In ages long past, dragons soared with fiery breath and titans roamed alongside tribes of men. In those enchanted days, weavers spun strands of silk into formidable armies and founded colonies that tamed the wild lands. This lore is widely known—but it only scratches the surface of the first empire’s true legacy. Over thousands of years, entire races have risen and fallen: the annihilation of the Elves, the extinction of the Dwarfs, and the emergence of the subterranean cavern races. We, the Sul, venerate our ancient kings even as we forget the many races they vanquished, for, as is our tradition, we honor only the victor.
– Kalanvarin of the Restorative Historical School in Truths of Convenience
Aslavain: Twenty-Three Days After the Summer Solstice
Hadrian entered the Mandate’s headquarters ahead of Casselia, having traveled straight from the crowd at the base of the tree following Casselia’s challenge. She had insisted that it would be best if they weren’t around for the rest of the night. Hadrian wondered absently why that was. It wasn’t as though Casselia had shown any fear of the Eidolons; far from it. She had been as fierce as his Ma, fighting against whatever needed to be fought, regardless of who it would bother. He respected that approach.
A heavy scent filled the headquarters, rich and spicy, causing his nostrils to instinctively pull in more of the aroma. His eyes widened as he looked for its source. They were drawn to a steaming pot sitting on a stone table a few feet from Nessa, who sat on a stool holding a clay mug that depicted a rolling grassland, its surface glazed with green, yellow, and blue hues. Hadrian’s mouth watered as he realized he was smelling the drink.
Hadrian had begun to understand that Cutra lacked the culinary skills that people here considered normal. They hadn’t had access to traders who could supply them with the foodstuffs that grew on the surface, and aside from the rare treat of hunted birds, he had subsisted primarily on mushrooms, fruit, and grubs—though he refused to eat grubs unless they had been properly roasted. His gaze was locked on Nessa’s mug as Casselia entered the abode.
“You want a cup, boy?” Nessa asked, the hint of a smile creeping into her words. “Haven’t seen anyone look so interested in my favorite drink since I left the Silklands.”
“What is it?” Hadrian asked, moving further into the room as he approached.
“It’s chai tea—I make my own spice blend out of local spices native to the Gondaran Marsh to the north.” She swirled her mug, took a deep breath, then took a heavy sip before sighing in pleasure. “You can’t find fruit to rival the Fologian Forest’s varieties in this part of the empire, but the spices from the marsh and the meat from the Bal herds—well, the fruit has just never quite compared.”
Nessa set her mug down, stood, and grabbed a plain brown mug from the countertop before filling it with three ladles of the rich brown liquid. Hadrian moved toward her and took the mug, feeling the heat against his palms. He thanked her and began to ask how the liquid was being heated—he didn’t see a fire, after all—when Krinka’s exclamation pulled his attention to the three mentors sitting across the room.
“The Rahabian Blitz?” Krinka exclaimed, his voice shrill. “Cass, you can’t just initiate a Rahabian Blitz without us? That’s Als’ favorite, and I should have been there to make sure it was kicked off properly.”
“Now, Krinka—” Casselia began before Alsarana’s serpentine body rose close enough to brush the ceiling, and he called attention to himself with a hiss.
“How could you, Cass,” he cried, falling backward into the long couch beneath him as though he lacked the energy to move any further. “What’s next—are you going to forbid me from watching the start?”
“Well, actually—” Casselia began, a tad sheepishly, before Krinka interrupted, leaning forward in his chair.
“Cass, you… aren’t going to send Als away, are you? We haven’t had the chance to use the Rahabian Blitz in more than three hundred years.”
“Now,” Nessa drawled, “I hate to interrupt whatever this is, but can someone enlighten me—and the boy here—on what in the roaming herds a ‘Rahabian Blitz’ is?”
“Of course,” Casselia said, sitting up and looking pleased by the interruption. As she began to respond, the door to the room swung open and Sylva and Lotem entered. Sylva was imperious, her back straight and her face a perfectly cultivated mask of neutrality. If Lotem didn’t look so nervous behind her, Hadrian would have thought they had enjoyed a pleasant night. Lotem, however, looked frantically between Hadrian and Casselia, his mouth set in a tight line. Hadrian had a feeling that they had heard about Casselia’s challenge to the city.
