Coherency

"Coherency is hereditary," Cenric began, eyes red from whatever secret sobbing he had done outside. "After the Cataclysm incurred by that vile previous epoch, all creatures sought to adapt to survive. But some mutations were too... erratic and volatile. One such mutation was within the blood of a small number of survivors thousands of years ago: The Progenitors."

Cenric huffed regretfully. "I wish I could tell you more about what happened during and after the Cataclysm thousands of years ago, but truly good sir, just as in the Fissure wars, knowledge regarding those matters is scarce."

Alexander nodded in agreement. "Indeed."

"But," Cenric continued, "we do know enough to grapple with Coherency. The blood of the Progenitors had been passed down to either their offspring or their select vessels. One must willfully inject their own blood into their vessel, as being an offspring is not enough, you see. And stealing blood is futile since the will is absent. So now, we can discuss the fundamentals of Coherency, which quite frankly lies in the name."

Ilyas was trying to listen intently, but was distracted by coming to terms with the truth of his father's injection. It made sense, but remained startling nonetheless. His father...

Oh, bless his father! How much he Goddamn missed that decrepit bum!

Cenric continued. "Our affinities as Coherents are unique. Yes, we are injected with the blood of our bequeathers, but that blood remains idle and useless until the first stage of Coherency takes place. The stage at which our own blood and theirs become acquainted or... familiar with each other, so to speak!"

Ilyas raised a hand, blinked with curious eyes and said, "Wait, so-so the blood of the person and yours have to at least like... share pleasantries before one becomes a Coherent? Wait... Wait what? That's silly!"

Cenric and Alexander stared at each other, then laughed as if he unknowingly spouted a trigger to an inside joke of theirs. "Well, good sir, you speak true!" Cenric exclaimed. "Never did I have to explain the essence of Coherency, so here I am sounding silly myself!"

Alexander scoffed and muttered, "Your whole existence is silly, vagrant."

"And what have you, Young Lord?" Cenric smirked. He redirected his attention to Alexander and sneered, "We are sharing the same cave."

After Ilyas diffused their squabbling, Cenric continued, "Once our blood and our bequether's at least recognise each other's existence, we achieve the first stage of Coherency, Imitation."

Before Ilyas could interrupt with a question, Cenric raised a hand and asserted, "Now I know your question, good sir Ilyas, 'Who are we Imitating?' The answer is quite simple: we are imitating ourselves. Or to be more precise, our Congruent selves, which brings us to the next stage of Coherency, Congruence."

'Ahhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh. That makes sense. I see, I see.' Ilyas pursed his lips and nodded in satisfaction. 

'Gosh, that bothered me plenty!'

Cenric continued, "Congruence is... to be quite honest, the true first stage of Coherency. That's when our blood and our bequeather's decide to flow in mild congruence with each other, and the Coherent can finally reap their true Congruent affinities, not some mild Imitation. Their blood becomes more zealous and potent, and their physical capabilities are enhanced. Silversun is quite a sight if you ever have the honour of watching the man fight."

Ilyas nodded firmly with unblinking, attentive eyes. "Silversun, yes, yes. He'll definitely show those bastards."

Cenric and Alexander shared in his faith.

"Then, quite rarely achieved, even for Congruents, I must say, when the bequeather's blood and one's own blood flow in harmony, the Congruent ascends, becoming a Harmonic. And... that's uh... that's where my knowledge grows a little... short."

Alexander stepped in, cleared his throat and said, "Well, of course, the mind of a GentlePug cannot bear such sophisticated matters. Don't sell yourself short, beast, it is good enough that you know how to talk."

Cenric cleared his throat even louder, as if it were a competition. "You're asserting yourself too ardently to a beast, dare I say, young noble."

Again... Ilyas diffused their squabbling, feeling like a babysitter at this point.

Alexander sighed, raised his chin and closed his eyes haughtily, then he gestured to himself with all the flair he could muster. "Well, my southern good friend, you mustn't brood any longer; I will bless you with my eloquence and you shall be adequately informed... unlike listening to that boor."

'I really feel like he believes he has to behave that way rather than just wanting to. I mean, come on, man.' 

