Alia blocked the three-strike combination with ease. Now that she knew how to tense the muscles in the right places to avoid her guard collapsing, defending against the attacks that ca in a half-second was becoming satisfyingly easy.
Another dozen swings ca at her from the grandmaster. At first, it was a challenge, but then Alia understood it was only a matter of figuring out how to move her body in a way that could keep up with her perception. She could see every attack and follow the sword's path through the air. Seeing, however, was very different from being able to do sothing about it.
A swing from an unfamiliar direction ca at the end of the combination, and the strike broke through her improvised deflection before stopping at the centre of her chest.
“That was mune-tsuki, the chest thrust,” The grandmaster grumbled. “Here, this is how you deflect it.” Alia was shown in ever-increasing detail how to defend against a thrust. She gave her utmost attention, not wanting to disappoint the old man.
Besides, he was a little intimidating. Alia’s instincts reassured her that the defences of her layered wards would hold against anything he could throw at her, but that didn’t stop the sheer presence of the demon keeping her on edge. Every one of his movents felt, at a mont's notice, like it could snap into a deadly attack. Furthermore, having a sword swing at her face faster than her body could react often triggered a flinching reaction that she was trying her best to overco.
Beyond that, Alia had to admit the grandmaster was an exceptional sensei, far more skilled at tutoring than Serena was. Serena was great at identifying mistakes and slowly ironing them out, but this old demon was adjusting things at just the right ti to prevent those mistakes from ever manifesting in the first place. Every instruction he gave ca with it decades of experience that Serena had yet to overco.
They began sparring again, which really just consisted of Alia defending against an assault with no opportunity to counter-attack. She could perceive what she thought were openings, but she had no idea how to manoeuvre her body in such a way to make use of them. This ti, the attacks against her included the occasional thrust and after an unknown amount of ti, Alia started to feel confident in defending against them even as her body grew tired and sweat dripped down her face.
Serena had been right. The sword she held no longer felt very light.
Again, another attack was thrown in that Alia couldn’t defend against. Sotis it was a new strike or a variation of an existing strike that sohow slipped by her guard. With each addition, they would stop, and the grandmaster would carefully explain how she should adjust to the new threat. After he was satisfied she understood his explanation they would continue sparring.
Just as her confidence grew and she felt she was starting to piece things together, the grandmaster cloaked his body and weapon in red, the first aura. The speed and aggression suddenly increased drastically, and Alia was only barely defending against each strike. Her blocks, which she felt had beco controlled and firm, were now hastily ford one after another, only just fending off one strike before the next one ca.
Her hands ached, and her shoulders felt weak. It wasn’t long before her guard collapsed, and the wooden blade was once again at her throat.
“Ha… Ha…” Alia breathed heavily. For soone untrained, relying on base stats and cloaked wards, her body had held out for a long ti, but it could do no more. Without healing herself or Speaking, her strength was all but spent until she rested.
“That’s enough for today. Well done, Speaker Thornheart.” The grandmaster gave a neat bow, and Alia reciprocated with her own, which was far more clumsy than she would have liked.
“Ah… T-thank you. Now if you excuse …” Alia flopped onto the wooden floor. “I’m just going to have a little nap here…” She heard a familiar click of Serena’s tongue and could imagine the shaking head of disapproval, but she didn’t care. The blood pounded in her ears, and she tasted iron in her mouth.
She would ask Serena to give her a nice long massage later.
“What do you think, Grandmaster?” Alia heard Serena ask.
“Instructing Speakers is fundantally different,” the grandmaster replied. “Their constitution, which they gain from just communing with the gods, allows them to train at a higher intensity for longer. This is the first ti I’ve trained a Speaker mage…” he trailed off, and Alia could sense the three of them had turned their heads in unison to look at her sprawled out on the floor. Well, let them look! She was busy resting.
“I hope she is an anomaly, for if all human mages are capable of what she just went through, then I dread to think what their dedicated swordsn can do.”
“Is she talented?” Aiden asked.
“Maybe. The concentration is excellent, although her etiquette needs so work…”
“Working on that,” grumbled Serena.
“I train here every day. I start an hour before lunch. While the three of you are in Kenhoro, you should join when you can. I’ll notify the front gate not to challenge any of you in the future.”
“It’s a generous offer,” Serena said, “I hope we’re not imposing.”
“Not at all!” The grandmaster said cheerfully. “I myself have so questions regarding the sword I have struggled to answer for many years. Perhaps tutoring two talents like yourself will give the insight I’ve been looking for!”
“Thank you, Grandmaster.”
The trio of them chatted about various topics while Alia had a power nap. In addition to her monstrous aether regeneration, she also had significant health regeneration that she suspected greatly improved her recovery from exercise and other stresses on her body. After a few minutes, she felt okay again and joined the group.
With the grandmaster’s permission, he allowed both her and Serena to take a practice weapon so Alia could refine what she was taught in her own ti. He had been intrigued by Serena’s weapon, which was made of marble, so they recounted the events of the Highguard affair to him from their perspective.