Hadrian took a sip of the drink and sighed as a warmth from the liquid spread throughout his body. He committed to drinking whatever this was as much as he could while they were in Dornogor. Someday, he would be bound to Cutra, and luxuries like this would be out of his grasp. He wanted to treasure it. He decided to enjoy the drink while Casselia answered what was apparently a long list of questions.
“Oh, lovely,” Casselia said, as though she hadn’t noticed their nervous energy, “you are back just in time. Nessa here just asked what the Rahabian Blitz is.”
“I assume that is where you intentionally anger all of the Eidolons in the city in which we will be residing for the next month?” Sylva asked, her calm tone at odds with her perfect posture.
Sylva was upset; Hadrian was sure of it. He had realized that the more effort Sylva put into appearing composed and perfect, the less control she actually felt. He could understand that. His Pa had said that action created control and that if Hadrian ever felt powerless, that was the time to pretend he wasn’t. Lies had power, and none more than lies to oneself.
“Why, yes, actually,” Krinka said, interjecting before Casselia had the chance. “It’s one of the classic diplomatic approaches that the ancient Malan would employ. Records date it to the Fourth Age—a millennium ago.” Sylva looked as though that made perfect sense to her. Hadrian wasn’t actually sure she was faking that.
“And that approach is…” Lotem asked, his voice trailing off expectantly as he approached the countertop and, at a nod from Nessa, began to ladle scoops of the simmering liquid into a mug of his own.
“To understand the Rahabian Blitz you have to understand the Rahabians,” Casselia began, her voice taking on a lecturing quality. “Rahabia, the City of Games, is one of the original Eternal Cities of the Empire. It—alongside Ylfenhold and Calcara—was part of the original founding contract of the empire. The Rahabians have a sense of superiority about this fact. They feel as though their approach is the best, leaving little room for negotiation.”
“By ‘their approach,’ she means fighting anything that moves to establish dominance,” Alsarana hissed, his eyes still narrowed at Casselia with suspicion.
“Als is correct,” Casselia said, deliberately averting Alsarana’s harsh gaze toward Sylva. “The City of Games values combat prowess above—well, pretty much anything else. The Coliseum of Champions and the various Rahabian dueling circuits produce the empire’s best fighters every generation. It has been that way since the empire was founded. Rahabians tend to enter a new city, insult, belittle, and bully the residents, and then establish dominance through combat to earn new skills or advance their development.”
“And that doesn’t… cause them issues?” Lotem asked from beside Hadrian.
“It does more than work,” Krinka said, leaning far enough forward in his chair that Hadrian thought he might fall out. “The Sulphen loves the Rahabian approach; if you can pull it off, it is one of the best slash-and-burn training tactics out there. Sure, you make some enemies, but if they aren’t strong enough to match the gambit, they aren’t strong enough enemies to worry about anyway.”
“So that is why the Clawmaster yelled at a bar full of candidates as though relaxing were the worst thing in the world over a meal. You insulted him to his face and challenged him.”
“I should have given you a warning,” Casselia began, just before Sylva let out a tinkling laugh that halted the [Venerate’s] apology.
“I was worried that I had done something wrong,” Sylva said, “but I may have done the same.”
“What was it you said?” Lotem asked, pausing before continuing in a higher-pitched tone that enunciated every syllable, “I have more potential than anyone in this rundown, backwater shrine that thinks they can beat the students of real [Venerate].”
Alsarana looked positively giddy at Lotem’s words, his coils tensing and untensing as he swayed back and forth, his tongue flicking in and out. “Cass, she is made for us.”
“Or,” Lotem continued, a smile creeping onto his face at Alsarana’s words, “was it when you quoted Imperial Law to him?”
“Which law?” Krinka interjected in a rush.
“The 212th House of Lords, subsection six, paragraph eight,” Sylva said, her perfect posture dissolving under the scholar’s excitement. Hadrian thought he could sense a proud smile being suppressed by his friend. He wondered what law that was and whether he would need to learn about laws at some point—but that topic had yet to come up.
