He dresses as befits his post. In court, he wares billowing shirts and silken garments fitting for the warm weather. In matters of state, he wears plate armour and ornate weapons as symbols of status.
He stands at 6'9"
T H E G I F T
4 3 3 3 6 0 0 3 0 0 0
Magnetic specializations: Ferromagnetic Kinetic specializations: Gravitational, Stasis
Bloodtypes: Blueblood, Leadvein
B A C K G R O U N D
When Exarch Mycan'intii'seporvyit took to power, there was an incredible reform in the Oiyac ruling class. The man had come from lower nobility and took power through populist support against the previous monarch. The nobles of the day were lined up and their worth was measured with uncaring standard. Nobles who had sunk into nepotism and poor practiced were ousted and simple stood down from their position (if they were lucky). Almost half of the nobility were cruelly ripped out of their positions of power and replaced with those who could do the job.
Malon's familial line did not suffer such a fate. They were nobles who earnt their keep and maintain it to this day. But a youth spent viewing the fall of weaker families he once had to call equal gave Malon an appreciation for the Exarch ideals. Bloodlines don't build hierarchy, power does. It is the responsibility to families with the experience of rule to maintain their ability to be effective.
M O T I V A T I O N
Malon wishes to serve his country to the degree his power befits him. He seeks a strong legacy built upon fighting back the oncoming Tarlonese and to hold a reputation as a good baron.
N O T E S
Malon is acknowledged by the Damy wing of the Yasoi Pentad
It was a place where nobody knew his name. No renowned performer Leon Solaire had wormed his way into the minds of adoring fans. It was a blessing that only a trip to the other side of the world could bestow. Here he was just Leon and if he wanted to make a reputation for himself, he needed to do it from scratch.
The Sunblessed of Xochi stood at the foot of a great stone tower that pierced the sky. The entire community of mages young and old slept, ate, and trained around the central spire. In the early morning, before the crack of dawn, most would take to the tower and ascend its steps to the top. By noon, most had descended again charged with energy for their day's worth of training. A few helped or carried down those who dared take the Sun’s challenge and bear its scorching rays longer. Leon was only a few weeks new to the community and young to their ways, he mediated at the bottom.
They slept in modest shelters that carried an aesthetic and grace, which made their humble size and partially walled structure seem made with intent. When the Sunblessed left this place, they would take lavish places of respect next to lords and rulers. But here they were taught humility before the tower. Nothing made nearby could hope to hold a candle to it. Leon thought it resembled luxury camping, it reminded him of the caravans.
Some of the food came from local villages paying tribute, but other times one of the senior Sunblessed would make it appear from thin air. Leon didn’t know the source of such magics at the time, but he wondered at the need for tribute when they could just do that instead.
They ate a variety of meals, all nutritious, none particularly inspirational. A mix of maize, beans, or squash paired with chilli or tomatoes. But there was never any added seasoning or spice to the meal. One day, Leon saw another mage eating from a bowl with added orange flakes. He asked where the man got them from. The man didn’t answer and simply said ‘nowhere’ before chuckling and returning to lunch.
But at all times, the tower remained the point of focus. The shadow cast against its stone told the time as an imposing sundial that ticked away the hours they had. Leon looked toward it; it cast no shadow, the sun hung directly above it and told the Sunblessed it was noon. This meant it was time for combat practice and many gathered to an array of stone brick floors. Leon’s guide stood on the other side of his floor, she was to be his opponent.
Atzi Tonatiuhcueponi was a young woman a couple of years older than him. Her skin was a darker tan like many here but didn’t carry the bronze that some older members had. Leon couldn’t remember the last time he was the most pale person in a room, but he certainly was here.
Her long hair was tied back and braided to reduce coverage of her neckline as much as possible. Her clothing could only be described as a monk’s bikini, something resembling a humble cloth dress with the entire midsection cut out. It was a relatively short skirt and some cloth to cover the breasts. In Constantia, such attire would be considered skimpy; it would be regarded the same way in Xochi. But such clothing was the norm in a Sunblessed community where skin needed to be open to the sun. If anything, the conservative need to cover the chest put the women at a practical disadvantage to the men who simply wore a skirt or short pants and let their entire torso absorb the energy. What Leon saw as an often needless part of the body to cover made even less sense when it was an active disadvantage.
She looked at Leon with a grin, took a fighting stance, and gestured for him to approach. “You’ve done a good job telling me about your feats. But I’ve noticed that you avoid me whenever it comes to sparring. I hope you weren’t hiding, I want to know if this ‘Leon Solaire’ lives up to his own tales.” She teased.
When Leon arrived, Atzi had volunteered to be his guide. It was a task often allocated to students who were only a small number of years more experienced. This allowed the elders to focus on group lessons and was a chance for the younger students to show their understanding. It wasn’t just a matter of magic, there was a culture and etiquette to be understood and followed. She taught him the rights and wrongs, and what shouldn’t even be considered. Leon had difficulty learning and accepting discipline but her kindness in delivering the lessons spoke to him where others may have failed. She was nice, and he certainly wasn’t looking forward to fighting her.
It’s such a nice day, I thought it would be better to lay down somewhere and cast illusions out of the clouds instead.
“It’s such a nice toad, I thought it would better to bend down and cast illusions out of the clouds instead.”
Atzi giggled at him. “Your Xochi is still awful. We will have to fix that before you say something off to the elders.”
“What did I say?”
“It doesn’t matter. Stop stalling.” She readied once more to fight.
Leon, a little disappointed, readied in turn.
The start of any mage duel in Ersand’Enise was drawing. Time is taken out where both mages gather their energy before an exchange of blows. No such thing was needed here, both of the combatants had all they needed stored within themselves. It was only a matter of finding the right angle of attack. And yet they both stood motionless for a few seconds. Atzi had wanted to see what the performer was capable of and Leon… just stood there.
Atzi pieced together that Leon had no intention of starting this duel, so she struck first. Her right foot lunged forward as she bent then extended her right arm with an open palm. From her hand sprouted a tongue of flame that lashed toward Leon. The guiding force of her movements made the projectile quick and accurate.
With a whip of wind around the ankles, Leon swayed and capered to the side to deftly avoid the strike. He smiled back at her.
Atzi hadn’t readied a second attack out of caution but it would seem her opponent needed no such restraint. He was holding back on her; she would make him regret that. Her next attack was a flurry of arcane blows, fire bolts shooting with each movement of the arms. Leon ducked side to side, closing in a little each time.
With a sweep of her foot, a wave of flame poured out along the stone tiles. Leon went to jump it but felt a tugging at his wrist from the metal bracelets he had on. Atzi’s hands pointed down as she channelled magnetic to bring him back down quicker and let gravity do the work. Leon smiled and just decided to float instead.
“You aren’t taking this seriously.”
“I am!” He protested with a laugh before snaking around another volley and closing the gap.
Leon was similar to Atzi in his approach to casting. He too often used body movements as a guide and mental focus for channelling magic. Now that the two were less than a few metres from each other, he began to use some fire of his own.
Two quick palm strikes from Atzi, Leon sidestepped both, they turned 90 degrees. A light overhead kick from Leon, Atzi bent back to avoid it, she closed in and they turned back 180 degrees. Atzi moved in with a rising knee, Leon gave a light step back and then sidestepped to the side of her. Leon raised a palm and let loose a blast, Atzi used rudimentary kinetic to push it away and shift back. She closed the gap again and they turned another 90 degrees.
A smile spread on Atzi's face to match the performers. They were just dancing and she was having fun. Their bodies moved in tandem at a complimentary flow while the fire only served as a dangerous but ultimately tangential sideshow.
As they exchanged blows further, she gave up on defeating Leon and surrendered to the rhythm he presented, perhaps it was what he had in mind from the start. It went against the spirit of the exercise, but it remained a means of practice and she was having fun. They continued their ‘fight’ where the flames waltzed to their flashy display of physical and arcane ability.
“Stop!” A deep voice commanded from the periphery of them both. Leon felt his body slow to a stop and Atzi, whether voluntary or not, did the same. Footsteps could be heard entering their floor and approaching.
It was an old, bald man wearing a more decorated skirt and an orange sash across his chest to note him as an elder. He was at the age where natural physical ability was starting to wane, his back carried a slight hunch, and his footsteps were slow and unrushed. The most notable feature, however, was his left arm where the hand and half of the forearm were amputated with a surgeon's touch. He looked over them both and was less than impressed with Leon.
“You are making a mockery of the exercise, boy. Do you intend to toy with this girl further?” The question was asked coldly and with an unflinching stare. The elder had one arm by his side, and the other with the hand held his sash. He made no gestures at all when he spoke.
The elder’s presence had an immediate effect on the pair. The joyful expressions they wore from the previous exchange had faded, but Leon recoiled at the suggestion. He wasn’t toying with the girl, he was having fun, they were having fun. Substituting the instructed fighting for the dance had made no difference to their practice. If there was any offence to be had, it was only in the rejection that he needed to see an enemy in the girl. “I’m not toying with her.” He gestured his hands to help kindly explain the misunderstanding. “I just don’t see why I need to fight anyone here. This has been practised enough I thi-”
“Would you do this if someone presented a threat to you, boy?” The elder cut him off. “If your opponent wasn’t weak?”
Leon’s heart sunk at the question and then burned with protest. He didn’t view Atzi as weak. He looked at her and saw a sadness taking his guide and friend. In Constantia, to make such a bold suggestion in front of someone was faux pa. By what right did this man have to disrespect Atzi by saying it in front of her… No. He shook his head lightly. No, he didn’t think of her as weak.
The elder continued. “You still have a long way to go in terms of discipline. You forgot about titles when addressing me. Now, answer the question. Would you act this way if you had a proper challenge?”
Leon found the old man’s demeanour odious. By what right could he speak like this? Did a position of experience justify one's ability to disrespect others so blatantly? If that was the case, he cared little for this place or its practices. But for now, he would play the part of respect such that the man would leave.
I would, honoured elder.
“I would, old fart.”
Leon knew immediately that he had misspoken by translation. Not because of the elder’s reaction, who didn’t flinch, but because of Atzi who had gasped reactively. The performer had no idea what he had actually said, so he resolved to remain steadfast.
The elder let go of his sash and dropped his arm. He began rolling his shoulders forward and then back in preparation for a fight. “You still need to work on your Xochi, boy. But I will leave that matter for now. I wish to put your words to the test and see if you are honest in your resolve. Atzi, leave the floor, I will be this boy’s next opponent.”
Atzi took a respectful bow to the elder and flashed Leon a look with worried eyes before leaving the stage. Elder Colex was one of the strictest instructors at the commune and was not the sort you wanted to offend. She took a place beside the practice ground to spectate. She was still Leon’s tutor and guide, if he needed medical attention after this, she would need to arrange it.
Leon and Elder Colex stood at opposite ends of the arena. The performer didn’t want to fight an old man, even less an old man missing part of his arm. Much like Atzi, he saw no reason to fight. Even Colex’s rudeness didn’t invoke a need for combat or a desire to harm the elder. Leon wasn’t lying when he said that he would treat both of his opponents the same.
But while Leon pondered, Elder Colex had closed his eyes and breathed calmly in meditation. Inhale, pause, exhale, pause, inhale, and so on. And then, he stopped and opened his eyes. His unharmed right arm released the sash and shifted forward into a strong palm. His left heel slid back and he bent into a steadfast stance. While Leon pondered if he would even fight, Elder Colex had prepared himself for it.
Round 1
An unknown orange gas flowed out from Colex’s right palm, then with a twist of his wrist, a small whirlwind carried it forward briskly. Leon wasn’t about to risk coming near that without knowing what it was, he went to dodge.
He got a few metres to the left of the gaseous projectile before the wind containing it burst and it started to spread. Leon reactively used kinetic to muster a wind and carry the cloud away, Elder Colex countered with a more precise stream that pierced toward the performer. Leon tried to readjust, and then the stone tile shifted from under him. It sent him falling face-first toward the ground.
He used kinetic to break his fall. But just a few centimetres from the ground an acute kinetic pressure between his shoulder blades finished the job and he hit the stone.
In the calm, Leon stood back up to see that Elder Colex had barely moved. He rubbed his nose from the pain and brushed off his shorts.
Round 2
Elder Colex struck first again by shifting the tiles. Leon had expected such a thing, he took a side step right, a leap left, and then floated off the ground in a twirl. With each movement, he got closer to Elder Colex’s position. But… when did Elder Colex raise his arm?
