In.

And out.

In.

And out.

Honoka of Kawamara breathed in the Aether of Vereden, cycled it through the meridians she had so painstakingly forged over her long life…

And breathed out Ki.

It was early in the morning, and like she’d done for nearly five centuries now, she was meditating. It had been a long habit of hers to greet the rising of the sun with a session. And not one meant to strengthen her. At least, not anymore.

No, these morning meditation sessions were only meant to center her.

She had long since passed the point where she could grow from such trifles.

Honoka hadn’t needed much sleep for a very, very long time now. The strength of her own Ki was more than enough to sustain her through sleepless nights. On a lower tier person, the way she forsook sleep most of the time would damage them over time.

Not her.

Instead, she tended to work through the nights. Sometimes it felt like the only reason she did so was so she could have one of these morning sessions. It had become one of her little vices with how much she enjoyed it. Especially with how different the Aether of her home ‘tasted’ during the green period alone.

Speaking of…

It was the morning after she had assisted Greycton’s newest young apprentice with his surgery, and the green period was at its height. Honoka took a deeper breath in order to savor the almost electrifying feel of morning Aether. When she let out the resulting breath of Ki, she took a moment to contemplate the procedure.

That had been damn odd. Possibly one of the oddest surgeries she had ever performed, and that was truly saying something.

Not quite as odd as the time she had operated on a giant talking spider perhaps, but certainly up there. It hadn’t been the procedure itself that had been a tiny bit unsettling, however. No, it had been the boy himself.

In all her years, Honoka had never seen the like of what the boy had pulled off. She had initially been incredibly skeptical that he could maintain focus through the agonies of performing such a procedure on himself.

That is, until she watched the boy grow cold as ice from one moment to another. Before they’d begun, the emotion had drained out of the boy like a hole in a bowl. Through her aura sight, she had seen his spirit grow distressingly numb. And not just to emotion, either. In that state, she could have broken the boy’s jaw and she doubted he would have felt it.

He must have one hell of a mental control skill to manage that. Honoka had seen skills like that before.

They rarely ended well for the user.

She hoped he wasn’t abusing it. Maybe she needed to have a talk with Greycton about his apprentice. She wasn’t his master however, and thus had no right to interfere with his training. Grey and her had had squabbles like that in the past, and she had no wish to return to those years.

For many reasons.

Speaking of apprentices…

She could feel the silvery presence of dear Sylvia watching her from a distance, under one of her little illusionary cloaks. She hid a smile. It was cute that the girl thought she could hide from her at all. So freshly past her first Trial, she just didn’t understand what it meant to be a Cultivator yet.

But she’d learn. And she’d learn under her.

She hadn’t actually petitioned Greycton yet for the right to take his daughter as her apprentice, but she was sure he knew it was coming. Eventually. She’d caught the old goat watching the two of them with a familiar patient amusement lately that told her all she needed to know.

She wanted to say that he was just needling her in his own way, but…

She didn’t know how Greycton was finding the time to teach a new apprentice who wasn’t even past his first Ascension yet.

It wasn’t the right time. Things were too unstable right now.

But she was oh so tempted to try anyway.

The Kingdom was too unstable for her to take a formal apprentice yet, however. As soon as the main host of Greycton’s little Uprising reached Silvercrest and linked up with them, she was sure she would be taking over the Healing division. She wouldn’t suffer the normal lax standards of military Healers if she was going to be involved in this.

And she was going to be involved. She owed those damn 'Loyalists' more than a little recompense for how they had dared to treat her.

And Leonard.

A small flame escaped the confines of her soul to ignite the grass nearby, at her sudden spike of fury. Ruthlessly, she squashed the flame, but allowed the rage to fester at her core.

All of those long days of being chained to that impudent brat’s wall. The despair of being branded as a slave, and cut off from her Cultivation. The blindness of no longer being able to feel the world, as she did now. The rage at his mocking amusement, from how low he had brought her from his betrayal.

