The Magistrate: Chapter 1 (Patreon)

At the beginning of September, I thought I had finished my standalone cultivation novel, but apparently I hadn't. I was giving it a quick editing pass to make sure everything worked, before shelving it, and realised I'd rushed the ending. I cut the last 60 pages and then added 60k to the novel, which took most of the month. (This book is 360k currently, so significantly longer than my lonfest book.)This is still a draft, so things are subject to change. I'm also missing the depth of description and the quality of prose I want this novel to have. I would love any feedback you can provide, even if you have criticisms. Changes will not be made on Patreon, so you won't notice any updates. This novel differs from most cultivation novels, as the main character has no interest in cultivating for most of the book and reads more like a fantasy novel, except for the cultivation aspects. Hidden masters do not raise the MC, and he does not challenge the heavens. He is just a man trying to survive in a harsh world. However, cultivation influences everything he does.I'm going to release the first ten chapters today and one chapter every Monday, Wednesday, and Friday until everything is out there. I expect to be ready to return to my Farmer series in two weeks, so you should start seeing new chapters after that. Those will not replace the release of these chapters.Anyway, I hope you enjoy my new book.Chapter 1

State Magistrate Finch

Fifteen years after his death, Tobias Finch knelt in the state governor's courtyard, wearing a new face and a second-hand robe and veil he could barely afford after having borrowed money from all his relatives and many of his neighbours. Like everyone else around him, he was waiting for the results of his state magistrate's exam. A result that would pull him from his life of poverty or condemn him to another year of Hell.

As the hours dragged by, he didn't raise his head or mutter a word of protest. His new world was not kind. It was not considerate. Power ruled, and those without power like him bowed their heads and kept their mouths shut.

Around him knelt the fifth sons of noblemen, the third sons of military officers, and the second sons of wealthy merchants. Each of them held some power through their status or the status of their families. Tobias held none. He was the seventh son of an illiterate serf, the lowest of the low, with a life worth five silver teals. That was the blood price those kneeling around him would have to pay his father if they cut him down for whatever reason they chose to give.

Tobias didn't give these injustices a second thought. He'd survived two major famines, biannual minor famines, a flood, a boar attack, and bandits. Their society's rules existed out of pure necessity. This world was harsh and uncaring, and you had to be just as harsh to survive.

Preindustrial living was a nightmare.

Hours after the sun dipped below the courtyard wall and night set in, the state Minister of Justice lifted the small hammer near the table's edge and struck the gong behind him. The early start and the late finish, coupled with the veils, allowed those who failed the examination to save face. Examinees would arrive and leave in mystery. Only those who passed the examination would reveal their name. Everyone else could deny being there.

The three state ministers overseeing the examination offered no words of encouragement as they read out the seats of the examinees who had passed the exam. As each position was read out, the examinee raised their head, removed their veil, and announced their name for all to hear. Each announcement was followed by silent jealousy, a seething hatred that others succeeded where they failed.

Tobias Finch felt no jealousy. He wasn't sitting the exam for family pride or personal accomplishment. He was trying to escape abject poverty, and the state magistrate examination was one of the few legal ways a peasant could do that, but it was the only way that might offer him protection.

As Tobias's seat number was read out, he experienced a rare moment of excitement. The emotion welled up inside him as a smile spread across his lips. He took control of his features, forcing the unsightly emotion from his face, before lifting his head to face the three state ministers. 

With trembling hands, he removed his hat and veil. He then raised his hands before him, cupping his right fist with his left, and bowed. "This one is Tobias Finch, of the Three Step Hills."

His words projected through the courtyard loud enough for all to hear, without an ounce of the tremble found in his grip. He did not say Tobias Finch. That wasn't his name in this life. However, fifteen years of being immersed in a language that was not your own, without any chance to practice your native tongue, allowed you to adapt. The names that had sounded so strange in his youth now sounded like Bill, Fred, and Charley.

As Tobias finished announcing himself, he placed his hat and veil back on his head and dropped his gaze, remembering his place. He had passed the examination and was about to become a state magistrate, about to become a cultivator, but he hadn't become a magistrate yet. Ten years of hard work could easily vanish because one of the ministers took offence to him looking at them without respect.

