While the Coastcross Waystation maintained their barebones training facilities for the benefit of their martially-inclined patrons, it hadn’t been explicitly designed for any single affinity, instead serving as a means to reinforce one’s general fitness. This made the process of experimenting with their powers a rather novel exercise in the yard, meaning they had to get creative with the resources available to them.
While Barker, as a Gold, could no doubt endure anything that either Alex or Ellie saw fit to throw at him, using the dour instructor as a training dummy wasn’t a suggestion either of them were brave enough to make, and the Sergeant had little intention of dirtying his dress uniform. Instead, in a manner consistent with his personality, Barker had previously set Alex on the task of chopping down a tree for lumber.
The result? Four thick, misshapen wooden posts plunged into the ground near the treeline, a makeshift solution that Barker assured them ‘would only ever be enough for an Iron or a Bronze to train’. Still, it provided them with stationary targets on which to hone their combat-oriented applications of power, and that was something neither Alex nor Ellie had ever experienced before.
Even then, Ellie had a marked preference for fire in her power usage. Ordinarily, this would have made using wooden posts a particularly short-term solution to the problem, but in this case it actually served to complement Alex’s training in a way he had been previously unaware was an expected fundamental for all combat-oriented Imbuers to learn.
“Fortifications, recruit,” Sergeant Barker had said, inspecting the wooden posts Alex had spent the second day hammering into the dirt, “One of the duties of any good Imbuer on campaign. Earth and water should keep the little miss from turning ‘em into ash, I reckon.”
Accordingly, Alex’s first duty in these sessions was getting each post up to snuff for Ellie’s ministrations. He knelt down before the right-most training post, placing both hands on the gnarled, blackened wood and taking a deep breath. Drawing on his power, he began to cycle neutral energy throughout his system, first separating a strand of Earth-aspected power from the greater whole.
The task was actually much harder than it seemed. Channelling a single aspect of energy into an object was the most basic application of imbuement, something which Alex had been doing ever since he was old enough to work with his powers, but this exercise was much more difficult. He’d initially tried to imbue the post with Earth, followed by Water, but the result was unexpected; without melding the two energies within him, the latter energy had simply overwhelmed the first, serving to fire-proof the post without conveying the necessary additional durability afforded by Earth.
Alex released a deep breath, keeping a tight hold on the separated Earth energy within himself. Then, with great care, he began to tease out Water-aspected energy from the greater whole of his power, though lesser in quantity than that he’d converted to Earth. It required a surprisingly high level of control to channel two isolated forms of energy throughout his body, but it was actually the easiest part of the process. It didn’t stop the energy from collapsing back into the neutral whole every one in five times he attempted the process, though he was getting better by the day.
No, the real difficulty was in expressing the multifaceted energy. To achieve both of the desired effects - enhanced durability and fire-proofing - both Earth and Water had to be held in a careful balance, melded together within his body to be expressed as a singular stream of energy. Visualization was key. It had taken several dozen attempts, but he’d finally worked out a mental image that worked for him.
The greater quantity of Earth energy formed the ‘trunk’, around which the Water energy could be coiled like a wire. With some effort, he could keep the Water energy attached to the greater trunk of Earth at select points without explicitly mixing the energies, something which would pollute the overall attunement of the energy into a dyad; Mud energy, as he thought of it, though no doubt it had another name. Maintaining the purity of each constituent part, while still mixing the energies enough to produce the desired effect, formed the bulk of this effort.
Satisfied with the result, he split the resultant mixed energies into two, channelling simultaneously through both hands to push the energy into the wood. Imbuement tended to leave few visual tells, especially at his level, but he could feel the lumber beneath his hands grow sturdier, less pliant, and the texture of the outer layer of bark becoming damp. Exhaling deeply, he stood up.
“Good work, recruit.” Barker said, patting the top of the log. “Still took you far, far too long. What just took you five minutes, my old subordinates could finish up in thirty seconds. Although,” he nodded to himself, scratching his beard. “You’re improving.”
Alex bit his bottom lip. Barker was right, he knew - there was nothing specific about the process that should make it take as long as it took him. It was simply a lack of fine control, something which he’d never struggled with before. It still counted as a win. His first attempts had taken no less than ten minutes to properly imbue the training post. He turned to the remaining logs to complete the process.
