Arcturus stared at the armour on its rack within his walk-in closet, arms folded as he contemplated the gear. At his request, and with Tylariel’s instructions, the armour had been couriered from Luthaire’s showroom directly to the Rubastra Estate and had been waiting for him when he’d explored the expansive room he’d been given — though perhaps rooms were a better description. His quarters consisted of a living area one might find within any middle class home on Earth, and an attached bedroom with a king-sized four poster bed.
His bathroom was connected en-suite style to his bedroom, and the walk-in closet was placed on the opposite wall to the bathroom. He even had a comfortably-sized office and meditation space off-shooting his main living area, though both were largely irrelevant to him in the immediate.
There was no kitchen, though he’d been prepared for that given the fact the Staff handled any and all food requests no matter the time of day or night.
After settling in, bathing, and then dressing in the clothes he’d been given — a black shirt and leggings which both clung tightly to his body, though without discomfort — to wear beneath his armour: Arcturus had found himself stymied as he stared at the perplexing set of onyx plates. While the dominating style definitely elicited thoughts of greek Corinthian or Spartan armour, the epaulets were decidedly roman in their layered design, and the cuisses and gauntlets were a fundamentally Frankish or Anglo design.
Something about the armour nagged at Arcturus, from the way it seemed both menacing and innocuous at the same time, to the very deliberately placed rubies in each piece. He couldn’t quite put his finger on what it was, but instinct told him there was far more to the ancient set of Aetherforged steel than he was grasping.
“What the hell are you hiding?” He muttered to himself as he stepped closer to the wooden armour rack, reaching out to brush his fingers along the gleaming onyx breastplate. He felt the smoothness of the steel under his fingers as he caressed it, and marvelled at the elegance of the metalworking in how consistent the design of the pieces were.
It wasn’t until he cautiously touched his fingers to the ruby socketed in the middle of the upper breastplate that something happened: A spark or surge of momentary resonance that made him snatch his hand back in surprise. Heart racing, Arcturus glanced back outside of his closet as if someone might discover him doing something wrong; despite the fact that the very idea of there being ‘right’ or ‘wrong’ in the immediate situation was ludicrous.
Playing with mysterious, forbidding armour was definitely not a problem.
Keep telling yourself that when you invert your organs, bucko.
“I was being sarcastic.” He muttered to himself.
I wasn’t.
Arcturus reached out again cautiously and, after a moment more of hesitation, touched his fingers to the breastplate ruby. When the surge of energy happened he forced himself to keep his hand connected, and he felt something react within the jewel. A jumble of information he couldn’t begin to parse lanced through his mind, as if the System were trying to tell him something — only for it to be distorted to the point of incomprehensibility. He grit his teeth against the instant headache that formed from the ‘malfunction’ and nearly pulled his hand away again.
Only sheer stubborn curiosity kept him connected to the gem long enough for the corrupted information to resolve itself into a single notification hovering — to his eyes — above the breastplate.
Do you wish to claim Armour of the S̸̡̙͎̒̈́̑̇͠ͅ@̵͚̞͓͐̎̂͛͐/̵̭̓̎̊͋|̸̛̺̈́̏̈͘/̴̯̫̉̈́g̷͖̱̦̎̀͐͘͝ų̴̬̃͒̇1̷̟͒̓̒̐̈́n̸̢̘̘̠̗̞̎͊3̷̺͈͔͚̜̙̋̀͗̃ ̴̨̰̮͈͈͈̅͊̈́L̶̩̎̆͌0̶͓̻̹̭͋̏̈́6̴̜̂̎̈̀͘͝d̶̮̈́̂̌̈́̚͝ (Mythic) for yourself?
YES NO
Arcturus hesitated. He’d bought the armour, and he’d certainly done something no one else clearly had. However he understood nothing of what he’d accomplished, why he’d accomplished it, and whether or not it was somehow a trap he’d regret triggering later. Caution about the unknown realities of Terra warred with his intrigue and curiosity, and eventually the latter won out.
Your recklessness is going to get us both killed, one day.
