“Like this?” Tula asked as she held a thin, light ‘sword’ in a ready position.
“Close. Widen your stance. That way, it’s not so easy to trip you up. Footwork is the foundation of combat. You need to keep track of that as much as the sword itself.”
“Urgh…” she shook her head, chiding herself in a whisper. “I mean… right. I got this.”
Tula corrected her form, widening her stance to mirror the one Michael was currently showing her.
“Good. Now just like we showed you.” Michael instructed, dropping the stance.
“Right.” Tula ran through a short sequence of swings. When she finished, she turned to Michael and asked, “This doesn’t seem very practical. Can I even use this in a fight?”
Hector replied from the side, “It’s not supposed to be. It’s not a fighting sequence; it’s a training one. It’s just meant to get you used to swinging the thing. Considering Michael’s little replica’s pretty rough, it probably wouldn’t be practical to get used to it anyways. The little muscles that you have now are meant for backline fighting, the bare minimum for shooting a bow. Before you can start learning the good stuff, you gotta build up your muscles for agile, strong movement, and deft sword handling. It’s not quick.”
Michael added on, “If it makes you feel any better, my dad’s got some quality potions to speed that up. He sells them to some of the higher-ups in Atlantia’s military. They’re pretty expensive but I doubt that’d be too big of an issue for you. I can talk him into giving you a discount too.”
“Really!?” she looked over excitedly, perking up from her glum resolution.
“You really got something like that, bro?” Hector asked, almost offended that he too was just learning about it.
“We have a lotta things.” Michael replied with a shrug. “It’s just too expensive to be practical for normal use. The main reason we don’t talk about it is my mom. She doesn’t like those types of potions, says it builds a warrior on a weak foundation. In Tula’s case though, I think she’ll make an exception. It would take her too long to relearn everything and I think she’s paid the ‘price’ for her hubris.”
Tula flinched, suddenly finding the empty feeling of her stump a lot more noticeable. She didn’t refute it though. The instructor’s words from the other day flashed in her mind.
Flashback – [A knife made of some type of bone was at her neck, threatening to take her life. “But you know… once you make that money, someone like me can just come along and take it for myself.”]
She’d been terrified at the time but hadn’t truly appreciated her teacher’s words. Unlike many in the town, she knew how unusual it was for a little town like theirs to all receive guided training from a professional like Mrs. Azeem. She’d never been told why it was, only that it was a blessing she should appreciate.
‘How many years have I wasted…?’ she thought, realizing that she needed to cheat to even come close to catching up.
‘How much of my family’s wealth will I waste with this?’ She had no illusions that she could turn it down. Part of the reason she was here in the first place, rather than sleeping off her tears, was because she was unable to do otherwise. Every time she closed her eyes longer than a few seconds, those beady white eyes flashed in her memory. The feeling of being held down as her arm was mercilessly chewed off flashed too. Also…
… the simplicity in which they were all butchered by someone in her own class.
Sure, it’d been done by unnatural means she wouldn’t have had access to anyways, but… she had little doubt Mrs. Azeem, their teacher, could do the same. She’s seen the woman move much faster, with much more precision, and with far more lethality than anything she’d seen Michael do.
She wanted that too. No, she needed that. Maybe if she had that… if she could do a fraction of that, she would never need to feel that helpless again, ever.
“Well, we’ll talk about it when we get back.” Michael concluded. “Anyways, I think it’s about time we wrapped this up. We need to get ready for the trip back. The moss will die if we take too long.”
“Makes sense.” “Fine…” Hector and Tula acknowledged respectively.
--- The Djinn of Atlantia ---
The return home went by smoothly. They didn’t run into any other Nacht bunny packs on the way home; most had fled far away after the cries of alarm from the previous night and still hadn’t returned. They met a few other predators, but Hector made quick work of them. Michael elected to hold back in reserve with Tula, wanting to give his friend the opportunity to get some practical experience. Despite the challenges he needed to work through with his new powerset, without the Nacht bunnies to counter his skillset, he was confident he could overcome anything in this section of the woods.
