by Will Wight
Lindon usually thought of the Sage as cold or impassive, but this time he detected the anger behind her mask. He chose his words very carefully, feeling his breath come more quickly.
“I am honored by your estimation of me. But, if you’ll allow me an observation, I am also lacking in basic knowledge and skills. Your Underlords are not. If Pride were my enemy, I might find some way to stop or defeat him, but within the confines of a judged duel, I’m afraid I am truly not his match.”
He had long been aware of his weaknesses. He had worked hard and learned much in the past two years, but in many areas, he still hadn't caught up to those sacred artists who’d received the best training their entire lives. He'd made it as far as he had through relentless determination, reliable companions, and leaning hard on his areas of strength.
As Charity remained quiet and studied him, her expression grew more and more distant, as though she were contemplating some abstract problem.
Sweat beaded on his skin. He had been honest with her, hoping she would respect his humility, but maybe he had misjudged her.
He pulled Little Blue down from his shoulder, cradling her in his hands to comfort her.
“You don’t know what we’re fighting for, do you?” Charity said at last.
“For the pride of the Akura clan, and I'm not certain that I am worthy to carry such a great burden.”
She slowly nodded, like she had come to some conclusion. “And you don't feel such pride, so you do not value it.”
Dross looked between them, his wide eye staring into Lindon from an inch away. Lindon began to sweat in earnest. “I do not dare to underestimate the pride and honor of a Monarch's family, which is why I feel that I may be unsuited for this task. If the reputation of the Akura clan affects the survival of nations, I don't—”
“It does,” she interrupted. “It affects your nation.”
Lindon stopped.
“The dragons have been pressing in on us for longer than you can imagine, but we have managed an unsteady balance. Now, with the uncertainty of the Dreadgods added in, all has been called into question. Every major house and family is pushing their boundaries to gain as much as they can.
“The Uncrowned King tournament is an exhibition of our future military power. If the Dragon King believes we are weak, he will take what he wants from us. If the other great families believe we are weak, they will not help us. There is no sense investing in a loser.”
She pressed her fingertips together, and though she was over a foot shorter than Lindon, it was as though she towered over him. “They want the Blackflame Empire.”
Dross gasped.
Lindon didn't want to believe her. He wanted to think she was lying to him in order to motivate him to fight. But she didn't need to lie, she could simply order him to do as she wished, and he would have no choice but to comply.
And it made sense. The Empire had once been ruled by dragons, and now the dragons wanted it back.
He followed her line of reasoning, but he still held out hope. “How far do we have to make it?”
“Farther than the gold dragons,” she answered. “But there is far more at stake in the tournament than this. If at least one of you does not reach the top eight and become one of the Uncrowned, preferably Mercy, then we may find ourselves in great danger.”
That brought him to one final question, the one that had loomed larger than any other ever since Charity had kidnapped him.
“Then why me?” he asked. “If it's so important, why bet on a stranger?”
Charity glanced down at Little Blue, who had scrambled down his body to hide behind his ankle. “I have many reasons. Let it be enough for you that I think you can win.” Purple eyes returned to his. “So will you stop this charade, or will you allow others to decide what happens to your home?”
[We don't know for certain that the gold dragons wouldn't rule better than the Akura clan,] Dross pointed out. [And there's no reason it has to be you. This Pride or one of the others will still fight even if you're not here.]
Lindon stood up straighter, looking down on the Sage. “I will fight.”
He had never been willing to leave the fate of his home in someone else's hands. He wasn't about to change his mind now.
[That's good, because I was lying before. The royal gold family of dragons is notoriously vicious and cruel, especially to humans. I just didn't want to worry you.]
Charity brushed her hands clean like a woman done with a mundane task. “Now, however, you have a problem. You have given the other Akura Underlords a reason to think you are weak. They taste blood, and they will not allow you to rest.”
Lindon thought back to the fight with Pride. The other Underlords had watched him with disdain...and jealousy. They would be coming for him.
He felt more pressure from that than he had before. Only minutes ago, he would have been satisfied with disqualification.
“Pardon, but I will need help addressing my weaknesses. I do not have the formal training in combat that your relatives do.”
Charity nodded. “If you are to fight under my family’s name in the tournament, this lack of knowledge must be remedied. You will be facing sacred artists of varied and unknown abilities. You must be able to determine their capabilities quickly and respond appropriately under any circumstances. This is not a training regimen that should be attempted in only nine months, and yet you must complete it.”
She addressed Dross. “If he hopes to meet the deadline, he will rely on your help.”
The purple spirit puffed himself out, closing his eye and folding his arms across his body. [Leave it to me! I’ll drag him through, no problem!] He opened his eye a crack and added, [...on second thought, actually, it sure would be easier with a little bit of your madra to help me. Just a taste?]
Charity stared at him, impassive as always.
[No? That's, ah, that's all right then.] He forced a chuckle. [I was joking! That's a little mind-spirit humor for you.]
There was a subtle flicker of power from the Sage, and she held up a silver-and-purple scale. Its madra drew Lindon's eyes to it almost hypnotically, and the room seemed to darken in its presence.
