The classification of the Hûldralian people as either members of the magical races or a distinct branch within the human lineage has long been a contentious debate. With their unusual long life spans and tall statures, they share many traits with their neighbors of Neoire. However, unlike any other magical kin, they possess an exceptional affinity for magic—an aptitude so profound that they are rumored to be the progenitors of all magical abilities.
Accounts from visitors to their land describe the air to be filled with energy, not dissimilar to the static felt before a lightning storm. A peculiar phenomenon that exerts influence on the minds of those present, engendering a sense of invincibility and fostering the belief that anything is possible.
Indeed, the Hûldralian people were capable of extraordinary feats transcending human imagination, ranging from bestowing immortality upon others to soul transmigration. Their arrogance was infamous, and their experiments gradually grew more audacious, unsettling, and dangerous. They regarded themselves as deities on earth, seldom questioning the morality of their actions but rather focusing on the realm of possibility. But their hubris led to their undoing.
In the year of Folcard's spring, a group of merchants discovered the aftermath. Cities filled with lifeless bodies and ruined structures, seemingly the result of a failed experiment that unleashed destruction.
To this day, the untouched remnants of their civilization endure, as none dare to expose themselves to the potent energy that brought down perhaps Asmeon's most illustrious people.
~ The History and Peoples of Magic by Sir Rainaldus Gale
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The cavern reverberated with the sound of wood hitting wood as Lidea and Firon exchanged strikes and parries. Firon had been her best sparring partner that day, but she quickly grew bored of his predictable reliance on sheer strength.
His power was formidable, but against a practiced fighter, it wasn’t enough to win him the fight. After deflecting all of his attacks with ease, she had hoped he would recognize that he needed technique. Instead, he didn’t seem to understand the reason he was losing and was just growing frustrated.
"I thought you were going to fight me! This isn’t fighting!"
Lidea narrowed her eyes in irritation but refused to let herself get riled up. His anger was clouding his judgment, if he couldn’t comprehend that fighting him straight on would be the worst option for her, due to their disparity in strength. Instead of wasting her breath, she ignored him. Leaving Firon to grow more enraged and tired while baiting her time.
“Watch out Firon!”
One of the bystanders tried to warn the giant but to no advance. The split second he had taken to catch his breath, had left himself open to attack and Lidea didn’t hesitate, striking his shoulder with as much force as she could gather.
The attack hit the target, causing him to drop his practice sword. Seizing the advantage, she delivered a well-placed kick to his ribs, sending him sprawling to the sand. Gasping for air, Firon struggled to regain his composure, but Lidea showed no mercy, pressing her wooden stick against his back.
“How many times do I have to tell the lot of you to not let go of your bloody sword!”
With a gnarl of frustration, she pulled the sword back before looking over the line of men who had been watching their duel. By now she was convinced that it would be easier to teach a bunch of donkeys than them. Since she had taken over, she had intensified both their weapons and physical training but the simplest of rules did not seem to sink into their thick skulls. Even now most were rather amused by her anger, with only some feeling contrite enough to not meet her eyes.
“Seems like I have been going too easy on you. In that case, let’s higher the stakes. Anyone that drops their sword from now on, will be removing the moss of this whole place until every building is spotless!”
To Lidea’s satisfaction, the smiles disappeared instantly and were replaced by a collective grumbling.
“You can’t be serious!”
She didn’t bother to locate who had spoken, and instead grabbed her water flask, gulping down some of the liquid before rinsing her face. Only after she had removed the grime and sweat with the edge of her shirt, did she give them a response.
“I thought you knew me by now. I’m always serious. Now stop wasting time, who is next?”
It stayed silent until a boisterous laugh rang through. Firon was smiling brightly as he stood back up.
“I’m starting to like you better by the day. If none of the others have the balls to, then I would gladly go another round.”
Although still annoyed at his lack of progress, Lidea couldn’t help smiling. After their rough start, she had started to warm up to the giant. He was rough and had no grain of finesse, but his honest disposition was refreshing. Turning her smile to a smirk, she raised an eyebrow.
“Seems like someone is eager to start cleaning.”
Instead of infuriating him, Firon’s smile only widened as he retorted.
“I’m not planning to clean at all, but if you manage to best me, I promise to sweep every speck of moss from this place with a smile on my face."
His reply drew some chuckles from the onlookers and Lidea rolled her eyes at his cockiness.
“Unless you had some sort of epiphany from our fight just now, I will have to pass. I would rather not be bored again.”
He shrugged, seemingly giving up.
"Tomorrow then?”
This time his answer elicited a round of laughter and she couldn’t help but chuckle as well.
“I will promise that we can fight again if you show some progress.”
“You sound like Warchief.”
She could hear his frustration and finally understood why Warchief had stopped fighting him.
“Maybe if two people say the same thing, it would be time to listen to what they are saying.”
