Chapter 5

This is a habit, isn’t it?

The stray thought crossed Ilyshn’ish’s mind as she wandered around the shaded trails of Xoc’s clanhold. Though the Ocelo called it that, it was more a lived-in ruin than anything else.

It’s because I grew up in Feoh Berkana…no, it would have eventually happened anyway.

Since Feoh Berkana had been her home for over a century, the habit was a strong one. The Mountain Dwarf capital was a ruin that she had explored in her younger years. That exploration showed her that many interesting and valuable things could be found in ruins, and she gained an appreciation for the things that her father wouldn’t take away. One could even say that becoming a Bard was a product of those experiences.

Thus, ruins attracted her. They were a potential source of lore and treasure, which she was very good at sniffing out.

Except once I get home, father will take it away–no, father is dead. Then who will take it away?

Her lair was her own. Hejinmal went there sometimes, but he was harmless. She had a mistress, but her mistress never took things from her for no reason. It was probably safe to bring back treasure from ruins now.

Unlike Feoh Berkana, which had also been devastated by the Demon Gods, Rol’en’gorek was not protected from the elements by a cave and frozen solid. It was the exact opposite, in fact: traces of what once stood before were worn away, overgrown and buried over the generations.

“Is the rest of the city like this?” Ilyshn’ish asked.

“Saraca had us take a detour to the Draconic Kingdom not long after we arrived,” Mitra answered. “We didn’t even know this was up here back then, but the rest of the city has traces of the civilisation that once flourished here.”

“What makes you believe it was ‘flourishing’?”

“The level of technology and how it was applied. We think that if what was here had survived to the present day, they would have been comparable to the central powers.”

That seemed promising. If they were flourishing, chances were that they had all sorts of valuables stashed away.

They turned the corner of the building that Xoc and her family called home. It was a long, roughly triangular stone prism fashioned from the rubble of whatever was once there. The front of the building had the most intact pieces – presumably for appearances’ sake – while the other faces were covered in dirt and grown over by bushes, vines and small trees. Ilyshn’ish tried to make sense of the gigantic jumble, but she couldn’t piece together anything recognisable.

“What do you think this was?”

“Since Xoc said this is her ancestral clanhold,” Mitra replied, “it should be safe to make certain assumptions. The uppermost parts of every clanhold that we’ve seen here belong to the ruling family, so this structure should have been the equivalent of a hall.”

“A hall, as in a manor? Or a palace?”

“This building covers a pretty big area, so it was probably some sort of palace.”

“In that case…the ruling elite usually try to leave some record of their history, but I haven’t seen anything of the sort.”

“That’s the interesting part,” Mitra said excitedly. “Because the pieces of rubble are bare of any carvings, they must have used another method to keep their records.”

“As in an archive.”

“Exactly! If we can find that, I can’t even begin to imagine what we’d learn! Except…”

“…except?”

“There’s something dark behind this devastation. It’s as if these ‘Demon Gods’ came here specifically to destroy all traces of civilisation. Even the colossal trees were felled by them, and that’s where we would probably have found any recordkeeping from before the existence of libraries.”

“What about oral traditions?” Ilyshn’ish asked, “The people here do have Bards of their own.”

“I haven’t yet found anyone that knows anything from over two centuries ago,” Mitra answered. “The ruling caste here utilises Bards to legitimise their rule, so anything you hear is likely associated with the elite of the present day.”

“Their culture is a collection of long-forgotten scars…”

“Yes,” sorrow tinged Mitra’s tone. “Whatever those Demon Gods were, they were pretty thorough about making sure no one remembered what came before. The population of Rol’en’gorek today is likely descended from the few who survived the calamity, and the struggle for survival had them lose what little history they retained. All that’s left are ‘long-forgotten scars’ like this clanhold.”

They continued on their way around the old palace, climbing up its sides as they looked for traces of the past. Ilyshn’ish stopped and looked down at the building when they reached its crest. Broken pieces of dark grey basalt had been roughly fitted together into some sort of display piece, or at least there was a slot for one.

“Shouldn’t there be something here?” She said.

“Looks like it,” Mitra replied. “You can see where it’s supposed to go. They cleaned this up good, but the capstone or statue or whatever fit into this mounting is gone.”

Ilyshn’ish looked over the plaza in front of the palace. Surrounding it were four mounds of broken stone that Karuvaki suggested were once temples. The centre of the plaza had a destroyed fountain that fed channels leading down to the lower terraces. Their observations felt incomplete, however, so Ilyshn’ish stretched out her senses, trying to get a feel for the essence of the place.