“I only know Lord Yulan by na. I didn’t know he was a friend of House Halen,” said the grandmaster while standing up. “Still, it gladdens to hear he has recovered from his affliction, thanks to Speakers Thornheart’s magical healing.”
“Mmm, mmm!” Alia said, nodding. “Would you like to heal you? Serena said it healed her shoulder, which had been troubling her for years!”
“Oh? You would offer such a service to an old-tir like ?”
“Of course! Can’t have you keeling over on us mid-lesson, can we grandpa?” She flashed a cheeky grin. The old demon was only scary when he was instructing her. Outside of that he had an almost holy feel to him. Hopefully, Serena’s father was just as easygoing!
“If you wouldn’t mind…”
“Sure!” Alia twisted the aether inside her, forming the spell and spreading golden light with blue hues that flowed into the old demon’s body. She threw in a cleaning spell as an extra, ridding the demon of the small amount of sweat that had built up.
The grandmaster bathed in the light in an almost ditative state. He was silent for a long mont before a smile crept up on his face.
“Yes… this might be what I needed. It seems so clear now.” He gave a quick bow to the group. “I apologise, but I must continue my own training. Speaker Thornheart, may the fell gods be in your favour for your kindness in sharing this boon. Speaker Halen, Officer Aiden. Your company was a pleasure! Leave this old man and his sword now. I hope I’ll see you three tomorrow.”
“Uh…” Serena started before gathering herself. “Yes, Grandmaster. Thank you for your instruction. Let’s go, you two.” The group of them left the training hall and navigated their way back through the building. Thankfully, Serena seed to rember the way; otherwise, Alia was sure she would have gotten lost and stumbled upon so lecture instead!
“He seed… eager,” Alia said, thinking about the grandmaster's reaction.
Serena shook her head, keeping her voice low. “You must understand how above-average your healing is. When you healed once, it felt like all the wear and tear of years of war had left . I felt young again, even though, you know… I am young.”
“How old are you, anyway?” Alia asked. She was twenty-five when she had her soul move into this new body, which she suspected was even younger.
“I…” Serena suddenly looked away, blushing slightly. “Hrmph! Does it matter?”
Aiden leaned into the pair, his face contorted into a serious expression. “That’s the noise that a thirty-year-old demon makes after they leave their twenties, Speaker Thornheart.” The man tried to dodge Serena’s backhand but failed spectacularly and was soon nursing a swollen forehead.
“Don’t you dare heal him, Alia,” Serena commanded, her eyes still not eting hers. “He deserved that.”
“O-okay!”
By most people’s standards, the small office could be considered modest. Its extravagance paled in comparison to the rooms of most Cascadian Lords, although none would dare raise any objections over the simple decor. The wooden floor and furniture were primarily functional, with a bit of flair to give the room so character. On one wall was a map of the Cascadian Empire and on the other a woven tapestry depicted old mories long since forgotten by most.
At one end of the room, a sturdy desk stood upon which a small pile of docunts stood, weighted down by a human skull. A half-full teacup delicately held in the hands of a woman with golden hair and blue eyes gave off the subtle scent of mint tea.
Upon her head, two very small horns sat.
She sipped the tea while pondering how to word her reply to the letter from the West. The Overlord in command of that territory had sent a rare correspondence, raising a troubling matter that was another piece in a growing set of problems the empire faced.
A set of problems she was starting to suspect were linked.
After settling on a wording that she felt communicated her thoughts on the matter appropriately, the young-looking woman scratched her reply onto the paper with a quill before gently inserting it into an envelope and using magic to lt so wax upon it. She pressed the stamp into the wax, leaving an imprint of a single letter that was written in the language of the Words.
E.
Placing it to the side, she lifted the skull and removed the following docunt that required her attention. It was a letter written in shining red ink on ash-coloured paper. Paper that was almost priceless, for it was sourced from the holy trees that only grew in the higher circles of hell. Looking at its author, she saw it was a ssage transcribed by her ambassador to the Upper Halls. The poor man had been dragged into a rather uncomfortable eting with the higher gods and given a dressing down.
She allowed the smallest of sighs as she read the letter’s contents. It was essentially a noise complaint regarding the events that transpired in the Lower Halls a week ago. The language used was aggressive, demanding an explanation. It strongly implied that without one, they could consider the event an act of war against the Seven Hells as it had originated from her territory.
The woman took a few breaths to think. The Hellords had been diplomatic in their wording not to demand it, but reading between the lines, they clearly expected her to cross realms and offer an explanation in person.
Whilst thinking about this, the woman decided the mint tea was wholly unsuitable for the mood.
“Theresa,” she called.
With a crack, the maid snapped into the realm, appearing from thin air beside the woman. It was a skill that would frighten even the Greatlords, if they even knew what the ability truly implied.
“Divine One?”
