014 – Sideburns

***

I huddled in the Fleuron’s lower deck watching the sideburned sailors play various games of chance. They rolled cubes inscribed with small pips which would produce random numbers. All of the players put down metal buttons to be claimed by the player with the highest roll. The goal was, after multiple rounds of this, too end up with as many buttons as possible. It seemed like a children’s game to me, but these fellows found it endlessly entertaining.

The first mate gambled and drank alcohol with the others.

“What’s the meaning of these metal discs anyway?” I asked. The sailors used the same type of discs that Browsk the Mighty had kept hidden in his room.

“They’re coins, cold and hard. Bullion. Specie. That’s money, lad, in its purest most metallical form.”

“Money? What’s it used for?”

“You must’ve really struck your head hard to forget what money is. It’s a shame you don’t have any, or I’d invite you to play a game with us,” said Yixigo the first mate. “Money is the reason for everything. It makes the world spin round and the sun rise and fall. The moon don’t move because nobody’s paid it yet. You use coin to buy whatever you fancy, goods and services, in fair exchanges or rotten deals.”

“I see. So it’s some kind of token for a logistics network. But if you don’t have an official account to keep track of your money and just carry the stuff around with you, what happens if you lose it? Or if someone takes it from you?” I thought of the goblin Nimblesto joyfully stuffing his pockets.

“Why, stealing it is half the fun! Ha ha ha. And the other half is throwing it away on gambling, wine, and whores before some other sod has a chance to steal it from you.”

“And you can exchange coins for anything? You use the same credits to get food, entertainment, boats, and organ transplants?”

“Sure. All the organs you could want. Kidneys, livers, tongues. Name your sausage and it's yours.”

“That sounds terrible. I suppose it’s a result of everything being so decentralized. But I still don’t see why it’s metal. And if money is used for obtaining services, why did the captain pick us up? We have none.”

“I’m sure the captain can think of another way to pay him back. Ha ha. After all, coins have value because other people are willing to work for ‘em.”

The sailors laughed and cheered. They drank fermented fruit wine from clay bottles. It was strong stuff, straight alcohol not mellowed with other drugs. Instead of the mild euphoria produced by enlivened wine, this booze brought on dizziness and nausea and erratic behavior. Yixigo slurred his words as he spoke. Maybe the reason the ship needed such a large crew was because half of them were too inebriated to walk.

Adapting to this world would be even harder than I anticipated. I had to figure out how society worked with mankind scattered across the globe in scores of tiny cities instead of one central metropolis.

I asked more questions about this money system. The typical coin, called a shekel, weighed about ten grams. Sixty shekels equaled a mina. Sixty minae equaled a talanton. This basic idea was simple enough.

The metal content of a coin solely determined its value, and the various emblems minted into the faces had no real significance. Gold, silver, and copper served as the standard metals for coinage; aluminum, iron, magnesium, titanium, and others had none. Gold and silver coins deformed due to their high malleability and were thus alloyed with copper. The admixture of another metal changed the value, as a gold shekel might be fifty-four or forty-eight parts gold out of sixty. So a talanton of gold might only contain fifty-four minae of actual gold. Every city minted its own coins, so you had to know what alloys they used. Alternatively, some people added extra weight to coins, so a full gold shekel could have an additional twelve units of copper added. In that case, a talanton of gold would weigh 4,320 shekels instead of 3,600 due to the two extra minae of copper.

Furthermore, the values of metals did not have a fixed ratio. In some places—next door to a silver mine, let’s say—the value of silver might be low. One gold shekel would buy ninety silver. In another place with a dearth of silver, its value would be high. One gold shekel would exchange for thirty. Relative values fluctuated in time and place.

All in all, these coins did not make for convenient units of exchange. It would be a real pain to keep track of, not to mention lugging them around. They picked the heaviest metals they could; I was surprised there were no lead coins too. But despite the messiness of money, I concluded that I needed some of my own. They would make life easier going forward. Now it became clear why Nimblesto lusted after those scraps of gold and why Malisent regretted dumping three talanta of precious metal down an elevator shaft.

***

The Fleuron sailed several kilometers away from the coast to avoid running into any hidden reefs, but she did not venture too far into the open waters either. Large monsters migrated through the deeper parts of the ocean—perhaps the descendants of whales, sharks, or giant squid—so ships navigated along the coasts and across well traveled sea lanes to avoid attacks. At least two sailors kept lookout at all times for the approach of giant monsters.

I watched the passing hills and mountains on the coast. From the water, they didn't look like monster filled wastelands.

Malisent emerged from the captain’s cabin. She had completely transformed overnight. She wore an extravagant silk dress covered with ribbons and cockades. Her wild hair had been tamed by silver jewelry and hair clips with flashing stones. Before she had been a savage, now she looked far too refined for the deck of a sailing ship. The sailors ogled her as she stomped toward me.

