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The Drake-kin Village, The Seventh Floor, The Dungeon,
That Same Morning
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Mushu sat to the side of the training area, the others of his species giving him a decent amount of respect. The cuts on his body had long healed, though the blood he shed remained. On the other side of the arena, Kataren had recovered from their fight and had begun putting the young warriors through a series of drills he vaguely recognized.
He accepted a wet rag from an eager juvenile, who looked at him with awe. He nodded his thanks and began slowly wiping off the blood, mind churning over the fight.
With the Creator's declaration that he wasn't to cause significant injury, Mushu had declared that his win condition would be first blood, and Kataren's would be by landing ten blows. If either of them left the dueling circle, the other would be victorious. She had nodded and entered a defensive stance. That made sense to him; she would lose if he scored even a single blow. So, she would focus on dodging and deflecting his strikes.
He began with a few tests of her defenses with probing sweeps of his mace. He didn't swing hard, merely fast. Her eyes tracked the head of the weapon smoothly. She leaned back to avoid the first swing, ducked under the returning backclaw swing, and took advantage of the overextension of his third swing to dodge past him, scouring a light cut. They had stood apart then, eyes scanning the other. Mushu didn't bother checking his wound; he knew it was already healed, even if the purplish blood hid the smooth scales below.
"One," He acknowledged. Kataren had nodded, maintaining her defensive stance.
Here, he had decided to use his size and mass advantage. She could not match the power he put behind his strikes nor exert the force needed to move him physically. Likewise, she couldn't match the force he could put behind his weapon. The 'Morning Star' was a spiked ball mounted on a seven-foot shaft. It was a brutal weapon to master, and he knew that his strength made it far easier to manage.
He shifted from his two-clawed grip, holding it with just his right claw. Though more challenging to handle one-clawed, he would need his off-claw to ward off any further attacks of opportunity.
He swung the Morning Star with just as much force. He didn't attempt to swing the other way when she ducked under the mace. Instead allowed the weapon's momentum to grow further, raising his arm to let it swing behind him. He saw her eyes widen in realization as he brought it too low for her to duck but too high to leap over. She couldn't afford to let him push her too far back, or she would be forced from the dueling circle.
She dodged backward; her back foot placed just inside the circle. She then exploded forwards after his swing had passed. He accelerated his swing, but she hadn't let him complete it. Kataren delivered three rapid slashes, cutting another two shallow lines before he caught the third on his claw, and clutched at the blade. A quick pull and her sword was thrown from the circle, leaving her defenseless. Mushu glanced at his hand, noting the two lines of blood on his palm and two on his arm.
"Five," he declared. "Though I wish you luck on landing any more wounds."
She then spent the next minute of combat desperately dodging his strikes. She had no backup weapon, after all. He was sure she would soon tire or be forced from the circle.
What truly surprised him was when she pulled a sword from the sheath of a Warrior standing too close to the edge of the circle. She turned and bared her teeth at him, her eyes glittering victoriously.
"I've got you now," Kataren warned. "I have your measure." She exploded forwards, displaying a speed measurable faster than she had yet shown. Before Mushu could bring his weapon to bear, she cut his left arm another three times. Her fourth blow landed on the shaft of his mace, and he pushed her back, hoping to unbalance the woman. Not only did she move with the shove, but she bounced forwards and landed two more cuts. Her tenth. He had raised his bloody arm, palm open.
"Ten. The human wins." The crowd around them, and even Kataren herself, were shocked. Though, many had quickly rallied and delivered some polite applause. The loudest of whom seemed to be her guard.
And that led him to the present moment, wiping off the blood as he observed the woman training. The fully-grown Drake-kin she was instructing followed her movements keenly, and he was sure a few of the younger juveniles were looking at her with some awe.
Mushu still wasn't sure of the human. The Creator had held her prisoner for months now, and she was ignorant of the fate of her old party. He was sure she had never realized they had also held the healer of their party in the cell next to her own. The female assigned to guard Kataren, Huea, had been the one to confront the female twin in the carefully-planned ambush that had ultimately claimed their lives.
He stood from the stone bench, collected his weapon, and strode from the village. He needed to return to his post for the day. The guilders were getting faster at finding his arena, true, though there was a minimum time it took to reach him.
The creator had informed him that Isid and Jerrad would be returning, this time fully aware he was the same being they had first encountered.
The author's tale has been misappropriated; report any instances of this story on Amazon.
He would demonstrate to them just how much he had grown since their first encounter.
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The Dungeon, Medea Island, Kalenic Sea
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I turned my attention away from the drake-kin that had just finished describing the fight to a room full of warriors. If nothing had been exaggerated or embellished, then Mushu had swung with far more force than necessary in a training bout. Though to her credit, Kataren had been more than agile enough to keep out of his way. I won't reprimand him this time.
I'm sure Mushu will wish for a re-match. I'll make sure I'm there to observe the next fight.
I let my mind wander as my focus shifts to the Ninth floor. The cavern still has a lot of work to go. Also, thinking about it, my idea to use ocean sand might not be the best. Desert Sand and Ocean Sand are made in almost opposite manners and have vastly different properties. Hmm. The rock down here is relatively light compared to the higher layers... perhaps instead of just dumping the sand produced from carving out the cavern into the ocean, I could repurpose it.