“That is an excellent choice,” Casselia said, trying to regain control of the conversation. “Now—”
“Cass, you can’t just skip over the fact that we have already initiated the Ylfenhold variant of the Rahabian Blitz. Normally, you won’t let us quote the laws at the Eidolon when they get angry at our blatant violation of their laws and norms. You say that it feels too much like the Justicars for your taste. But if Sylva were to do it…”
Krinka rubbed his hands together, a crazy look in his eye. He looked too gleeful for Hadrian’s comfort. Hadrian had expected the other [Venerate] to be upset by Casselia’s actions—not as excited as they now seemed.
“Now,” Cass repeated, casting a glare at the scholar, “to the real matter at hand. Candidates, we have twenty-five days until the contest is held for the prize. Until then, at least one of you will duel in the local arena. Usually, it will be Hadrian, but depending on the training that is called for, some days may fall to Sylva or Lotem. I expect dominance in the arena, and I believe you are all capable.”
Hadrian met first Sylva’s gaze and then Lotem’s, seeing the resolve reflected in their eyes. He wanted to win, to dominate, to make Rovan Khal proud—to make his parents proud and to show the world that Cutra had produced something valuable. What better way to represent the home he loved than to prove that it produced nothing but the best?
“We begin the true training tomorrow. Sylva, in the mornings you will learn from Krinka how to identify and judge threat levels; once you are ready, you will be responsible for curating and preparing Hadrian for his duels. In the afternoon, Krinka will either teach you new incantations or magical theory, or you will be expected to demonstrate magical competence in the field.”
Sylva nodded, looking thoughtful. Hadrian expected that she liked the idea of training more with Krinka. Sylva was drawn to knowledge like a moth to a flame, and Krinka shared his knowledge without reservation. He hoped Lotem would be equally excited about his training—after all, Hadrian knew how tough Tir Na Nog had been for him.
Casselia turned to Hadrian and continued, “Hadrian, you will train primarily with me as we work to guide the development of your new combat art. You need to be ready to fight opponents with skills and abilities that are unfamiliar to you.” She paused, taking a deep breath before turning to Lotem; meanwhile, Alsarana’s eyes narrowed at her hesitation.
“Lotem, you are going to learn from Alsarana in the Trial of the Hunt. Als will have a few skills that you are working on acquiring, and there is no better place to advance than Aslavain’s trails.” Casselia noted that Lotem tensed, his face tightening with a rush of emotion. She continued quickly, “This Trial will not be like the one in Tir Na Nog. For one, you can leave at any time, and for two, Alsarana will have moderate control over how the trial unfolds. The Eidolons here designed their trials to help, not harm, candidates.”
“Casssssss,” Alsarana whined, the word coming out in a drawn-out hiss that caused Sabel to let out a hiss of her own from Lotem’s shoulder. “You are sending me away from the duals? I won’t get to see Hadrian beat the weaklings? Tell me I can see him fight the Silkborn in three days at least.”
“Yes, Als,” Cass sighed, “I want you and Lotem to be present for the dual in three days. Until then, though, we can’t afford to waste time, and Lotem must be ready for the real contest. It would not do to have our candidates fail to reach the final stage of the contest.”
“What will he be teaching me?” Lotem asked, suddenly suspicious.
“For the next few days at least, you will learn how to catch frogs.”
“Frogs?” Lotem asked resignedly.
“Frogs,” Casselia confirmed. “I have found that little else prepares one’s reflexes, mind, and spirit for growth quite like catching frogs.”
Hadrian wondered what a frog was. He hoped that it was something soft—maybe similar to Sabel. He suspected that if a frog were anything like a cat, Lotem would enjoy catching the creatures.
“And what will we do with the frogs we capture?” Lotem asked dryly. Hadrian wondered the same—was Lotem supposed to protect them?
“Sell them, of course—do you think the gold to buy Alsarana’s bones or Sylva’s new thread comes from thin air?” Casselia said. “Dreamweaver Frogs are as rare as mithral in a mine, in Creation at least, but you should have good luck in Aslavain. Isn’t that right, Nessa?”
The Eidolon near Hadrian startled at her name, seeming touched to have been included in the conversation at all. “Yes, Casselia, many Dreamwaver Frogs are sold every year. The Gondaran cities yearn for the stuff, but most aren’t willing to venture deep enough into the marsh to find them on their own. The Trial gets around that.”