His subconscious was probably right. At that moment, though, it didn’t matter.
Arcturus hit the floating ‘YES’ button and waited for something to happen. When nothing did, he frowned in consternation and reached out to touch the gem again. No spark, no surge of power; nothing. A faint feeling of warmth was the extent of the reaction, and even then it was minute in comparison to what had come before. Annoyance replaced curiosity and Arcturus sighed at his own vain hopes.
“Of course it was an anticlimax. Why am I surprised?”
On a whim, he used his [Inspect] skill on the armour again.
INFORMATION PANEL
----------------------------------------
BASIC INFORMATION
NAME Armour of the Veiled Prince SLOT(S) Head, Chest (Multiple), Arms (Multiple), Hands, Legs (Multiple), Feet TYPE(S) Enchanted, Restricted RARITY Mythic CLASSIFICATION(S) Armour (Full Body) STATISTIC(S)
+5 to ??? (Restricted)
+5 to ??? (Restricted)
+5 to ??? (Restricted)
+5 to É̶͕͉̌ṙ̴̡̛r̵͉̂̃ŏ̵̳͖̓r̶̼̖͛̀(Restricted)
MODIFICATION(S)
É̶͕͉̌ṙ̴̡̛r̵͉̂̃ŏ̵̳͖̓r̶̼̖͛̀
DESCRIPTION
Recovered from an unknown ruin in the Blighted Lands and restored, mostly, by the careful efforts of Luthaire Gildedhammer: This set of forbidding armour holds a hidden power that has been frustratingly inaccessible.
Whatever boons are hidden behind the esoteric locks placed upon its use, no one has been able to decipher the secrets required to unlock its full and terrible potential.
SOULBOND(S)
Arcturus Regis Valoura
Synergy: 0% / 100%
DURABILITY 1,500 / 1,500
“Armour of the Veiled Prince...” He said out loud as he read the changes to the armour’s name. “Well, that’s literal.”
Stop talking to yourself and get moving, jackass. You’re going to be late.
Arcturus ignored his subconscious, noting that the voice had been growing more and more active and self-aware since his transition to Terra. Could there be something there which merited concern?
Perception Check unsuccessful!
Intellect Check unsuccessful!
Willpower Check unsuccessful!
No, probably not. His awareness of the notifications slid away like they were slicked in oil, and in the same moment as they appeared he’d forgotten about them. Some small part of him might have been alarmed by that, but if he were, Arcturus couldn’t tell. As far as he was concerned, the alerts may as well have never happened.
“Time to get to it.”
Thankful no one was around to question his sanity as he talked to himself — though really, who didn’t sometimes? — in the privacy of his closet, Arcturus set to the task of donning his extremely expensive armour. He felt gratitude for his choice of studies as he navigated calmly through the proper steps of equipping the armour. He strapped on the cuisses and vambraces first and made sure they were buckled properly to his thighs and forearms respectively, before moving on to the sabatons and then his breastplate.
Cinching his torso armour was the most irritating part of the entire process, but once he’d managed it he wiggled around a little and pushed at it from different angles with his hands to make sure it was both comfortable and sturdy on his chest. Thankfully, the armour was only slightly too large for him — a fact that could be compensated for later, when he had the time to visit Luthaire. Finally he latched on a simple arming belt below the leather straps of his breastplate’s roman-style skirting, wiggling his hips to make sure he hadn’t compromised his movement.
He carefully moved each of his limbs after that to ensure range of motion across his body and then, satisfied, he picked up the helmet from where it sat atop the armour stand. His eyes roamed the dull, black surface of the helm before he tucked it under his left arm and exited the walk-in closet. Perdition was collected from where he’d left it under his pillow and clipped to his arming belt by the clasp he’d attached to the bottom of the grip, which itself had since been wrapped in black leather.
Arcturus left his rooms a moment later and shut the door behind him, glancing around in momentary confusion before remembering that he was in the East wing of the Rubastra mansion, on the third floor. That meant that he needed to go West and down to the second floor training facilities. Trusting his HUD compass to guide him he set off, keeping a wary eye on his zoomed in mini-map so as not to lose himself in the winding, tapestry-and-portrait-filled corridors of the villa.