Idly, he reflected yet again on how much more efficient it would be to simply carve the necessary circuits into the bark. With his crystal stele, he could etch a control pattern and central nexus into the material, allowing him to simply imbue it with Earth and Water energy sequentially and allow the circuitry to handle the required manipulation. It would only need to be done once, and then he could start each day by simply refreshing the energy within the nexus. He’d raised the point with Barker after his first few failed attempts, but the older man had simply shaken his head.
“Not the point.” Barker had said. “Messin’ around with circuits is good when you’re holed up in a warm, safe workshop - in the field, it’s a crutch you won’t have time for. Speed is the name of the game.”
After repeating the process with the remaining three training posts, he stepped back with a satisfied smile. That last post had taken a full thirty seconds less than the first. With the durability of their targets attended to, Ellie took her cue and stepped over. It was usually best to give her the first shot, when she had plenty of energy she wanted to discharge. Alex trusted her to do her best, but you don’t stand down range when a young Evoker is testing their might.
“Alright, little miss. You know the drill. Four fireballs, four posts. Quick as you can.” Barker called, stepping back.
Ellie’s features creased in concentration as she drew on her power, hand extended toward the first post. She didn’t strictly need to use her hand as a manifestation point, Alex knew. Evokers could manifest energy from any point in proximity to their body, and a fully-trained adult Evoker could do so within the range of a few feet. It was a training tool and a crutch to use your hand. She was only thirteen, though, and Barker seemed happy to allow it.
The young girl’s intense focus yielded results after a few more seconds, a spiral of flame flickering into existence before her palm. It gradually expanded as Ellie channelled more power into the manifestation, growing steadily from the size of a marble to the size of a head, before stopping. Alex could feel the heat emanating from the small fireball in waves, a warming presence in the otherwise crisp morning air. Ellie herself wouldn’t feel any of it, immune to her own manifestations as she was.
With a steadying breath, she centred her aim on the left-most post, and with a flick of her wrist the nascent fireball exploded toward the uncaring target. It moved fast, and although a sizable chunk of the flame trailed off and away from the mass, it slammed into the post with unforgiving force, searing the face of the bark and leaving an ashen black mark. Ellie giggled, and threw up her hands in celebration.
“First time! Did you see that, Alex? I hit it on my first try!” Ellie shouted, eyes wide. For the first time since the events at Seaport, Ellie was unabashedly smiling in joy. A small smile of his own appeared on Alex’s face.
“Good job!” he said, turning to the other three posts. “Not quite done yet though, eh?”
From the look in her eyes, she was indeed not quite done.
***
After Ellie had tired herself out on the logs, and managed to complete the exercise with only three misses, she turned her attention to the less interesting aspects of Evoker training; for the moment, she’d found a corner of the training yard and was working on projecting an aura of Air-aspected energy that would deflect mundane projectiles. With the training posts freed up, it was Alex’s turn to experiment.
Four of Barker’s wooden practice swords were splayed out in front of him, the other man sitting on the ground opposite to Alex. This was one of the more interesting exercises the man had introduced Alex to, and something which drew on a much more familiar skill set than working on the logs. His hand traced the grip of a sword, ideas dancing through his mind. Barker interrupted him with a cough.
“After yesterday, I think you could do with a refresher on this one, recruit.” Barker said, raising an eyebrow in his direction. Shooting a resigned smile at the other man, he focused his attention on the man’s words. He’d been a little too experimental with the previous day’s experimentation.
“While you Imbuers are a handy lot to have around, a straight-up fight is usually one of your bigger weaknesses.” Barker tapped the tip of one of the practice blades. “That is, unless you’ve got a good bit of Imbued equipment on you. Thing is, you need to know exactly what you’re working with to get anything done.”
He slapped his own bicep. “Augmenters like me have it easy. If all else fails, I can send pure Earth runnin’ through my veins, and that’ll carry me through plenty of fights. For you, though,” he said, levelling a serious look. “It’s all about picking the right tool for the right situation.”