“So while Sylva and Hadrian are getting best-in-class training, I will be alone in a marsh, catching frogs?” Lotem asked, looking between Casselia, Krinka, and Alsarana as though he misunderstood. Alsarana perked up from where he had been moping.
“You won’t be alone in the marsh,” Alsarana said, tilting his head and focusing on Sabel. “You have a cat who can’t swim and a [Venerate] who will wish he wasn’t also left out.”
“Just perfect,” Lotem said, turning to Nessa. “Can you lead me to my room? I would like to rest in a bed before my eventful, frog-catching days ahead.”
Hadrian hoped that Lotem would return successfully from the hunt. He couldn’t wait to figure out what a frog was.
Aslavain: Twenty-Four Days After the Summer Solstice
Sylva knelt, her posture immaculate as she pretended that the stone floor beneath her was as pristine as she had known in the Sect—not stone covered in a layer of dirt and grime that spoke to her of neglect. She ignored the gaps between stones, with grass and other plants starting to peek through. It would not be proper for her to call attention to these things—not on her first day in the new training routine, at least. Sylva resolved to have a conversation with Nessa at some point about the state of the training facility behind the headquarters. Nessa must not have been aware of the neglect, after all.
To her right, Hadrian knelt nearby, his eyes closed and his breathing steady as he waited for Casselia and Krinka to arrive. Alsarana had awoken them well before the first light of dawn, with Lotem and Hadrian muttering about a lack of sleep as they ate slices of bread with butter prepared by Nessa.
Sylva had refrained from joining their complaints about a lack of sleep. It wasn’t that Silkborn didn’t need to sleep—it was well known that every living creature needed rest in some fashion—but she refused to believe that her perfect, silken body could suffer from the same physical distress as mere flesh. Silkborn were made to be superior to humans—or Numens—and she refused to let the drowsiness that tried to pull her eyes down win.
Nessa had shown them to a barn at the back of the headquarters, an unobtrusive wooden building with a cobbled stone floor and tall rafters supporting a slanted roof. If it weren’t for the intricate circle that covered the stone floor, pulling wisps of the inky black mist inward, Sylva might have questioned the room’s usefulness. After examining the script forming the circle as they waited, Sylva realized that it was designed for dueling.
The script bespoke protection against injury, shielding from danger, and—if she wasn’t mistaken—illumination, though she couldn’t puzzle out why the circle would need to light up. The script was built with interlocking statements that applied magical effects to those within its bounds. It reminded Sylva of complex legal contracts—each element requiring specific definition and consistent logic—or of the Imperial Poems, with their specific construction such that every element of the poem carried power within. It was a magic of tradition and of contract. It spoke to something within Sylva, urging her to see the inky mist enter the script and fuel it with power.
“Good, Alsarana did his job well,” Casselia said as she swept into the room, Krinka in tow. She surveyed their kneeling forms with a nod and gestured to Hadrian. “You can stand; you will be needed within the circle. Krinka, take your seat near Sylva and provide commentary when needed.”
Krinka shuffled over, giving Sylva a quick smile before schooling his features into an attentive mask. Casselia rolled her eyes at the man with good humor before turning to Hadrian as he entered the circle. Sylva frowned as the air seemed to shimmer around Hadrian as he entered, the inky mist suddenly clinging to him like a second set of clothing. She could easily see past the dark mist; it didn’t obscure her sight as much as dampen the color within. Casselia stepped into the ring a moment later, and mist shifted and formed around her in the same way.
“The script creates an armor that prevents basic injuries to those inside,” Krinka said, his voice low enough not to distract from the sight ahead. “I see it as a glow that appears around them. I presume you see it differently, but it is the same effect. The Sulphen has been channeled to a purpose; it is simply waiting to activate.”
“While we are within the ring,” Casselia said, eyes focused on Hadrian, “we are protected from normal physical injury. Summon a blade and throw it at me, as though you intend to kill me.”
Hadrian hesitated; the blade appeared but stayed in his hand as he looked between Krinka and Casselia.
