety of weapons.

It was this physicality that was the focus of their first labor of the school year.

It hearkened back to one of the most legendary deeds that the God of Strength was known for.

Adras once held up an entire world on his shoulders.

And thus, Al and his fellow students stood, sweating and straining underneath the bright sun with a large round stone on their shoulders.

The test was simple.

Hold the weight up.

He tried to keep from shifting. The rough stone rubbed harshly against his bare shoulder.

The size made it unwieldy and being dark in color it had progressively grown hotter as the labor dragged on.

How long?

It had seemed like hours.

“Five minutes!” the trainer barked.

Al heard several of the other students grunt and curse.

To keep things fair the stones didn’t all weigh the same.

The trainers said that they were approximately two-thirds the weight of the carrier.

That felt about right to Al.

He focused on the moment to the exclusion of all other thoughts.

It was something he had never had much trouble doing.

He thought nothing of the struggles of his fellow students.

One by one he heard and ignored the dull thuds as stones hit the sand and the others cursed or cried out in pain.

He thought only of the labor.

Hold the stone up.

He didn’t think of anything beyond that.

Why bother?

The instructions had been clear.

They hadn’t said anything about letting it down, nothing about a length of time.

And so those thoughts didn’t find purchase in his mental calculations.

When the stone rolled off his shoulder because his muscles failed he had the presence of mind to jump forward so that it couldn’t hit him.

He looked around.

He was the second to last remaining student.

Dorion stood a distance away, quivering, pink skin turned red with exertion.

Finally, he too, dropped his stone.

“Take five minutes, then hit the track!” the trainer barked.

He glanced over to the distance where the rest labored around the dirt track.

“Better hydrate,” Dorion jerked a thumb toward the watering station.

Al took small sips from his cup while Dorion eyed him.

“I could’ve gone a little longer.”

“I couldn’t.”

Dorion scowled.

The orange-haired student slammed the wooden cup on the table before jogging over to the running track.

Al blinked.

The cues for frustration and anger had been in Dorion’s expression and actions.

But why?

Dorion had won the labor.

Shouldn’t that have created happiness? Satisfaction and pride at the least.

He glanced at the trainer.

“Got a question, candidate?” Philo grunted.

Such was encouraged by their teachers and trainers, so he asked honestly.

“You always go to your limits. That’s got a way of sticking in the teeth of those that know that they don’t. Nothing you need concern yourself with. Keep doing as you do. We’ll keep teaching the rest until they finally get it.”

“Understood,” he bowed.

“If you can talk and bow then you can run. Get on that track!”