A kinetic burst came down on the airborne Leon who was prepared to counter with the same thing. But it wasn’t just Leon against Colex, it was Leon against Colex and gravity. He was expending much more energy than the elder to stay afloat, so he eased himself down to where he could regain his footing. Then, from the sky, a small stone hit Leon in the chest at startling velocity and threw off his balance. He hit the floor.
During the blindspot of Leon’s twirl, Colex had thrown that stone into the air.
Leon got up while rubbing his chest. His breaths were already starting to get laboured, Colex breathed fine and measured. There was now a clear degree of energy difference between the two. Leon’s reserve of magic was depleted more with each exchange.
Round 3
Leon took the initiative this time and summoned several illusory clones of himself. With the time granted from the illusions, he could close the distance between them and ‘dance’ in close quarters.
Colex extended out his right hand where several binding-summoned thin rocks rested. With a surge of kinetic, they all flew out. One hit Leon on the chest and bounced off harmlessly. After the performer watched it drop, he looked left and right and noticed that a rock had hit each illusion. He looked forward and saw that Colex, in a massive rush of kinetic energy, had closed the gap and delivered an enhanced punch to Leon’s gut.
Leon hit the ground once more and curled up from the sudden pain. He didn’t get back up this time.
“You learned from another magic school, I heard it was Ersand’Enise.” Colex lectured in a flat unimpressed tone as he looked down at the boy. “You expend your energy gradually with restraint to keep up with other mages like you were taught, I’ve seen it before. However, if all you do with the gift of the Sunblessed is keep up with others, you will run out of steam and fail, it is inevitable. A Sunblessed must pick their moments of decisive action. You will learn it eventually.” Colex turned his head and began to walk out of the arena.
Lay out on the ground, Leon watched the elder leave. He didn’t want to accept defeat like that. It had seemed that the man had matched him at every step and then some. The elder had won and yet Leon was the one out of energy. He wasn’t about to accept it.
There was a technique he had been learning since he first entered the commune. It hadn’t worked for him yet but now was as good a time as any. Leon focused his mind on piercing a realm beyond his perception. Unlike his usual spell casting, there was little his body’s movements could help, there was no physical attribute to it. He tried to focus and mentally reached out…
Nothing…
Nothing…
And then… a flood of strange energy poured into his system. It had been like nothing the performer had ever experienced. It resembled the energy he collected from the sun but at a much, much faster rate. It was like one hundred suns all bearing down upon him at once and he took the energy from each and every one. He was excited, elated. He was in a state of euphoric bliss as the muscles in his mouth pulled into a great, big smile. His back arched as his body adjusted to the influx of power, then collapsed again to the ground.
Elder Colex turned back, both he and Atzi looked at Leon in shock as he floated steadily off the ground and jumped back to his feet with a grin.
Round 4
Leon leapt toward Elder Colex with a burst of kinetic energy and delivered a flaming roundhouse kick. Elder Colex stepped back but struggled to keep his balance. Leon pressed forward.
A bicycle kick, a pirouette, a palm thrust, a spin, a sweep of the legs. Leon delivered blow after blow in the elder’s direction, none using excessive physical power but supplemented by the trailing flames delivered with them. Each time, the Elder couldn’t gather his footing and went for quicker and quicker dodges in the hopes of regaining balance. He was not successful.
Leon had been airborne when the elder finally lost his footing. The performer delivered a final axe kick which landed between the toppled teacher’s legs, then he landed into a squat.
He rose and stood over Colex triumphantly as if he had won some grand battle.
Colex admitted himself a smile. “You caught me by surprise, boy. But well done.” He raised a hand which Leon grabbed to help him to his feet. “I’ll make a Sunblessed of you yet. From now on, you train with me.”
In the throws of energy and triumph, Leon looked back to Atzi with excitement as if to say ‘please tell me you were watching that’. She smiled back with a nice enough smile, glad that he was alright at least. In the highs of the moment, it had not sunk in for the performer that he had just proven Elder Colex’s point right.
To Manifest A Brighter Future
The late afternoon sun bore down on Callanast leaving many running for shelter from its rays, even the Sunblessed. Leon and Atzi had made their way into the jungle nearby where the latter knew about a small secret pond. It was so far in that the great spire could barely be spotted above the canopy line and was heavily obscured in foliage. But even then, when they were in a place where no one else could see, that tower watched like an omnipresent deity casting judgment.
Their clothes sat patiently on a boulder nearby as the two shed all earthly possessions and dipped naked into the water. They both laughed at their mad dash toward the pond and the relief of its cool respite from the heat. She reached back to undo her braids and dip her head under the water; Leon followed her lead. Both were quick to get the hair out of their faces and Leon realised it may have been the first time he had seen his guide with her hair down.
For the first few minutes of their skinny dipping, they simply swam. They swam and enjoyed the water in abundance, frolicking in step with the surrounding wildlife. Only occasionally would they glance toward each other and they would share a laugh. But when the novelty of the water passed and the excitement for it waned, both Sunblessed settled by the pond’s edge and simply relaxed in its calm embrace.
This peaceful bliss gave way to Leon’s more ponderous thoughts. He recalled the magic he channelled in that fight a few days ago. It had reminded him of something and its elusive nature had only teased him with consecutive uses. “Atzi… what exactly is that magic the commune has been teaching me?” he inquired with a somewhat bothered tone. “It isn’t entirely new to me, back in Constantia a teacher from Nashibansek showed it to me once. It was called Dark magic.” The way he described it made it sound ominous.
Atzi looked him in the eyes for a moment before laughing at him. “Ooo, dark magic. Sounds scary.” She teased playfully.
When it didn’t look like Leon was satisfied with her answer, she continued with a light-hearted explanation. “Well, you’ve had a try of it now, does it seem so dark and evil to you?” she joked. “Sure, you pull things from nothingness. But it is about taking nothingness and bringing colour and life into the world. There is nothing evil to it.”
To prove her point, she raised her right hand out of the water and channelled dark magic. From nothing, a small, cute blue-feathered bird appeared perched in her palm. “It is more like… manifestation.” She shot him a smile. The bird perked up, spread its wings, and began to flutter around in the air before them.
“That's amazing!” Leon split his admiration between the beauty of the bird and the mage who had summoned it. He extended his hand to do the same and, despite learning it recently, summoned a bright yellow bird like hers. But it must have been twice as big.
His bird took flight and met hers. They flittered in the wind, each assessing their new partner of the skies and began flying upward together. The two birds spun and spun around with each other as they ascended like two ballroom dancers. It had gained a whimsical laugh from both Leon and Atzi as they shared a look. Although, Leon didn’t pick up on the tones of sadness in Atzi’s laugh as she watched the intertwined birds. Each time they spun, the bigger, yellow bird would eclipse her own creation entirely and hide it from her sight.
Atzi looked down and watched her feet swish around in the pond’s clear water. “You know Leon, I come from a desert town pretty far west of here.” Atzi said with a reminiscent tone, she held a smile that wasn’t fully convincing. Leon wrenched his attention away from the birds and listened to her. “Back there, we wouldn’t be able to go to a place like this to cool off when it got hot. We would just bake and bake and hope we have enough water to keep our senses.” She hugged her arms remembering the experience.
“It sounds stupid. But I have a dream that one day, on a really hot day, I would return to my home town and summon the rain itself. That way no one would have to struggle for water.” Atzi spoke like she was at once swept in the vision of her dream and brought down by insecurity.
“So, why don’t you?”
Atzi paused and looked down again at her feet in the water. “... what the Elder said about me is true. When I first found out about manifestation, I had that dream clear in my mind. But the more I learn, the more I know I won’t be able to do it.”
Leon looked up to catch a glimpse of the birds but they were gone, it was just himself and Atzi in the jungle clearing now, and there was no distraction from the topic. What was he supposed to tell her? That she could summon the rain itself? He doubted if even he could do something like that. He saw her eyes and they were the kind that would see right through him if he even so much as pondered a lie. There wasn’t much use in sugarcoating it, but he did anyway.
“You could, anyone could,” Leon relented. “Maybe not tomorrow, but if you gave it ten or twenty years, you could do anything you set your mind to.” He tried to give her a reassuring smile even though he wasn’t so sure himself.
“... that's a big ‘if’, Leon.” She sounded so defeated. It seemed she saw a cruel and harsh reality in the waters of that pond, a reality Leon never had to face before. She pondered in silence as the performer tried to find the words. He failed to say anything.
And then suddenly, as if the subject had never been brought up, her sadness faded away to that familiar warm smile. Leon wondered if she had come to acceptance so quickly or if she had thrown the matter to the back of her mind. She looked back to him. “Say I couldn’t, Leon, if I’m not able to make it. Would you be able to do it for me?”
”Of course I could,” he answered simply.
He wondered why he had said it without a second thought. Was it because he thought himself easily capable? Was it because he would really go out of his way to grant the wishes of a kind woman he met a few weeks ago? Or was it because he knew those words were the quickest way to make her happy and gain her admiration? He couldn’t say and he didn’t feel the need to find the words of an explanation.
Under the watchful eye of a tower that pierced the heavens, in a peaceful jungle clearing where animals retreated to the cool of the water, with the croaking of frogs and the calls of two dancing birds, she kissed him.
As A Gentle Rain Falls
The last rays of the sun fell below the horizon of a cloudless sky. Down below, the faint specks of civilisation could be seen dotting the beautiful land beyond. So high above, Leon was distant from prying eyes, passing judgements, and humanity itself. Only the vast span of Xolectoxo could be seen as far as the eye could see. One side stretched out to the arid desert where life struggled and thrived against a land that refused to accommodate it. On the other side, a vast expanse of jungle so abundant the life and water that the desert held in envy. Being at the meeting of these masses felt like a place of divine convergence. Leon couldn’t describe the feeling in exact words, but words weren’t necessary so high from the ears of others. He simply believed and felt it so.
The tower Leon sat atop was an eclipsing figure of stone, both marvellous and mundane, with sparse wood and precious metals to decorate the surfaces. Xolec cities were wonders of tightly packed metropolises bathed in gold and glory. But this, this was something more, it was a shining monument to Xolec architecture, one among several towers built up to pierce the sky and gaze upon the heavens above. Up so high, one could think that they were closer to the sun than the earthly worries below. The Sunblessed covet such peace and it was no wonder they used such towers to gather for meditation and worship.
Nobles, governments, religious orders, or whoever was responsible for building them, not one of them was willing to accept that they had the smallest tower. And so they built ever higher, ‘in order to serve the gods better’. That thought made Leon laugh, he had seen that sort of behaviour in other contexts and he had better words for it than ‘serving the gods’. It didn’t help that towers were phallic shaped.
From atop the tower, he could see the world in the way the Xochi Sunblessed intended. Eyes and senses are abstracted from the emotional ties and events that cloud perception. There weren’t his friends, there weren’t his enemies, just people below acting as their choices dictate. Like a child, Leon could only grasp the surface of a far larger concept. If he spent years and years in this place, maybe he could fully grasp it. But he couldn’t afford to waste years, months, or even days longer. The world was motion and his inaction was permitance of its wrongs.
When the final flicker of sunlight left his skin, Leon fell back onto the stone floor and contemplated the endless sky above which gave way to night and a sea of stars. After months of attempts, the performer had finally completed the challenge of the tower. He had come to the end of his journey in this land that had once been strange to him.
Every week or so for the last few months, Leon sat here at the top of the world and meditated. Any Sunblessed to take upon this trial was to mediate from the first rays of the sun until its last. Food, water, and any earthly possessions were not allowed. They believe that when one is stripped of everything and is presented to the grandeur of the world with absolutely nothing, their mind is opened to anything and everything; that is how the performer remembers it at least. At first, Leon didn’t think much of the idea, but he had come to understand it after a few days. He still couldn’t put the feeling into exact words, but again, those weren’t necessary when he felt it so strongly.
Most don’t make it for the entire day of meditation, even half of it, and they weren’t expected to. With water being the key limiting factor, many must concede to the tower or be dragged off when the dehydration brought them to the brink of passing out. Leon had been dragged off more than a few times by Atzii. She would scold him for his stubbornness, and yet, with the knowledge that someone was there to help him, he just kept doing it. It was a display of exceptional devotion and will to complete the full day of meditation. He knew he had to complete it.
But today, the day he finally succeeded, Atzi was not there to save him. The earlier meditators had long left the tower’s peak and he was left alone at the top, so accustomed to the girl’s help that it didn’t cross his mind to ask for another’s. As the day dragged on, the sun grew hotter, and his body grew more dehydrated with every second, it seemed that he could slip into unconsciousness at any moment. That was until a miracle happened.
