The ascender known as Flameblade appeared out of a shimmer in the air, as if he were little more than a mirage that took form. If the two guards standing outside the modest manor were surprised by his appearance they didn’t show it, barely glancing at him as he walked past them onto the grounds they protected. Of course they were there for little more than show, despite being some of the best trained soldiers in the kingdom they couldn’t compare to Flameblade, who called this manor home.
At least, he did for the moment.
An old maid greeted him as he walked in, informing him that she’d have lunch made shortly. She’d been a beautiful young thing once, he reminisced, that was one of the reasons he’d chosen her to be his head maid. But like all things she’d grown older without him, just like Bobert. He was growing weary of seeing those he cared about age and die, just one reason for him to move on to the next world. He’d lingered in this one long enough.
“Ah, you’re back,” a sultry voice greeted him as he entered his study.
“And you snuck into my office again,” Flameblade said dryly to the woman seated in the guest chair.
“How else can I figure out what you’re up to?” she asked innocently, batting her eyelashes, “you never even told me you were leaving.”
“Why would I tell an enemy where I was going?”
“Aww, come on Tyler, I’m not really your enemy, am I?” she asked, leaning forward as he sat at his desk.
“What do you want?” Flameblade asked with a glare.
“Am I not allowed to check in on my good friend?”
“We’re not friends,” he replied, “and you were probably here to see if the border was undefended.”
“See, that’s why I like you, you’re smart,” the woman insisted, “you vanished and my duke got all excited. He’s going to be sad you’ve returned but don’t worry, Tyler, I’m glad to see you.”
“Well, I’m back, you can leave now,” he said with a wave of his hand.
“Of course,” she smiled and stood, smoothing her dress out as she did. Taking a step towards the door she stopped and looked back, “you know, I heard there is a crisis of succession for your young king.”
“Name a king who ascended to the throne without some kind of crisis,” Flameblade countered with a glare.
“Sure but, if my facts are right, this young woman has a real claim to the throne,” the woman continued, “the Tempest King’s rules were very… progressive, and even children born out of wedlock were considered potentials for the throne. A rule I don’t think anyone has challenged in a long time.”
“I know about the Tempest Kings law, I was there.”
“Right, I forgot how old you are,” the woman replied innocently, “you’re the last of the Storm Blades in this world. You planning to protect this kingdom forever? You do realize the Storm Kingdom is long dead, right?”
“If you’re just here to taunt me then consider me taunted and leave.”
“I would never taunt you!” the woman said, seemingly aghast, “I’m just worried about your little pet kingdom should this crisis continue.”
“I’ll be fine, thanks for your worry,” Flameblade replied sarcastically.
“But I heard that several groups are trying to control this half-sister of the current prince,” she insisted.
“She’s a smart girl, she’ll be fine.”
\*\*\*\*\*
“Do you smell that?” Gregory asked as the small group rode through an increasingly dense forest. Officially it wasn’t part of the World Wood, apparently, but was still close enough to resemble it near as Gregory could tell.
“Smoke?” one of the knights asked after taking a few sniffs, “a fire?”
“A cooking fire I think,” Gregory added, “I think I smell roasting meat.”
“Could it be them?” the count asked.
“They have to know someone could be following them,” Gregory replied, “why risk a fire in that case?”
“Maybe they figured they had enough of a lead?” the knight suggested, Gregory shrugging in response.
“Check it out regardless,” ordered the Count. Repressing a sigh Gregory carefully got down from his horse, took a few moments to stretch and work out the kinks after the extended ride and joined the two knights following the rough road ahead. Both had been given swords by their various squires while Gregory had simply been carrying his spear himself.
It only took a couple minutes for them to round a corner in the winding road and reveal what was pretty obviously a campsite. A decent patch of ground had been cleared by the side of the road with a small firepit ringed by stones. And just as his nose had indicated there was a fire burning, with two people seated by it, a man and a woman.
“She matches the description,” one of the knights said, nodding towards the girl.
“I told you we shouldn’t start a fire,” the other man said, pushing himself to his feet while the woman simply looked at Gregory and the Knights in shock.
“Meaning he’s an Ascender, right?” the other Knight said, reaching for his sword.
“Let me,” Gregory said, stepping forward while holding out a hand to stall the knights. Taking a deep breath he faced the other Ascender, “Gavsten Nathen.”
“Woah,” the man said, recoiling slightly, “are we even allowed to say that here?”
“I…” Gregory paused, it wasn’t the response he was expected, but this man clearly recognized the greeting, “I’m Gregory, we’re here for the woman.”