More seats were read out as Tobias returned to staring at the ground in front of him, and more examinees gave their names, accepting their small moment of recognition. In total, eighty-seven passed the state magistrate exam. It was less than one in ten. As the last seat was read out, the Minister of Justice struck the gong and invited those who had failed to leave.

The young men rose with aching legs and hungry bellies and shuffled towards the entrance. Many looked defeated, with their shoulders slumped and heads bowed. The state magistrate exam was held only once a year in the Spring, and only those between the ages of fifteen and twenty could take it. For many here, this had been their last chance at a life of success.

As the last failure left, the outer entrance was closed, and the inner entrance was opened. Servants rushed forward with lanterns, positioning them next to the examinees who passed while upper magistrates filed in.

One of those servants stopped before Tobias and sat on the ground facing him. He placed a form on Tobias's writing desk and began preparing ink. "Please remove your veil and state your name and where you come from," he said.

Tobias did as he was told, once again revealing an acne-scarred and sun-beaten face. He was not a handsome young man. Too much hard work and too many missed meals had left him small and sickly for his age. His health was so poor that it had impaired his cognitive function. Mental gymnastics that had once been easy in his previous life were now a challenge or beyond his ability.

"Tobias Finch, of The Step Hills district of Shen Bi province," Tobias replied.

The servant frowned. "I'm unfamiliar with the Finch family."

"My parents have no standing."

The servant paused. "Lower merchants?"

"Serfs."

The servant paused. "If your family was punished with serfdom, you are ineligible to be a magistrate."

Tobias fished his personal mark from his robe, a piece of pottery that was more valuable than anything he owned, showing his peasant status. "My grandfather was a peasant before going into debt to start a tea plantation. My father and his brothers are still liable for the debts he incurred. I was born free from this obligation and remain free from it."

The servant glanced at the mark, checking his claim, before nodding and filling in Tobias's name. "Who sponsored your education?"

"No one. I learned while assisting Instructor Yo. He's a local teacher."

The servant made another note before asking more questions about Tobias's status and family connections. Each answer added another comment about his lack of standing.

When the servant reached the end of the form, he stamped it. "Do not touch this form or cover your face. If an upper magistrate chooses to sponsor you, you may choose to accept or reject their sponsorship. The same is true for middle and lower magistrates. Once they have finished their selection, those who are not selected will be taken in by the ministry, where they will become cultivators and given a general assignment."

Tobias knew all this but chose to be polite. "Thank you for your assistance."

The servant bowed, acknowledging his thanks and then rose and left to perform other tasks. Tobias's form was the first one finished. The other examinees came from powerful or influential families, so filling in all the details took much longer. Only after the forms were completed did the upper magistrates begin wandering through the successful examinees.

None headed for Tobias, and only one stopped to read his form as they passed by. The upper magistrate briefly looked at his form, raised an eyebrow, and continued without saying a word.

An upper magistrate sponsored half of those who had passed. Those who were offered sponsorship never refused, knowing the offer was coming before they were given it. They all had family connections that assured them a place in the higher bureaucracy. They would go on to be important figures in the state and live lives of luxury.

Those chosen followed the upper magistrates through the inner gate as they left.

What followed was another two rounds of inspections as the middle and lower magistrates entered and left, deciding if they wanted to sponsor anyone. They left with three-quarters of those who remained, leaving only twelve examinees unselected.

The Minister of Magistrates cleared his throat as the inner gate was closed. "It would be wise of you to remember this day not as the day you succeeded but as the day you learned your place. You are state magistrates without connections, without sponsorship. You may have elevated your standing and the standing of your family, but do not let it go to your heads. Perform your work diligently, do not accept bribes, and do not get ideas above your station if you wish to live a long and fruitful life."

The three state ministers then rose and left. After they departed, an elderly magistrate entered the courtyard and made his way to the remaining examinees.