“Now, I can’t say I know much about Imbuing, but I’ve picked up bits and pieces from those I’ve worked with. It’s your intent that matters, alongside the energy you choose, in gettin’ an effect that you can actually use. That means you lot need to be pretty imaginative to get results.”
“Like with my dagger.” Alex replied, nodding. “A molten blade is a good lightshow, but there were more useful effects that could have let me handle the Feirwolf more easily if I’d had them available.”
“Exactly. Now, you ain’t going to turn any of these little toothpicks into anything seriously dangerous, but you can work out some of the basics with practice.” At this, his lips dipped into a frown. “And I do mean the basics. Don’t go trying to shove a dyad into these things again, recruit. I don’t want to replace every trainin’ blade in the damn yard.”
Alex grimaced. He’d tried to imbue one of the blades with a dyad of Fire and Air yesterday, which his intent had transformed into Smoke energy. Unfortunately, the concentration of energies required to produce a dyad was too much for the poor materials. While the weapon had emitted a trail of smoke for a short time, as he’d intended, it quickly grew much too hot and combusted the wood. That particular sword had ended its life in the Waystation’s fireplace soon after.
The narrative has been taken without permission. Report any sightings.
At Bronze rank and his level of skill, the only basic energies he could separate from his internal reservoir were the elemental four; Fire, Earth, Air and Water. More advanced fundamental energies, like Light, required a degree of control that Alex didn’t yet possess, not to mention required a higher energy density to properly manifest. He had to work with what he had. Unless I get my hands on some crystals, Alex thought. An unlikely prospect in the middle of nowhere.
Fortunately, that limitation wasn’t as dire as it sounded. Exotic effects were likely off the table, but the gratifying thing about imbuement was that if you could imagine a concept that fit within the bounds of the energy’s attunement, then it was possible to manifest that effect in most cases. The simplest example was Fire imbuement; you could make a weapon superheated, emit flames, or rapidly transfer heat to anything it touched. There were plenty of options. All affinities possessed some variant of this intentionality, he knew, but Imbuers had by far the greatest flexibility.
Retrieving one of the practice swords, he stepped over to the training post. The results of the week’s practice was clear; energy flowed from his internal reservoir at greater speed, and the process of separating out his desired attunement was simplified. Air-attuned energy flowed into the sword accompanied by clear intent. Immediately, the weight in his hands disappeared. Weightlessness, he knew, was one of the more useful imbuements in his new arsenal. Taking a few practice swings at the training post, the weight of the blade increased little by little, as the imbuement drank energy. He nodded to himself with satisfaction.
If another Feirwolf attacked them, well, he’d welcome the opportunity to test his new skills.
***
The sun’s steady path through the sky served as their timer, and when it blazed down from its zenith, the closing bell for morning training. With a grunt, Barker patted his shoulder, signalling the start of the afternoon’s work. Taking a few minutes to wash up, Alex threw on a set of clean clothes and rushed downstairs for the beginning of afternoon service.
A condition of Arrius’ help, Alex and Ellie’s afternoons were reserved for assisting Arrius and Tyra with their work. Ellie shot Alex a knowing smile and a small wave as she darted into the kitchen, where he knew she would enjoy a relaxing afternoon chopping vegetables and cleaning up after the older woman’s cooking frenzy. Alex, unfortunately, would be partaking in a much more trying experience.
The Royal Army had locked down travel to and from the crossroads over the past week as they prepared to dislodge the invaders, marked by the constant stream of armed traffic travelling down the Regnal Road from the capital. With little sign of the travel ban being lifted any time soon, the Waystation was playing host to a diverse assortment of individuals who themselves could only hunker down and wait for release. Unfortunately, the type to partake in the services of a Waystation were not usually the sort to stay in one place for an extended period of time, and certainly not one lacking in entertainment like here.
All had been well for the first few days. One traveller had brought with her a well-used lute and a modicum of skill with which to play it, which served to fend off the creeping aura of boredom and restlessness that had been threatening the Waystation’s delicate balance. Unfortunately, the woman had known only a scant few songs, leading her later performances to grow dull and repetitive. Without the balm of entertainment, boredom and unease grew among the patrons.
