Chapter 22: Strength from Within
Sienna and Atma were still half asleep as they stood out in the courtyard of the outpost, the sun barely grazing the horizon, and the trading stands of the outpost yet to be stocked. “I know you said first thing, but-”
“Yes, it had to be this early, if we’re making it to Falcidia in decent time, but more than that, for today’s training regiment, we’ll be stopping a few times so you two can rest while we travel.” Shade seemed almost too eager for what came next, sketching something into a journal from his bag.
“So what, it’s something we’re going to be doing all day? That doesn’t exactly sound like the best way to train our bodies.” Atma crossed his arms, not understanding quite what Shade had in mind.
“Siegmund and I spent some time discussing this last night, and, seeing as he has seen you two fight, he will take the lead on your training.”
“Then let’s get started. Now, let’s begin with you two trying to punch my uncle as hard as you can.”
“Sorry,” Atma was more than a little taken aback, glancing back and forth between Siegfried and Shade. “Did I catch that right?”
“Absolutely! And let me be perfectly clear here, I don’t mean half as hard, or sort of hard, if this is going to work, I need you both to hit him as hard as you can. That means give it everything you have, throw in your special techniques, and don’t hold back. That means you, specifically, Atma. I know for a fact Sienna won’t hold back.”
Atma looked over to Siegfried who nodded affirmingly, a confident smile on his face. “If it helps, I can throw an insult or something. I can at least promise I’ll be fine.”
“Just, give me a moment.” Atma took a deep breath, and thought back to his training days with Dante, Sirs Heinkel and Xander being rather rough teachers, though he hadn’t been subject to the more intensive training his friend had gone through. It invoked just a spark of frustration in himself, which he gripped onto, and gathered his strength, rushing forward to attack. While he was expecting Siegfried to be fine he wasn’t expecting it to simply be something Siegfried seemed like he could ignore.
“Well, you still held back a bit by my guess, but, I think this confirms our theory concerning you.” Siegfried let go of Atma’s hand and nudged him back with a firm finger to the forehead. “Now, stand back and observe.”
Sienna walked up to Siegfried, trying to get a solid read on him, as she got herself ready. From a distance, it was clear that she was taller than him by three or four inches, and Atma taller still, but when he had stood in front of the veteran knight, Siegfried’s presence certainly made him feel a lot smaller. Here he was, surrounded by people far stronger and more experienced. It made him feel frustratingly lackluster, that when it came down to it, for all the praise he received growing up, right up to before setting out on his journey, he was far from where he needed to be. He bit his lip, and tried recomposing himself. It was the Deponesian part of himself again, demanding the strength to stand confidently. He let out a deep breath, once he realized what part of him was making him feel that way. He’d said it before to Sienna that it was fine to have weakness. He’d acknowledged that Miles had room to grow, and Locke would have kept going despite a break in confidence. It felt far harder to apply these same sentiments to himself. He had to try all the same, he’d be a hypocrite otherwise.
“Observe, huh?” Atma held his hand with the mark, trying to feel the same sensation from the night before, hoping how he’d done it wouldn’t escape him. He kept trying to adjust his position, as if to see if some miracle pose might return the sense he couldn’t quite find.
“What the hell are you doing?”
Atma froze, Sienna staring at him with perhaps the most confused expression he’d seen in his life, as if trying to make sense of a man gone mad. He blushed, a bit embarrassed, though he certainly seemed to get Siegfried’s attention for a moment. Atma sighed and tried to cover his face with his hand. In that brief moment, the sense returned to him, and he could feel and see all at once. Shade and Siegfried had a steady aura to them, not unlike Agravain had had to himself the night before, though theirs was far more steady, like a constant pulse of power, where Sienna’s was almost bursting from her. She had taken notice of Siegfried’s temporary distraction and threw a wild punch from his blind side, though, not unlike how he had with Atma, she didn’t connect her blow, as Siegfried blocked her wild swing with the back of his gauntlet, and catching her wrist with hiss free hand.