At the passing between Dawnspire and Duskspire where the sun reached its zenith. From seemingly nowhere, from what was previously a cloudless sky, a rain cloud appeared. Water began to fall, gently at first but gave way to a downpour, showering Leon in the gift of life that it was. In his delirium, it was only when the water graced his skin that he realised his body had been starved of it.
One might think that if water is not allowed up the tower, then consuming the rainwater is also prohibited. That isn’t the case. The tower is a place of worship for the three great serpents, air, land, and sea, where someone could perceive and partake of their gifts. The towers rarely saw the gifts of the third built so far from any ocean, it was only through the pouring of rain that such a god could grace the worshipping Sunblessed. In short, it came from the natural world and therefore one could drink without worry.
And drink Leon did. The sudden appearance of such a cloud was a blessing from something greater, he had been chosen to succeed so therefore he must. He drank the rainwater greedily and without shame. The blissful posture of meditation had broken and he lapped up every drop of hydration he could, both body and manas working to collect it all. There was no one to watch him and he was very much aware now that his life could depend on it. It was undoubtedly the flash of rain that brought him his success atop the tower.
Triumphant but exhausted in the evening air, Leon took his time before getting up. By the time he stood to descend the steps, twilight had long given way to darkness and only the light he emitted could guide the way down the structure so empty of people during the grace of night.
Descending floor after floor, Leon passed spaces notably absent of decoration. As he had come to learn, this was the sign of a tower yet to be completed. Each one of these blank rooms was an empty canvas waiting for the next Sunblessed of note to come and tell their story. Each iteration of distinguished mage presents their tale on top of the last to acknowledge the contributions of those who came before in that achievement. Leon considered if he too would one day paint his story in a tower like this, but swept away the thought and continued his descent.
The performer stopped at the first floor which wasn’t blank and stepped into the middle of the room. He still hadn’t gotten used to this floor, this work of art, because unlike the others, it wasn’t here when he arrived. It had only been completed a couple of weeks ago. The floor told the story of Atzi Tonatiuhcueponi.
As she had told him, Atzi was from a small town in the arid outskirts of the country. Coming from poverty, it was only her magic manifesting with Sunblessed that graced her with a road out. She was kind and was one of the first to teach him the culture of this place, what was right, wrong, and what shouldn’t even be considered. Despite being distinctly less capable than him in magic, he considered her a mentor and a good friend. They even shared a bed on more than one occasion. She admired him, and he loved her too.
And yet, for all the care he had, he was lost trying to understand the room where she chose to display her life. The paintings, carvings, and various displays of soul weaved a tapestry he could only grasp at the surface level. He could see the strong, oppressive oranges staining one side with streaks of black reaching out to grasp anything that tried to leave, he knew that to be her home. He could see the vibrant expanse of light blues and gold, that displayed her journey and her future. But then there were trickles of colour elsewhere, symbols present that Leon had no hope of understanding.
For all the care he had, there was so much more to this woman than he had ever known. Now, there was little way for him to find out.
Sacrifice is an honoured tradition among the people of Xolectoxo. They say the purpose of sacrifice is seen as much more than the spilling of blood to appease the gods. Instead, the candidate selected gives themselves entirely to the divine powers, reducing their physical embodiment into nothingness so that they may become one with everything.
That was the idea as Leon understood it anyway. It followed many of the same Xochi philosophies but the performer had no respect for it. He only turned a blind eye for two reasons: First was that it still held a high regard for life, even if it felt misguided. Second, Leon had neither the power nor influence to affect change in a land that was more or less content with the practice. Leon was content with keeping his head down and pretending it didn’t exist, until Atzi was selected.
She had told him weeks ago on the very same floor he was on now when she was just starting the mural that told her life. She had felt honoured to be chosen, as a Sunblessed, she was considered to hold divine blood and would be among some of the most prestigious tributes.
Leon didn’t care. Just between them, he let his feelings known. She didn’t need to die, her death would be pointless in comparison to what she could achieve with life. He was willing to fight the tower, he was willing to help take her to the border and ensure her escape, let her live and face those consequences himself.
But then Atzi smiled at him. Not a hint of sadness, longing, or regret in her eyes; she told him simply but firmly that this was what she wanted. Then she returned to her paints. It was then that Leon realised that his words held no weight to her, a pale breeze to a monolith of belief. She was happy, and who was he to deny what the heart desires? Even if it meant he would not see her again.
He carried about his studies, each time he passed by the floor with a growing dread as he saw the artwork closer to completion. When the time came for her to be called, Atzi asked Leon if he would come watch the ceremony. He agreed to come watch, but he didn’t go. It wasn’t something he could bring himself to see. He could only hope she mistook another face in the crowd for him.
Now, illuminated only by the light he produced, Leon looked over her final art piece. The symbols, flourishes, and scattered details peered back at him like the letters of a language he only knew how to speak and not write. He couldn’t express his understanding in words, but he hoped they weren’t necessary. He hoped he could understand. How come it had only struck him how little he knew once it stared him in the face like this?
A life given to the gods is deeply tied to the magic of manifestation, so the Xolec tell it. When someone's blood is spilt in this way, particularly a Sunblessed, their soul returns to the infinite expanse of possibilities and gives thanks for the wonders the void provides. Maybe something in him hoped that was true. That, even if she was gone, a part of herself would work through the void and contribute to the future he would make manifest.
He left the floor to continue his descent, lacking tears but holding an empty feeling in his chest. He recalled the rain cloud, it was likely the result of his delirium and fatigue upon the tower peak, but he could swear that it had apparated from out of nowhere. It had been clear skies one second, then a downpour after merely a blink. It was likely just dehydration, but Leon chose to believe something different, it made him feel better.
Leon didn’t understand it, but his heart called out against a lacking life that the mind had all but accepted as the norm. He left the commune that night in search of something more.
“Ersand’Enise then. I’m loath to say it beats the academies we keep in Oiyac, I went there for my first few years.” He looked toward his younger sister, youthful and just about to enter the world of magical study properly. He held no envy for the tough decision in front of her. “Ersand’Enise is a place like no other in this world. It is great for your academic development but you must not make the mistake of thinking it is normal. Graduates see the world differently from there and forget the struggles we must keep as nobility.”
Malon’Juuras’Osmax poured himself a glass of wine while he enjoyed the gentle outdoor breeze. He sat laid back with one leg crossed over a knee as he took a sip. However, the full plate armour he had donned was less than comfortable in the heat, he refrained from pulling at his collar to maintain appearances. He and his sister sat at a nice, small table of two as they looked upon a devastated town. The screams and fear of the peasantry cried out as they were rounded into the town square by soldiers. Malon took another sip, the people he looked at now were lower than peasants.
Solet’Osmax sat across from Malon reading her book on the basics of magnetic magics from a famed Oiyan author. No, she wasn’t simply reading the book, Solet was retreating to it. She was a naturally meek girl and the horrors taking place around her were only encouragement to avoid the gaze of passing captives. The girl was only thirteen and had barely left their family’s estate, let alone seeing anything like this. It was only her brother’s sudden speech that caused her to put the book down.
She did her best to look ladylike despite the circumstances. The youngest of a noble line left much to prove, especially when other families in the same position had been put to the block in recent history. Her stomach turned on itself but she sat with the expected poise and dignity. She took the small glass of wine poured for her and took a sip. It felt like the first glass she had ever had and it wasn’t far off.
“You see, I came back to Oiyac because I started asking foolish questions about the world. Questions that you will be brought to ponder while in sterile academia, but are all too easily answered when you reach the real world.” He savoured the flavour of another sip before resting the glass on the table and facing his Solet directly. “You could be a great mage, dear sister, dare I say you could be greater than I. I don’t wish to make you feel restricted in your choice of education. You may choose wherever you want and you will get in.” He smiled warmly at his sister in assurance.
Solet considered his words for a moment. “I wish to go to Ersand’Enise still. As you said, it is the best place of study in the world, no?” She replied with a small, polite smile. Solet knew of her brother’s pride in Oiyan academies.
Malon looked impressed at her sister. “Despite my pushing, you remain steadfast. This is good, Solet, a leader must be decisive among all other things.” As he turned back toward the town ahead, his smile faded. “But your education does not start at school, I wish to teach you about the reality of our nation.”
A group of two soldiers were forcefully escorting a middle-aged Yasoi woman to the centre who was in a particularly bad state. She was carried limply but occasionally broke into brief, violent, and erratic outbursts that required the soldier’s full strength to subdue. When she returned to her placid state, her head sunk low. Malon clicked his fingers at the two men with a furrowed brow. “You two, bring that one to me.” He took another sip as they approached, he showed no signs of caution.
The woman sprung into another outburst, flailing against the soldier’s grasp right in front of Malon. He raised a hand, and the woman froze. He tilted his hand down, and the woman hit the ground like a sack of potatoes; her knees almost buckled the wrong way. Malon reached out a hand, grabbed the woman by the chin, and brought her closer so that he and his sister could get a closer look.
The woman’s eyes were vacant and lacked focus on any one particular object. Her mouth chewed the air absent-mindedly, there were scars of bite marks on her lip too. She was more beast than woman like this and Malon’s face twisted in muted disgust. He forced her face side to side and inspected every angle of her face. “This is aberration madness, dear sister. And it seems this little piggy has had her fill enough.”
Solet had only ever heard of aberration addicts through passing word. To be confronted with it directly made her want to be sick. As a noblelady, she was expected to be in perfect control of both appearance and etiquette. To see a woman who didn’t even have agency of her own faculties was immensely saddening. “Please Malon, I’ve seen enough.”
Malon threw the woman back before gesturing to the soldiers. “Take this one back and put her with the rest of them.” He dismissed them before using a mixture of binding and chemical magic to clean his gloves from the contact.
He picked up the wine and faced his sister again. “The peasants of this town conducted an uprising sometime in the last month or two. We are unsure of the exact time, frankly, the only reason we found out was because they were late on their taxes.” He swirled the drink and chuckled with amusement. “They removed all of our local forces in complete silence without a word getting out. Quite the rebellion, wouldn’t you say?”
“However!” He raised a finger to his sister as if to correct the girl who had yet to speak. “When I gathered a real force and marched in, there was no resistance. There were barricades, sure, but only a couple of people to man them. We marched in with ease to find a town wrecked and destroyed and a collection of yasoi, our countrymen, squabbling around in shit. Their mighty rebellion had crumbled before we had even arrived.” He gestured to pose a question. “What do you think caused that?”
Solet didn't have to ponder the answer very long. She had come face to face with it only moments earlier.
Seeing that all the remaining villagers had been gathered and forced into attention, Malon put both hands on his knees and rose. He picked up his ornate sword in one hand but kept it sheathed. “Please, don’t avert your gaze, dear sister, this will be an important lesson.”
Malon strode forth in a manner that fit his noble standing. His posture had an air of grim ceremony as he approached. He looked around to a place that was once a nice little town for farming fruit trees. The windows of some houses were smashed and broken, others had their doors busted down, and fruit and food supplies were tipped over and mixed with the mud. Is this the future their rebellion was fighting for? The display of incompetence disgusted him.
All eyes were on him as he arrived at the centre of the square. Soldiers regarded him with respect, the peasants regarded him with fear. “I have come to liberate you from the insurgent forces that have ruined this land!” He announced. “While the punishment is usually severe for rebellion, it is by the grace of your Baron and the Exarch himself that mercies will be bestowed.” He raised his hands invitingly. “Those who have shown signs of aberration madness will be kindly escorted toward rehabilitation and those innocent in the affair can go back to their lives. You may begin rebuilding your home with our assistance and security.”
“But you are not all innocent.” Malon looked down toward the sword, drew it, and tossed the sheathe in the mud. “I have a duty to see justice done. Will the leader of this rebellion please rise?” He waited and waited some more. Nothing happened. The peasants stayed huddled, forced on their knees, and staring blankly at him like they had no clue. They were dishonest rats who looked at him like children accused of stealing sweets. Discipline was needed.
He drew.
The effects of Malon’s draw were seen immediately. Children and adults of small stature began to keel over in sudden fatigue. “It would be unwise for loyal citizens of the Exarch to shelter rebellious factors. I would advise against such actions.” He continued to draw, some victims of it succumbed to slumber and the strong ones began to crumble.