It won't be perfect, though. I'll need to set up the environmental enchantments to push the sand closer to its optimal condition. A constant wind that will create a shifting landscape of dunes.
For the next three days, I lost myself in the meditative process of carving out my newest 'floor.' I was done carving out the desert area in one and a half days and spent the second part starting the canyon.
I let myself relax and looked over my work with a critical eye. Yes, I hadn't deviated from my planned design anywhere. The stone from my construction had been left in dune-like piles across the floor, though the grains were nowhere near small or uniform enough to look right.
The first thing to do is grind those rocks to a fine powder. I don't want flour-fine, but I do have the beach on the surface to reference for grain sizes. It should be at least a third the size of the beach sand if I want the wind to push the dunes around right.
Hmm. I'm sure I didn't know about the properties of dune sand versus beach sand in my old life... Strange.
Getting one dune to the right consistency and size didn't take too long, only about half an hour. With the yellow-white tinged mana-star set into the same day-night cycle as the Mountains and Jungle, I can confidently say my manufactured dune looks close enough to one from my old world. I quickly moved on to the next, then the next. Looking at all the other 'dunes' I had left, I figured I only had to do it about a thousand more times, given the larger size of the area I'd designated as 'desert.'
I'm not looking forward to this, but letting the wind do the work would take far too long. At least it's something to do.
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The Blushing Duchess, Near Medea Island, Kalenic Sea
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Haylae Kolchiss, the firstborn of Count Kolchiss, was once again desperately holding down her nausea as the flagship of her father's fleet rolled from side to side on the ocean's swell. She was sure she hadn't managed to hide her queasiness if the amused looks her father was shooting her were any indication.
"Ah, I remember my first time on a ship. There is no shame in showing your nausea, Haylae." He placated when she turned a glare on him. "Seasickness can strike even the most hardened knight."
Haylae conceded the point with a short nod and turned her gaze to the horizon. Throughout the trip, she found that focusing on that boundary of sky and sea helped quell the urge to empty her stomach into the ocean. Her father sighed at her silent response. She hadn't said a word to him since he had announced her betrothal.
"Little Lae, I know you aren't pleased by your betrothal to the younger Medean. I know your mother certainly showed her displeasure for our marriage enough in the first few years." Haylae's gaze quickly snapped back to her father. He very rarely mentioned her mother, after all. She had fallen to the plague that swept the coast when Haylae was only one summer old, and she absorbed any information on her mother like a sponge.
Her father noticed her gaze and gave her a sad smile.
"Katlae was... passionate, as I've told you before. She was raised on tales of true love. She believed that some knight would sweep her off her feet, and they would live in bliss forever. Reality is far less kind, especially to the noble daughters of our society. Many of the ruling class, other Counts, Dukes, and even the King, well... They consider their daughters little more than bargaining chips. Worth more the more beautiful they are. Your matrilineal grandfather, Count Ionite the Third, thought similarly. He wanted to secure an alliance with my father so that he might secure a more direct route to transport his goods to the coast.
"Among other incentives, he offered your mother as the cherry topping the cake. My father accepted. Just like that, I was betrothed to a girl I had never met. She was sixteen summers when we first met, and I had seen eighteen. She was polite and cordial in our parent's company but made it clear when we were left alone that she wasn't pleased with the arrangement. That look in her eyes... She might not have thought much of me, but I was smitten." Her father's gaze drifted off, over her shoulder. She cleared her throat, and he quickly refocused on her.
"I'm sorry, my dear. I was lost in the memories. Within a year of our first meeting, we were wed. She refused to sleep in the same room as me for the longest time... After a year, Kat found she could tolerate my presence. In two, we were friends. By the end of the third, she confessed she had fallen for me. You were born the next year." He gave her a familiar smile, one filled with love. Then his face fell.
"Her loss... I admit I took it hard. My father also fell to the plague, and I was suddenly thrust into ruling. With no male heir, I had no choice but to remarry. I know Heathine was cold to you, even after your brothers were born." Haylae turned away from her father, though he didn't stop speaking. "My point is that you may not love Medean now, but eventually, you will find things you have in common, pleasures you share." He went quiet when she didn't respond.
He placed a hand on Haylae's shoulder and pointed to the horizon. "Ah, you see there, Haylae? There is Medean Island." She did indeed see. Over the next hour, the speck on the horizon grew until it filled her vision. The port was bustling with activity and much more extensive than she had imagined. She had expected a shanty town built of wood with dirt roads. Instead, she gazed upon what she would have called an established port. Most of the town was constructed of stone, set to the side of a small river.
Her eye was drawn to the keep built beyond the town, raised above it on a hill. It was not as large as the one she had grown in, but she hadn't expected it would be. She was pleasantly surprised at Medean's progress in developing his domain. For a town barely a few months old...
"You are not forgiven, father." She spoke. His eyes darted to her, filled with hope. "But... This may not be as terrible as I had once thought." She admitted. She allowed a small smile and watched the tension leave his shoulders.
She had once thought her father was banishing her to some nowhere island. Instead, she saw... opportunity.
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© Max Porteous, 2022