“Now,” Casselia said sharply, “Trust that I don’t want you to actually hurt me and that I know what I am doing.”
That seemed to snap Hadrian out of whatever concerns he had felt. He stepped forwards, his arm flicking, almost casually, in Casselia’s direction, and an ivory throwing knife struck her chest as she stood, undefended. Sylva watched, desperate not to miss anything, as the inky mist around Casselia firmed and then seemed to erupt with red light. The stone floor around Casselia was bathed in red as the ivory blade vanished before hitting the floor.
“If I were to take a blow likely to kill me, I will glow crimson. If the blow would only injure me, I would glow yellow. Upon the second injury, I would glow orange, and then, upon the third, red. Clear enough?” she asked Hadrian, who nodded. “Good—it was designed for children to understand, and if you didn’t, we would have real concerns.”
“This is how all the duels will be?” Hadrian asked.
“Not… all of the duels. Meris challenged you to a more traditional fight with real blades. Injury is far more likely and death is possible, though rare. We will have [Healers] on hand and a Justicar to ensure things are run properly. But so long as we are the challengers, yes, we will use a ring much like this one. Clear enough?”
“Like the sky after the rain,” Hadrian said.
“Every day, there should be a handful of candidates that seek to challenge you. I will imitate a variety of combat styles. Sylva, you will see the aura around me shift as I imitate different styles. Tell Krinka what you sense, and he will guide you to understanding your new vision. Until you can reliably identify someone’s level of threat and general affinities by sight alone, you will not be ready to guide your Triumvirate.”
Sylva was confident she would pick up the skill soon enough. How hard could it be to judge others by sight alone? She had been honing her sense of judgment for decades. She focused on Casselia as she backed up and changed her posture; a narrow, thin sword appeared in her grip.
“You should see the Sulphen around Casselia quiver soon,” Krinka said, moments before a shiver ran through the inky fog around Casselia, shifting in the air in a new, swirling pattern. “The color and intensity of the light around her shift for me in a dancing pattern. How does it present for you?” Krinka asked as Casselia announced the start of the fight.
The Sulphen roiled and swirled around Casselia, its motions nearly frantic in comparison to how they had been previously. “It appears as a black mist that dampens color but not sight; it roils and moves if I pay close enough attention. Now, it seems furious, almost aggressive,” Sylva said as Casselia’s sword casually slapped one thrown dagger and then a second out of the ring.
“Good,” Krinka said, “but that observation is not helpful. Most fighters will feel furious or aggressive during a fight. Look deeper.”
Sylva watched the mist spin in wide circles around Casselia as the woman advanced towards Hadrian, never dodging, always parrying or blocking with her blade. The mist felt indomitable, as though its motion was inevitable. She wasn’t sure why it felt that way to her; the swirling mist could have been excited or furious, but it wasn’t.
“She feels unstoppable, like a boulder falling from a mountain,” she tried.
“Unstoppable? Hmmmm,” Krinka said, drawing out the hum long enough to make his skepticism clear. She watched as Hadrian summoned a sword and parried a downward swing from Casselia. “Not how I would describe it. Try this. Cass, [A Skill Recalled].” Sylva felt the man’s skill activate as the Sulphen surrounding Casselia shifted and her blade went immaterial for half a breath—just long enough to pass through Hadrian’s waiting sword and score a slash that turned the light around him a golden yellow. Hadrian danced backwards, glaring at the scholar with mock anger.
“Hey—” Hadrian began, but was cut off as Casselia pressed him, giving him no quarter, as she seemed to realize that Krinka needed her to keep the pressure up.
“I still felt the inevitability, but it was more like the tide. When your skill activated, it felt almost wet to me.”
Hadrian released one hand from his blade as he parried Casselia’s relentless attack, a faint pop serving as the only warning as a spear appeared in his grip, already in motion to stab Casselia. It glanced off the Sulphen surrounding her, and she began to glow yellow. Casselia smiled as she dodged backwards, as though delighted that Hadrian had landed a blow.
“Better,” Krinka said. “Pay attention to the primary feeling an aura gives you, and then extrapolate a metaphor that works for it. It’s not perfect, but if you are close enough, you can get a good sense of someone’s capabilities. Cass,” he called, “new style.”