But one peasant alone sat tall and Malon fixed his sight on him. It was a younger man only a few years older than himself, he sat up proud but cast his eyes downward and became blind to how sorely he stood out. With common raggedy clothes and coarse hands, this was a man of ignoble birth. No doubt the man’s prowess came from aberrations which gave him more RAS to resist the draw. The only thing that made him exceptional, perhaps, was a lucky streak at avoiding aberration madness as he engorged himself without care.
Malon knew one thing to be true above all others, power bestowed leadership, not the other way around. He knew that this stronger man was that leader because, even in a rebellious group with aspirations of equality, this fact remained true. He looked the ruffian straight in the eyes and repeated: “Will the leader of this rebellion please rise?”
A moment passed.
The man before Malon rose reluctantly with his eyes still cast to the ground. He trembled in fearful anticipation of what was to come. Malon gestured to a soldier on either side who closed in to grab each arm. The ruffian seemed to consider putting up resistance but gave up on the idea. He knew the harm he would cause the people around him if he fought at this juncture.
The man was walked to the centre of the town square and was now face-to-face with his executioner. Malon inspected his flawless ornate blade before looking up and pointing it forward. “Kneel.” The man did not. Malon clenched the fist of his free hand and the man shook before dropping to his knees in a sickening crunch. A few bones were broken from the noble’s use of kinetic and the man cried in pain.
Malon walked around to the side of the man and readied his sword. “Do you have any final words?”
He spoke in laboured breaths. “The people will be free. It may not be here, it may not be today, but we will see freedom.”
Malon paused.
Then laughed.
The noble kicked the bowed man in the stomach with a kinetically enhanced strike causing him to vomit and crumple.
“Did you hear that!? The people will be free…” Malon called out as if demanding answers from the crowd. He got only gasps, tears, and nervous fear. “You had the chance. You took your lives into your own hands. And what did you make of yourselves?”
“Around me I see addicts riling around in their filth!” He spoke mockingly. “You took your freedom only to enshackle yourselves to a far crueller and unforgiving master… But your suffering shall be at an end now.”
A flourish of his hand brought the rebellion leader back to his knees. Malon took a good final look at him. It was no wonder why people were drawn to aberrations. Power was the unquestioned ruling force in the world and a commoner without it will seek a means to go above their station. One taste of it and it would be no wonder that someone could get addicted.
But there was an end to it, despite this man’s desperate consumption of aberrations, despite his luck, there was no more he could do. A person was only born to inherit so much power and this man had capped out far below significance. He was not worthy to lead.
Malon raised his sword, then brought it down. The man’s head fell to the ground and mixed with the mud.
Solet looked upon the scene which burned into her mind. Her brother stood in the centre with a bloody sword and some splatter which speckled his golden plate armour. The people of the village lat, sat, slumped down around him and cowering in fear. She sat above it all from atop a hill, she had a glass of wine in her hand that she could no longer stomach.
Is this the price of wine? Is this the price of her luxury? She knew enough about Oiyan law to know her brother was being merciful, so why didn’t it feel like a mercy? Ersand’Enise couldn’t come early enough.
A Foreword: This chapter contains a particularly bleak subject matter and brings a dark aspect of this world, slavery, into the forefront. There is a summary at the bottom of the post if you wish to skip this and get a quick rundown of the events without detail. Please note that reading the summary will spoil the events, so read at your own caution if you do wish to read the full post later.
'The bird who flew so high and carefree took his freedoms for granted and never worried for what was below him. He had been turned into a worm, the lowest of earthly beings, to pay penance for disrespecting the ground others tread.'
Excerpt from Virangish folktale 'The Bird Who Fell'
Anthal Jr.
Enoxii
Revan
Sanette
Anthal Sr.
With every volley their position grew worse; the battle became less and less likely to be something they would turn the tables on. What made things worse was the introduction of a new mage. They had struggled enough with the one in the golden robe, but this girl was shooting out their cannons. From their startling entrance, their position had steadily and unchangingly dropped. The odds of victory were no longer the sole factor of practical advantage, mage number, cannons, or munitions. A vicious fall in morale struck the members of the Blue Adam as the reality of this battle began to dawn on them.
Anthal spared a glance to Enoxii, she looked exhausted and close to breaking. She was a kinetic mage of equal renown but it did not escape him that she had taken a good portion of focused fire. The Virangish picked one of the mages to wear down in the hopes of taking them out, she became the target. She spared a glance at him and their eyes met. Between her ragged breaths, she smiled at him and tried to look pretty despite the circumstances. "Don’t tell me you’re getting tired so soon?" Her delivery poked fun at him but the underlying sweetness couldn’t be mistaken.
Anthal smiled back. Gods, even in a hell like this she's beautiful.
There was no need to continue this. A nowhere group of islands in a battle that was no longer theirs. His father had a worthy cause, but they didn’t need to die here for it. Even he would agree that fighting another day was worth more than a failure suffered in the moment. He rose and turned to the rest of the crew. ”Retreat! Turn sails and disengage.” The orders were carried out quickly and without question, most of the crew looked as though they were expecting such a call.
Once the ship had swung around and was putting a safe distance between themselves and the Virangish, the kinetic mage pair could finally relax. Enoxii had practically collapsed when the exhaustion caught up to her and the new safety allowed her rest. A few of the others rushed to make sure she was alright.
Revan approached Anthal to check on his condition but Anthal raised a hand to dismiss him. ”I’m perfectly fine, Revan.” He smiled at the usually stoic assassin he called friend. ”I just need some time to catch my breath. Watch our flank and try to make sure our disengagement is successful.”
As ordered, Revan made his way to the stern while Anthal stood alone at his own little end of the ship. Coming out of the stress the battle had placed on him, it was nice to get a moment of quiet.
He saw the others crowding around a tired Enoxii. She made a token effort to stop others from doting on her, she would make a few attempts, and then give in. Where he liked the quiet to gather his thoughts, he knew that she liked the company of others in a time like this.
He saw his sister, Sanette, calmly sipping a drink that was set aside for her. Her expression remained focused and stern. As a tethered, her job hadn’t ended yet. She would be critical for a successful retreat and her mind would be elsewhere for most of it. It was best not to disturb her.
He saw the empty gunpowder barrel - the cazenax was no longer atop it.
Suddenly, a weight latched itself to Anthal’s neck. Small legs wrapped around his chest from under his shoulders. Hands with claw-like nails gripped each side of his head, raking and pulling at the skin. The face was just beyond the reach of the young yasoi’s periphery but he knew who it was and he knew he was smiling.
"Getting a little ahead of yourself, don’cha think Anthal?" Zast spoke into his right ear, malicious glee lined his words. "The deal was that I help you and get a share of the loot. I’ve helped, but how am I supposed to see that loot if you all turn tail and run?"
Anthal struggled against the cazenax’s hold in frustration. "Get off me you cretin. I’m retreating to keep us alive, but you’ll be lucky to keep yours after thi-" He let out a muted cry of pain. The tingling of acid began to dig into one side of his face, nothing causing significant damage but it was a clear warning.
"Don’t get hasty Anthal, you may have let me live but I’m not the same kind of fool."
Anthal tried to calm himself. He believed Zast. To struggle would mean his death. "You really think you’re going to get away with this?"
Zast chuckled. "I like my odds." With force, he turned Anthal’s head toward his sister. The yasoi man gasped in fear and hopelessness before a tug backwards threw off his balance. Both he and Zast toppled down into the water below.
There was panic on the Blue Adam as it dawned on the crew that Anthal had been taken. Enoxii cried out to the rest of them as she spotted him in the water far from the fleeing ship. They could all see the cazenax who had taken him hostage and forced Anthal to swim away from his family instead of toward them. The pair of them were now closer to the Virangish forces than their own. They had few options and even fewer that were reliable.
Revan, whose seemingly persistent grin had faded, rushed to the side of the deck. He was the best shot in all of Mycormi but it was still a gamble at this distance if he could get a headshot on the green rodent. Not one to accept a loss like this and confident in his abilities, the assassin raised a pistol, aimed, and shot.
The bullet fired true and directly toward Zast’s head. However, the cazenax ducked his head behind Anthal’s shoulder and the bullet plunged into that instead. At this range, the bullet didn’t have the velocity to pierce through and kill the real target. Zast popped his head back and winked. There was no chance the goblin could have calculated that. He got lucky.
The pair were now too distant for another reliable shot. Any more of the assassin’s efforts would be in vain and further harm Anthal. In frustration, he threw the now empty flintlock to the ground.
Anthal Sr. landed on the deck of the ship not too long after. He was quickly informed of the heinous betrayal and rushed to see for himself. His stomach sank. The cazenax, who he believed would fight for the freedom of the seas, had stabbed them in the back and in his own zealousness to fight for that ideal, his son had been taken from under his nose.
But then an odd calm took the captain as he remembered Sanette, his tethered daughter. The distance between the ship and his son was too dangerous for any of them to chase, but it would be like a drop in the bucket to her. Anthal Sr. smirked as he relished in the victory that could be snatched back from the claws of that traitorous sea rat. With him dead, Anthal Jr. could simply swim back to the ship.
"Sanette, stop that traitor’s heart."
Nothing happened.
The captain’s smile dropped.
"Sanette?"
He turned back to see his daughter violently convulsing on the deck with blood seeping from her nose. Jaxan was sitting over her trying his best to stabilize the girl’s condition, he was making progress but it was all too slow. The medic boy looked up to the captain with dread. Even if they managed to save her, there would be no tethered intervention to save Anthal anytime soon.
The captain turned back hopelessly. There was nothing he could do now. With the supremacy of Virang in this battle, he needed to spend the rest of his energy to ensure a successful disengagement. He could try a rescue effort to take his son back and he would probably succeed, but what would become of the ship and the others? In saving his son, he might very well doom the rest of them. All he could do now was pray to whatever gods would listen that his son would be safe.
The waters bobbed up and down, up and down, splashing both Anthal and Zast’s faces with salt water. It got in the eyes. Anthal tasted it all too bitterly as he made his best efforts to keep his head above the waves and able to breathe. He made a passable display of swimming away from the Blue Adam such that he could hold onto his life.
"You knew who I was, Anthal, what I was. You had the chance to make the right decision and take me out but you let your daddy talk you out of it." Cawuio-Zast began lecturing. Anthal tried to make an effort to spit venom back at the cazenax, but his struggle to stay above water robbed him of the ability to form words. All he could do was swim and listen to the vile creature. "You had the choice to do it but you let others dictate your actions. It’s your own fault really. You surrendered your fate to others and let it go from your hands. You gave up your choice so you can’t complain when misfortune falls upon you. These are only the consequences of your inaction."
Anthal tuned out midway through the imp’s blathering. His mind drifted to those on the Blue Adam, the people he loved like family, friends, and even a partner. To struggle was to lose his life and lose them. He wanted to see them again. He really, really wanted to see them again. So for now, he had to swim away. He had no choice.
The crew of the Altın Oğul didn’t know what to make of it. At first, they thought it might have been some kind of underhanded pirate tactic to try and win the battle in a hail mary. But all signs pointed to the contrary. Captain Celik was called to look it over and make the call. At first, he reached for his spyglass before realising it wasn’t needed, the yasoi and cazenax pirates were almost at the ship. The Blue Adam was already well out of range and the pair didn’t look to be approaching with intent to attack. Celik doubted if the Yasoi even knew he was this close to the enemy. The boy was only looking to the distant horizon in between struggles to stay afloat. Celik decided to hold the attack and let the pair come aboard, they wouldn’t be able to achieve an attack with Ren Baykara around anyhow.
Anthal climbed the pilot ladder that was dropped by the Virangish. Every move he took was reluctant and forced but the occasional threat from the person on his neck drove him upward. The once proud yasoi pirate captain-to-be stood harmlessly on the deck of the ship, his eyes cast down from shame and shattered pride.
Just behind that, the face of Cawuio-Zast popped out from the right of his head, escaping Anthal’s direct view. Zast looked straight at Ren with a grin the likes of which few had ever seen. His eyes were wide, manic, as he declared "PARLEY!"
It was hard to interpret the face of the Virangish man that Zast approached with Anthal in tow. There was a mix of the ecstasy of triumph, and an equal amount of disgust directed toward the pirate. He strode forward and kicked Anthal with the heel of his shoe, bringing him to his knees, and an awful laugh filled the night air. Perhaps he would have said more, but his attention was immediately redirected by the filthy green creature who was grinning madly, perhaps even ‘higher’ than he was. How he’d managed to overpower this pirate, and bring him aboard the ship was beyond his comprehension, but he knew that pirates had no honor or code as much as they spouted it. They were creatures of habit, predictable and treacherous. He leaned forward, looming over the diseased cazenax with a confused but curious glare.