“Oh, sorry, she’s my escort quest,” Nathen shrugged.
“She’s a princess,” Gregory countered, “we are here to prevent a succession crisis.”
“I don’t know about that,” admitted Nathen, “but I can’t let you take her. Sorry, seems our quests are opposed.”
“Look,” sighed Gregory in exasperation, “you’re outnumbered, the king of this country ordered us to retrieve her. Ascender or not you can’t take on a nation.”
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“Maybe, but it sounds pretty fun,” replied Nathen, drawing a sword from his hip, “are we going to do this?”
Gregory was confused, was this man insane? He was clearly another Arblian, he recognized the greeting, even if he wasn’t used to hearing it. Using the Arblian language in public was outlawed, so perhaps he just hadn’t made the connection that in this world that restriction was gone. But to so willingly look for a fight? That Gregory couldn’t understand.
“Sir Gregory,” one of the knights said in a hushed tone, “you’re the other Ascender.”
“I was hoping to avoid a fight,” Gregory replied.
“If you can draw him away we can grab the girl and go.”
Gregory nodded and lifted his spear, he knew he was stronger and faster than the average person in this world, but how would he compare to another Ascender? Only one way to find out, he supposed. Across from him Nathen smirked as they both took stances and, without warning, charged forward.
It quickly became apparent that Nathen was the better fighter, knocking aside Gregory’s spear and slashing him across the torso. His thick overshirt parted easily under the blade only to reveal the chain shirt he’d been given by the count. The strike bit into the rings of metal but not deeply, allowing Gregory to stumble back.
“You have chainmail? No fair,” Nathen complained, still smiling, before attacking again.
More prepared this time Gregory did his best to simply hold off the other Ascender, well aware that he’d likely be dead from that first blow if it weren’t for his armor. More afraid and cautious he found himself back peddling trying to keep distance between him and Nathen, spinning his spear to catch sword strikes while ducking to avoid slashes that he wasn’t able to block.
Steel met wood in an endless series of strikes that resonated through the forest, chips slowly appearing in the haft of his spear even as he struggled to hold off his opponent. He took several light cuts on his arms as well, the leather vambraces not as good at warding off slashing attacks. Only by backing away, giving ground constantly, was he able to keep up. But every time this other Ascender landed an attack he seemed to move faster, becoming harder to stop while hitting harder. He couldn’t sustain this kind of combat, he knew. He didn’t even know if the other knights had grabbed the girl yet, he was so focused on the fight.
Then he felt a tree behind him through his tactile aura and knew he was running out of space. His only real combat ability required a sneak attack, but there wasn’t much chance of that now.
Wait, he thought, even as he barely parried another sword slash, his ability didn’t require ‘sneak attacks’ just to hit with an attack it wasn’t aware of. As Nathen prepared for another attack Gregory turned and ran, darting around the tree he’d felt. Through his tactile aura he could feel Nathen moving to cut him off by going around the other side of the trunk, so he quickly reversed direction, following Nathen around the large tree. Nathen clearly sensed something was wrong as he made it around the tree and couldn’t find his target, pausing as he considered the situation Gregory struck. Aiming with his aura he swung his spear like a bat, and striking Nathen cleanly on the side of the head. A pulse of blue light around the blow meant he’d been successful in stunning the other Ascender.
The stun would only last seconds, he knew, so he had to disable the other man in that time. In his haste he recovered his spear, aimed for Nathen’s calves and stabbed out. Only to be caught off guard as Nathen spun, knocked the attack aside, reversed his blade and landed another heavy slash across Gregory’s chest. The strike was strong enough to send the off balance spearman tumbling backwards. He could tell several rings of the chain shirt had broken from that attack. On the ground, he could only look up as Nathen approached, his sword ready. There was a large, and growing, welt on the side of his head. Why hadn’t he been stunned? Was the ability somehow less effective against Ascenders?
Just as Nathen was lifting his blade a feminine scream echoed through the forest, causing Nathen to pause before dashing off, leaving Gregory panting on the ground. Even if he’d been uninjured there was no way he could have caught up to the fleeing swordsman who quickly vanished into the brush.
By the time Gregory pushed himself to his feet, wondering if he’d broken a rib judging by the pain where he’d been struck, and retrieved his spear it was all over. He found one knight kneeling over the body of the other as the count, along with the small group of squires following them, turned the corner still on horseback.
“Did you get her?” the count asked, looking between Gregory and the two knights.