“This is a temple, isn’t it?” She said after a moment.

“We’re standing on the palace,” Mitra said. “The other buildings to the sides were probably temples.”

Since the Beastman Bard didn’t have Blindsight, she couldn’t see what was buried underground. After walking around the upper terrace, however, Ilyshn’ish had a good idea of what the place looked like before it was destroyed.

“No, I meant that this entire upper level of this clanhold is a temple…or maybe that’s not right? This ‘hall’ is not the centre of the complex: that fountain is.”

She couldn’t tell them exactly what she sensed under everything, so she could only hint at the overall layout of the place.

“Hmm…just a second.”

Ilyshn’ish looked around quietly while Mitra entered into some distant conversation. It seemed that she could use the communication Ability that Lords of many different species could harness. That, or she had some unknown Bard Skill that facilitated long-distance communication. A few minutes later, Karuvaki jogged over to join them. She gazed out at the plaza for a moment before casting a spell.

“「Fly」.”

The priestess – at least that’s what Ilyshn’ish assumed a ‘Sacred Claw’ was – rose into the air and flew out over the fountain.

“I think you’re right,” Karuvaki said as she returned to alight beside them. “The plaza and the area around it has a certain layout that suggests religious influence. Víla is central to the pantheon of Rol’en’gorek. She is a water goddess, but not the same water god that one finds in the usual elemental pantheon – they have a separate identity for that one. Víla is unique to Rol’en’gorek and the Draconic Kingdom, as far as we’ve seen. While she does have the destructive aspects attributed to any elemental entity, she is still the most beloved of all the deities in Rol’en’gorek and considered the source of life.”

Karuvaki pointed a claw out to the fountain, tracing the channels that radiated out from it.

“That old fountain may represent Víla – there might have even been an idol of some sort there in the past. The channels would represent the waters of life emanating out and through the entirety of the clanhold. The four mounds of rubble placed in the cardinal directions were probably temples of other prominent gods, but I couldn’t find any trace of who was worshipped at each of them.”

“If we fix the fountain,” Ilyshn’ish asked, “will this goddess pop out?”

Mitra and Karuvaki stared at her.

“That might be scary if it did happen…” Mitra said.

“M-maybe you’re right,” Ilyshn’ish agreed.

Gods were always powerful beings in all of the stories that she had heard, and they were just as often malevolent as benevolent. Having them just pop up presented many risks.

They descended from the palace, going over to the broken fountain. There, Pebble and Pinecone were standing around with several ‘Gladestalkers’ from Devi’s Merchant guard. At the base of one of the broken temples, Vltava was sitting around with a few of the Beastman Druids.

“What are you people up to?” Mitra asked.

One of the Gladestalkers, a female Nar named Kasturi, held up a sling.

“Their weapons are amazing,” she said. “They use much better material than ours.”

“What are they made out of?”

In response, Kasturi pointed a claw at Vltava.

“He sheds his wool every spring, and they make all sorts of stuff out of it. It’s ridiculous. It’s a fabric, yet it’s already comparable to mithril.”

“Wow,” Mitra said. “Devi will go crazy when she finds out about that. Uh…do they sell any?”

“That’s a complicated question…”

Kasturi looked toward Pebble and Pinecone.

“Our people form small ‘units’,” Pebble said. “Two of us with one of them. That relationship lasts for a lifetime, and all of the wool products you see are derived from that relationship.”

“That sounds pretty exclusive. I guess the wool isn’t for sale?”

“The only source would be from young that don’t develop properly and die during their first winter.”

Mitra made a face.

“Okay, that’s not grim at all,” she said. “Ah, well, it’s not as if we have any trade routes that go out here.”

“Are the materials we use that much better than what you’re using?” Ilyshn’ish asked.

In response, Kasturi rose to her feet with the Krkonoše wool sling in hand.

“Karuvaki,” Kasturi said, “could you summon a Huge Earth Elemental for us, please?”

“Sure, where do you want it?”

“Hmm…that mound over there,” Kasturi pointed to one of the broken temples. “Don’t want to accidentally send a bullet flying somewhere.”

Karuvaki held out a paw toward the mound.

“「Summon Monster V」.”

A five-metre-tall mound of living basalt rose out of the ground. Going by what Ilyshn’ish sensed, it was on the border between Mithril and Orichalcum in raw strength.