[Oh, you…you’re doing it! See, I told you she would help instead of wiping us from existence.]
She flipped it to him, and Dross swooped in to snap it up like a bat taking an insect. As soon as the madra entered him, he shuddered at the flood of energy.
“It's gentle and stable,” she said, “but it is still an Archlord's power. Be careful.”
Without a word of acknowledgement, Dross faded back into Lindon's spirit. He could feel Dross processing the scale: it felt tiny but unbelievably powerful, like a thunderstorm the size of a fingertip.
Lindon bowed. “Gratitude. Will he be all right?”
“A spirit of that density should be fine. It should absorb the scale's essence over a week or two, during which it will not be conscious or able to serve you. After that time, you should find its efficiency greatly increased.”
[Ah, now this is the good stuff,] Dross said into Lindon's head.
Stay quiet, Lindon urged him. Don't let her know you're awake.
[I'm sure the Sage would appreciate the master's grand work more than you do.]
Please. I don't want to be killed and have my Remnant dissected.
[I’m not rushing off to be dissected myself, but we can trust Charity. I have a good feeling about her.]
Charity handed Lindon a multi-faceted ball that fit in her palm, like a dark red jewel. It sat in his hand, warm and heavier than he’d expected.
“This is a training program we use to train our Coppers in close combat. It will contain information and training programs about all five basic categories of Enforcer techniques and how to react to them. When you have achieved a perfect score, tell your house servants, and they will deliver a message to me.”
“Forgiveness,” Lindon said, “but it’s a Copper test?”
“It is a test of knowledge and ski
ll, not of power. Superior advancement will not help you, though your experience will.” She folded her hands in front of herself. “As a Copper, Mercy earned a perfect score within three days. Just so you have a…benchmark.”
Her shadow began to crawl up her feet, but she looked up as though staring through the ceiling. “You have a visitor,” she informed him. “Another young Underlord dissatisfied with my decision. They cannot reach me, so they take out their frustrations on you, hoping I will change my mind.”
Lindon took a deep breath, bracing himself, thinking of the pain in his spirit that Little Blue had just relieved. His flesh was still tender.
She noticed. “Would you like me to stop them?”
He would, and Little Blue urged him to with a whistle in his ear. Even Dross made an appreciative noise in his mind.
“If I didn’t have your protection, would they be allowed to challenge me?”
She inclined her head. “You are a worthy guest. They would be permitted to duel you openly, so long as no one was injured too badly.”
“Then let them, if you would. I’ll consider it training.”
If his problem was a lack of battle experience, then there was no better solution than to face a gauntlet of opponents at his own level. It would help build up Dross’ knowledge too, to help him predict fights in the future.
And when Lindon grew skilled enough, he could make a powerful demonstration in front of all the other clan Underlords. One that would prove beyond a doubt that he deserved to be on the team.
But he didn’t look forward to the beatings he was about to take.
Charity gave an expression that might have been an approving smile or just a quirk of her lips. “Don’t let it become a distraction.” Then shadow swallowed her, and she vanished.
Then Lindon went upstairs to let in the Underlord who hated him.
The young Akura challenged him to a duel, fought in Lindon’s own basement, with a construct to project the fight as witness.
He controlled a fan of a half-dozen flying swords, using pulses of shadow and force madra to keep Lindon at a distance as Lindon dealt with the weapons. Lindon made the mistake of focusing on the swords, knocking them away with his hands and allowing his opponent to overwhelm him at a distance.
He should have ignored the swords, taking the hits with his Bloodforged Iron body, and broken the Akura's concentration by outmatching him in Striker techniques.
Lindon came to this conclusion while he lay on the floor of his basement, aching, waiting for his Iron body to repair the holes in his skin.
If it had been a real fight, Lindon could have won. He consoled himself with that fact.
He had explosive constructs stored in his void key that he had prepared for his fight with Kiro but never gotten a chance to use, not to mention his Skysworn armor, which would have held up against the swords for long enough to close the distance. And Lindon had to hold his techniques back; he could hardly use dragon's breath to its full potential when it wasn't a fight to the death.
But Lindon had faced plenty of life-or-death situations. He wasn't preparing for a deadly showdown; he was training for a series of matches with rules and limitations. These elite Akura Lords were far better suited for fights like those. He was playing their game, and he had to learn how.
He would learn by losing.
When his body had recovered enough and Little Blue had soothed his spirit, he rose to his feet. His stance was unsteady. Pain shot through his joints, and he wanted nothing more than to lie down and wait for his aches to fade. No one would blame him if he slept. Dross would encourage him.
But sleeping wouldn’t move him forward.
“Dross, could you show me my opponent?”
Lindon's vision blurred for a moment, and then the young Underlord appeared opposite him, six scripted blades floating behind his head.
[Did you see how fast that was?] Dross said. [And look at all that crisp detail! I already want more Sage madra, and I haven’t even finished digesting it yet. Will she give me some more when I’m done, do you think?]