Maids were present everywhere as he walked, curtseying or smiling at him as he walked past them while they cleaned, chatted, and generally went about the business of maintaining the colossal estate. More than once he was offered help to find his way, and he quickly declined after the memory of the earlier conversation with Vivienne and Tylariel surfaced in his mind.
“Hello again, Your Highness.”
Willpower Check successful!
Arcturus paused with far more grace than his surprise might have normally allowed and turned, smiling politely at the beautiful Estate Mistress as she damn near glided down the corridor towards him. She’d changed into a particularly flattering ascot blouse in white, matched with a black shin-length skirt for the new day, giving her a professional mein without compromising or downplaying her natural beauty. Her blonde bun of hair was less tightly wound as well, he noticed; with strands of gold spilling out of it in a curiously endearing way. It still amazed him that a woman who looked barely out of her twenties could run an entire Estate.
Willpower Check successful!
Arcturus snapped himself out of the process of silently admiring the buxom Head of Staff and instead put on his best ‘corporate heir’ smile; the same one he’d often used with his father’s friends and business associates.
“Hello again, Mistress Dubois. I hope you’ve not had a taxing day due to our arrival.”
“Not at all, Your Highness. Things rarely go awry in the Rubastra Estate, and when they do they are easily corrected.” Her smile was polite enough, but her proximity belied her interest as she examined him from behind her half-moon spectacles. “I assume you’re en route to meet with the Lady for your Commencement?”
“Yes.” Arcturus said, thankful for the obligation. “I was just enjoying the walk and admiring the hallways.”
“They are rather stunning, aren’t they?” She agreed as she glanced at the artwork and plinth-resting marble busts nearby. “I thought perhaps you’d like some company on your way.”
Arcturus swallowed as she spoke, and focused on looking at her eyes and nowhere else.
“That would be fine, Mistress Dubois. I wouldn’t want to accidentally get lost and keep my Mentor waiting too long.”
They set off again together, this time with Vivienne keeping a respectful half-step back but maintaining pace with him, her hands clasped together calmly in front of her as they walked.
“I understand your arrival on Terra was not what one might call pleasant, Your Highness. I hope you’ve had time to properly assess and come to terms with any lingering stress or emotional upheaval that might have caused.”
Arcturus raised an eyebrow at Vivienne after she finished, surprised at the boldness of her statement. Well, perhaps not that surprised. “I wouldn’t say I’ve come to terms with all of it,” he responded candidly while tapping the fingers of his left hand against the metal of his held helmet. “Though I can say I’m more accepting of the reality, to a degree. I’ve been on the Source for a week, but realistically I’ve only been conscious for about three days of it. I’ve gone, in my perspective, from waking up naked in the woods to wearing full armour in a massive Noble’s Estate in the span of three sunsets.”
“That must be a lot.” Vivienne replied.
“It’s… Yeah, it’s a lot.” Arcturus agreed as they turned to descend a set of stairs. “Tylariel’s sister was the first major point of sanity I found in the world, though there was a barmaid in the Foxy Princess that also showed me kindness after I was taken there following the events of my arrival.”
“Lady Alyerial has always been a kind soul.”
“She is kind.” Arcturus agreed. “It’s still bewildering to me that she was so ready to give me shelter, and that I trusted her so implicitly. I think it was a mix of instinct, desperation, and a natural inability to think of women as threats the same way I do men. A product of my upbringing, I guess.”
If you discover this tale on Amazon, be aware that it has been stolen. Please report the violation.
“You will need to correct that, I think.” Vivienne advised gently. “There is no distinction in danger here when it comes to one’s gender. Both are equally capable of doing you harm.”
“I know.” Arcturus agreed. “I’ve known that, really. I was killed on my original shard by a woman.”
“I am sorry.” She said softly.