Well, Karuvaki is much stronger than I thought she was. Are they all like that?

Like Ilyshn’ish, the members of Devi’s entourage all employed some method of concealing their strength. They even appeared to be trained to not give away any tertiary clues, making it difficult to figure out how powerful each member of the group was. What she could discern was that their equipment smelled far more valuable than what Humans in the E-Rantel region used, which suggested that they probably had the strength to match.

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“It’s rare for Demihumans to be such strong casters,” Ilyshn’ish noted. “I don’t think I’ve seen any aside from our people.”

“Ah, it’s because Karuvaki is a Laiga,” Mitra said. “They’re bred for their skills in magic.”

“How come I haven’t seen any local Laiga?”

“Well, this isn’t a very progressive place. The people here stick to their own species due to custom or taboo. Mixed-species Beastmen aren’t common in the Confederacy, but neither are they shunned in any way. Laiga are special since they’re one of the only innate casters amongst Beastmen.”

“Does that mean there are plenty of Laiga in the Beastman Confederacy filling caster roles?” Ilyshn’ish asked.

“Well, they’re difficult to produce, but they’re prominent in the religious caste. For everything else, Humanoid species have an easier time filling caster roles.”

Kasturi fished out a bullet out of one of her pouches, placing it in the cradle of the sling. She whirled it over her head for a moment before sending the projectile flying toward the Huge Earth Elemental. The Elemental shattered, crumbling into fragments that dissipated into motes of magic. Everyone blinked silently at the result.

“Whoops?” Kasturi said.

“You totally did that on purpose!” Karuvaki growled, “How many Martial Arts did you put into that?”

“I used up all of my focus.”

“I swear you always get so greedy when it comes to new equipment.”

Ilyshn’ish raised a paw.

“Um, how does that compare to what you usually use?”

Kasturi looked at Karuvaki. The Sacred Claw sighed.

“「Summon Monster V」.”

Another Huge Earth Elemental appeared. Kasturi switched to her own sling, loosing a bullet at her new target. A giant hole was blasted through the centre of its mass, but it remained standing.

“Half,” Karuvaki said. “Mitra, can you start healing it?”

“Eh? That’s going to take forever…”

A familiar sensation washed over Ilyshn’ish. It wasn’t exactly the same as hers, so it took her a moment to recognise it.

“Mitra, you’re a Dancer?”

“Yeah, what about it?”

“The only other Dancers I’ve seen up until now were performance artists. The theatrical sort.”

“Wait, you’re a Dancer too?”

“I just started, but yes.”

Mitra bounced over to place her paws on Ilyshn’ish’s shoulders.

“Kyaa! This is great! What Dances do you have?”

“As I said, I just started…well, I can do the healing thing that you’re doing right now. Plus I have one other.”

“This isn’t a Dance: it’s just a Form.”

“I-I knew that.”

“I’m surprised your instructor hasn’t encouraged you to learn any Dances. That’s our main strength, after all.”

“Ah, about that. My instructor is a Monk that just happened to know about Dancers. As a result, I’ve received plenty of combat instruction, but very little of the bardic side. I had to piece most of the latter together myself.”

“I see. Well, if you’re clever enough to come this far on your own, it shouldn’t be hard to learn the rest from me.”

Ilyshn’ish looked down at the Nar Dancer in surprise. In her experience, most people guarded their powers jealously, or at least kept them exclusive to members of the same guild or similar organisations.

“You’ll teach me? Um…how much will it cost?”

“Free!”

“Free?!”

“Of course!” Mitra grinned, “Above all else, a Bard is a servant of culture and knowledge. We collect lore and help weave the fabric of society through the performing arts. Bards raising other Bards is one of the best ways to do that. Oh, I need you to promise me one thing before I teach you, though…”

“What’s that?”

“You must promise me that you’ll teach at least one other person to become a Dancer. You must also promise me that you’ll have them make this promise, as well.”

Was it worth it? She would gain new power for the measly cost of one student. Then again, she didn’t know how to teach. Maybe she could threaten Hejinmal for his secrets.

“That’s still pretty much free…”

“I know right? I knew you’d see it that way. A Bard is a Bard, no matter where they’re from.”

“Very well,” Ilyshn’ish nodded, “I promise you that I’ll raise at least one other Dancer. Er, is there a time limit?”