“You blasted idiot! I should tie an anchor around your neck and drop you to the bottom of the sea.” She grabbed me by the collar and lifted me off the deck.

“Gah! What’s your problem?” I struggled against her iron grip.

“You are, you half wit. I told you to keep things quiet.”

“I did,” I said in a whisper so the crew couldn’t overhear us. “I never mentioned gods or ghosts to anyone.”

“Well, the Peerless Rake is highly suspicious of me. So it must be something you let slip.”

“All I told him was that I was a student and you were my teacher. That’s all. We’re normal, everyday colleagues in a cult. Just a witch and a novice stuck in the woods.”

“You what? Why would say we’re in a cult? Or that I’m a witch?”

“Because you are. And we are. Oh. Was that supposed to be a secret?”

She let go of my collar and put her fists to her forehead. “Of course it’s a secret, you fool! You can’t go around telling people you’re in a heretical cult. They’ll send the Paladins to track you down. The peasants will come after you with torches and pitchforks. They’ll burn you at the stake.”

“I’m not really clear on what a cult is.”

“It’s evil. It’s a group of villains doing villainous things. It means we’re bad. We’re the bad guys. We serve a dark lord. We poison and murder anyone who stands in our way. We study forbidden techniques and consort with foul daemons. We defy the will of the gods and the laws of the Saints. And the most important part is we do all that from the shadows. In secret.”

“Well, you should have explained that to me. I assumed cults were people that explored ancient ruins for kicks. Like tourists but even more insane.”

This text was taken from Royal Road. Help the author by reading the original version there.

“You didn’t say the name of our cult, did you? The Void Phantoms?”

“No. I just said a generic cult.”

“What about the name of our dark lord?”

“I thought his name was Dark Lord. What is it really?”

“I’m not telling you anything more. You can’t keep your mouth shut.”

“Look. What harm will it do? Captain Slezeanor found out we were cultists as soon as he met us. Yet he still offered to give us a ride. He must not be too angry about it. And we’re in the ocean by ourselves. No one else is around to pitchfork us.” I waved toward the passing coast.

She clenched her teeth. “But he might try to turn us in to the authorities in Sandgrave for a reward. Or sell the information. Or uncover our plots. Or who knows what else. The man’s as slippery as an eel. I wouldn’t put much past a schemer like him.”

I sighed. “Malisent, I don’t want to be in a cult anymore.”

“What?”

“It sounds dangerous. And I don’t like poisoning or killing things. I’m a technician. My job is researching and fixing things.”

“I told you, ghost. Membership in the cult is forever. And even if you could leave the Void Phantoms, it wouldn’t do you any good. Your very existence is a crime. And the things you want to study—daemons and ghosts and ancient lore—are forbidden knowledge. Without a cult to protect you, the Paladins would find and obliterate you.”

“Then can I transfer out of the sword cult into a book cult?”

“No transfers,” she snapped. “Now I have to figure a way out of this mess. And don’t think because we’re on a boat that you can neglect your drills. Keep at your training night and day. Now more than ever. It can’t wait.”

“Why not?”

“Think of this, disciple: a duel with Slezeanor would occupy my complete attention; I wouldn’t be able to help you. That leaves about three dozen sailors for you to fight. Can you handle that?”

“No way.”

“Then you better keep practicing…”

***

I continued my sword drills and spiritual exercises near the pilothouse. The sailors would sometimes come to observe me for a few minutes, but would quickly become bored and go back to gaming below deck. I was not allowed to quit from boredom. My long practice sessions wore the grip of my wooden stick smooth.

Malisent stayed in the captain’s cabin most of the trip. From inside came the lilting sounds of a stringed instrument. I doubted she was the one playing the music. She seemed more like a drummer to me. That meant the captain must have been trying to keep her entertained.

Captain Slezeanor would ring a bell when he wished to summon Yixigo. The first mate was the only one with permission to approach or enter the private cabin. Twice a day Slezeanor would come out to parade around the ship. He’d do a cursory inspection, make sure everything was in order, talk to the steersman, and maybe play a few rounds of dice with the men.

“Ah. I see you hard at work, Strythe,” the captain said.

“Yes. Malisent has assigned me endless drills.” I mopped the sweat off my brow with my sleeve.

“What techniques has your mistress taught you so far?”

“None. I’m not to techniques yet,” I said. “After my accident, my memories became scrambled. So I have to relearn all the basics.”

The captain considered me to be a weak link who blurted out important secrets. He probably wanted to get some more information out of me. Mentioning my accident would give me an excuse to play the ignorant fool.

“How unfortunate. Repetition can be an effective way to grasp the fundamentals. It’s a proven path to excellence, but one not suitable for everyone. Too many drills can dull the wits of clever students who require more playful forms of instruction to flourish. Tell me, what method of swordsmanship do you favor?”