”You’re either the dumbest rodent on that boat, or the smartest. I’m leaning toward the former.”
"The smartest student in all Ersand’Enise. I’m a regular bookworm, don’cha know." Zast took one hand off Anthal’s head and adjusted his waterlogged suit. "But I am a student and I have worked ever so diligently to provide you with a pirate. This one is the son of the captain, you catch my drift?" He gave Anthal a strong and unnecessary slap.
Anthal didn’t say anything as he glared at Zast and then the Virangish noble standing before him. His lip turned in disgust at the pair, it seemed he still had fight left in him. “If you have any smarts, you’ll let me go now. The Blue Adam is not a crew you want to cro-” He winced in pain as Zast’s hand once again threatened to melt the side of his face.
"Ah, ah, ah, not until business is done Anthal."
Ren’s malicious grin grew larger and larger as the pair of fools talked. Any difference in height, facial features or race was lost on him. They were both worms, crawling around on the deck of the ship, finding any way out of a lawful execution. One had a trump card of being a ‘bookworm’ of Ersand’Enise and that certainly complicated matters. He’d been aware that there was a knife in the dark, but this was too foolish and he risked too much to come back, especially with a prisoner in tow. The other, however, excited him. He loomed over the pair and spoke once more, his voice practically dripping with a cruel enthusiasm.
”It can talk, I see.” He walked around Anthal, examining him in the same way that a farmer examines a calf. He stopped in front of Zast, and simply smirked at him. ”Business, hm? You can leave your gift and crawl back to the others with your head on your shoulders, Mr. Bookworm.”
"Well, if you recognise me as a student of Ersand’Enise then it looks like we have a deal." A surge of dark magic centred on the small cazenax led some sailor's skin to crawl as he waved a hand over Anthal’s neck and revealed a collar now attached to it. He held high a severely water-damaged contract sent out by the Royal Asper Trading Company. "And you all owe me 100 magus!"
He squinted at the piece of paper, making out the words that were now barely legible on the page. It was legitimate and it caused him to chuckle heartily some more. He’d paid far less for far more, and he was one to honour contracts. Laws were written and enforced by the strong, so for him to disavow them, even in the face of one of the most disgusting creatures he’d ever bore witness to, would undermine his place in the world. He reached into his pockets and threw a pouch on the ground toward the cazenax, not willing to touch such a creature and smiled.
”Keep the change.” he spoke coldly, taking hold of the leash that’d been conjured. How the swamp creature had managed to find such high-quality material was beyond him, but it was more than suitable for his purpose and he didn’t really care. He’d gotten himself a fitting prize for his triumph.
Zast jumped off the Yasoi’s neck and ran greedily toward the pouch. He snatched and picked out a handful of coins, counting all six as they dropped into the bag. It was a token gesture of counting money as if paying respect to the act while not actually caring about the quantity. Ren could have short-changed him 50% for all he cared. It just made each Magus worth more.
The worth of a man was an interesting thing to Zast. Sometimes a life is valued as priceless by others and other times it is worth little more than a good pair of boots. Today, a yasoi man was valued at 100 magus meaning that for every thought, dream, hope, and accomplishment that Anthal would ever have, a magus was worth one percent of that.
It made a magus very valuable indeed. What joy it would be to spend it all by tomorrow night.
"Pleasure doing business with ya." When he turned and faced Anthal for the first time since the abduction, his manic glare was gone and he simply wore a smug grin. "Kind regards from my best friend, High Zeno Silvestri."
Anthal despised this creature before him. The position he was in, the despair he felt, the friends and family he was wrenched from, it was all his fault. But now that his acid hands were off his head, he had options, he had the opportunity. Anthal lunged toward the cazenax with the intent to kill him. “You fucking bastard! I’ll rip your head off!” The once noble and eloquently spoken pirate devolved into rage, fury, and desperation.
There was a swift yank of the leash by the Virangish man holding it, and the pressure caused Anthal to fall onto his back. The fine material had already played a part, for were it a lesser rope or binding, perhaps he would have had his brief chance of revenge. There was a scowl on Ren’s face as he looked down at the once proud pirate who’d kissed his love on the boat in the midst of battle, now crawling around the floor like a dog, like a worm.
”I don’t recall giving you permission.” he turned and stomped his foot onto the yasoi, pressing the heel of his boot against the man's chest. ”You thought this was fun and games, didn’t you?” he mocked, looking down on him with repugnance
Anthal put both hands on the boot trying to get it off him. He might have stood a chance on physical strength alone if he hadn’t spent the last ten minutes swimming away from all he held dear. There was resistance against the boot at first, then it lessened and lessened as fatigue and hopelessness set in. “You can’t… own the seas. No one has that right.”
There was a massive change in energy as everyone on board took notice of the yasoi drawing in. Some of the weaker and injured sailors fainted at their very soul being sapped away. Anthal drew recklessly and hurriedly as he prepared for one last chance to save his life. Unlike before with Zast, he guessed that he wouldn’t die immediately for the attempt now. It was time for a temporal gambit to teleport out of there. Anthal smirked back at Ren as he flourished his hands to channel the flow of time and flash back to the Blue Adam. And then…
Nothing.
Ren raised an eyebrow in confusion. ”That’s it? The ‘freedom of the seas’?” he uttered derisively.
Zast heel pivoted around at the enormous energy that Anthal drew. He was expecting a grand display of conflict but was left confused equally.
A light left Anthal’s eyes then. It was no use. This was reality.
It was on his walk across the deck that Ren had a thought. A curious experiment he wished to conduct to gain greater insight into an outside factor that had intervened during the battle. He looked back at Anthal, still on the leash, and dragged him across the deck toward Mahal, who’d just come back from under deck with the cephalopod still in her hands. A neutral expression graced his features as he walked forward, holding the handle of the leash forward.
”I’ve won a prize from my efforts in the battle, but I noticed you’re still empty handed.” he looked at her, his eyes dispassionate and calculating her expression as he continued to speak. ”Would you like the honours of breaking it in? You’ve earned that right, given your efforts.” he gestured to Anthal, offering the leash to her. The elf pirate did not look upon them, but his eyes were blank and soulless, the fight had fled from them moments prior.
Diyablos, uncomfortable with the closeness of Ren's presence, curled back. His tentacles stretched and crawled back up to her shoulder. Meanwhile, Mahal took the leash and studied Ren's new acquisition. The weight of it felt strange in her hand. She stepped forward as her head tilted to the side, noticing the vacant expression. The request made her uncomfortable, but not in the way most might assume. Slavery was a part of her life on the plantations and her father owned many. She supervised them in the fields every harvest until last year when she came to the school.
This was different. She doubted this was an act of kindness because he wouldn't waste it on her. Was it a test or something worse? Did she dare reject it? If she did and Ren's ire came back on her, she knew she'd never escape her father's wrath.
"There's no fight in his eyes. Are you sure he's not already broken?" Her head turned to Ren. She had already been subtly drawing energy as a precaution. If he was as fresh as Ren had said, then he might’ve been faking it.
Ren shook his head. It was a response that didn’t give as much as he’d hoped, but he was confident that she wasn’t a slave from that at least. There was no sign of severe trauma. The question is - why did she have that defence mechanism that so many on the plantations held, and not show signs of anything here? And, why did he particularly care? ”Not yet. This böcek has only just come to terms with what it means to lose.” Again, his eyes surveyed her, waiting for some kind of tell that told him what exactly she was.
"Then what is the point of breaking him when he's not responsive? It's like beating a corpse." A memory of the pit flickered in her mind's eye, but she kept herself steady. Just a moment of unnatural stillness crossed her frame before she exhaled. "Best option is locking him up and letting him adjust to the new normal. When he starts to fight then the lessons will stick better and it is a good way to show submission is best."
Mahal gave the leash back as she pulled away from the broken man. Her hand came up to pet Diyablos absentmindedly. She still hadn’t fully made eye contact with Ren save for when it was necessary. On the other hand, Ren pondered and he found nothing of note. There was a cold, calculating streak in there and perhaps he was reading far too much into this girl that he was inside his head. He simply smiled. ”That’s a decent intuition. Here, I’ll have to pay a visit to your family's plantation, see if the cattle is well kept as your words suggest.” There was a pause at the end as he contemplated and realized he didn’t know her name, nor her family’s. ”No locking this one up, though. It’s me he fears, not the crew of the Altin Ogul.” he scowled down at the man at his feet, but his face remained unchanged, clearly in a state of disassociation from the matter. And even if he didn’t want to admit it, he did want to boast his toy over the others. It was a natural instinct, to relish in the trophies of victory, even if he thought himself above such things.
"I’m sure father will be honored to host you." Mahal said, but she didn’t give her name. She hoped he would make assumptions and never cross the threshold of their estate. The less attention she got, the better it went for her. Her head turned to note the shore coming into view. "I need to go and find the missing student now."
She began to turn and walk away.
”I’d need you and your father’s name to arrange that visit.” he retorted as she began to walk away. Normally, he’d be annoyed to ask but given her words, this was a simple noble interaction. She’d done well in battle and his mercy extended to the courtesy of court etiquette.
Mahal paused in her tracks. A small moment of quiet passed before she made herself answer, "My father’s name is Ruslan Agha, and mine is… Ceren Agha."
The Blue Adam had fled out of firing range and soon out of sight. The possibility remained that, with whatever coordination these rogues had, they could rally again and try to catch the Virangish forces off guard another day. But Captain Celik was quick to assure the men of the man o’ war around the waters. The pirates would have a difficult enough time escaping with their lives, let alone readying for another attack.
When the cannons ceased and the smoke cleared a graveyard of man and ship was left. The unfortunate of the pirate ships were sinking beneath the waves, the one Mahal blew up was little more than a mast above the water at this point. The lesser Virangish ships didn’t fare much better. Without a noble like Ren aboard, they took the brunt of volley after volley. They were only staying afloat now due to the Altın Oğul’s binders that were sent over after the battle concluded.
As the Altın Oğul pulled into shore leaving its supporting ships to lick their wounds, the sailors were licking their lips in anticipation of the valuable artifacts inside the wreck. They hadn’t shed blood here to uphold some honourable pact to protect these islands from pirates. They weren’t about to leave empty-handed.
But their plans were cut short. The Tarlonese thiis’elaaz had finally taken its moment to strike when Virangish pride and greed had been highest. The Altın Oğul was too close to shore now for strong evasive maneuvers and the impressive display of Tarlonese cannons made conflict a very deadly prospect.
”Listen up, yanii dogs!” A sonic announcement carried over from the enemy ship to all Virang allies in earshot. ”You’ve run out of pirates to fight. That means we have an equal claim to that wreck, which is to say none. I’m willing to fight for it.”
A woman stood at the highest part of the Tarlon ship’s deck with one foot on the rail, her captain's coat was open and flowing in the gentle wind. She carried quite the grandiose posture which came across as cocky given that she couldn’t have been older than 35. Her demeanour poured salt in the wound of the Virangish’s compromised position. Her sailors were fresh and ready for a fight while less than three-quarters of the Virangish forces remained and most were fatigued. They only had the locals as a trump card in this conflict. But they too were regrouping and had pulled back to help their king, who bleed on the shattered remains of a boat some distance away. Tamatoa’s wakas were the only ones on immediate standby to help the Asper Company’s flagship.
It was a stalemate, plain and simple.
Celik was red with anger and fury. After his efforts and his grand success as a captain, these filthy knife ears just swooped in to take the spoils of his labours. To come home with nothing was an embarrassing defeat to end a lifelong career. "Lord Baykara, you can’t let them get away with this!"
Balik looked to the former first mate’s remains then glared at the back of the captain’s head with spite. The crew hadn’t even had the chance to take care of the dead before he wanted to once again throw them into conflict for his selfish aspirations and image. "We need to negotiate, the ship won’t last a volley from that thing." She wasn’t incorrect either. The only thing that kept an even fight was Virang’s surrounding allies, but the Altın Oğul would be wiped out quickly in any such event.
Mahal had no time to think. Her anger and fear chained her down in the main conflict, spared from the worst of it by keeping close to Ren. She knew he didn't need her help, but straying away risked complications. As planned by the students, the Talonese ship approached with its cannons ready and armed. The threat was clear even for her.
She reflected on the students' earlier plan. Would Ren accept it or simply let the slaughter continue? A part of her feared the latter, but she had to make this work. Still the idea of speaking to him made her skin crawl. Diyablos squeezed her hand again, reminding her of his presence.