That bastard may have escaped justice at Caer Drarrow, but she had neither forgotten nor forgiven.

She felt the green period begin to wane, to her slight disappointment. Still, she knew it would be back tomorrow.

If you spot this narrative on Amazon, know that it has been stolen. Report the violation.

The sun always rose again.

Honoka opened her eyes and rose to her feet in one smooth motion. Not bothering to hide her amusement, she directed her gaze to the observing Sylvia and waved her closer. Her dear girl didn’t bother to pretend either, and dropped her cloak to meet with Honoka. She was completely unashamed of her ‘spying’.

As she should be.

Sylvia dipped her head when Honoka reached her position. “Good morning,” She said softly, smiling at her.

Honoka smiled back at her, starting the walk back into camp. The two of them were on one of the nearby hills, with a perfect view of the horizon. Honoka let a disinterested gaze sweep across both the welcoming party that she could see gathered outside the camp, and the mass that she could see a few dozen miles out.

They weren’t important right now.

Honoka smiled at Sylvia teasingly. “Did you learn anything watching me?”

“Possibly,” was the surprising answer from the Sculpted girl. Honoka felt her eyebrows raise at that. She hadn’t actually expected Sylvia to pick anything up from that.

“Go on,” Honoka said curiously.

Sylvia gazed at the approaching main host of the Uprising contemplatively. “I had been wondering for days now,” She started slowly. “Why I had yet to begin producing my own Ki. But…that’s a misnomer, isn’t it? A cultivator doesn’t create Ki from nothing. We don’t produce, we process. Don’t we?”

Honoka felt a proud smile stretch across her face. “Close,” She nonetheless corrected. “Very close. Ki isn’t something natural to people, in the way Aether is. As the goal of Cultivation is personal truth, so too must you be true to yourself. Therefore, we take the Aether from the environment and burn it in the forge of our souls. From this, Ki is born. The first Trial, the first Ascension, is about turning your soul into that forge. Every breakpoint after that is about better directing that Ki, by purifying the body and creating your meridians. Once you possess them, you'll be able to better store and incorporate that Ki into the fabric of your existence. As I’ve told you, you are now considered an Iron cultivator.”

Sylvia laughed slightly, raising a hand into the air. The weak light of the morning reflected off of her Mithril skin, sparkling. “Is that right? Iron…”

Honoka dipped her head. “The irony isn’t lost on me. As an Iron, you’ll have difficulty in directing your Ki to flow through your body, much less hang onto it. You have no meridians to aid the process. Which means that for now, we’ll need to focus more on external Arts.”

During their conversation, the two of them entered the camp proper. All around them, Sculpted soldiers were tearing down the tents and packing things into crates in order to move quicker when the main host reached them. Teams of Sculpted were packing supplies into the wagons to be ready. Luckily, Honoka didn’t think that anyone in the little party she was currently traveling with had a great amount of belongings to load up.

It made for a frenetic air.

Honoka didn’t care though. She just kept chatting with Sylvia as the two of them approached the front of camp, where everyone else was waiting. Honoka saw the familiar form of Greycton near the front of the welcoming party, along with Nyx and Woodrick. She heaved a sigh when she realized that she was likely going to need to go stand with them.

Meanwhile, Honoka watched as Sylvia brightened ever so slightly at the sight of her own companions standing some ways off to the side. The boy Nathan and the dwarf Azarus were standing around with the fox, while that odd Spirit Wolf lingered around its master's feet. It looked to her like the boy was demonstrating the range of movement that his new arm had, and drawing a not inconsiderable amount of attention from the soldiers around him.

The sight of the new prosthetic had apparently caused a bit of a stir in camp. The idea of a ‘fleshie’ with a decidedly not flesh appendage was interesting to the Sculpted soldiery. Even now, she could see baffled looks being thrown the boy’s way. Not that he seemed to be paying them any mind.