“I can certainly appreciate going for the dirty swing there. Atma could learn a thing or two from you there, when it comes down to life and death, honor is the first thing to go.” Siegfried let go of her arm, before stepping back to stand next to Shade. “I think that confirms everything.” The Dark Knight nodded in affirmation, and finished sketching something down in his notebook.
Sienna tapped her foot incessantly while the two conversed with each other. “So, what exactly was the point of all that?”
Shade looked up from his notebook. “Last night, you could see an aura around Agravain, right? In this particular case, we were observing yours, how your magic flows with your body, that sort of thing.”
“Originally, it was a mage technique, but, long ago, warriors started learning it to have better control over their power.” Siegfried turned to Atma. “You were using a version of it yourself just a moment ago.”
Atma nodded. “I still don’t get how it works, I barely started doing this last night.”
“You have a wind affinity, correct?”
Atma nodded, recalling his time discovering that with Alice and Balthazar. “Yeah, how’d you know that?”
“I have one as well. What you would call that is Wind Sense, a more detailed version of magic sight.” Siegfried held his chin, pondering Atma’s ability. “It’s not a common technique, and rarer still to start using the technique without being specifically guided. But to describe it, it’s a technique where you extend your magic into the wind, acting as a sixth sense.”
Atma glanced down to his hand again, nodding along. “Right, I’ve got an idea on that… but, you were saying?”
“Well, with our observations, we found that the both of you, simply put, have terrible control over your own magical energy. So, your training starts with learning the basics of observation, and adjusting your magical energy use. Your fundamentals here will be what lets you develop and use proper, and more powerful techniques, not unlike a Mage learning magic.”
“I’m a Mage, not that I’m all that much of a caster.” Sienna started to boast a bit more confidently, only to halfway realize she had no real experience in the past fifteen years of her life.
Shade nodded. “That does explain a bit, but come here, both of you, I put together a few handy little visual aids for the both of you.” He held open his notebook as Atma and Sienna, on either side of him, peeked at what he had to show them. It was a rough doodle, depicting a stylized, tiny version of Atma and Sienna standing next to a house, with a well some distance away. Shade partially covered the lower part of the page, pointing to the details with his free hand. “This represents the process of how you two call upon your magical energy, and how it flows. We’re using this to visualize it as a physical action.” Shade moved his hand to reveal more to his doodles, with the stylized Atma running back and forth to the well with a bucket in hand. “I’ve noticed that your energy use is extremely measured, you grab exactly what you think you need, and run back, and you repeat this.”
“That sounds right to me, is that not control?”
Shade moved a bit more of his arm. The stylized Atma had fallen flat on his face from over exertion. “In this well metaphor, you run exactly what you think you need back home, but you don’t factor in what you need yourself to make that trip, and because you keep making that trip, and not thinking about what you need, you aren’t able to sustain the connection.”
Atma nodded. It caught his line of thought dead on the money, he hadn’t considered how much water his metaphorical self would need, just getting what the house needed. “So, because I don’t have a constant flow, I can’t keep myself at my best?”
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“Without your proper flow, you move less organically, in straight, predictable lines. But, since you’re both physical fighters, what does this visual make you think of?”
Atma paused to think. As a physical action, running back and forth, but not properly able to keep up with the demand, it was perhaps closest to… “Like a muscle cramp?”
“Exactly! Your magical energy is like a muscle, and while it’s clear you have good muscle control, you don’t have the magic control to match. If you’re not using your whole body together properly, you could injure yourself, or not work to your full potential. To put it all together, you have a weak muscle that can give out on you, and you aren’t using it with the rest of your body. A high end fighter would be able to last longer, and be able to keep up with you in a contest of speed, even if speed is your specialty, because they have their whole being in good flow.” Shade turned to Sienna. “You’re facing the opposite problem.” He turned the page of his notebook to a doodle of Sienna at the well, carrying a comically large bucket that toppled and washed her away.
“So if I’m taking a look at this right, I’m using too much? How is that a problem? Like I said, I’m a mage, I have more to use naturally.”
