1 Soul Bound
1.2 Taking Control
1.2.3 An Enchanting Original
1.2.3.13 Briefly gather yourself in advance...
So many unanswered questions! Kafana wanted to dive back in, spend all day following the adventures of Nevermere as they strove for recognition, but Alderney had halted the recording.
Alderney: “Yeek, time passes. Wellington’s informed me that they’re just finishing measuring the last person and we need to return now.”
Kafana: “Signora wants something. What do you think it is?”
Alderney: “To be entertained, I think. Running her own salon? She must be the queen-bee of the gossip circles. Bet she’d do well, standing in the middle of the Grand Market. If we need to distract her, I’ll draw her some designs. I’ve been having Tink analyse the fashions in Torello and Mezelay, and compare them against Earth history. They’re not fully authentic, nor should they be - magically enhanced clothing ingredients and different historic forces - but some are close enough that Tink’s been able to make some fair predictions as to where the trend is going, what’s likely to be fashionable next. Or maybe she could use her investment fund to start a joint business with Flavio, producing off-the-rack ‘fashions for adventurers’ that take advantage of the new materials Bungo’s been helping him produce. Or maybe decent underwear, they don’t have bullet bras yet or–”
Kafana: “Alderney!”
Alderney: “Sorry. I set Tink to remind me if I get off-track too much when in game, but I don’t have that switched on here. It makes me feel, I don’t know, compressed? Like I need to expand and let my mind free a little, once I’m no longer on stage.”
Kafana gave her a hug. “You’ve been wonderful. We couldn’t do this without you, and I wouldn’t want to.”
Alderney wiped her eyes and mumbled something about stupid onion-chopping ninjas being to blame.
Kafana looked around, half expecting someone had coded an addition to her cooking area in the Burrow. She hadn’t been back there in a while.
Kafana: “I don’t see any.”
Alderney scoffed: “Of course not. If they were incompetent enough to be spotted by just anyone, they’d hardly be ninjas, now would they? That reminds me, I need better stealth. Find some magic for it, if you can?”
Kafana laughed. “For you, bestie? Anything. Now let’s flip before we spoil Wellington’s plans.”
This story originates from Royal Road. Ensure the author gets the support they deserve by reading it there.
*flip*
She found herself in a chair by the samples table, a book about sewing patterns from around the world open to a page on the Double Herringbone stitch used in Lilleheim, and a hasty note addressed to her from her Self, saying she’d scanned as many books in the library here as she’d been able to.
Kafana got up and looked around. Alderney was sketching male and female outfits, from those worn at the Princess’ Palace and some Kafana didn’t recognise. Tomsk was using a pair of foils to teach Bungo a bit about fencing, while Wellington looked on. She walked over to stand by Wellington. Bungo made an attack so fast that Kafana couldn’t follow it, but Tomsk avoided it while seeming to scarcely move at all. Tomsk then mimicked the attack in slow motion, every step and wrist angle the same as Bungo’s, talking him through ways to improve it.
Kafana: “He’s really very good at that, isn’t he?”
Wellington: {You are understating the case. Quintessentially charge their clients a fortune to book an hour long lesson experience with him at a private Dojo.}
Bulgaria: {Tomsk, you were born in the wrong age. If you’d lived 2500 years ago, you’d have ended up ruling a country.}
Tomsk: {Not me. I’ll lead troops, and enforce laws if they’re just, but I wouldn’t want to be a dictator, no matter how good my intentions. Too easy to get caught up in yourself and stop listening properly to the people. People matter.}
Bungo put his sword down, looking annoyed. “Tomsk, that’s ridiculous. You’re beating me, while not even paying attention to the fighting.”
Tomsk: “When I’m fighting, I do as much of my thinking with my body as possible, so I can leave my mind empty of distractions. Bungo, do you need to tell your heart to keep beating by thinking consciously ‘Contract. Now expand. Wait for it. Contract. Now expand.’?”
Bungo: “No.”
Tomsk: “Practise each building block of combat, from the fundamentals on upwards, until your body can join in the flow of demand and response without conscious thought. Don’t aim to make combat something you can do. Rather, strive to let it be something that just happens naturally, with yourself as its instrument.”
Several Wombles were so familiar with the concept, they ended up speaking at the same time:
Kafana: “Like singing.”
Alderney: “Like crafting.”
Bulgaria: “Like being a role.”
Tomsk nodded at their examples, but didn’t speak or seem at all impatient at he waited for the remaining pair.
Bungo: “I don’t get it. I haven’t mastered anything to that level. I’ve nothing to relate it to.”
Wellington: “My mind doesn’t work that way either. I have to make up for it by planning ahead or thinking fast." then a moment later, in a more focused voice, he added "Bulgaria, you’re back.”
The Wombles looked at each other, levity forgotten. It was time to make a deal.