Honoka snorted at the small smile she saw growing on Sylvia’s face. She elbowed her potential apprentice in her metallic ribs slightly. “Him? Really? I don’t know what you see in him.”

Sylvia started and shifted awkwardly at Honoka’s words. She was sure the girl would be blushing up a storm if she had the blood for it. She didn’t respond to Honoka’s implication, though.

Honoka rolled her eyes and made a shooing motion. “Go on then. Run along with the others. I need to speak to the reprobate.”

Sylvia dipped her head at Honoka’s dismissal and hurried off to join the other younglings. The boy noticed her first, visibly brightening as he waved her closer. The dwarf and the fox both greeted her girl as well, welcoming her into their circle.

Despite herself, Honoka smiled slightly. It was almost bittersweet, the sight of a young group of Magi and Cultivators gathering together. They were even clustering around a young human man, in a nostalgic call back to ancient times.

Honoka sighed. She had lied to Sylvia. She supposed she did see what Sylvia did. Greycton’s newest apprentice reminded her of how the old man had been when he was much, much younger.

They were both shifty little blighters. Shifty, but noble in their own way.

Gods, to this day, she still couldn’t believe that she had lost to the moon of all things. She still didn’t know how that worked.

Nobody did.

Honoka shook her head to clear it of useless thoughts, coming to stand alongside said shifty old blighter. Her oldest still surviving friend spared her a brief smile and a nod. With a glance, she could see that he was all dressed up in his combat robes, with Stellarum sheathed at his waist. She was surprised to see, however, that he was also carrying his staff around. Honoka eyed the monstrously powerful stave warily, as if it was a deadly viper liable to reach out and bite her.

Even after all these years, she still wasn’t used to the terrible thing.

She knew what Elarux represented, after all.

“Recovered enough for that, have you?” Honoka said lowly, eyes drifting to the approaching host.

Greycton nodded slightly. “If only just barely,” He whispered back. He cut her a quick glance in return. “And yourself?”

Honoka grimaced. “Not as much. I’d say I’m at about sixty percent.” She may have boasted to the boy back at the island about how a Cultivator could take the spiritual trauma of being magically enslaved, but….

That had mostly been a lie for Sylvia’s sake. She had pushed herself far too hard just after being freed and hadn’t helped matters by taking out that ship either. It was going to be a while yet until she was back to full strength.

Hopefully, it would be in time to handle Leonard.

Speaking of…

The main host had finally reached their position, and were pulling up to stop in front of the camp welcoming party. Riding out in front of the host was Leopold, dressed in his full plate like usual and astride an absolutely massive warhorse. He stopped the horse in front of them, and jumped down in order to greet them.

Greycton clasped Leopold’s forearm in greeting with a nod. “Well met, my friend.”

“And you as well, Grand Marshal,” Leopold rumbled. He cut his eyes over to the rest of the welcoming party and smiled ever so slightly. “I see your mission was a success. Good day to you, Lady Honoka. Woodrick.”

While Woodrick returned the greeting, Honoka crossed her arms, stony-faced. Sensing something was wrong, Leopold met her eyes silently in question.

Honoka obliged him.

“It was Leonard,” She said bluntly. Leopold’s eyes slowly drifted at her words, face etched with old pain. He didn't look surprised, though. “He attacked me under false pretenses and then branded me. He was working with the Loyalists as the Warden of Caer Drarrow.”

A slow breath escaped the massive form of the Marshal. He opened his eyes. “I see,” He said heavily. He met Honoka’s eyes again, sunset orange on neon blue. “And so you demand recompense for his actions.”

He wasn’t asking a question.

“Yes,” Honoka said, unflinchingly.

Leopold was quiet for a moment, before nodding. “We shall see, when the time comes. I must bear witness to his folly with my own eyes before I pass judgment.”

Honoka narrowed her eyes at Leopold. “It’ll have to do, I suppose.”

For now.