Despite what happened before, Tula wasn’t too beat up. The recovery potion they’d brought with them had taken care of the injuries that could’ve slowed her down. Because of this and her new resolve, she carried the bulk of the luggage without complaint, seeking to do her fair share.
When they reached Artemia, the trio felt… smaller. They couldn’t help but notice the stares, Tula especially. They looked at her with a mixture of pity, dispassionate sympathy, and in some cases… vindicative amusement. Tula’s reputation was well known, so very few empathized with her plight. The overall reception was… cold.
Yet there was one group they knew would mourn her experience, her family. Had the mission gone smoothly, they would’ve parted ways here with Michael turning in the moss to his dad. The mission would’ve ended, and they’d go about their day as normal. With things being the way they were, the plan had changed. With Tula’s permission, Michael and Hector walked home with her; they felt it was their responsibility to be there… her folks may need target dummies to lash out on. Spirits know they felt guilty enough to take it.
--- The Djinn of Atlantia ---
Michael sat down at the stacia stone table in his dad’s shop. He had to massage his head to soothe the vestiges of stress that lingered from their encounter.
Tula’s mom was the one that met them at the door. She didn’t snap. She didn’t cry. She merely looked at her with knowing, sad eyes. She ushered her inside and thanked them for coming. She didn’t even ask for an explanation.
He and Hector had been so confused they’d remained silent up to and beyond when they’d went their separate ways. Michael’s mind had been a whirlwind of doubt and speculation at the strange behavior. He expected, no… he wanted to get chided by furious parents on how he could’ve let their daughter suffer such grievous injuries. He wanted to explain the situation, their faults that led them to that outcome. Beyond the need, there was an expectation there… surely, those who’d raised such a spoiled brat would share similar traits.
Yet… neither he nor Hector got the chance. Tula’s mom didn’t ask for it and had already pulled her inside before they could offer. She had to have known why they were there.
He tried to tinker with some of the metals, to sink back into the familiar drone of practicing his alchemy. He needed a distraction, but… it didn’t work. The nagging thoughts swirled in his head ceaselessly, preventing any competing, helpful ones from taking any purchase in his mind. All he could do was sit here uselessly, messaging his forehead in a vain attempt to soothe his raging thoughts.
“Uhh… is this a bad time?” a small voice called from behind him, snapping him out of his thoughts.
Groggily, he turned around in his chair to see a tall 13-year-old girl. He quickly recognized her; it was Joanna, one of the up-and-coming hard workers in the town. She was a farmer’s daughter and was known to happily help anyone who asked. He remembered his mom considering whether to offer to recommend the girl for an early apprenticeship in one of the town’s mercenary teams.
Her big eyes shifted nervously around the room, showing her awareness that she probably (definitely) wasn’t meant to be here.
‘Great… I forgot to close the door behind me…’ Michael dully realized, not having the energy to respond much beyond that.
“It’s fine… I’m just having an off day is all.” He tiredly explained, trying to keep himself from lashing out for his own mistake. “How can I help?” Rather than kick her out, he would just fulfill her need as quickly as possible and then close the entrance.
“A thief stole our shovel last night. My dad sent me to get another one.” she simply replied.
He studied her expression for a bit before replying, “I’m guessing by your calmness that everyone’s okay?”
She nodded.
“OK… why just a shovel? Shouldn’t you need more tools?”
She shook her head. “No. They just stole a shovel. Dad forgot it outside and someone took it.”
“Ah.” A smile found its way on his face as he felt the tension bleed away. “Well, yeah; I can make you a new one.”
“Make one? I thought blacksmiths do that.” Joanna asked, accusingly.
His eyebrow lifted at that. “You came to an alchemist shop not knowing I would be the one making it?”
“Dad told me to come here. I’m just doing what I was told.”