“It is what it is.” He said with a shrug. “I’m here now. My only real regret is not being able to speak with my parents, but I’m sure I can find a way to do that eventually.”
“You refer to Prince Titus and your mother?”
“Yeah. I wonder how she’d react to all this… To knowing who and what my Dad really is…”
“Does she love him?”
Arcturus blinked at the question, then laughed. “Far more than he deserves at times, according to both of them.”
“Then it won’t matter. Love, true love, is a powerful thing Your Highness. It can overcome even the direst of revelations. I have no doubt your Lady Mother would be proud of her husband, and of the man her son seems prepared to become.”
“Pardon?” Arcturus asked when she finished.
“I noticed you didn’t ask why no one here is hiding your title or identity.” She said instead of clarifying.
“It was Tylariel’s order to keep it hidden, so logically she must have a good reason for not extending that order to the staff. I just assumed there was some sort of oath or geas at play that bound you all to secrecy.”
Vivienne’s lack of reply drew his attention, and he looked at her only to find her staring at him with her intense, assessing blue eyes. Her gaze was striking.
Perception Check unsuccessful!
“Mistress Dubois?” He asked carefully. “Is something the matter?”
Vivienne blinked at him, and then looked away with a shake of her head. “No, Your Highness. I was just surprised by your accurate deduction.”
“I don’t think it should be too surprising given the logic involved,” Arcturus said with a smile.
“You are quite humble for one born into such a powerful bloodline.”
“My heritage doesn’t mean much if I’m disconnected from it.”
“So you consider yourself no different from anyone else?” She enquired.
“Moreso I just don’t think of myself as overly special.” Arcturus clarified. “I’m just a man trying to make sense of his situation. In many ways, I feel as if the metric for maturity here has relegated me partially back to boyhood. I don’t grasp things that Terran children consider basic knowledge, while subsequently holding onto concepts that most would find obsolete or downright ignorant.”
“Your shard has left a strong impression on you.”
“It was the only reality I ever knew.” He said simply.
The rest of their walk was done in silence as Arcturus ruminated on his experiences since coming to Terra, and Vivienne seemingly contented herself with staying in his company and casually observing him from time to time. It was difficult to discern the woman’s angle, as she seemed to have a deeper interest in him than a purely physical one, and yet looked at him, at times, like he was a meal she wished to devour.
She was beautiful enough to be distracting, and impressively intelligent as well.
It was a dangerous combination for a young man, and Arcturus was cautious not to let himself appreciate her physical attributes for any length of time.
When they at last arrived at his destination, he was greeted by the sight of an open pair of double doors marked with glowing blue runes. His brow furrowed and his Aethersmithing skill kicked in, allowing him to understand with immediacy that he was looking at an Infusion-based creation that held several powerful ensorcellments. What those were in exactness, however, he was hopelessly too low-levelled to discern.
“I believe the Archon is waiting for you inside, Arcturus.”
He turned to look at Vivienne in surprise when she used his name, his crimson eyes meeting hers and finding them impossible to read. Her expression was one of perfect professionalism, but there was something in the way she said his name; like she were partaking in a mischievous secret. It set his heart to racing.
“Thank you, Vivienne.” He said after a moment of thought. “I think I’ll require another bath after I’m done, if you could arrange that.”
“I’ll see to it personally.” She assured him with a smile that made his cheeks warm, before heading off with gliding grace.
You’re playing with fire there, dumbass.
Arcturus ignored his subconscious. It was just a little harmless flirting. He wasn’t about to take it further. Besides, he was certain that the Estate Mistress wasn’t about to try to seduce him, no matter the implications.
Well… Relatively certain.
How fast that pretty blonde made you forget all about Amélie.
And just like that his burgeoning good mood was ruined, and he turned to enter the training room with a scowl on his features. It had been a low blow, and one that was wholly inaccurate. His feelings for Amélie weren’t downgraded or mitigated simply because he was enjoying the attention of someone else. He certainly had no intention of engaging in any sort of illicit activity with Vivienne. It was an utterly ridiculous, absolutely ludicrous statement for his subconscious to make. It was preposterous. His feelings were genuine, not some fluttery non-factor that could be overlooked by the first pretty face he saw.