All eyes turned to Warchief who had just arrived and walked up to them. Lidea wondered what had brought him there. Ever since she had taken over the training sessions, he had been noticeably absent except for joining the physical exercises in the morning.
As the men greeted him and he sent a smile their way, an idea crept into her mind. No matter his reasons, his arrival was timed perfectly.
“Actually Warchief, I had told the men that they have to clean the whole shelter if they did not keep hold of their sword during the next fight with me. Maybe you can do the honor of showing them how to do that?”
Surprise flickered over Warchief's face and she grinned as a cat who had gotten to the cream. There was no way for him to deny her the opportunity now.
“I just wanted to discuss something with you quickly.”
Lidea could almost see him trying to find a reason not to fight and it irked her.
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“Are you telling me you can’t spare a moment? I bet it would be good for the men to see you fight.”
His eyes glanced from her to the men surrounding them and back to her before he sighed deeply.
“I suppose you are right. Do you promise to be easy on me?”
“I should be asking you that.”
A knowing grin broke on his face as he went to grab two of the practice swords.
The soldiers grew restless and Lidea wondered how often they got a chance to see their ‘chief’ in action. Not often enough from the feel of it.
Gulping down the last of her water, she threw the bottle to the side and raised her sword as he came to stand across from her.
“Are you sure that you are feeling well enough for this?”
“Stop your worrying.”
Not wanting him to invent any other excuses, she did something she normally never did. She lunged at him first. The momentary look of surprise on his face didn’t hinder him from blocking her attack with ease. Looking each other in the eyes over their interlocked swords, he found something in her face that made him grin.
“Eager as ever.”
He broke into a series of strikes in which he never targeted the same spot twice, causing Lidea to twist in impossible ways to defend herself. Every time, he would use one of his swords to engage her, only for the other to try and hit the opening in her defense the first had created.
Warchief's grin widened, seemingly enjoying pressuring her. Each of his strikes taunted Lidea, testing her limits. Her muscles strained, and sweat poured down her brow. Still, she didn’t give up, pushing herself harder to match his speed and find an opening.
She had heard of dual-wielding warriors in the south, but never had she encountered one before Warchief. It was easy to understand why. The coordination needed to effectively use both blades was remarkable. Another would have ended up focusing his attention on only one and used the other purely for defense.
However, Warchief used them both as an extension of his body and Lidea could only imagine how much effort it had taken to master his style.
Her distraction cost her dearly as she met another of his strikes, only to be taken unaware by his second sword which almost hit her side. She only noticed it at the last moment and managed to use her boot to kick it away.
Too close for comfort.
Warchief didn’t pause to gather himself, but immediately used
his strength to force the sword that was engaged with hers, through her
defense. Her sword arm trembled and she knew he would win this battle of strength. So she threw herself to the ground, rolling over to get out of his range.
But she had underestimated his speed, as he followed her and struck down before she was back on her feet. Disarming her and causing her sword to fall uselessly out of reach. Breathing heavily, she stared at him in disbelief. How fast was he?
“Does this mean that you now have to clean the shelter?”
Amusement sounded through Warchief’s words and their audience started to cheer. His grin was still plastered on his face and he had lowered both of his swords to let them rest with their tip onto the sand. His lack of care annoyed her and instead of answering, she breathed in deeply before picking up her feet and kicking him against his thighs with all her might. He stumbled backward and she took that moment to try and grab her sword. She managed to do so, only to be dragged back by her heel. Rolling onto her back, she could see that he had dropped one sword as he held the other against her neck.
“Should have known better than to not finish the fight.”
He was still grinning but was more cautious this time. Keeping himself ready for if she found another way to attack him. Not finding any openings, she finally relaxed.
“Yes, you should have. Now you have won.”
The soldiers watching let out a collective gasp as she acknowledged her defeat. Maybe they had expected her to still have another trick up her sleeve.
“Why do you almost make it sound as if I was the one to lose?”
Warchief laughed as he extended a hand to help her up, which she gladly accepted.
“Because I managed to pull the rug from under you?”
He grunted seemingly annoyed but chuckled quickly enough. Turning back to the men, she felt a lot less frustrated but that didn’t mean that she had forgotten about the training.
“Never forget that a fight isn’t over until your opponent is incapacitated. I will give you off early today, but I hope each of you thinks thoroughly about the points they should work on. Now dismissed.”
As they dispersed, they were talking enthusiastically. Still excited about the fight they had just seen. She only hoped it would inspire them to work on themselves.
“You did great. Most wouldn’t have kept up as well as you did.”
The respect in Warchief’s voice made her feel warm inside, but she wasn’t about to let her ego get to her head.
“Don’t think I didn’t notice that you weren’t fighting at full force. I have seen how you fight normally and this was nothing compared to then.”