“I-” She was cut off. “Sothings approaching. Fast.” A slight frown appeared on her forehead as she identified the anomaly. “Ah. This will be a private conversation. Make yourself scarce, Theresa.”
After a mont of concentration, the maid shifted into another plane of reality, leaving behind the telltale sign of a hurried realmshift; the sll of burnt toast. The woman relaxed, sipping her mint tea while the anomaly swept into her office, ruffling the papers and causing a pleasant breeze.
A second passed, and the atmosphere died down. The hollow eyes of the skull glowed with a familiar crimson hue.
“Hail, Empress Elana of Cascadia! Shard of Infinity! Overlord of Overlords! A-” The skull suddenly cut off its salutations. “Am I being used as a paperweight?” It asked, its gruff voice suddenly taking on a tone of annoyance.
“If I had known you were coming, I would have placed you sowhere more suitable, Anathor,” Elana said. She gave the frustrated skull a small smile and took a slow, deliberate sip of tea. “I wish I could say I enjoy these rare monts you leave the ship. Unfortunately, you always seem to bring bad news when you do.”
“Hmm…”
“What troubles, then?”
“She is waking up. I am certain of this.”
Elana closed her eyes. A feeling of ancient guilt and a touch of sadness filled her heart. “How? It shouldn’t be happening so soon.”
“The human cast a healing spell. It has seeped into those torn and broken pieces of her and brought them a little closer together.”
“The human…” Elana murmured, her eyes flicking to the ash-coloured paper on the desk. “Tell about the human, Anathor.”
“Hmm… I did not notice it until now, but the pair of you look similar.”
“In what way?"
“Blonde hair, blue eyes,” The skull’s red eyes flashed, “Both hiding another form…”
Elana was silent for a mont. “Anything else?”
“She has bonded with the captain.”
“Bonded?”
“Yes. I sense it in them both. A growing infatuation. It will eventually turn into love.”
“Oh?” Elana intoned, sipping the last of the bitter mint tea before swallowing audibly. “How sweet. I’m jealous, truly. I must find ti to et the human and this captain.”
“To what end, Princess Elana?”
Elana raised an eyebrow. She decided against chastising the formless, for his comnt had raised an authentic smile upon her lips. For that alone, he could be forgiven. “Princess?” She asked the skull.
“So many centuries have passed, but you are still that sa brazen princess I rember. Charging into the enemy, waving that flaming spear.” The gruff voice softened, and mories she had thought she had forgotten sprang up in her mind. “I rember now. I lectured you for your recklessness. Ha!”
“So long ago…” She murmured.
“So long ago,” echoed Anathor.
“Sotis I still feel like I’m eighteen, you know? I thought I would grow to despise my long life, but as the centuries tick by…” She turned her head and stared directly into the skull's glowing eyes. “I find myself loving it more every day. How about you, my ntor?”
“Hmm… I haven’t given it much thought… You don’t think much of these things when you don’t have a body.”
“Would you like to make you one?”
At her offer, the skull was silent for a long ti. “Perhaps…” Anathor eventually said, “...Perhaps after my duty is done. Then I may request such a thing. If you are willing.”
“Of course,” Elana said, feeling a tinge of empathy at the long-suffering plight her ntor’s duty had caused him. “What will you do if that cos to pass?”
“Hmm… I would go ho.”
“You’re a long way from ho, Anathor.”
“So very far…”
The two of them fell into a lull of silence and self-reflection. Many mories flashed through Elana’s mind, and she was sure Anathor was having his own period of reflection. Eventually, the skull’s red eyes flashed as Anathor broke the silence.
“Are your shackles still holding firm?”
“... Yes,” Elana whispered.
“Our punishnts were deserved.”
“I know.”
“It was a terrible thing we did. A great sin.”
“Yes.”
“A cardinal sin.”
“Damn it, Anathor. Why are you bringing it up now?” She gave the formless a pointed stare. He always knew how to drive a point ho. “The human, how powerful do you think she is?” She asked, forcefully changing to a less sombre subject.
“Hmm… as with you, I sense no upper boundary to the powers she can draw.”
“Is she experienced?”
“... No.”
Elana sighed, taking a sip from the cup before rembering too late that no tea remained. Nevertheless, she kept the act up, pretending to drink politely as she organised her thoughts.
“Where do you think she ca from?”
“The deepest depths of the Sixth Heaven. The souls there rged into sothing by chance and created her. Not knowing what to do, the Heavens placed the soul in a vessel and threw her into the mists where she stumbled upon our realm.”
She considered the possibility before ntally filing it away for further consideration later. “If the ship’s waking up, then we have no choice Anathor. We must find what was lost.”
“How?”
“... I’ll think about it.” She placed the cup delicately back down. “Go now, Anathor. You know how uncomfortable she becos when you’re not there.”
“... Goodbye, princess.” The red eyes faded, and the formless began its flight back to the East, leaving only the noise of rustling papers.
“Goodbye, Anathor.” She whispered, losing herself in her thoughts.
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