Damn it, he’d destroyed himself trying to save her! He had not forgotten!
Then why do you feel so guilty?
Arcturus’ only reply was a low snarl as he stepped into the training room and looked around for Tylariel. His efforts were frustrated, however, by his own abrupt realisation that he’d just stepped into what appeared to be a mix between a dojo — albeit a decidedly more ‘western’ one — and what he suspected was some sort of holographic training chamber. The former he could see based on the weapons racked along the wall to his right, the plethora of mats, towels, and other training paraphernalia organised below the weapons within open shelves.
The latter he postulated based on the fact that there were large, glowing blue crystals at each cardinal point of the compass around the rectangular room — and from the massive, for lack of a better description, laser-beam looking crystalline construct pointing down and around at the room from the ceiling. While associating holographic technology to a world with swords and sorcery might have seemed crazy at first glance, the fact that Terran technology very much leaned into the realm of extremely advanced thanks to their harnessing of Aether made the assertion more realistic in his own mind.
While those alone may not have been enough to tell him what the room was for certain, the fact that his Mentor was casually sparring against what he assumed was a simulacrum herself that was bleeding pixel-like motes of aether seemed to support his deduction.
With the room looking to be about one hundred metres long and twenty-five metres wide at a casual eyeballing, Arcturus didn’t bother calling out to Tylariel. Instead he made his way towards the edge of the slightly elevated platform that dominated the centre of the room and waited by the closest set of three steps; the ones facing the East, from where he’d just entered.
As if sensing his arrival, Tylariel stepped back and spoke a command he was too far away to catch, which froze the simulated version of herself in its tracks. Another command and the other Tylariel turned into blue light and seemed to disintegrate into motes of aether, drifting away into nothingness.
“Hello, Mentor.” Arcturus said respectfully as she approached. “I apologise for keeping you waiting.”
Tylariel waved a gloved hand dismissively as she came towards him, her pale cheeks flushed with colour at the exertion she’d given herself while fighting her clone.
Where Arcturus had gone for armour, Tylariel had changed into a form-fitting green blouse, leggings, and knee-high tan boots. Her waist-length red hair was tied up into a messy bun, and pinned with two golden needles. Other than the gilded arming belt cinched around her waist, she wore no other adornments and held only her now-inactive Aetherblade in her right hand.
Arcturus waited patiently as his silent Mentor appraised him, her striking topaz eyes moving from his face to his sabatons as she inspected his attire. He knew better, by now, than to interrupt her ruminations and contented himself to wait for her inspection to be complete. Thankfully, it wasn’t overly long of a process.
“Acceptable.” She said with a slight nod. “We’ll need to look at outfitting you more fully in more… traditional… Imperial plate and chainmail once you grow stronger. That barely covers your essential areas, and you’ll need those covered if you’re to properly cross blades with Archons in the future.”
“You mentioned elemental armour, Mentor. Is that some sort of ability I could learn?’
Tylariel arched an eyebrow as she motioned him to join her and turned to head back to the middle of the training platform. Her response came only after they settled into the middle of it, her left hand resting idly on her hip as she gestured at him with her Aetherblade. “Did you discover an elemental affinity between now and our arrival?”
“Well, no, but—”
“I don’t say this to be harsh, Arcturus.” Tylariel interjected coolly. “But attempting to plan for a maybe in even the most remote capacity will only hinder you. I want you to understand this so that when I do explain elemental armour to you, and the ways in which you can defeat it, you will not have some small part of your brain that believes it will miraculously manifest at some point.”
Arcturus opened his mouth to protest, and she shook her head at him.
“I’m not accusing you of being an idiot, I’m simply speaking from experience. If you have even the slightest belief something might happen, you will inevitably fantasize about what would change if or when it did happen. In that spiral lies subconscious self-sabotage. I will explain elemental armour to you, but be very clear on this: You must approach it solely from the perspective of fighting it, not from one of attaining it. Do you understand?”