Lindon resolved to find out. He was afraid that revealing Dross' appetite would make Charity suspicious about his nature, or that making too many requests would anger the Sage, but he could push a little.
Improving Dross might be just as important as training himself.
Dross simulated the battle, and Lindon attempted his strategy. If he ignored the swords and fought with only Striker techniques, he could indeed pierce through the opponent's techniques and kill him before Lindon himself died, but that resulted in a dead opponent and a few severe gashes on Lindon. There had to be a way to win without murdering the other person or taking wounds himself.
Lindon tried again.
When Dross grew tired, Lindon switched over to the Enforcer training. The device left by Charity projected images into his mind, so it felt much like practicing with Dross. But this one transported him to entirely new scenarios.
First, he stood on an icy mountain as the wind whipped snow by him. Flocks of ice-feathered birds flew past, slicing the air with their wings.
A bald old man, wearing only a wrap around his waist, blazed with golden light. He slipped away from one diving bird, crushed another with a fist, and spun into a kick that knocked a third from the sky. As he fought the flock, his movements blurred until Lindon could barely follow them.
Charity's voice echoed everywhere. “The full-body Enforcer technique. It is common and flexible, and its properties depend on the madra, but it does not excel in any area as a more specialized technique might. Full-body Enforcement often radiates light or has external markings, but even when it does not, it can be easily sensed by anyone Jade or higher.”
The scene changed, and suddenly Lindon found himself deep within the earth. Shining green sap dripped from the ceiling like a very slow rainstorm. A woman walked through the sap, wearing a very broad, flat cap that kept her dry. Beneath her hat, she wore a long cloak with a high collar, so Lindon could see almost nothing of her.
“Attack techniques are also very common,” Charity's voice said, as the woman cocked her fist back.
The fist began to shine with white madra, which shaped into a tiger's head and roared as the sacred artist plunged her fist into a nearby stalagmite. The impact shook the entire chamber, the force blowing her cloak back. She had to hold onto her hat with one hand. The stalagmite cracked.
“These are, just as they sound, individual attacks that carry the power of a technique behind them. They are considered Enforcer techniques because they primarily enhance the effect of a single motion, even though they may project power outward as Striker techniques do.”
The stalagmite, cracked by the woman's fist, exploded as a tree-sized worm burst from within it. The worm screamed, revealing a round mouth filled with teeth on all sides, and the sacred artist gathered madra into both hands.
“Indeed, many such techniques have characteristics of both Striker and Enforcer techniques, and could be developed in either direction depending on the needs of the Path. Enforcer attack techniques carry more power than full-body techniques, but as a result they can be clumsier. They tend to leave the user open for counterattack.”
The scene changed again, and Charity took Lindon through examples of movement techniques, weapon techniques, and defensive techniques.
How am I supposed to get a perfect score? Lindon asked Dross. Will there be a quiz?
[Oh, this is more than just a dream tablet. It is interactive. I'm sure...ah, you see? Here it is.]
Now Lindon stood in a blank white room, but the man in the loincloth stood in front of him.
“This man will randomly use Enforcer techniques ten times in a row. You must accurately identify the type of technique within one second.”
It was harder than Lindon had expected because he couldn't use his spiritual perception. The illusory man was a void to Lindon's senses, so he had to rely on visual clues alone.
Dross, of course, identified
every one instantly. When the man adopted a defensive posture, so Lindon was sure it would be a defense technique, Dross correctly called it as a full-body technique.
“How did you know?” Lindon asked.
[His breathing, his arms, his calves, his posture, and the way his eyes moved.]
“...oh.”
If Lindon simply had Dross hand him the answers, he would have passed immediately. But he had to learn on his own.
After two hours, when he had finally recognized every detail about the man's techniques, he thought he'd finished. Then the woman in the hat and cloak appeared.
“This woman will randomly use Enforcer techniques ten times in a row. You must accurately identify the type of technique within one second.”
Her madra was completely different from the man's, and she showed different physical cues. It was harder to see her at all, shrouded as her body was.
[If you're going to finish this in three days without my help, I hope you have some Dream Well water left. You're going to have to go without sleep.]
Lindon did have some, but not much. He was down to one jar and two small bottles. He had used it sparingly, primarily to nourish Dross, and he didn't want to use it up here.
But he did use just enough to stay sharp.
Especially because, the next day, no less than five different Akura Underlords challenged him to duels.
Between fighting, recovery, and the analysis afterward, it took him two days and a night to complete the Enforcer training.
He handed the dark red jewel-device to his servant with a heavy heart, telling her to report to Charity. Even as an Underlord, he had beaten Mercy's accomplishment as a Copper by only a few hours. Though the test had nothing to do with advancement, he was older and more experienced than Mercy had been as well. He had hoped to finish within a few hours.
Charity did not send him a comment in return. Instead, she sent him a new gem-construct. This one was dark blue, instead of dark red, and contained information on Forger techniques.
Lindon got to work.
~~~
Information requested: Seshethkunaaz, King of Dragons and Monarch of the eastern Ashwind continent.