“No idea. What do you mean by ‘method?’ ”

“Ah. You truly have lost your memories. That or your teacher has been negligent in your education,” he said with a sigh. “Magical swordsman have three methods for their techniques: augmentation, enhancement, and projection. Augmentation permanently improves the body. Enhancements give temporary bursts of power. And projection affects the outside world. As you come to favor one method, you will learn those types of techniques more easily and perform them with greater power. But, that will disfavor the other two, making them harder to learn and use.”

“So you have to pick one?”

“Yes. One or a balance between two. Almost no one tries to balance all three, because a jack-of-all-trades masters none, and in swordsmanship it is one’s mastery that wins fights.”

“I see. I suppose you should decide that sort of thing early on in your training.”

“Exactly. And its important to pick a style that stresses that method. I would guess, from watching you train, that you already have a strong inclination towards projection.”

“And how does projection work?” I should have been more on guard around Slezeanor, but he was the first to actually explain magic to me. When I asked Malisent questions, she told me to stop wasting my time thinking when I could be practicing.

“Projection entails extending your magic outside your body. When you light up a lumestone, that’s a basic form of projection: channeling mana. Many projection techniques send a tendril of fire down the blade of a sword. Observe.”

The captain drew out his sword. He carried one similar in design to Veylien’s. It had a thin, straight blade. Elaborate sweepings and a damascened cup guarded the hilt. Inlaid gold decorated the sword’s furniture, and a red tassel hung off the pommel. The captain then tossed a c-shaped bar of rusty metal into the air and delivered a rapid slice. A blur of pale blue light trailed after the blade. The iron chunk sparked and fell to the deck in two pieces, cleanly cut in half.

“Projection can increase the effectiveness of arms and armor. You would have a difficult time trying to project your fire down a wooden stick. Many blades are specially made to accept and amplify one’s soul fire. Try for yourself.” He offered me his sword, hilt first.

I held the sword in front of me and tried to channel mana into it. That did nothing by itself. My inner fire had to extend into the sword like it was a part of my own body. I tried to visualize it and felt something flow out from my hand. The fire flickered upward from the hilt to the ricasso, the unsharpened section at the base of the blade. No blue energy appeared when I waved the sword. Projecting one’s fire externally was only the first step; learning a real technique would make it produce magical effects.

The captain said, “Very good. You must have a talent to succeed on your first try.”

I handed the sword back to him. “Is one method superior to the others?”

“No. They all have benefits and drawbacks. Augmentation is infused into your very being, so it is the most reliable. It requires no extra mana to maintain. But it also physically alters the body. If you meet a swordsman with huge swollen muscles, you can be sure he prefers augmentation techniques.

“Enhancement is stronger, but it needs a blazing fire that rapidly burns mana. It can only provide temporary boosts of power. Enhancement techniques can also fail, due to pain or anything else that disrupts one’s magic. So those who rely on enhancements make fast, overwhelming assaults before they run out of energy. In a protracted battle, they are at a disadvantage to augmentation specialists.

“Projection grants better range than the other two, and has a far wider variety of techniques and tricks. It burns through mana almost as fast as enhancements do. Because projection doesn’t improve the body, most people balance it with one of the other methods. Projection specialists are almost as frail as normal people, so they tend to be tricksters who avoid direct battles.

“But no method is clearly better than any other. And nobody uses one method exclusively. Every swordsman knows at least the basics of all three.”

I said, “This is a lot to consider, but I think I like projection. It appeals to me on several levels.”

For the only magical swordsman in the world who didn’t care one bit about swords, projection was the obvious choice. I didn’t need to grow huge muscles or turbo charge myself for any murder-fights. No thank you. But projection allowed for interacting with runes and daemons. And the captain’s blade showed that modern people had their own ways to create aetheric items. Projection had infinite uses beyond combat.

“Don’t be too hasty. There are countless fighting styles and techniques in the world. You should learn more before reaching a conclusion. And you should choose a master carefully as well. If a teacher and student do not have similar minds, then the lessons will be more harmful than helpful. What style does your mistress practice? And does her method match your own?”

“I don’t know. She’s strong. She heals quickly and endures long marches. And she has chopped up a lot of monsters, but no glowing energy trailed after her sword. I don’t believe I’ve seen her do anything you could call a technique. Not that I remember anyway.”

That wasn’t totally untrue. I hadn’t seen her do anything as flashy as he had. The only thing that stuck out as special was Orma’s bite, and that was definitely something to be kept secret.

“Hmm. Maybe your mistress is one of those rare jack-of-all-techniques. Or perhaps she hasn’t advanced far beyond the basics herself, and so had nothing to show you.”

I nodded to him. “Thank you for your lesson, captain. It has been very illuminating.”