Arcturus clenched his jaw at the lecture, irritation at being treated like a silly child stoking recalcitrance in him. Tylariel hadn’t mentioned the encounter in Maurice’s shop, when he’d somehow compelled her using his Awakened Bloodline’s Aura, but neither had she seemingly forgotten about it. If anything, her stance seemed indicative of a subconscious need to maintain the superior to subordinate relationship she had worked to lay the groundwork for. His instinct was to be stubborn.
Unfortunately, his better nature won out.
“Yes, Mentor. I understand.” Perhaps the words weren’t as happy or accepting as she’d have liked, and the narrowing of her eyes seemed to indicate such — but she took them in the spirit they were offered, if nothing else.
“You’ll thank me in time.” Tylariel said with utmost surety. “As for elemental armour, the concept is rather simple: Every Archon has a core attunement. Fire, Earth, Air, Water. There are advanced attunements like my Nature attunement, or the old Commander of your father’s Gilded Aegis, Cynthia Starblade.”
“A sword made from a singularity.” Arcturus said with a nod. “My father told me about her, but again; I thought they were just stories he made up for me as a child.”
“She was real, and she was terrifying.” Tylariel said matter-of-factly. “Her attunement was a highly advanced, extremely rare Air alteration. Spatial manipulation was almost unheard-of. Less than one hundred Archons have manifested it since the Empire’s inception. Mages with the attunement are far more common, but also both more and less deadly. That is a digression, however.”
Arcturus nodded as he, too, sensed the potential for them to get off-track.
“Do you know how to stretch, Apprentice?”
He nodded.
“Good, then you can start while I talk.”
Arcturus nodded again and placed his helmet down on the wood at his feet — it felt vaguely like bamboo, which would make sense — while sinking into some initial leg and arm stretches as he Tylariel continued.
“As I was saying, each Archon has elemental attunements. The two primary ways these are expressed are the Aetherblade, and elemental armour. You know what Aetherblades are, but armour is the secondary component: An aura of aether that coats an Archon like a second skin. It allows us to shrug off blows both magical and mundane that would kill or maim a regular person. Aetheric shields are a close imitation, but they lack the ease of an Archon’s instinctive use and they are far, far more mana-intensive.”
“How long can an Archon maintain their elemental armour?” Arcturus interjected as he bent to the left and felt his armour flex with him. So far so good.
“With proper training? Indefinitely. Elemental armour only drains mana when it absorbs damage. That means that an Archon, with proper tuition, can be protected essentially every hour of every day, including when they’re asleep.”
Arcturus stared at her in surprise. “That seems… really broken.”
“Broken?” She questioned imperiously.
“My apologies. Shard nomenclature.” Arcturus said quickly. “It’s a turn of phrase for when something breaks the perceptions of ‘fair play’, or is considered ‘overpowered’. It’s not an honour thing, moreso just a statement of how disproportionately powerful something is compared to others.”
Tylariel nodded in consideration after he clarified. “Yes, then I suppose that term is apt. Elemental armour is, indeed, ‘broken’. It’s a core part of why Archons are considered the deciding factor in most conflicts. It takes a tremendous amount of power to break an Archon’s elemental armour. Either a highly, highly skilled spellcaster, or massive investment in ludicrously expensive aether cannons.”
“All of that being predicated on actually hitting the Archon, I’m guessing?”
Tylariel smiled in approval. “Correct. Our mobility is another key factor to its power. It’s why Archons are sent to deal with Archons: Spellcasters, even Battlemages like your Nephilim friend, are impeded by their need to target their spells at a fixed location. The alternative is a Spellsword, but even those warriors are pale shadows of what an Archon can do instinctively.”
“The common man’s Archon?”
Tylariel hesitated, then nodded. “Yes, that is a fair comparison. Spellswords are, indeed, a plebeian’s Archon.”
“So I’m guessing Aetherblades counter elemental armour?” Arcturus prompted as he bent to press his hands to the floor between his spread legs.