Alexander began as Cenric rolled his eyes, "Let me preface by saying that becoming a Harmonic is one arduous task, and thus is mostly assumed by the nobles. Lords are in power because their ancestors attained Coherent blood and ascended to positions that demanded such authority. My father, Lord William Rosendale, for example, is a Harmonic himself, serving our great empire with utmost vigour and loyalty. Harmony is a state in which our blood and our bequeather's flow in perfect harmony. Their connection to their affinities transcends, their blood becomes incredibly potent, and their physical capabilities become devastating. They also gain a very mild understanding of the Celestial realm."

Ilyas coughed and reeled back in shock. "Wait, what?! What?! Celsetial, What?!"

Cenric and Alexander frowned at him in bewilderment. "You cannot tell me you are not even aware of the Celestial Realm's existence, Ilyas?" Cenric said. "I mean, sure, we barely know anything other than it exists, but that's still general knowledge."

Ilyas shrugged gingerly and stuttered, "I-well, you know I... The place I grew up in was truly isolated. Somewhere in the desert with my father and three other people at most."

The two stared at him for a few seconds before sighing it off, prompting Alexander to continue, "Anyhow, becoming a Harmonic is also a very restricted endeavour. It requires great resources and official permission from 'His Majesty's House of Coherency'. That's why I mentioned earlier that it's mostly reserved for the nobles who are endowed with all the necessities."

Ilyas nodded, "What comes after that?"

Alexander and Cenric looked lost at that; they only huffed and said simultaneously, "Amalgamation."

Then, Alexander continued ruefully, "But don't bother asking. We know nothing. No one knows anything. Maybe my father, a little, but that would be all. The only Amalgamate we know to exist is His Majesty the King. Of course, I'm speaking only of Mathesonia. We have no doubt the Huan and the Sycrusians have their own. The North, no doubt. The Pirates of the Atlantic... I'm not sure, but probably."

'So that's it?' 

"So, Amalgamation is the highest stage?" Ilyas asked.

Alexander shook his head. "It's the highest stage we know of to exist. After that... I haven't the faintest idea. The rumours speak of Severance, but please take my word with a grain of salt, dear friend."

"What are the Seer's considered? Or is that unknown also?"

Cenric scratched his neck, "Like I said, we know nothing about the Seers other than that they are remnants of the Fissure Wars. And the Fissure Wars-" he scoffed, "we know even less, good sir."

Ilyas remained passively silent for a few seconds with a thoughtful frown on his face. It took Alexander to continue packing for him to finally clear his throat, muster enough courage and say, "You two can keep a word, I presume?"

They both, very obviously, took offence at that, gasping and reeling back. Ilyas chuckled mentally, then muttered, "I'm joking. I know I can trust you two with a little secret."

"Are you sure, good sir?" Cenric said, "Sharing a secret is a very intimate sign of trust. I believe you know the risk you are taking."

Ilyas nodded. "It's not the biggest secret, don't worry. And those people wouldn't dare stand and fight for my life." He sighed and turned to look melancholically at the forest. "I need to share a little to survive after all. I cannot be alone for long."

They both silently affirmed his choice, and Ilyas said, "Yeah, I uh... I have been injected with blood. My father did it, actually. Didn't even tell me what and why, just lunged at me and jabbed me with that horrible pointy thing."

Ilyas tsked and shook his head at the memory.

"Such a strange father. Gosh, there was this one time before he got ill, he snuck into the refectory and conspired-no, actually, I believe he coerced her pure soul-to douse my roasted tomato portion with extra pepper."

Ilyas pursed his lips and shivered. "I still remember him holding his stomach from hysteria when I started coughing and struggling."

But Cenric and Alexander weren't listening.

Oh no, they were not.

They just stared at him, unblinking and transfixed. "You..." Cenric began, "You had Coherent blood this whole time?!" He exclaimed.

Ilyas fluttered his eyes and nodded. "I guess so. Since there is really no other reason why he would do that. But after what Alexander told me, can you not tell anyone? I will keep the mask on as well. I don't want to be someone else's weapon or something horrible like that." 

Cenric and Alexander both nodded ardently. Then Alexander raised a finger and said, "Well, that means you can become an Imitator! You will stand a greater chance of making it to Marianne! Dear Celeste, Ilyas, you never fail to amaze even me!"

Cenric contemplated for a little longer, smirked and looked up mischievously, "And I have a feeling, good sir, that within you lies quite a monstrous Imitator, if the past eludes to anything."