“Sure, but you burn through more than you actually use. Think of it like this, in this metaphor, you’re doing two things, forcing the use of more than you can use all at once, and burning through what you have way too fast. I’ve seen how you fight, you can’t sustain combat, you try to take down everything in one hit, you’re all or nothing. Frankly, the way you fight reminds me more of a Shifter.”
Atma wasn’t all that familiar with Shifters, they weren’t particularly common, and, come to think of it, he couldn’t recall ever meeting one before. Relatively speaking, they were a rare people, who could, as their name suggested, change form, he could vaguely recall some of his books back home referring to them as Beastmen or Demihumans.
“I’m a Tempest, remember? Who do you think taught me how to fight?”
“I thought as much.” Siegfried nodded. “A Mage would probably be closer than most to mimicking how freely a Shifter’s magic can flow, but their magic is more unpredictable, yours is closer in temperament to a wave, fierce and raging, yes, but not without having a system to it.”
“If we go back to the alternative muscle metaphor, you’re using yours without giving it time to rest, so it cramps, and gives out quickly. So, let’s get to work on that solution then. Atma, it works that you can to an extent, see magic, as Sienna as a Mage can feel it. Your training is fairly simple, you two need to try and match each other in the middle. Atma, you need to make more active use, while Sienna, you need to rein your use in.”
Siegfried held his hands out. “I’ll give you both a starting point, give me your hands, and hold each others’ so this next part comes easier. Feel it, see it, whichever comes easier.”
Atma complied, taking hold of Siegfried’s hand, and a touch more nervously taking Sienna’s, who proved far more confident in holding his. He closed his eyes, felt for his Wind Sense, finding it more quickly with each attempt, able to make out, though fairly weakly, his own magical flow, in contact with Siegfried and Sienna’s. While his was seemingly atrophied, Sienna’s seemed to push against him aggressively, while Siegfried’s was a steady heartbeat. He tried reaching out with his power, like he might with his blitzing technique, to try and match Siegfried’s tempo. All at once, it felt like a tearing sensation throughout his body, as he tried matching Siegfried, briefly glancing over to Sienna, finding her magic almost crushing, as if it would have ripped him apart to be in contact with it. She seemed to have an easier time matching Siegfried’s magical flow, but here and there she would loosen her reins over her magic, only to have to fight it back into submission. Atma found the whole thing extremely uncomfortable, like a constant soreness. Sienna almost seemed to writhe with a similar sensation, as if constricted by a snake.
“Not fun, no, but it's the important first step. You two need to try and maintain that all day while we travel, we’ll take breaks, because this will absolutely be exhausting.”
Atma paced around a bit, trying to walk off the sensation of soreness. “How far from Falcidia are we again?”
“It’s better if you don’t think about it.”
“That bad, huh?”
Shade patted the prince on the back. “If we make it there before dusk, I’ll buy dinner.” He started moving with a rather brisk pace, completely used to the same exercise that was only going to get worse for Atma and Sienna.
Atma sighed. “Then I guess I’d better get moving.”
***
Escalus clutched at his right hand. It hadn’t been enough to go noticed, but he’d taken care to wear gloves for the past month. While he worked in his office to manage the logistics of new defensive deployments of his forces, he would reference his brother’s books. Certainly, Escalus was more passively familiar with mage lore than his brother, given his route in education, but his twin had a far more extensive collection of compiled history and lore. While he noted his key points of defense, he checked references to the roots of the Mages’ brands upon their shoulders. As he reviewed specializations of particular Battalions, he flipped over to a specific series of symbols, references in both old Mage lore, as well as religious texts. As he finalized his proposal of distribution of troops to the borders, he focused on the connection point he was looking for in his brother’s books. The Mage brands descended from a shared religious background, but in particular, were in homage to the marks of the Goddess, and the heavens themselves.
He removed his glove, looking now at the back of his hand. Why then, did he have the Mars crest upon his hand? They were considered blessings of the Goddess, signs of her chosen heroes, a legend older than Deponess itself. By all means, he should have been exhilarated, but if he was worthy enough to be chosen by the Goddess, then why wasn’t he… Escalus rubbed his eyes. The lamps lighting his study were growing dim, the hour past midnight, and the castletown silent below the spire he sat in. His eyes were heavy, he had only a few hours before he had to rise to present his plan to the Councils in the morning, but he wasn’t entirely sure his plan was ready, despite how well studied it had been. He set his head down, expecting for it to be only for a few moments.