“Dying of old age could be considered a time limit,” Mitra replied. “Uh, don’t force anyone to become a Dancer, though. Also, more than one would be great.”

Since she wouldn’t die of old age, Ilyshn’ish could take all the time she wanted.

“That seems straightforward enough. When can we start?”

“Well, I’m stuck here because these maniacs want to fling rocks at the giant rock, so we can begin right away. Also, uh…”

“What is it?”

“I hope you don’t mind, but I’ve never actually taught anyone how to be a Dancer before. Or even a Bard.”

Ilyshn’ish’s tail flopped to the ground.

“…I want my money back.”

“You didn’t pay anything! A-anyway, I figure all I have to do is show you the basics and the rest should take care of itself. Like boom and voom and zam. Just like that.”

“I suppose there’s not much else to do but try.”

“That’s the spirit!” Mitra brightened, “Now, do you already do any regular dancing of your own?”

“My decision to become a Dancer was rather spontaneous,” Ilyshn’ish said. “I never studied any form of Dance before becoming one.”

Everything she studied after that was also rooted in Human culture. It would probably look extremely odd for a Beastman to dance like one of them.

Mitra crossed her arms, tilting her head back and forth as she ‘hmm’d’ and ‘haa’d’.

“Maybe I should just teach you Lasya? No, that would take too long…”

“What’s that?”

“Mmh…simply put, it’s the feminine expression of dance where I come from. Tandava is the male expression. Lasya conveys grace, happiness, enchantment and beauty. Traditionally, there are 108 Karanas that Dancers need to learn, and the best Dancers can eventually invoke–”

“Her eyes are glazing over, Mitra,” Karuvaki said.

“Oh. Uh…well, since you learned from a Monk, you could see it as developing a martial discipline. Martial vocations have drills and each drill has the practitioner go through a series of moves. Those moves include footwork, offence, defence, positioning, and so on. A Karana would be the form one takes after making each move, and includes the transitional actions required to enter that form. That’s where the similarities end, however: Dancers are not warriors. Rather than perform Martial Arts, we perform Dances.”

Ilyshn’ish blinked several times in the wake of Mitra’s explanation. There were too many unknown words. Plus, she was certain that many of the words that she knew were being employed in a different sense from what she understood.

“I don’t mean to be rude,” Ilyshn’ish said, “but is this lecture required? I learn much faster by doing rather than reading or listening.”

“Eh, not really. Most people want to ‘know’ what they’re doing, so I figured I’d start with a rundown.”

“Well, I’ll know when I figure it out. I don’t think there’s a point to superficially ‘knowing’ something if I’m going to learn it anyway.”

“I guess that’s not wrong…there are some basics that I should probably explain, though. When a Dancer performs a Dance, they aren’t merely moving their bodies in some predetermined way. They’re using their very being to weave the effects of the Dance. The Karana are aids to help the Dancer conceptualise the way that they weave the universe’s energies into the Dance. All Dancers end up with something similar to Karana, but they’re unique to their respective cultures. Here’s a simple example…”

Mitra walked over to a clear section of the plaza. Rather than perform anything that might be considered a ‘Dance’, she gathered her steps to move a half-step forward. Then she returned to her original position. Ilyshn’ish furrowed her brow as the Nar Dancer kept going back and forth.

“Don’t look at me like that!” Mitra laughed, “This is something even cubs can do, but it’s super important for Dancers. Essentially, it’s footwork, and this footwork is what allows you to keep Dancing when you have to manoeuvre. Since you probably lean heavily toward Tandava due to your Monk training, you also probably have a hard time maintaining your flow as a Dancer.”

It was more that she couldn’t maintain it at all if she was defending. While not everyone could simply have their way with her like Master Tian, even Orichalcum-rank Adventurers could keep Ilyshn’ish from maintaining any sort of rhythm or momentum to her offence.

“Well,” Mitra said, “you wanted to see it in practice, so go ahead and attack me.”

“A-are you sure?”

“You probably can’t hit me anyway…”

Ilyshn’ish pounced. Mitra flowed around her attack with a laugh.

What did she just do?

She turned and threw herself into a barrage of sweeping attacks, but her claws couldn’t touch the Nar Dancer. Ilyshn’ish picked up her pace. Nar supposedly had poor endurance, so she could at least wear Mitra down enough to connect.

“Lasya is graceful, alluring, and receptive,” Mitra said as she continued to evade Ilyshn’ish’s attacks. “One performing Lasya is elusive, yet it is not afraid of being touched, guiding and embracing the advances of one’s partner.”