Casselia’s sword vanished as an axe replaced it. The hilt of the axe was ornately carved silver and held a dual-headed obsidian blade in place. If her prior sword had felt unassuming, this blade screamed of danger to Sylva, and the Sulphen surrounding Casselia suddenly took on a different hue.
“It feels menacing, almost arrogant,” Sylva said as she tried to puzzle out the meaning of the mist’s motions and what her intuition was telling her. She rushed to continue, conscious of the fact that every fighter likely felt menacing, and she didn’t want the same rebuke this time. “Like a predator stalking its prey.”
“Close,” Krinka allowed, “but not specific enough. Hadrian,” Krinka called as Casselia began to walk forward, “you glared at me last time when I didn’t give you a warning about a skill; this is your warning.” Hadrian braced as Krinka spoke.
“[An Enemy Remembered].”
Casselia was suddenly in motion. The Sulphen around her legs shifted and tightened like a spring before releasing, sending her toward Hadrian in a blur. The axe chopped downwards with enough momentum to cut Hadrian in half. Sylva’s gaze froze as she felt the Sulphen around Hadrian shift, pulling him backward in a jerking motion that allowed him to slip to the side of the blow. Then a dagger appeared in his hand, and this time she could see the blurring of the Sulphen a fraction of a moment before the blade appeared.
“You noticed this time,” Krinka said, watching her intently as her eyes remained locked on the fight. “Good, now, what does her aura feel like?”
“An Axebeak?” Sylva guessed, with a sudden suspicion that Krinka hated the beasts.
“Close enough,” he said, nodding approvingly, “The real species are now extinct. So you can’t be expected to be much closer.”
After a few more exchanges between Casselia and Hadrian, Krinka called out, “Cass, your real aura please.” Casselia paused, looking to Krinka as if to confirm. He rolled his eyes and added, “I’m not reckless—I checked the wards on the building last night. No one else will sense a thing outside this building.”
Sylva saw a swirl of the Sulphen in front of Casselia’s eyes as she looked around the room, seemingly confirming what Krinka had said. Sylva wondered what she was worried about—no one else had been hiding their aura, had they?
The Sulphen around Casselia began to change, its color throughout the room shifting to blends of deep, violent, muted blue and, where light touched, burnished gold. The Sulphen’s ripples and currents throughout the room seemed to breathe with the fading warmth as day became night.
“Dusk. Her aura is one of twilight and dusk,” Sylva whispered as Hadrian looked at Casselia, his eyes suddenly narrowed, sword at the ready.
“Excellent,” Krinka said. “You feel how much clearer the impression is now; that is how you judge the strength of an opponent and their affinity. The clearer the picture you get of their aura, the stronger they are—or the better their protections are at muddying the water. Casselia’s Combat Art is called [Dynasty’s Dusk]. Watch as she shows Hadrian some of her skills.”
Casselia approached Hadrian, and they had a quick conversation that Sylva couldn’t quite make out. She glanced at Krinka inquisitively and raised one eyebrow as if to say, “Patience.” Sylva didn’t want to be patient—she had waited her entire life for moments like this: to breathe the air of the powerful and begin to understand how things really worked. She didn’t want to miss out on anything.
As Casselia bowed to Hadrian and the bout began, Sylva kept her focus locked on their mentor. The Sulphen surrounding Casselia smoothed all her motions; each strike and step felt seamless. Hadrian’s blade attacked, countered, and parried frantically as he struggled to keep pace with Casselia, despite the woman’s seemingly effortless grace. Sylva could almost feel the hope waning from Hadrian as they fought.
Hadrian lunged forward in a desperate strike, and Sylva watched as the Sulphen shifted—a crown of black mist appeared over Hadrian’s head a moment before Casselia’s downward strike transformed into an axe swing that sliced through Hadrian’s sword and stopped at his neck. The Sulphen around him burst into violent red, and Casselia stepped back.
“I saw a crown appear over Hadrian’s head,” Sylva whispered to Krinka as the fight paused.