“I do think you’re worthy of being King.”
Escalus leapt up from his desk, drawing his sword from the scabbard he let rest next to his seat, the tip of his blade was held not even an inch from the neck of the man before him. “State your name and business, before I cut you down!”
The man had spiky silvery-white hair, with crimson eyes like fire. Escalus’ head hurt looking at the man, and his hand bearing the crest of Mars burnt with an unearthly pain. The man had a dominating aura, one that both demanded you look upon him, and seemed to force you to look away in submission. Simultaneously terrifying with a paternal warmth to him. He dressed more like what one would expect from a casual adventurer, as compared to his presence, wearing a black leather vest over a white shirt, with black leather pants, fingerless gloves, and a pendant at his neck. What stood out most obviously were the tarnished shackles at each of his limbs, and around his neck. “Come now, I have only come to speak to you, the new King.”
Escalus felt the blood drain from his face, he recognized the voice, the same that had been reaching out to him, advising him on how to conduct himself. “That doesn’t answer what I want to know.” He tightened his grip upon his sword, ready to thrust forward. His magic flowed through his body, with considerable ease, adept and well practiced in enhancement techniques, to ensure he wouldn’t be caught off guard, should this stranger attempt anything.
“Now, now, there’s no need for that.” All at once, every ounce of magic seemed to leave Escalus, as he went wide eyed, completely paralyzed, as the stranger with a gentle hand guided Escalus’ blade down. “I came to congratulate your ascension, and assure you of your worthiness. Really, you impress me. Of Lilia’s chosen, you, consistently, bearer of the Crest of Mars, are the strongest, the leader that her chosen need. But then, you weren’t chosen by your father, despite your strength, despite your ability to lead.”
“Atma and I have always stood together, I vowed to continue to stand at his side, and I intend to keep that vow.”
The stranger nodded. “An admirable spirit indeed. But, that’s not the whole truth of you, is it? You being chosen was never just about you, was it? You and Atma are two halves of a whole after all. But you could have let your brother fly free, if only you had taken the throne yourself.”
Escalus couldn’t deny anything the man was saying, it was completely, utterly mesmerizing, with its own horrific feeling, creeping over him, and yet, seeming to wash away. “How do you know all of this?”
“My jailor can try as hard as she likes, but I will always have an eye out on the world, watching over you all. I have watched you Escalus, your whole life. Stand with me, and I will help you protect your home, and together, rein in the chaos of this world.”
“If you’re offering me the chance to defend my people, to bring peace, then you know that there is no choice. For my mother, for my father, for Atma, I would do anything to keep their home safe, for the people who need me… your name, what is it?”
When the stranger spoke, Escalus’ entire being shuddered, as if some otherworldly force prevented him from hearing properly, as the stranger mouthed a name different from that which he spoke. “My name is Ophion, and through you, I grant salvation.” He held Escalus’ left hand, and, just as with his right, his arm burned with an unearthly pain, he wanted to scream, as he noticed Ophion’s shackles pull against him, the man gritting his teeth as Escalus’ eyes gazed upon his hand-
“Sir?” Escalus woke up with a start. He hadn’t even realized he had fallen asleep. He didn’t feel rested in the slightest, the whole experience feeling less like a dream, more like a truly lived experience. Escalus turned to Conseil, eyes with heavy bags, clearly having stayed up to make sure his longtime friend and lord at least made it back to his bed.
“My apologies, Conseil. I just needed to-”
Conseil spoke with a sternness Escalus, even as King, couldn’t refuse. “You need proper rest. I’ll not have my King falling ill on my watch, understand?”
Escalus nodded, spoke, and signed at once. “Understood.” He was much too tired to argue, shuffling back to his room, and collapsing into bed. He groggily removed his glove on his left hand, the last thing he saw before completely losing himself to sleep being a second mark, bearing the crest of Pluto.