She forced herself to step forward and speak. "It is clear that if another battle breaks out, both sides are gaining losses. Not just between themselves, but also putting the wreckage and what we can learn at risk."
Mahal continued to focus on the matter at hand. "Maybe it is better to have the wreckage be a site to study for Ersand'Enise students. Any findings can be shared equally as long as both parties agree to keep away from it."
Ren shook his head in clear disappointment at the situation. Vultures would always come out to play, and as strong as he was, he couldn’t stop a ship exploding for weaklings. There were trump cards to the situation that he could play, and Mahal had raised one in good faith. His initial thoughts were to provoke the Tarlonese, they’d not risk all out war with Virang by engaging a man of his status, surely? But, this… was surprisingly cleaner. It allowed more room to operate, and quite frankly, denied the cowardly knife ears spoils of worth from the wreck. He nodded at Mahal, and then turned to Celik and Balik.
”I won’t let them get away with it. The girl's suggestion is apt. I am, in fact, a student of Ersand’Enise, and if we engage in a battle, we’re just going to lose the Altin Ogul.” but there was a pause of frustration. A willingness to die for trinkets and baubles was not something he at all respected, but the game had to be played. ”If the vultures come for the carcass, let them have the bones. I’ll ensure we walk away with prizes to match the glory we won today.” then, he looked to Mahal.
Mahal had held her breath the whole time while she waited for Ren's reply. A small part of herself doubted he listened, why would he? She was a stupid, worthless girl... the voice stalled out when the man broke her train of thought. A flicker of surprise entered her eyes before she relaxed.
"One step at a time," A bit of courage started to flow in her voice, "The ships should likely remove themselves from the area of the wreckage."
There was a look of acknowledgement before he turned and stood on the railing of the boat, enhancing his voice with his own kinetic magic so that all could hear. ”I am Ren Baykara, Emissary of Virang and Student of Ersand’Enise. You will hear my proclamation.” there was a pause as he glared at the yasoi captain. He’d taken one dog today, but he wished he had the free reign to take another. He rolled his eyes as he was forced to resort to pure diplomacy. ”The wreck is under the authority of the school, as a neutral site. If you’re willing to die for nothing, then so be it. Know that disputing this claim means a declaration of war, haşarat.” he finished his declaration, before turning back to Mahal with a smug expression.
Captain Celik, for all his pride and high self-esteem, for all his desire to stake the ship on the promise of a career defining glory, simply bowed his head to Ren. If it was the noble’s will, he truthfully had no say in the matter. The only chance of victory was with the paradigm-to-be’s power. The second mate bowed her head in turn as well, she agreed with Ren.
The Tarlonese captain could be seen swearing to only the most eagle-eyed of the Virangish side. It hurt her pride to let an insult like haşarat slide. But a deal was a deal, she would get rewarded if she played the part. Plus the threat of destruction was certainly mutual; the local forces were mustering again and they would be at fighting strength before too long.
She called across the sea. ”I believe neither of us wishes to die for nothing. The rule of neutrality is to be respected, but the rule of might must too. A certain tax for the Tarlonese protection of your ‘study site’. Much like I’m sure the Royal Asper Company will expect.’”
Zast was bored by the whole thing. What did he care for things like plans and treaties? The Virangish sailors were also staring daggers into him while clearly being too cowardly to do anything about it. He walked to the side of the ship and hopped of the edge; proceeding to the wreck early.
There was an audible sigh from Ren Baykara, but not one that could be heard by the Tarlonese ship. He’d barely waited for an answer before he’d turned to Mahal once more, but her comments caused a look on his face that practically spoke to his lack of care toward her comments. A man like him didn’t need to pay heed to the words of a vulture, or a rat with wings. He focused on what mattered - the path ahead.
”It seems I've got more to do. As for you…” he paused, clicking his fingers to Mountain Goat who came lumbering to Ren’s side. ”What will you do?” he asked, more as a challenge than an affirmation of interest or curiosity. Truth be told, he didn’t care what she ended up doing, but wondered as to who this blank slate would do? Would she follow behind him, as the others did, or come up with another crafty scheme.
After Ren's little display, Mahal's eyes wandered. She glanced toward where the boats were gathering about their wounded king. She spotted Tamatoa before the snap of fingers caught her attention again. She noted the Ogauraq slave then answered. "Right now regrouping with the others. After that, there's still one unaccounted for and he's from our Zeno group. The school will want to know what happened if he doesn't turn up."
He looked surprised at that. Those words gave more away than she’d previously let on, and that was that she knew where they were, and what they were up to. Either way, that didn’t matter now. What did concern him was a premonition of a traitor. Zast, or whatever that creature's name was, couldn’t have been it, else he’d have not been so brazen in his approach. This.. unaccounted for student however, could be a problem down the line. ”I suggest you go and find him, then. We should have all heads accounted for.” he spoke to her, a degree of authority to his tone. He’d been fully intent to let her choose her own decisions so far, but this was something that needed immediate fixing.
Mahal cursed inwardly at herself. A contradiction and a dangerous one, but the words were out already. She couldn’t take them back. The authority in his voice drew a memory to the surface and she became eerily still. She nodded then pivoted on her heel, eager to be away from his unsettling presence.
He strode up the shoreline toward the beach, ignoring the Virangish outpost and eyes fixed on the wreck before him. His steps were slow and drawn out; presenting to a procession that eagerly awaited the coronation of a new paradigm. This was the first step out of many that would leave the conquest and dominion over lesser men and women in his wake.
Behind, the yasoi slave was dragged. He was a man the students knew. A man who once stood so tall and smiled at the world was now brought low and forced to bow. He was not allowed to walk nor would pride allow him to crawl like a lowly mutt so his mind dissociated from the world around him as his weakened body was dragged. His shins and knees were scraped and bled, fell victim to the rocky shore. As his new owner came to a stop outside the wreck, he was dragged further forward and brought to the forefront.
Ren Baykara, the man who stood before the wreck, was not only a man or a fellow student. What couldn’t be seen but was all too visible was the weight of imperial power and retribution that stood atop his shoulders. His posture was proud and his chin was held high. He was untouchable and stood inviting the traitorous students who stood below him to dare.
A large bloodstain on the sand soaked the beach not far from the wreck’s entrance. It was a little out of the way and hard to see, perhaps the Cawuio-Zast was the first to spot it. Consequently, he felt compelled to check it out while Ren was still getting his worms in a row for the wreck.
Zast picked up the severed foot that was detached from a body nowhere to be found. He recognised the shoe and gathered that there wasn’t much left of the boy to whom it belonged. He was no longer smiling.
A vision flooded into the Cazenax’s head where he was a kindly grandmother tucking in her rowdy and rambunctious grandson, who was also a rat. He was a handful now, but he would grow into a strong, young man if he got enough food and proper rest. But all that could be done for the evenings was to tuck him in snug and hope he dreams wonderful dreams.
Zast’s heart beat a little faster as he shed a single tear. Perhaps he cared for that boy like a grandson.
Looking back down he grabbed the severed foot and threw it carelessly into the water for thresher food. He then affixed the leftover shoe to his belt. He wondered if he could still get half price if he only had one shoe. No, he could probably get more if he sold it as a ‘speciality item’ to someone with one leg. Profits were profits.
He began walking back to join Ren and get his rightful loot from that wreck.
With much of the tensions dealt with, Mahal sought to distract herself. Fiske still hadn't been found and deep down she felt like no one cared. Instead of letting her stormy emotions overwhelm her, she began to seek out the green midget. The one that had come from the pirate ship. He'd know if Fiske had been there or not.
"You! Wait for me." Mahal hollered when she spotted the green thing, the form bent and strapped something to his belt. After she closed the distance, she then added. "When you were on the pirate ship? Did you spot any other student? One of our group is unaccounted for and I didn't see him on the Asper. Name is Fiske, pale and dark hair."
”You’re looking for Fiske?" Zast turned and looked back to the bloodstain that once was the boy. The Cazenax chuckled. ”Yeah, I’ve seen him here, there, and everywhere." He lay one hand on Fiske’s shoe and sneakily lay the other on his flintlock just in case. Would he really shoot a girl over selling rights of a dead boy’s shoe? Yes.
Mahal stopped a good distance from him. It was enough for conversation without shouting, but it gave her some reaction time. Her paranoia had served her well, keeping her alive all this time and she had no reason to distrust it now. Her eyes shifted, noting the subtle evidence, when he mentioned the remains of Fiske. A flicker of pity or softness entered them, but she said nothing. Once more they hardened into a dull, cold stare.
Her face betrayed nothing of her thoughts as she spoke. "I see... The threshers must've gotten him while we were all distracted, I suppose."
She knew logically the Cazenax couldn't have killed the boy. No one had the magic to be in two places at once. With a deep breath, she turned away. She needed to report back. Mahal didn’t look forward to being the bearer of such grim news, but life was cruel and unfair. Something she knew better than most.
- Zast betrays the Blue Adam crew after they surrender and abducts Anthal. - Zast sells Anthal to Ren for a relatively small amount of money. - Ren enslaves Anthal. - Ren approaches the ship with Anthal in tow.
She has been previously seen wearing dresses and attire typical of a Revidian merchant girl her age. Recently, she has taken to wearing loosely military-resembling coats passed around the Revidian nationalist group. Yes, she is larping.
She stands at 5'5"
T H E G I F T
5 2 2 3 3
Magnetic specializations: Ferromagnetism, Ionic
B A C K G R O U N D
Born to a humble merchant family that traded in lumber, Arianna's life has hardly been a tale worthy of romanticisation but not one of tragedy either. She began learning her father's trade at a young age and when she developed her magical abilities with slightly higher capability than expected, she was sent to Ersand'Enise.
She studied relatively normal classes that would benefit a merchant and she never succeeded enough to be sent on missions of consequence. One could overlook her very easily until the tensions between Perrence and Revidia came to a head. She joined a Revidian student group and while she wasn't very capable or of high standing, her clear love and fervour for Revidia brought her to being one of the group's heads.
During the revolution, the group had intended to sit back and watch the Sovereign Pact students fail at a foolish attempt on the tower. But a speech from Leon Solaire won over the group and convinced them that the 'true Revidian action' was to join this revolution. Locking away Princess Penelope was an unjust action and wasn't one that the performer was going to let Revidia be defined by; Arianna agreed and joined the fight with the majority of her fellow Revidians. She killed two mercenaries.
There is now a split among the Revidian group. Some that support Leon Solaire's actions during the revolution and see him as a trailblazer for the future of their country while other still firmly believe he caused the group to betray Revidia during the revolution. With Arianna's full support, Leon Solaire's side has won almost entirely.
M O T I V A T I O N
Arianna simply wishes to serve Revidia and bring more reputation to her family through success.
The island was alight with action as the student's plan was put into motion. Kaleo wouldn’t sit back and let children fight his battles, even if the student’s ‘neutral’ allegiances put them in a unique position to bring change. Warriors extinguished their fires, gathered their weapons, and steeled themselves for the challenges ahead. They were to sail out and fight the pirates to present themselves as Virang’s allies when the Tarlonese turned their cannons. There would be enough plausible deniability to avoid future conflicts.
Kaleo said his goodbyes to his family. To Tiare and Leilani, there was an assurance that he would be back. To Kanani, the message was the same but both knew the result didn’t entirely rest in his hands. To Tamatoa, the king gave him wishes of fortune and health. The prince would be sailing out too and it would be the first big battle the boy had seen.
With that, Kaleo picked up his large, ivory hook and wrapped the woven rope around his arm. He took great care to ensure the rope held firm but didn’t constrict. The weapon was now part of himself, little more than an extension of his hand.
He rose to speak to his warriors. In Moatu Suva, elevating oneself on podiums and stages to communicate status was looked down upon. Nobles, even kings, were to stand on an equal level with their people and earn the consideration they drew. Kaleo had no trouble with this, his unusual height put him a head above most.
"Warriors of Moatu Suva! Those who call themselves friend and brother to these islands! Hear me!" No head in the encampment was turned away. "We sail out to push these pirates from our land and bring peace once more to our home. Too long have we sat here and waited for our moment, we will not let it pass us by. We sail to support Virang, but you know what you fight for, you know who you fight for. Sail out with them in your hearts and spare not our might for those who would stop us." A responding cheer cried and the warriors picked up their pace.