“Hehe~ fair enough.” He replied, chuckling to himself, standing up and walking to a nearby shelf. “But yeah, we actually make most of the tools used in Artemia.” He searched through a well-organized filing cabinet and pulled out a metal card engraved with electrum circuits.”
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“Really?”
“Mhm-hm.” He affirmed, grabbing a chunk of iron sitting on the side, and walking to the stacia stone table.
“See this?” he raised the card. “This is a blueprint. We can analyze and record how something’s made into this. Then, through a bit of advanced alchemy (transmutation), we can recreate that item. The more complex the item, the more difficult it is. Since it’s just a shovel though, it’s simple. It’ll be mostly made of metal, so I’d recommend taking it to Ms. Tara’s to wrap the handle.”
Realistically, this blueprint had a wrapped handle he could include, but he didn’t. It was an unspoken agreement his father had taught him; stick to metal tools unless strictly necessary. They didn’t want to take business away from the other town merchants. Artemia didn’t have a local blacksmith; that’s why his dad stepped in to fill that niche. If one moved here, they’d pull out of that business; it was that simple.
Joanna watched eagerly as Michael placed the ore chunk and card on the table on the table. From the side, he grabbed a piece of silver chalk and drew three circles, one around the card, another around the ore, and the final one in a spot ahead of them. Placing his hands in the circles with reagents, one in each, he focused on what he wanted to make.
He focused on the blueprint – A steel shovel with the handle excluded.
He set the destination circle, the empty one. This is where the finished product would come from.
Finally, he focused on the materials - the ore.
He began. He took his left hand from the blueprint and moved it to the destination circle. Then, he poured a steady stream of aether through his right hand into the circle with the ore, causing it to glow and breakdown. The motes didn’t disperse but instead floated quickly to the site of the shovel, arranging themselves together into the proper shape until, in a blinding flash of light, a steel shovel was all that remained.
“Wow~” Joanna marveled, ignoring any no touching rules and poking the finished product all over.
Michael didn’t stop her; There was no danger, and he was done with it anyways. Shovels were easy and this one had been even easier than it’d been for him before getting the hammer, another boon.
“If you can do stuff like this, why do we need blacksmiths?” she asked excitedly, still focused intently on the newly minted shovel. “I mean I know we in town use you guys but all my friends in Gourta have no idea what an alchemist even is. They need to order their stuff the hard way.”
“Hehe, well first off, Alchemists can’t really create anything new like this; it’s too complex to adjust the variables on the fly. Rather, we’re copying something already made and remaking it. We can’t replace a blacksmith.” Joanna was about to follow-up, but he continued before she could, “You also need to consider that Alchemists are extremely rare. It’s why so many people visit Artemia from elsewhere in Atlantia; they can’t get local service. Alchemy is difficult to learn and can take at least a decade for newbies to get past the basics.”
He was fibbing a bit. Alchemists definitely could make new things, just not effectively at his level.
“But you’re barely older than me? Didn’t you say copying stuff was advanced?”
‘She really is a perceptive one.’ He thought.
“I did. Our family’s a little special. At least, that’s what my folks tell me. It comes a lot easier for us. You know, much like how you easily you soak up everything in morning trainings when compared to the other 13-year-olds. We all have our own talents that help us do things others struggle to.”
“Oh… I guess that makes sense.”
Michael heard the jingle of the door and soon after, his dad, Azir, approached.
Turning to Joanna, he asked, “Why don’t we call it here, yeah? Just tell your dad we’ll put it on his tab.”
“OK.” She agreed without a fuss. “I’ll come back later. I need a new spear.” With that, she happily skipped out of the shop with her new shovel, careful not to hit anything on the way out.
His dad spoke first, “Welcome back.”
“…” Michael paused, recalling the glaring item he had to bring up somehow. “…did you-”
“Hear the news? Of course. I just came back from Teresia’s actually.”
“Oh…” the ground suddenly looked very interesting. His dad had already been to Tula’s house; he’d already talked to her mom, the one he couldn’t read. “So I’m guessing you heard the story then.”
“I did, but… why don’t you tell it from your perspective?”