“After a fashion.” Tylariel agreed. “Aetherblades, having an elemental attunement themselves, work in concert with oppositional force to counter elemental armour. Two Fire Archons, for example, will be evenly matched: Their damage to one another’s armour will be proportional to their aetheric strength, and nothing more. The stronger or more skilled Archon will win by either brute force or defeat in detail.”
“Death by a thousand cuts, I guess, in the second case.”
Tylariel seemed pleased by the analogy. “Quite right, yes. In the case of oppositional elements like Fire and Water, or Air and Earth; the result is more dependent on who strikes who more, and how strong each respective Archon is. It comes down to aether density more than even the prior example, because those elements are naturally in conflict. If one Archon is notably stronger, then the contest will be over quickly.”
“That seems very simplistic.”
“Oh, there is far more to it than just that when you factor in spellforms, advanced attunements, and so on — but for the sake of this lesson? Yes, those are the basics.”
“So where does that leave me?” Arcturus asked as he straightened and bounced in place to finish loosening his limbs. “I can’t use elemental armour, so what do I do?”
“You’ll learn to use a telekinetic layering, and your armour can be enchanted and infused to grant you the benefits that elemental armour would give anyone else… But more than that, you simply need to achieve two goals to overcome your impediment.”
“Which are?”
“Be faster and be stronger than anyone and everyone you face.”
“That seems… unlikely.”
“With your bloodline, and your Nephilim origins? Right now, perhaps, but in terms of potential growth?” Tylariel smiled in a decidedly machiavellian way. “You have the potential, Arcturus, to be the most powerful Archon since your namesake.”
“Is that why you agreed to teach me?”
Tylariel laughed. “Of course it is. That, and having the future King as my former Apprentice would be magnificent for my House.” She smiled. “Don’t look so sad, apprentice. You have your qualities, and I find your almost childish innocence regarding some matters rather endearing… But let this be a lesson for you: Nobody, and I do mean nobody, does something in this world — especially among the Nobility — without some measure of personal gain. For me, it is having a King as my legacy; and the prestige of having trained potentially the strongest Archon in millennia. For you… Well, isn’t it obvious what you gain?”
“Self-determination.” Arcturus answered immediately.
“Well, to a degree.” Tylariel said with an almost empathetic look. “Power can be quite the trap, my young Apprentice.”
Arcturus nodded and locked his jaw to suppress the movie pun he was dying to make.
“Now… Let’s start your training in earnest. You can show me what you’ve got.”
“We’re going to duel?” Arcturus asked with a surge of nervous excitement.
“Heavens, no.” Tylariel said with a laugh. “Even at my weakest, I’d throw you around like a ragdoll. You have a long way to go before you step into the arena with me.” She waved a hand, and Arcturus detected a burst of aether from his mentor as she did… something. A faint hum filled the room, and motes of blue aether coalesced rapidly around him and started to form generic humas, two male and two female — finishing them with ragged clothes and wooden clubs.
“You’ll fight the lowest form of enemy we have, and we’ll go from there.”
“But I have armour, and an Aetherblade!” Arcturus said in bewilderment.
“Yes.” Tylariel agreed. “But the chamber has my combat records, and these minions are programmed as if they were fighting me.” She grinned at him as she strolled away. “You have thirty seconds to ready yourself, Arcturus, starting now!”
Arcturus cursed and grabbed his helmet, slotting it on over his head and pulling Perdition from his arming belt. A surge of magic lanced through his body, and he felt the weapon ignite; the four foot blade projecting out as it had done in Luthaire’s store.
To be certain what he was working with, he glanced at his Health and Mana bars — and then did a double-take. His Mana, much to his shock, did not show the 133 value he was used to. Instead, it showed 133 (63) with 70 points of his bar greyed out. A quick search through his combat log showed him the culprit.
Aetherblade activated. 70 Mana reserved.
“Fuck me.” He said as he faced down the four projected enemies, and the timer that had started in his HUD at Tylariel’s words. This was going to be… unpleasant.