“[Regicide’s Resonance] is the skill name,” Krinka said quietly as Casselia and Hadrian moved to the center of the ring to converse. “It allows her to imitate historical events that resulted in the death of a king—my influence, obviously. More unique skills will have a stronger influence on the Sulphen; most, though, will just give you a more general sense of the intention behind them. If you get good enough, you can identify and counter skills or abilities before they have the chance to finish.”
Casselia and Hadrian approached the two of them. As Hadrian crossed the threshold of the ring, she felt the Sulphen release from around him as the red light faded.
“Did you feel that?” Hadrian asked, with excitement in his voice. “I felt invincible for a second there—and then, pow, red light and an axe at my neck. Skills… are scary.” Hadrian rubbed the back of his head ruefully.
“That brings us to the next point before we get back to teaching different types of styles and skills,” Casselia said as she walked to the back of the barn and picked up a cloth package that Sylva had dismissed as mere burlap when she had arrived. No one would bother hiding anything of worth under burlap, after all.
“Hadrian, you should not use your [Lesser Armory of Bone] skill in a duel unless absolutely necessary until it is upgraded.” She opened the sack and retrieved a sheath carved from hardwood with a rich, crimson tone. Casselia pulled the blade from its sheath, and Sylva felt a shift in the Sulphen as she looked at the blade. It was enchanted, she realized, though she didn’t get an impression from it in the same way she could while watching the fights.
“I put in a requisition before we were able to enter Tir Na Nog to retrieve you for a set of Bloodwood blades. Imported directly from Hirion, the City of War, this will be a far safer option for you.”
“Why?” Hadrian asked, his brows furrowed and his posture tense. He looked concerned to Sylva rather than happy with the gift. That didn’t make much sense to Sylva.
Bloodwood blades were expensive—not as expensive as Fogsilk, but expensive enough to be prohibitive to most within the empire. Bloodwood trees required a steady stream of fresh blood for their roots for decades before the wood could be harvested. Sylva had studied the wood alongside other rare materials of the empire, and she knew that it was stronger than steel and naturally resistant to magic. It was an excellent gift for Hadrian, so why did he seem bothered?
“It’s nothing against Rovan or bone as a material, Hadrian. We are partners with Alsarana—we are not squeamish about bone like some. But your current armaments cannot be modified, and we are too close to Dion holdings not to prepare for bone affinities.” Hadrian still didn’t seem convinced, so Casselia turned and reentered the ring, gesturing for him to follow before continuing. “Summon a sword and swing at me.”
The blade appeared after a moment’s hesitation, and Hadrian stepped forward with a thrust. Casselia flicked her hand, and Sylva watched as the Sulphen surrounding the blade jerked it back—the edge spinning and connecting with the aura around Hadrian, casting him in a yellow light.
“I don’t even have a bone affinity—I merely borrow Alsarana’s. If you don’t think you will encounter someone capable of doing the same, you are not prepared to take on a city’s worth of challengers.”
Hadrian, rather than looking put out, suddenly seemed excited at the prospect of the new weapons. He rushed back and grabbed the sword, inspecting it.
“Is the wood enchanted, or is that a natural property?” Sylva asked, breaking the brief silence.
“It’s enchanted to hold its edge and to disperse any foreign control over the Sulphen. In effect, it prevents that kind of trick from working.”
“Morvan’s armor would have had one if the Eidolons had been allowed enchanted gear in a trial like that—good thing they weren’t,” Krinka said. “Any enchanted item worth anything at all will have similar protections.”
Hadrian pulled a pair of sheathed daggers made from the same wood from the sack, looking touched. “Thank you, Casselia. This is… thoughtful. I will visit Hirion one day, and I cannot wait to see these great Bloodwood trees.”
Sylva wasn’t sure that Hadrian would actually enjoy seeing massive trees covered in animal corpses, dripping endless streams of blood. She just didn’t see how anyone could enjoy that. She could appreciate the byproducts of the process, but she didn’t need to see the actual thing—not if the tapestry she had learned from was accurate at all.
“Someday, Hadrian, I would love to take you to a Bloodwood grove. Now, this afternoon you will be fighting one of the Penitent. You can expect physical enhancements and fire with metaphysical properties similar to Luminary’s flame. We will practice against the most common skills and then progress to more complex ones until you feel completely confident.”