And there it was. He didn’t know how Tula told the story and therefore, needed to be honest with how he did. He could try to frame it as positively as he could, but his dad’s golden gaze wouldn’t be fooled by such childish tricks. It’d happened plenty of times. He’d try to get away with something and would not only be caught red-handed but get served three times the punishment for it.
Honesty was not optional in house Azeem. Lying by omission is lying. Lying by mischaracterization is lying. We can deceive the world, but we cannot deceive family. It was a rule his mom took very seriously, and his dad happily adopted; it made his job easier after all.
And so Michael told the full story. By the time he got into ‘how’ he rescued her, his dad had told him to skip it for now; they’d talk about it later. Michael realized then that he hadn’t been as secretive as he’d thought. At this point though, it didn’t matter; the dye had already been cast. The only detail he omitted was Hector’s callous suggestion to leave her behind. While it was important, he wanted to believe that his friend would shape up; reporting something like that would be tantamount to ending his in-village career.
Azir’s expression was as calm now as when he’d walked in. He was like an undisturbed pond of water.
“You know…” he started. “-your story is actually more self-accusatory than Tula’s. She didn’t blame you at all. She barely even blamed Hector.”
Michael shot him a strange look of disbelief, asking, “How? As stupid as it was, she only bolted because Hector was being an ass… and I was letting it happen.”
“Because she understood the lesson.” Azir answered with all seriousness. “She realized just where her folly took her. If it weren’t Hector, it would’ve been someone else. If it weren’t you, it would’ve been someone else. Funny enough, it was your mother that brought it home…
Flashback - [Azir looked empathetically at the sakura-haired girl. Where there was once a beautiful princess spoiled rotten by her folks… the girl before him now had eyes haunted by trauma, both lit with an unquenchable fire that struck an all too familiar chord with him. She clutched her empty sleeve with a tight grip, trying to distract herself from the throbbing pain that’d flared up with a vengeance when she recounted her gruesome tale.
Teresia sat by her daughter with an arm gently wrapped around her daughter’s shoulders and the other on her remaining, trembling hand. She shared her daughter’s hair color but carried it completely differently. Where her daughter appeared small and petulant, Teresia was graceful and motherly, the idol of many. The woman used her beauty like a weapon, networking with powerful merchants, nobles, and the like while simultaneously coercing them into major deals. While Tula’s father may be the merchant, Teresia was the brains and the beauty behind it. The only reason she called a small town like Artemia home was easy access to his beauty potions, not that she would easily admit it. Unlike her daughter, she knew how to polish her golden gooses after all.
It was funny how different Tula’s treatment of the Azeem husband-wife pair was. She loved him like an uncle but hated his wife like a spiteful aunt. Realistically, he probably should’ve done more to guide the lost lamb before it got to this point, but… well, he too had a bad problem of non-confrontation. His wife seemed plenty capable of managing the situation herself and wasn’t a fan of his meddling. He’d grown a bit complacent.
“You know Mr. Azeem, as much as I curse Hector’s venom-filled tongue, as much as I want to shank him violently in the spleen for goading me into butchering myself against those rabbit beasts…
“…I’m thankful he did.”
Both adults looked at her shocked, disbelieving that the spoiled girl would be thankful of all things.
“Really?” Teresia asked sharply, her eyes narrowing as if to analyze every detail of her daughter’s expressions. Azir recognized it as that look the woman had when searching for the lie in the facades of others.
Azir remained impassive as he watched from the side.
“Yeah… I was angry at first, of course. He was a big butt and the awful things he said still get under my skin. But after the incident… after what those things did to me…” she explained with a steadiness neither expected.
“… I didn’t realize just how helpless I was… and as I lay sobbing on that cold cave floor, I realized… I was so stupid… I couldn’t help but think back to all that time I paraded around like a fool, hehe…” She chuckled depreciatingly.
“I must’ve looked like drunk Mr. Gobbers when he did that nude dance at the New Year’s festival.”