Abdel sat by the fire sparing few glances at what was happening around him. The pink-haired girl had gone along with the other students leaving him to the hostile locals. Alone and vulnerable to the whims of these people who readied for war left the boy with one question: What was to become of him? Prince Tamatoa approached the same campfire and crouched in front of the Virang swabbie. He smiled with something of an amused expression, but Abdel knew there was some plasticity to it given their previous exchange.
"Looks like we’ll be sailing out to fight for Virang after all." Tamatoa gave no apology to the boy, but spoke like ‘all’s well that ends well’. "As far as I see it, that gives you a choice. You can either sail out with us and rejoin the fight or you can stay here until it's all over. Up to you." He gave a shrug, truthfully the answer didn’t matter much to the prince.
Abdel looked dumbfounded. Less than an hour ago that same prince was trying to force him back into the battle by spearpoint and now he was just given the choice like it was nothing? He didn’t believe the prince's nonchalance. What this a choice or was he being toyed with?
Tamatoa was watching the boy think and think and not voice any answer. "It is your choice whether to join this fight and rejoin your countrymen. I won’t force you to risk your life further, no one else here will either."
For a moment, Abdel let his thoughts wander as his gaze fell into the campfire. The heat flared as the wood cracked and fell away to the flames. Tamatoa wasn’t being entirely honest, but he couldn’t tell where that dishonesty lay. Maybe it was time to consider the question itself, if it was a trick then let the consequences be damned.
"No."
"No, I think I’ll stay if I can."
Tamatoa clapped both hands against his knees and stood. "Then you may stay."
"We’re putting out the campfires to avoid the risk of it catching on the grass. We’ll leave this one though, so keep an eye on it." The prince walked off without an answer or a second word.
Abdel sunk back into thought. There would likely be consequences if his captain or anyone else on the Altın Oğul heard about the answer he gave. He chose to stay on shore while his countrymen spilt blood on the seas. But he had seen what was happening out there, mages fought while people like him tried their best not to die. All he could ever be out there was a plaything for those who could bend the world to their will. He was sick of it, sick of feeling helpless to them. Maybe it was the same thing here, but at least his life would remain.
He looked up from the fire only to see the smile of a young native girl inches from his face. "Hi!" said Tiare.
A haka took place in front of the ships ready on the water. Voices cried in call for war as hands provided percussion against bodies willingly consigned to the risks of battle. It was a rallying cry to the warriors of Moatu Suva and their hearts beat at an equal pace. A mind unready for battle could give in to its stresses and falter; it almost always caused troubles for brothers-in-arms. The warriors would suffer no such mistake.
Queen Kanani and Princess Leilani sat a few steps from the shore on dry, sizeable rocks that provided ample view of the departing wakas. Kanani spared a glance back to the camp where she could see Tiare chasing around the Virangish boy Tamatoa brought in. Perhaps she should be worried, the sailor boy was almost twice the girl’s size after all. But Tiare had just begun to develop her magical abilities and had the most potential out of her three kids; the boy posed no real threat by comparison. Perhaps she should need to intervene and save the boy at some point from her hellraiser of a daughter, she tittered at the thought.
Her daughter’s eyes toward the water spoke of worry and not for her family alone. It was not a pleasant night, but it wouldn’t be the last the princess would see. Among the better things, life was also full of turmoil, turns, and trouble. She did her daughter no favours by sheltering her from the reality of war. Leilani had been distant and contemplative most of the night, but that only increased since she wandered off and spoke with the Eeaiko girl. Another person to care about only increased worry when blood stained the air and water.
"I can see when matters play at your mind. You have the words but often lack the moments where you feel you can speak." Kanani set a supporting hand on her daughter's lap. "It’s just us now. Speak your mind."
It took Leilani a moment. "She isn’t a bad person, you know..."
"I know. And you kept it from her all the same."
"I shouldn’t have..."
"Yes, you should have." The queen pointed out to the boats growing more distant by the second. "They sail out to defend what they hold dear and you did the same. Not all battles are fought with muscle and weapons, not all battles require blood, you’ll learn this in time.’
’You didn’t do it because you resent the girl, I know your heart goes with her. You did it because you had something worth protecting. Keep that purpose in mind."
"... If you had something more to protect, would you do that to me?"
Kanani wrapped her daughter in a hug and pat her head. "Of that my daughter, you have nothing to worry about."
Leilani paused. "Why did I have to choose though? I didn’t want to do that."
"It was a decision with no good outcomes. With any luck, the girl will leave here without a lifelong burden on her shoulders."
Leilani didn’t respond.
"When conflict is brought upon you, it can be easy to ask questions. Why has this this happened? Why would they do this? But you need to remember that it is a person behind those actions, one presented with an ugly choice just like you were. Remember that girl and remember that. Because when you cease to see a person behind the actions taken against you, it sets only the stage for cruelty."
There are those with ideals and those who don't have the luxury
Cawuio-Zast sat atop his gunpowder barrel with a grin. How long had this battle gone on? In reality, it was likely ten minutes that had gone by. But the pace of his heart made it seem an hour. A couple of cannonballs had come dangerously close to his head. He should have known that Anthal and Enoxii, the two Yasoi on defence, would spare no effort to keep him alive. But that hardly mattered. All that did was leave it to chance and Zast was the world's best gambler. He would never lose, he would never die.
Then, in the quiet between fire, Zast heard a horn blaring across the waters. It was difficult to see what exactly was approaching among the smoke and moving ships so he pulled out a comically large spyglass fit for an Ogauraq to get a closer look. Native ships were approaching the scene of battle and he couldn’t tell whether they sailed to fight the Virangish or his side. He was giddy with excitement.
He looked up and saw that someone else had also taken notice.
Kaleo stood at the lead boat with a hand braced against the mast. The smaller ship cut swiftly through the waters and was closing the gap to join the fight. The white water splashing of the threshers could present some problem but he had faith in the men of the ship. Any child of Moatu Suva was born to the seas, they need only worry if their wakas got sunk. The fleet of smaller ships assumed a spread formation to avoid oncoming fire.
Suddenly, something above caught the attention of his crew. The king looked up to see a man flying high. It was a powerful mage that they had drawn the attention of, no doubt of that, and that mage was approaching at rapid speeds.
"Brace for impact!"
Anthal Sr., the captain of the Blue Adam, dropped upon the king’s boat with incredible speed and force. The man was a bullet set to pierce through the king’s ship. The Yasoi pirate swung around to stomp down on the deck but meet the king’s massive hook first. Immense kinetic energy poured from Anthal’s momentum into the strike but he looked shocked as he sensed some of that energy being drained away unnaturally. Kaleo’s hook was sapping the force out of the attack.
But too little, too late. Anthal smiled as a shockwave exploded around them. Immediately the king’s waka snapped in half while ten other nearby ships also flipped over into the water. All of the men, including the king, dropped into the sea while Anthal remained floating a little above the surface to survey the environment.
The captain was just about invincible. There wasn’t a single fighter on these ships that could stand toe-to-toe with him. As far as he saw it, they were like any other Yanii dogs playing at the basics of magic. They couldn’t hold a candle to the flame of his proficiency and power. But their cannons still posed a threat to his ship, it was his best option to take them out here before any of them got into range.
The wakas in the distance were staggered and unsure how to respond to the captain’s opening assault. Some floundered, some came in to save those who had fallen in the water, and others turned aside to sail around and continue toward the fight. He would deal with th-
splash
From one of the shattered halves of the king’s ship, a large arm emerged from the water and gripped its side. King Kaleo pulled himself up onto the remains of his waka and stood firm. He and his men were lucky that the blast also spooked away the threshers; they were safe from becoming fish food. His head followed the Yasoi captain as he floated circles around him over the water. He unfurled the hook’s rope from around his arm.
"Don’t do anything you’re going to regret." Anthal called across to the lone king. The man Anthal saw in front of him was somewhat more impressive than the warriors he called company. Still, he couldn’t have been much higher than 7.5 RAS. The king would sign his death warrant by fighting now.
Anthal turned away to see that many wakas were starting to get past and drew the risk of joining the fight. He drew kinetic energy around him, from stay cannon fire, from the warriors swimming away, from the thresher’s erotic frenzy, then launched himself toward the new frontrunners of Moatu Suva.
Suddenly, an acute pressure caught his ankle as he stopped immediately. The hook had been thrown and drained his kinetic energy with the contact. The rope was pulled taut by the king and Antal was yanked back into the fight toward the waters. Despite the immense force, there was no kinetic energy employed by the king. It was all muscle.
Anthal Sr. crashed into the other half of the king’s waka and used the kinetic he had left over to guard him from the impact. It went from a lethal blow to light bruising at best.
Kaleo unlatched the hook from the captain's ankle and he pulled it back to himself. He took a fighting stance and raised his weapon like a one-handed club. Anthal stood in turn. The two leaders were little more than fifty metres from each other, divided by a small stretch of water.
"You could have avoided all this. All you had to do was sit this out and your island would be free. Don’t think I’m unaware of the hold the Virangish have over you. The seas belong to no one, I thought your people over anyone would understand that."
Kaleo grimaced, the blow he had taken from Anthal’s first impact left his breathing short. "I do understand it. If it was any other day in another place, then I would agree. But this would only be the start of our troubles if you won here. So you ask me to choose between my family and some distant ideal."
"Then you’re a coward." Anthal Sr. spat into the sea. "You could have both."
"Not always."
Anthal drew his cutlass. If it was doubtful that he would be able to get away from the king while he was alive, then so be it, the king would die.
"Hoory aup, saunfeesh!" Kaureerah's head popped out of the water, long blue-black hair clinging to her near-naked form, eyelashes batting. "Yoo heve been eeten by te shaurk foor tymes. Waun moore foor te secred naumber." Then, with the sort of grace a human - much less a non-mariner like Leon - never could've managed, she dipped down beneath the waters. He had ten seconds to make a break for it.
Leon, who had clearly bitten off more than he could chew trying to outswim an Eeaiko, was trying to hide his shortness of breath. One could say he was like a fish out of water here but it was very much the complete opposite. "Four? I think it was three by my count." He chuckled, the obvious lie was obvious. Then he snapped out of it as she dived, she was already getting ready to catch him and he had wasted precious seconds. Leon took a big breath and did his best to escape the hunter. It was doubtful but he might be able to impress her with a getaway this time.
There was a tug on his feet from the 'shark' and that was that. Both surfaced.
"Deed yoo knoow thet te saunfeesh hes no sweem bledder?" Kaureerah chirped. "Soo eet maust keep sweemeng oor eet weell seenk. treading water, she flipped her hair over a shoulder and reached back to undo and tighten the drawstrings of her bra. "Hauwever," she continued, "because eet es soo poorly baulenced, eet auften fleeps over end ees pooshed too te soorfece auf te oceen where eet jaust flaups eraund emlessly." She nodded sadly, still fiddling with the strings. Perhaps it was the webbed fingers. "They caumpensete by leyeng three haundred meellioon eggs et e tyme." Kaureerah chirped, but her face turned frustrated. "Looks lyke e waurdroobe maulfoonction," she teased.
"Are you calling me a sunfish?" Leon joked. "Because I certainly hope you aren't expecting me to lay that many eggs." Seeing her struggle with her bra he reached back to tie it for her. As much as he enjoyed a well-timed wardrobe malfunction, there were people back on the beach. Finishing the knot, he held her by the hips similar to that of a male lead dancer. It was interesting because if anything she was supporting his weight and not the other way around. "At least I can be handy in other ways, even if I'm not the best swimmer." He winked.
She simply leaned forward and gave him a small kiss. The beach was not all that busy yet and she had kind of wanted to do a little something, but maybe it was good that Leon was a gentleman. Maybe it made him mean a little bit more. "Your hands are very... talented," the eeaiko admitted with a cheeky smile.
It had been morning and was now trending towards noon. They began to make their way back, holding hands for part of the journey, until she could feel her feet touch sand. Leon's already had and he was essentially pulling her Why do men have to be taller? she wondered inwardly.
Without meaning to, her eyes scanned the beach. It was a habit built from years of living in the shallows. There were no Lek-i-koom - sandbar threshers- here. She shook her head both to clear it and reassure Leon when he noticed and shot her a quizzical look. "Oold haubeet," she remarked. "baut Eye doon't sense eny threshers, forr whaut eet's woorth." She winked to make it playful and squeezed his hand.