Instead of tiring her out, it was somehow getting harder and harder to effectively attack Mitra. Ilyshn’ish’s next swipe was brushed past Mitra’s face by a gentle movement of the Nar’s wrist, and Ilyshn’ish found herself twirling away. She came to a stop on a cracked stone tile and turned to face the Beastman Dancer.

“Lasya is the dance of creation,” Mitra said.

The Nar Dancer’s stance shifted, and she stamped her foot on the ground. Ilyshn’ish’s body jolted as a bolt of lightning came down from the gloomy sky and struck her squarely on the head.

“Ow!” Ilyshn’ish yowled.

“And Tandava is the dance of destruction,” Mitra relaxed. “It is the dance of excitement, vigour and the breaking of the old to make way for the new. A Dancer on the battlefield flows seamlessly through the cycle of creation and destruction. Grandmaster Dancers become Natraja – Lords of the Dance – who can invoke the power of Lord Shiva, the supreme being who creates, destroys and transforms the universe.”

“Do I have a bald spot?” Ilyshn’ish rubbed her head.

“No, it was just a lightning bolt,” Mitra shrugged. “One of the best parts about having a Bard around is that one can heal as long as they aren’t dead. We can practise forever like this.”

Ilyshn’ish stared down at her feet, looking for a scorch mark on the stone.

“You said I’m imbalanced toward Tandava, but I definitely can’t do anything like that.”

“I’m not sure if you ever will,” Mitra said.

“Hah?”

“Lasya and Tandava are deeply tied to both the cultural and spiritual aspects of my people. I only meant it as a demonstration of how Dances come into being. Expertise, discipline, and a strong conceptual framework are required to create many things. Magic; Martial Arts; Skill and Abilities – Dances are no exception. Chances are that you’ll take what you learn from me and come up with your own thing.”

Would the ability to drop lightning bolts on people be forever denied to her? She thought that she had at last found an alternative to her worrisome lack of magic-casting capability.

“Maybe I overdid it,” Mitra said. “Let’s learn all the little pieces first, then learn how to put them together. Like Spellsongs, Dances are compositions. Instead of music and lyrics, however, a Dancer uses their body. Since you can already use Forms, you already understand that one can maintain a performance that way. Forms are like warrior stances, such as those that alter the balance of offensive power, defence and magic resistance. A warrior can still perform Martial Arts while maintaining a stance.”

“But we don’t perform Martial Arts like warriors.”

“Right. Martial Arts are like pow but Dancers are like nahnahnahnahnah~”

“Nahnahnahnahnah…”

“Yeah, like that,” Mitra laughed nervously. “Honestly, most people consider it a drawback. It takes a lot of experience for a Dancer to get good at what they’re doing. Not many can fight in pitched battles.”

“And here I thought it was a Human problem since they have poor natural weapons and armour.”

“Well, that is a big problem, but it takes more than that to be a good Dancer. The problem can actually be more pronounced for races that have excellent natural weapons and armour. Most are better off just being Monks or Bards instead because they don’t reach the stage where they can dance and fight at the same time. Aside from myself, I only know a few Dancers who can thrive outside of a controlled fight.”

Ilyshn’ish wrung her paws anxiously.

“B-but I already became a Dancer. Are you saying that I’m better off as something else?”

“I-I’m not saying that!” Mitra replied hurriedly, “Just going by our sparring just now, I think you’ll do well.”

“Listening to you go back and forth is giving me a headache,” Karuvaki said. “This is like having two Mitras.”

“That doesn’t sound so bad,” Mitra said.

“Combat choreography takes years for most to even begin to grasp,” Karuvaki told them, “so you better get started right away. We’re not going to be here for years.”

“We’re not, but, heeeeey, you wanna come travel with us? After we’re done here, we’re going back to Stormport and crossing to the south side of the Syrilian Way. We’ll be travelling through the desert on the other side to visit the Koshey Belt.”

“I really can’t be away from home for long at the moment,” Ilyshn’ish said, “but thank you for the offer. What’s the Koshey Belt, by the way?”

“We’ve never been there before,” Mitra replied, “but it’s supposed to be a high plateau region that straddles the equator near the western end of the continent.”

“You’re going off track again…” Karuvaki said.

“Argh, fine!” Mitra flicked her ear, “Let’s just do this. We’ll figure out what we’re doing later.”