He stopped at the foot of the dais and cleared his throat. "I am Magistrate Park. You will be under my authority until you're given your assignments. You will exit the governor's palace via the main gate and make your way in single file to the magistrate's building. You will walk in line and bring no shame to me while you do so. Once we reach the ministry of magistrates' compound, you will enter a cultivation chamber and be given a pill to open your stomach meridian. You will then bathe, eat, and sleep until you have recovered. Once you have recovered, you will be issued your magistrate robes, mark, and stamp before being presented with your assignment. If you manage to cause me trouble during this time, you will live to regret it. Now, step forward and form a line."

***

Three days later, Tobias woke on the cultivation chamber floor covered in a layer of filth that smelled like rotting fish and excrement. His bones ached, and his muscles burned as he rolled onto his back and groaned. The stomach meridian opening pill had knocked him out before it forced open his meridian. This process was supposedly painful enough to break a man's mind. Considering how he felt now, that might have been true.

Tobias knew he would be unconscious for three days, so the thirst clawing at his throat didn't surprise him. He rolled over and crawled to the bucket of water in the corner of the brick room. He didn't notice the taste as he lifted the ladle to drink. All he cared about was that it was clean and wet. He spent the next few minutes filling his stomach before putting the ladle down and collapsing onto his back.

He took slow, deep breaths and tried to feel the changes that had taken place within him. The world of cultivation and the secrets it offered were the only parts of his education that he lacked. What he knew came from storytellers' tales, the twelve beasts of the zodiac, the horror stories of the Great Plague, or tales of the 2nd Emperor, the sage realm cultivator who ruled over The Three Kingdoms as a living god.

It didn't take him more than a moment to notice the change. His stomach felt different. It was like there was a warm little stone sitting inside him. One he had no idea how to utilise or manipulate. He didn't dare poke or prod it. Cultivation stories always ended badly when cultivators began trying things they didn't understand.

Instead, he relaxed, letting the fear drain away.

After a decade of hard work and fifteen years of hunger and fear, he could finally breathe a sigh of relief. He was no longer bound by the life of poverty he'd been born into. He was a cultivator now. A member of the highest caste. Soon, he could afford things like meat and toilet paper. Items he'd taken for granted in his old life but were worth ten years of struggle here.

For the second time since arriving at the state capitol, Tobais smiled. The moment of celebration didn't last long, as his stomach gurgled, reminding him he hadn't eaten in days. This wasn't the first time he'd gone that long without food—it wasn't even the tenth. Every year near Spring, food got short. Three days without food left you light-headed, but it wasn't too bad. It was only after a week that it got difficult.

Tobias rolled over and made his weak, aching muscles push himself to his feet. The cheap stained robe he'd been given clung to his body as he walked to the cultivation chamber door. He knocked on the door five times as instructed and then waited.

A servant opened the door and glanced in. The man had two pieces of cloth stuffed in his nostrils to deal with the smell. "Have you drunk water?"

Tobias nodded.

"Throw your robe in the corner and stand in the middle of the room with your arms raised. We'll have you clean shortly, Magistrate Finch."

Tobias did as he was told, throwing his robe in the corner of the room and standing naked in the middle with his arms raised. Four servants rushed in with buckets of hot water and tossed it over his body, soaking him from head to foot. Two left while the others pulled out harsh brushes and pungent soaps and began scrubbing him raw.

The other servants periodically returned and threw more hot water over him. The filth clung to his skin so effectively that the only way to get it off was for the servants to remove the top layer of skin with stiff brushes. They worked over every inch of him, only taking care when they worked on his face or groin. The entire process took over an hour, but Tobias didn't complain once. As the son of a serf, he'd learnt that complaining could get you killed, and a lifetime of silence was a hard habit to break.

Once the ordeal was over, Tobias was given a towel and allowed to dry himself before slipping into the second-hand robe he'd arrived in. No one in his family owned something so fine, but it looked shabby next to the robes of the servants who had scrubbed him down.

Tobias was then led through the compound to a small private room with a bed, table, and chair. It was luxury compared to how he'd lived for so long. A hearty porridge made from the purple rice only nobles ate, mushrooms, and tofu waited on the table in a large pot. Tobias was told to eat, sleep, and then ring the bell when he woke and needed more food, so that was precisely what he did.