Teresia’s eye twitched as she tried to maintain her composure. Azir smirked, knowing just how pissed the woman was with the senior, especially since Tula’d watched the whole thing with wide scandalous eyes.
“Sweetie.” Teresia gently interjected, though Tula’s eyes remained steadily on the floor. “We’ve all made mistakes at your age, myself above all.” Tula looked up at her, confused. “It took me years to come to the same realization that you’ve made in a single trip… and I lost a lot along the way…” She trailed off. “…there are lots of stories I probably should’ve been more honest about over the years. That’s all to say, you’re so much smarter, so much further ahead than you realize.”
Tula’s expression changed from confusion to surprise to finally a smile.
Azir chuckled at the memories of days gone by. Teresia hadn’t lied. In fact, even now, the woman was underselling who she’d been back in the day. While the tragedy that led to her change didn’t produce physical scars, well… there’s a reason she sheltered Tula from that knowledge.
“With that said, I’ll defer to you on how you want to handle Michael and Hector. I have my own opinions… but I believe you know best how you want it treated.” Teresia explained.
Tula’s answer was immediate. Her eyes flashed determinedly, looking to Azir to ask, “Michael, he…” she paused, taking a breath to calm herself. “…he mentioned some potions that can help build me up. I’ve wasted years in Mrs. Azeem’s lessons and the little I did do is useless to me now. I can’t hold a bow anymore and I’ve built none of the strength or stamina needed to wield a sword. That’s what I want. I don’t care about getting back at them. I just don’t want to feel helpless again.”
Azir broke out into a chuckle, accompanied by Teresia who stifled a giggle. He couldn’t deny how much he appreciated her growth here. Her eyes carried a fiery resolve that he couldn’t have dreamed of her having before she left. Truly, the little rotten girl he knew died in that forest. This was someone new.
“Easy enough. I’ll brew up a batch and give them to Ixia (Mrs. Azeem). She’ll have no issues spending some extra time with you, catching you up. She’ll know how to maximize the prescription.”
Tula lit up, showing a blooming smile for the first time since she’d came back.
Azir and Teresia silently affirmed to each other; both knew – it was looking up from here.] – Flashback end.
“All that’s to say, take the lesson and grow. The victim of your negligence had a positive outcome all things considered and, if she wants in the future, I can even explore getting her a really nice aethertech prosthetic in the future. I doubt she’ll want one, being as similar to her mom as she is, but we can definitely get that for her if she likes.”
Michael didn’t say a thing. He just listened.
“Now, think about that and we’ll talk about the other parts tonight at the house. Your mom should be back by then and we can talk about the djinn weapon.”
Michael was surprised how not surprised he was.
‘I guess it shouldn’t be a surprise. They clearly know a lot they haven’t told me. I can’t hide something I don’t understand. I just didn’t realize how much they do.’ He thought with self-depreciating mirth.
--- The Djinn of Atlantia ---
Within a particular corner of the Forest of Silence, a large golden egg floated in a crater of water. It was only the crater’s incredible size that allowed it to accommodate the towering oval structure. Where there once were sanguine-mixed waters, the crater’s pool now sat clear. There were only the slightest traces of pink and the fragments of bones stripped of all meat.
Aether saturated the immediate area, drawing beasts of all shapes and sizes around the egg. They weren’t just beasts though; they all bore golden traces showing their ingestion of the remnant djinn aether. There were apex predators like storm tail Lions, tribal predators like the nacht bunnies, and even herbivores like the white-nosed stags; all gathered. Yet, despite being in the same place, none spared so much as a glance at each other; they focused solely on the egg that pulsated with dense, powerful aether. None approached beyond a certain point; they gazed in reverence.
Eventually, the egg cracked releasing a powerful wave of aether that shook the land.
Throughout the surrounding forest a deep, guttural roar shook the firmament. It crushed the will of the lesser species and stirred the interest of the greater. As for those surrounding the hatched egg, they knelt without resistance or delay.
A king was born.