He looked as if he was about to deny it but seemed to think better of it and just shrugged it off.
“I don’t like to fight full out against an ally. It wouldn’t be a fair fight
anyway.”
“What makes you say that?”
As they spoke, she walked to the side to sit on the chair she had stolen from the main building. She didn’t like sitting on the ground in the priceless clothes she had gotten from them. Warchief followed her but kept standing, seemingly a bit uncomfortable as he thought over his answer.
“I just have a lot more experience.”
Something told her, that it wasn’t the answer he had wanted to give. He didn’t meet her eyes and still seemed uncomfortable.
“Are you sure of that? I started pretty young.”
He smiled faintly and his unease disappeared. Making Lidea wonder what had caused it in the first place if it hadn’t been his past.
“So did I, my first battlefield was in Sihaya when I was fifteen. After I had to recover for a while but when I was twenty I went back and have been traveling between battlefields ever since.”
She looked at the man before her. The only reason she fought was because she believed it to be right, but she couldn’t imagine herself fighting for a different country, people, or cause. Even if she believed that they were in the right and deserved to win, she just didn’t think she ever would be so charitable as to risk her life for strangers of a different country.
“That explains a lot. But why did you start fighting so young?”
It only seemed fair to ask, considering he knew all of her history. She had
noticed that he was especially cagey around his past, but if they were to work together, she wanted to get to know him better. Still, she expected him to avoid her question in his usual fashion.
“Because I wanted to die.”
For a moment his mask had fallen away and she could see the deep sadness in his face. Whatever she had expected him to say, it wasn’t this and even Warchief seemed to be taken aback by his own response. As if he hadn’t intended to answer her truthfully. A bit troubled, he looked away and the tension had returned.
She didn’t know how to help him, should she ask further? Hug him? Lidea was thankful that he had answered her honestly and she didn’t want to react in the wrong way, but she felt herself on unfamiliar ground. In the end, she reacted in the only way she knew she could.
“Well, I’m happy that you didn’t.”
He looked over at her and chuckled softly.
“I suppose you would. I doubt you wanted to die. Anyway, how are our recruits doing?”
Quickly as that the moment was over and his mask had returned. She felt a sense of loss as if he had tried to open up to her and she hadn’t been able to help him. On the other side, she felt partially relieved to deal with this easier version of himself, one that was less intense and more joyful. As such she allowed him to change the subject and huffed in response.
“They frustrate me to no end. It is as if I’m teaching for the walls.”
“Is that so? I thought they were doing pretty well.”
Lidea couldn’t help looking at him as if he was a madman.
“Did you see them? They barely know how to hold their sword properly. Most of them just try to fight but don’t think about what they are doing.”
“Don’t you think you are being a bit harsh on them? You can’t expect them to know in a month what your father’s army learned through years of training and experience.”
He gently reminded Lidea who sighed, it wasn’t as if she didn’t know that.
“Maybe not, but I can only try to make them the best they can be in that time. It isn’t normal that I can defeat them all without breaking a sweat. That is how bad they are.”
“Or maybe you are just that good.”
She snorted at his response, it was just too funny after she had been so thoroughly beaten by him. Although she was well-trained, she was far from the best. It was just that these guys were complete amateurs.
“They have gotten better. Cedric almost disarmed you, and Firon looked like he wasn’t using his sword as a hammer for once.”
He must have been watching for longer than she had thought.
“Almost is a keyword there. I love your optimism, but it simply isn’t good enough. If we send them into the field in this state, then none of them would return.”
Lidea’s recent efforts couldn’t make up for years of inadequate training, but she would do all she could to give them the best chance at survival if it came to a fight.
“What do you think would help improve their skills?”
Warchief's question was not unusual, but it gave her pause. Why was their progress so slow? She realized that most of them seemed to believe they had all the time in the world, and she couldn't blame them. Life in the shelter was monotonous, with every day feeling the same.
“It would be good if they had some experience fighting against real opponents, maybe regain some of the motivation of what they started fighting for.”
She trailed off, her mind working to form an idea. As the silence stretched on, Warchief's puzzled expression grew, but Lidea paid him no attention, focusing on her thoughts.
Finally, her idea took shape in her mind.
“The midsummer festival would be a perfect place to let them test their skills. There is a melee tournament, and it could serve as a valuable learning experience. At least if there is no issue with letting them leave the shelter?”
Lidea didn't anticipate any problems, but she still looked at Warchief for confirmation. He furrowed his brow as he thought over the idea but eventually nodded in agreement.
"It should be fine as long as we make sure that they don’t use their magic during the tournament."
"Excellent. I'll discuss it with them. I might need to get your help to register them though."
After their previous outing, they had been careful of her leaving the shelter as the guards were on high alert for her now.
“No problem, if they agree then I can do whatever you need to be done.”
Lidea smiled, grateful for Warchief's support.