This wouldn’t have bothered Alex, committed to his training as he was, if it weren’t his responsibility to interact with these people on a daily basis. On paper his job was remarkably simple. Take orders, run drinks, get food in people’s bellies, and handle some basic cleaning jobs. It wasn’t something he had any experience doing, but it seemed simple enough; until, startlingly, it became far more involved. The unspoken fifth responsibility was the most difficult. Customer service.
As varied as the current patrons of the Coastcross Waystation were, most found themselves unified in one respect; they were bafflingly, unrepentantly rude. Make a mistake on a drink order? He got insulted. Spill a few drops? Refill. One person gets a slightly smaller serving of cheese? Undoubtedly, his fault. There were a few customers with whom he’d established a good rapport, mostly those who appeared to be of a similar social station to himself, but the rest considered him nothing more than their ‘serving boy’. It rankled Alex, who had enjoyed a healthy amount of respect among the residents of Seaport, but there was little he could do. Arrius simply nodded and told him to get on with it when he brought it up, so that’s exactly what he did.
Until he couldn’t.
“Pretty thing, why are you wasting your time with someone like that?”
Alex was in the process of bussing a tray of freshly poured ale when one of the befurred men at the table spoke, his eyes squarely planted on the table behind him. The two groups were as disparate as could be imagined. The first, who he’d come to learn were freelance monster hunters, all bore heavy scarring and adorned the spoils of their hunts. The second were more familiar to him, the plainly dressed labourers and journeyman tradesmen he’d exchanged a polite few words with since beginning his work at the Waystation. The hunter who’d spoken, Sylas, bore a salacious grin.
Alex watched as the woman froze like a caught deer, mirrored by the man seated at her side. Neither of them responded to Sylas’ question. Neither could they, Alex thought, because the man was rather terrifying. Something sharp and thick had gouged a line from his temple down to the middle of his neck, leaving a raised, pink-red scar in its wake. It wasn’t helped by the wicked axe belted at his side, nor the distinct presence of one ale too many on the table. He was drunk and dangerous.
“Well? Don’t know what you pretty sorts see in men like that, but I’ll tell ya now, he ain’t gettin’ past Silver. Why don’t you come spend a night with some real men, like me and my boys?” he said, hacking out a dark laugh. The woman shrank, shaking her head.
“Thank you for the offer, Sir Hunter, but I’ll have to… decline.”
Sylas sat up straight in his chair, the salacious grin morphing into a dark smile, and dramatically surveyed the man around him. His tone turned to the theatrical as the other men laughed, and he laid his eyes back on the woman.
“Decline, the lady says! Truly, a wound on my heart. Why don’t I put it like this, then,” he chuckled, spinning around completely and setting his hand atop the other group’s table. “You’ll join me and my boys for an afternoon of fun, and then your man gets to leave with both his hands, savvy?”
“You can’t treat people like that.”
For a moment, Alex wondered what daring person had decided to court death this afternoon. The next, he realised he had decided to court death. The words had left his mouth before he could stop them, having spent the best part of a week bottled up in his throat. He was incensed. What type of person would talk to another that way, threatening and evil, all for the crime of sitting in public? It took only a second for Alex to make his decision; to run, or double down? Double down.
The chatter in his immediate vicinity died down, a couple people from nearby tables making no effort to hide their interest. Sylas, head facing away from Alex, jolted upright. Then, slowly, he turned his head to face him. All traces of a smile, dark or otherwise, had fallen from the man’s lips. Instead, it was a visage of stone-faced disbelief.
“What did you say, boy?” he whispered.
“I said that you can’t treat people that way. It’s wrong. They did nothing wrong.”
He spoke as confidently as he was able, refusing to bow down to the growing sense of wrongness in his gut. It was an emerging fear, he thought, but there wasn’t anything he could do to take his words back now. Would he beg this man for forgiveness? Absolutely not. That left only one path forward. If only speaking with confidence didn’t require him to project his voice.
Silence descended on several of the surrounding tables, now, their occupants thrilled at something new happening in the dull environment. Responding to their attention, the other hunters shot Alex with dark looks, eyes swivelling between Sylas and himself. One of them cracked a false smile, shaking his head. Then, Alex’s world turned yellow.