“No, my lord,” the surviving knight said, “Master Gregory lured the other Ascender away, and the girl fled into the forest. We chased her, but before we could catch her the Ascender returned, cut down Sir Mitchel and fled with the girl.”
“Master Ascender?” the count said in a steady, but dangerous tone as he turned to Gregory.
“I tried to hold him off, but he was a better fighter than me,” Gregory said simply, leaning heavily on his damaged spear, “I fought him as long as I could but a moment longer and I’d be dead too.”
“You were brought along specifically to handle that other Ascender.”
“And I told you I wasn’t much of a fighter,” retorted Gregory, “I did all I could but that other man… he seemed… off, I don’t know.”
“He was eager to fight,” the knight agreed.
“I don’t care about that other Ascender!” the Count suddenly roared, catching Gregory off guard, “you are here specifically to prevent that other Ascender from doing exactly this!”
“Count,” the knight said, looking warily between his lord and Gregory.
“No! I’ll not stand for this! You had one job!” the count continued, “combat is the only thing you Ascenders are supposed to be good for and you couldn’t even manage that! You had him outnumbered, cornered, with someone to defend and you couldn’t even slow him down?”
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YOUR FACET CONTROL IS UNDER STRAIN
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Gregory barely even acknowledged the popup as the count raved and ranted, was this really his fault? He was supposed to be some powerful entity in this world, he’d accepted the job when he wasn’t sure he was ready for it.
“You’re on your own, Ascender!” the Count said, seeming to finally reach the end of his rant, “squires, grab your lord’s body and we’re leaving.”
“You haven’t paid me,” Gregory managed to get out despite his shocked state.
“You must be crazy if you think I’ll pay you for this farce,” the count scoffed.
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YOUR FACET CONTROL IS CRACKING
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Gregory’s mind raced, his skin cold and even the pain of his injury momentarily forgotten as he struggled to understand what was happening. Was this really his fault? Perhaps he did deserve this treatment, he clearly wasn’t ready for that level of combat. He should have known that, yet he’d been so confident after sparring with some of the town guard. What had he been thinking accepting this job? He wasn’t a fighter, he’d never used a spear before.
He was just a dirty Arblian.
He froze at that last thought. No, he wasn’t going to let his past life affect him here. He’d gotten away from that.
“No,” he said, gritting his teeth.
“Excuse me?” the Count asked, looking down his nose at Gregory. The same look he’d been given by teachers growing up as they explained the evils of his ancestors.
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YOUR FACET CONTROL HAS BECOME A MAJOR FACET
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“You will pay me,” Gregory said decisively, “as you agreed you would.”
“And why would I do that?” the Count asked mockingly.
“Because you said you would,” Gregory repeated, glaring up at the pudgy count. Before he could respond he froze. A moment ago he’d been ranting at a broken, foolish boy, but now his heart was racing. The hair on the back of his neck was standing on end. He no longer felt like he was looking down at some boy, but like he was staring up at a king. Gregory’s presence seemed to press down on him like a physical force, filling the open area in which they stood. Even the surviving knight and various squires had frozen and were staring at Gregory in some mix of surprise and fear.
What had changed, the Count thought desperately, glancing around and looking over the young Ascender, but he couldn’t find anything. He was still leaning on his spear, clearly injured with tears in his coat and blood seeping into his sleeves from a half dozen shallow cuts. But for all that the Count felt some instinctive fear, the same kind he’d felt when confronting the Flameblade.
“Fine,” the count said after a long moment in which he wasn’t certain he’d taken a breath. His voice was shaking but he did his best to keep it steady as he pulled a small leather pouch from his belt and tossed it to Gregory, “eight bolts, thirteen spark, as agreed.”
“Thank you,” Gregory said, glancing at where the pouch landed on the ground. And like that it was over, the sudden fear was gone, but the Count still couldn’t bring himself to look at the Ascender as some broken boy. Instead he sat on his horse in silence as his squires retrieved the body of the dead knight and they turned to leave.
As soon as they were gone Gregory limped over to a tree and collapsed at its base.
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ABILITY ‘TACTILE AURA’ HAS EVOLVED INTO ‘CONTROLLED DOMAIN.’
What use is your word if you don’t keep it?
-You project a small aura in which you are aware of any solid object
-Mental focus can increase the size of the aura
-Those within your aura are more likely to do as you say
ABILITY ‘CONTROLLED DOMAIN’ HAS LINKED TO MAJOR FACET ‘CONTROL’
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