Leon eased up knowing that her caution was built on habit rather than a genuine threat being present. Scouting for threshers was something he never even had to consider. It showed the difference between their upbringings but made sense when he thought about it. "Really?" He said with a raised eyebrow and a mischievous look in his eyes. "Because I think you're forgetting about the sunthresher." In a swift movement, he pulled her hand and dropped to the beach such that she landed on top of him. Dressed in nothing but tight-fitting shorts, he would have to deal with the sand that caked his back. That didn't distract him from the moment, his hands reached down and gave her butt a squeeze in a cheeky simulation of a thresher attack.
But the topic of threshers brought the mission to the forefront of his mind, in the fun of the date it hadn't crossed his mind to tell her yet. His smile grew less playful but more fond. "Speaking of, I have a beast like that of my own to contend with coming up, the White Thresher. I think your swimming lessons might come in handy." He brought one hand up, rose, and kissed her forehead before falling back to the sand. "Try not to get too lonely without me, okay?"
Kaureerah was midway through turning to face Leon, about to straddle him, when he dropped the bomb. She blinked, sitting astride him, toes in the sand. She shook her head, covering worry with playful dismissal. "Eye theenk Eye sauw thet waun," she admitted. "Eye ended aup tekeeng enauther." She was wringing her hair out now, regarding him with an unreadable expression. "We coold've ended aup toogether eef saumwaun deedn't aulweys woork aun saunfeesh tyme." She rolled her eyes and sunk forward until she was lying on his chest, the top of her head nuzzling up against his cheek. Momentarily, she craned her neck to kiss his chin.
"You what?" Leon played off with a chuckle, cautious not to ruin the moment but the shock was evident in his voice. Quite simply, Kaureerah taking a mission caught him off guard. With all the perception he had of the girl, there was nothing that led him to expect that she would risk her life for something as inconsequential as a school mission. What reason did she have to fight? "If this is the joke about the missing cat mission, Tku already told me that one." There was denial in his voice as if trying to believe it was a joke when he could guess differently. He caressed her back gently, trying not to let his poorly hidden confusion disturb her.
"Wee eeaiko eet cets, Leaun." She stroked his chest absently with one of her hands as she said it.
He paused. Even if she delivered it in a joking manner, it was all but confirmation that Kaureerah was going on a mission, a real mission like the Lorenthine Queen. It only now set in for him the meaning of that and he would be unable to affect the outcome of any of it. What kept him all the more unsettled was that he couldn't tell why. Why would she risk her life for something like this? But it wasn't his place to demand an answer, she was a woman free to choose as she wished and if that was what her heart desired then what place did he have to stop her?
"I'm starting to really hate sunfish time about now..." He spoke longingly and wrapped his arms around her. Perhaps wishes of safety and good luck should have come to mind, but none did. Instead, he held a little tighter. For now at least, he just wanted her close to him.
Kaureerah lay on top of Leon and closed her eyes, feeling the warm sun on her eyelids, a bit of it coming through, making them purplish from the inside. She could hear the apprehension in Leon's voice - feel it in his arms and shoulders. "Baut Eye'm okey weeth eet," she replied, both firmly and tenderly, and she was. "Eet's aur tyme," she murmured into his chest, "Saun end feesh, yoo knauw?" She opened her eyes momentarily to smile at him. "Mekes these moments thet mauch better..." She let her head back down, closed her eyes, and breathed. He breathed too, their chests resting against each other. For a moment, she held him a little tighter as well.
Pirates on the Blue Adam scurried to load a second volley for the Virangish sea dogs. Cawuio-Zast stood atop his gunpowder barrel laughing as cannonballs fell out of his jacket into the palms of the deckhands. The ship had taken the lesser portion of damage in its exchange with the Altın Oğul and confidence was booming. The oncoming volley had been suitably deflected by Anthal and Enoxi who shared a look and smile, and the stray shots that passed through the defence were already being repaired below. Despite the chaos and high adrenaline, they were all in high spirits, all except Sanette and the captain.
Zast had noticed the two had been talking for some time and the subject matter seemed far from pleasant given the concern on the woman's face. What got her so caught up? It was obvious that she was a tethered, Zast had heard those people have some kind of greater perception capability but hell if he knew what that meant or what exactly she had perceived that the others hadn't.
The captain finished the short word with his tethered daughter and joined the crew loading the cannons. He spoke his plan plain and clearly, and the more Zast heard the more his toothy grin grew.
Ren could only just see the visage of the green little rodent creature he portalled in with on the other ship. The traitorous mutt must have swam to that ship the second they landed in the water because he was already going about his business with the pirates. It was hard to see but it almost seemed like the Cazenax turned to smile at Ren directly. Did it just wink at him or was he seeing things?
Ren stood on top of the deck of the ship, hair being blown in the wind. Even with his presence, the situation was far from ideal. He snapped his fingers to Mountain Goat, and produced a spyglass from his companion's pouch with the use of the gift, to get a better look at that disturbing little swamp creature. It was hard to make out if it was a wink or not, but there was a feeling about him that suggested unease. What was he playing at? He sheathed the spyglass and turned to the Captain and First Mate.
"These rats are up to something. Hold the next volley and brace for impact." he spoke, stopping himself from snapping his fingers at them. Even if their lives were in his hands, they weren't his slaves. It'd become instinctual on his part to command other humans as one does pets, but his mind was oddly clear. Filled with purpose and the mission to rise beyond the cowardice of the others who'd come here. If he was the only one that respected the job, then he'd get it done. He didn't need the others.
And as clear as his mind was, perhaps due to that nagging in the back of his mind, he heard it. The Captain and the First Mate as well as others braced themselves with their magic, binders and were already prepared to do the brunt of the work. Yet, the cannons of the Blue Adam felt.. painfully ordinary as if there was no magic. Then, a colossal crack of thunder was heard from the other side of the water and he had next to no time to react.
Perhaps a lesser man might have seen their life flash before their eyes. Dreams of love, compassion, friends and family surrounding them, reliving their best memories. He was not a lesser man, for he'd not resigned himself to death. He looked onward and his eyes went wide with surprise as an extremely fast hurtling ball of steel came straight for him. The entire might of his gift was immediately put into action to place the ball into stasis, but this had been ramped by several mages. He could not simply crush their efforts as individuals, as the spinning ball began to cut through his gift. Again, he tried, and again, he failed. Fractions of a section passed and he saw it gain closer and closer. Sheer determination wasn't enough.
The veins on his head began to pop in exertion as he cursed to himself, but he took no notice of it. His pride was wounded as he was forced to redirect the ball before he became pulp. The cannonball curved and hit a deckhand to the side of him, leaving a hole inside of the young man. A sailor and son of Virang was practically bisected before the attack skidded across the water as if it were a rock skipped by a child, for such was the kinetic force behind it. He'd redirected a lethal focused attack, and he felt nothing but shame and anger. These... worms had managed to mount a suitable offence, and he'd been forced to respect their efforts.
Or did he feel something? A young soul who he'd sworn to protect had suffered as a result of his inability.. nay, they'd suffered because the churls of the enemy had mounted a sneak attack. That was the reason, surely. The spray of his blood mist and whatever was coating the cannonball bounced against the kinetic repulsive barrier he'd erected for himself, remaining suspended midair before falling to the ground, but some of the remnants sizzled against the deck of the ship, mixed with the young man's blood. A grisly sight, but not one that he spared his eyes on longer than necessary.
There was moisture on his skin. Had he begun to fear?
'Am I sweating from these... filthy creatures?'
He dabbed it with his fingers and sniffed, only to find that it was the same smell that surrounded them, the ocean. A smile took his face. Of course these vermin couldn't threaten him. He laughed to himself softly as he looked through the spyglass and found his target, Enoxi. Of course, he didn't know her name, but he saw her smile in 'triumph' and he would bring her back to reality.
"Captain, first mate, give the order to fire." he spoke, with a certain coldness to his tone, and a snap of his fingers at the order. He began to draw again, all the way. If they wanted to focus everything on him, he would accept this challenge. The volley from the Altın Oğul fired at full force, with a notably exceptional cannonball headed straight for that girl who had smirked smugly in her 'victory'
The pirate ship rocked significantly before the Virangish cannons even fired, leading many on either side toward confusion. Those daring enough to spare a glance to the ocean saw that the threshers had stopped their orgy and begun a coordinated assault on the Blue Adam's hull. One of the smaller threshers was even so worked up that it was ramming its head continuously against it to the point blood filled the water. One could only guess what had caused this natural phenomenon, perhaps threshers were offended by blue flags as bulls were to red capes. Only those who knew Raffie or remembered her graceful mounted entrance would be able to guess the truth.
But also, those who knew threshers or the powerful draw of an orgy could tell this boon wouldn't last long. Pressing the sudden advantage, the Virangish fired at the turmoiled pirates.
The cannonballs soared at incredible speed toward the Blue Adam. Enoxi, the girl in Ren's crosshairs, seemed to be focused on keeping the ship safe and ignorant of the maliciously aimed shot. Ren could blink and imagine it taking the pirate girl's head. But instead of that, Anthal was there holding her by the time the Virang noble opened his eyes once. The shot had been suspended in the air due to the Yasoi man's efforts and harmlessly dropped to the depths below, blessing a thresher with blunt force trauma.
Ren looked across with his spyglass to see that the two had turned to face each other and looked longingly into each other's eyes. It looked like they were going to kiss, there was a battle with lives on the line and it looked like they were going to kiss. Fucking disgusting.
But the assault wasn't fruitless, in Anthal's single-minded efforts to save the girl, a good portion of the Blue Adam had been blown away marking the loss of their advantage. It was anyone's game now.
From atop his gunpowder barrel, Cawuio-Zast looked upon the disgraceful display that had cost the pirates buoyancy. It wasn't that he feared, no, it was that he hated to be disadvantaged for such stupid reasons. "Now is not the time to develop a heart Anthal." He lectured calmly with hands clasped behind his back. "Daddy dearest's boat won't be able to stay up if you do that too often." His grin was poorly hidden by the faux sternness. Zast was trying to get a rise of the Yasoi for no reason in particular...
And it worked. ”Quiet yourself, rat." Anthal snapped back. He gave Enoxi a quick peck and a wink before letting her go and returning to Zast. ”Even for excrement I hold you in low regard. So I certainly don't want to hear what comes out of your mouth.” To accentuate the point, he shoved a finger into Zast's chest and forced the Cazenax to step back.
Zast smirked and simply pointed toward the Virangish ship as if to say 'there's a battle going on, remember.'
Anthal looked around for his father to give the orders, only to find he had disappeared. Where had he gone? It was no matter, he could be a captain in his own right. He called out the orders to prepare another round and hold for an opportune moment.
Ren paced around the deck of the ship, frustrated at the lack of progress that was being made in terms of the pirate ship. The threshers had done a number to their stability, and he was grateful that Raffie had done what she could. She knew her place in the world, and he was grateful that at least one person he was sent with. As for the rest of the cowards that had fled, he spared not a single thought more for them as he continued to do his duty, as the inheritor of the will of the strongest thaumaturge. And the beginning of his legend would start here.
"Prepare the next volley, now. We've got them on the ropes." he spoke, a quiet rage about his tone of voice as again, he looked through the spyglass. The captain was nowhere to be found, and as the swamp goblin disputed with the knife-ears, he felt a smug satisfaction. Chaos was an opportunity for victory, and right now, the Virangish were united in their cause. He wouldn't have to use more than necessary. He wouldn't. The cannonball that he had to deflect would be the last time he'd need to exert himself. They weren't worthy of his higher talents.
Anthal and Enoxi looked at Ren and Ren looked back at them. Working together, they roughly matched the noble's kinetic capabilities and all together they had come to realize the situation. If the opposing side's kinetic mages died, then the battle was won. But if they were to focus their energies entirely on survival, then their ship would be vulnerable to assault. Their choices were between victory and defeat, life or death. To only think of self-preservation was to concede the battle.
Then, an annoying thought came to Ren’s mind. The lovebirds on the other side of the ship, who'd decided that a volley was the right time for a tryst. Were they... mocking him? As if they could be distracted by such matters because HE was the opposition? Did they have no semblance of respect? He let out a deeply bothered exhale for the first time tonight, and a sadistic smile took his visage. The thought that he hadn't experienced such an emotion and it bothered him because of that never occurred to him as even a remote possibility. It was pure arrogance that drove his imagination for the punishment that he would bring upon them. So absorbed in his thoughts was he that he began to speak them aloud.
"You vermin rolled the dice of that goddess you love and lost the bet. And what is a lovebird without another to sing them a song?" he muttered under his breath, as the battle continued to rage. He would be the victor. He would decide their fate, and not even their crippled mockery of divinity would save them.
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