The following week passed uneventfully as he recuperated from his ordeal. It wasn't until the eighth day that he woke without feeling starved, but it wasn't until the ninth that he wasn't troubled by pain or exhaustion.

Tobias dressed as he did each day, stretched his body, rang the bell, and then waited for the servant to come. "I've recovered," he told the servant when he arrived.

The servant paused. "You have no pain or exhaustion?"

"None."

"Follow me."

Tobias was led through the elegant compound to a small building and told to sit on the bench beside the door and wait. Fifteen minutes went by before Magistrate Park arrived.

Tobias jumped to his feet, cupped his hands and bowed before resting his gaze on the man's shoulder. "Magistrate Finch greets Magistrate Park."

Magistrate Park did not look pleased. Tobias could see that the corner of his mouth turned down in a frown.

"Were you faking your ailment?"

"This one would not dare."

"Most took two days to recover. You took nine. I've looked into your background. The food we offered must have been better than anything a peasant like you has eaten."

"It was, but I did not fake my sickness to receive more."

"That remains to be seen. Inside the building behind you, your divinity will be put to the test. It will tell me if you have lied to me, and if you have lied, I will have you executed. There is no room in the ministry for a magistrate who will lie for a bowl of rice."

"I agree with you, Magistrate Park," Tobias said, trembling inside.

Magistrate Park's expression softened. "I'm not trying to intimidate you, young man. I'm trying to save your life. Come clean now. The worst you will receive is a few lashes."

Tobias felt the Magistrate Park was being honest with him, but he could not say what the man wanted him to say. Not just because it was a lie, but because a lifetime of being taught his place made it impossible for him to be anything other than honest with someone from his caste. "This one has not lied. This one only recovered today."

Magistrate Park sighed. "For your sake, I hope that is true. Follow me."

Magistrate Park opened the door and led Tobias inside the building. It was a single windowless room. In the centre of the room sat a mysterious table made from copper, iron, and stone with a line of ten crystals and an imprint of a hand.

"Place your hand on the impression, Magistrate Finch."

Tobias walked over and placed his hand on the cold copper impression. Magistrate Park then closed the door, cutting off all light except for the slight glow coming from the crystal nearest Tobias. It barely glowed even in the darkness.

"Do you understand the significance of what you see before you, Magistrate Finch?"

"No, Magistrate Park."

"You have no divinity. Being able to make only a single crystal glow is as rarer than making five of them glow. Your lack of divinity is as rare as a natural cultivator's divinity of five, and that has saved your life and restored my opinion of you." He opened the door. "Follow me, Magistrate Finch." His voice no longer held any hostility, relieving Tobias of his fear.

Tobias followed Magistrate Park out of the building and through the compound to his office. The elderly man selected a book from a pile on his shelf and sat at his desk before inviting Tobias to join him.

He then placed the book in front of Tobias as he sat. "This is the Zodiac Cultivation Manual. It is the most basic cultivation manual and the foundation for every other. With a cultivation divinity of only one, you are incapable of cultivation, making this manual entirely useless to you. Yet, as a magistrate, it belongs to you."

Tobias took the manual and bowed. "Thank you, Magistrate Park. May this one ask a question?"

"You may?"

The comments about Tobias's lack of divinity had confused him. "Is this one's stomach meridian not open?"

"You would not have been able to make the crystal glow if it were not."

"Then am I not a cultivator?"

"You are, and you are not. What little cultivation you have is due to the stomach meridian opening pill. Without divinity, you cannot grow this cultivation on your own. Your cultivation can only be improved by imbibing pills that grow your cultivation for you. They are expensive and far outside your means, even as a magistrate."

"Does this disqualify me from being a magistrate?"

Magistrate Park chuckled. "The mere act of opening your stomach meridian assures you eighty years of a healthy life, and the ministry intends to recoup the cost of the pill we gave you."

Tobias breathed a sigh of relief. "This one is grateful for the ministry's investment."

Magistrate Park nodded. "Leave me. I need to meditate on how best to utilise your lack of divinity. I'll call for you when I've found the appropriate assignment."