As if all the world was filtered through stained glass, for a brief moment, everything held a warm yellow hue. Right until the moment his head smacked the ground, when colour vision returned alongside a splitting plain in his face. Running a hand over his face, it came back stained with bright crimson blood, flowing freely from his now-broken nose. He looked up to see Sylas standing right in front of him, the man’s fist clenched, Silver rank-plate hanging freely from his neck.
Shit. Alex thought, caught in a moment of shock. He hit me.
“Who do you think you are, you little prick?” Sylas said, crouching down in front of him. “Where’s your rank-plate, huh? You a Bronze?”
Alex opened his mouth, but closed it soon after. There was nothing worth saying. Nothing short of pleading for his life would stop Sylas from doing whatever he wanted, but that wasn’t going to happen. Not a chance in hell. He’d lost almost everything in his life, and he wouldn’t be sacrificing his pride - not to this filth. Whatever came next, he’d take it like a man.
Sylas sneered. “So, the Bronze server boy thinks he can mouth off to his betters, does he? What do we do to arrogant weaklings, boys?”
Glancing back at his men, they jeered, sneering at Alex’s prone form with a tinge of sadistic amusement. Was this what they wanted after all? Alex thought, noticing a few sad, regretful looks from the people around him, actually outnumbered by equally dismissive or anticipatory faces. Someone like me to say something so they could start a show?
“Do what you want; at least I’m not filth like you.” Alex spat - literally spat - a mouthful of blood into Sylas’ face. His anger was overwhelming his ability to be rational, now. Disgusting creatures like this who thought they could do anything they wanted to people, just because they had a bit of power? It wasn’t right. He wouldn’t tolerate it, even if it saw him black and blue.
Growling, Sylas pulled back his fist, Alex’s strange sense for energy manifesting against for the first time since the Feirwolf. The man was an Imbuer, like him, and he could feel energy flowing into the metal studs on his worn leather gloves. A silver-rank hitting him with an imbued weapon? He didn’t stand a chance. Tempted to close his eyes, but prideful enough to force them open, Alex waited for the blow to arrive.
Arrius appeared, seemingly from nowhere, a hand wrapped around Sylas’ wrist. Disapproval filled his eyes. Tightening his fist, blood seemed to flee from Sylas’ face, and the imbuement was dismissed; surging energy settled, leaving the glove in its mundane state. Arrius spoke calmly.
“That’s enough of that. No fighting in my Waystation, Sylas, you know the rules.”
“He disrespected me.” Sylas spat, standing up and shaking his hand from Arrius’ grip. “We keep it polite out of respect for you, Arrius, but we don’t take kindly to useless little shits poking their nose into our business.”
“The lad’s young, and comes from the middle of nowhere. He didn’t know what he was saying.” Arrius said.
“Doesn’t matter to me now, does it? Can’t be having a Bronze disrespect me, ‘specially not in front of my men. No. I’ll have some blood for this.”
Arrius stood silently, locking eyes with the other man, and Alex released a breath in relief. The older man wouldn’t let some savage beat him over nothing. If there was anyone who could resolve the situation without Alex losing a limb, it would be Sergeant Barker. The silence dragged for a few seconds.
“I won’t allow you to beat my ward, Sylas.” Arrius said quietly.
“Didn’t think you would.” Sylas responded, gesturing to one of his men. Something was dropped on the table, but from his position on the ground, Alex couldn’t see it.
“I want twenty.” Sylas said.
Arrius considered the object, then shook his head. “Ten. No power.”
Visibly mulling over the offer, Sylas inclined his head in acceptance. Ten what? Alex thought, a chill running down his spine. He didn’t have to wait long for the answer. Turning to him with a wicked smile, teeth spattered with a few drops of Alex’s blood, Sylas raised his prize into the air.
Four ragged leather strips blossomed out from a hide handle, stretching from where Sylas held it aloft until each individual strip tickled the ground. The sight caused Alex to swallow unthinkingly. A lash.
“Ten lashes for you then, boy. We’ll do it outside. You better thank me for my mercy.”