The Torch that Ignites the Stars (Arcane Ascension Book 3)

by Andrew Rowe

  He was right, but that didn’t mean I wouldn’t cut something.

  I pulled my blade downward, slicing open his uniform shirt and parrying at the same time. I left a long trail of crimson across his chest, but that wasn’t the real damage. I’d sliced his badge of rank in half in the process.

  As we both recoiled from the aura blades colliding, he looked downward in disbelief. I could have taken that opening, but I didn’t. Instead, I raised my own aura blade and spoke again. “Again, I offer you the chance to yield.”

  “You have my answer!” He swung his aura blade, but it wasn’t close enough to hit me. I knew what was coming next. He probably thought his shockwave technique was original. I thought mine was, too, before I’d seen literally every high-level sword fighter I’d met using it.

  The only difficulty was that being a ranged attack, it had more than one possible target. I could have dodged easily…and if I did, it would have gone straight into the crowd. Even splitting it in half with my own swing would have potentially allowed for collateral damage. If someone without an attunement got hit, they were going to have a very bad day.

  Accelerated Computation.

  The spell wasn’t designed for combat, but I’d known from the start it might have combat applications. I’d practiced using it to help use Haste more effectively, but this was my first time trying it in a real fight.

  Frankly speaking, using it in this way was a gamble, but it was one I liked better than taking the swing head-on.

  As his shockwave approached, my mind raced.

  Projectile width: One point two meters.

  Rate of movement: two hundred and eighteen hundred meters per second.

  Angle…

  My mind flashed with numbers. My hand moved. My blade widened and cut.

  His shockwave vanished as my own blade passed through it at the exact angle and size necessary to neutralize it harmlessly.

  Release Accelerated Computation.

  I staggered backward, thrown off by the unexpected use of the technique.

  “Who…are you?” He stared at me with wide-eyed wonder, but his expression didn’t last. “No matter. You cannot match me sword-for-sword.”

  He drew his weapon while I continued to wobble in place. My vision blurred, and I barely managed to hold back from vomiting. The amount of data that I’d burned into my brain in those few moments had been staggering.

  Release Haste.

  I steadied a bit after removing my Haste spell, but that was a mixed blessing. Without it, keeping up with Jerome would be significantly harder.

  He ripped his sword free from his scabbard. As I watched, black energy ignited along the sword’s edge, rippling across the surface in waves. With twelve different runes, it was a stronger weapon than I’d originally expected. Sunstone-level, at least, and the black aura implied it was designed for countering magic.

  It looked like the sort of fancy weapon that would have a special name, like “Spellshear” or “Magic’s End” or “Mr. Stabbington”. From Jerome’s expression, just having it drawn was adding to his confidence. He was probably thinking “this sword will cut right through shrouds and other magical defenses”. If so, he was right, but not quite in the way that he was hoping.

  He assumed a stance I’d been expecting from the start — his right hand holding Mr. Stabbington, his left hand extended with an aura blade that shifted and crackled in the air. His aura flashed from crimson to orange, indicating he’d stopped suppressing his shroud to demonstrate his full strength. He’d be better defended now and have more power to fuel his shroud-forged blade.

  Normally, that might have been worrying, but I actually felt a bit relieved that he was only a Sunstone. If he’d been a Citrine, I might have run into more difficulty…

  …But probably not, given how easily I’d been able to predict his moves. I could already see his next step, and my heart beat faster as I readied myself for my own move.

  Jerome was planning to come at me with both weapons at the same time, then adjust the length and width of his aura blade to cut me when I didn’t expect it. It was a reasonable enough dueling strategy, ordinarily difficult to counter even for someone who was familiar with the style.

  It was, however, heavily reliant on excellent weapon control — and Mr. Stabbington wasn’t feeling very cooperative.

  It happened remarkably fast. Jerome lunged, apparently forgetting that impaling someone on a blazing death sword wasn’t “non-lethal”. I side-stepped that, parried a swipe from his off-hand that came after an absolutely unnecessary spin, and then kicked at his leg. He jumped backward, avoiding the kick, and raised Mr. Stabbington over his head.

  He struck an impressive image, holding that black-blazing sword, for just an instant before the detonation happened.

  “Ablahblah!” That’s my best impression of what his screaming sounded like when black flames exploded from the sword’s pommel, engulfing his hands, arms, and hair. It’s not a great impression, but use your imagination.

  Anyway, a moment later, he was on the ground and rolling around. Mr. Stabbington, his betrayal of his wielder complete, fell free from his grip. The sword was damaged, but I was pleased to see that I’d chosen my approach properly; the sword wasn’t entirely destroyed, and the explosion itself had been small enough that it hadn’t even engulfed Jerome’s entire body.

  I extended an aura blade to his rolling body, waiting and watching.

  Hm, maybe that was a little much. Should I freeze the fire off him, or would that make it worse? I’ll give it a second.

  I waited.

  He continued burning and screaming. I heard a horrified gasp from the priest before she managed to yell, “The match is over! Someone put him out!”

  Someone quickly conjured some water on him, which didn’t do anything. It was Sera that actually managed to put him out, calling a hail of ice that dispelled the black flames.

  I let my aura blade collapse back into my shroud. I would have sheathed my sword at that point, too, but I’d never drawn it in the first place.

  The priest turned to me with an expression that showed a mixture of horror and awe. “The winner of the duel is…Corin of House Cadence.”

  ***

  A group of other Edrians took Jerome away in the aftermath of the duel. Some of them gave me hard looks, and I suspect a couple of them nearly challenged me to a follow-up duel on the spot — a consequence I’d failed to consider before.

  Judging social ramifications has never been my strength.

  Still, not all of them gave me dirty looks. One of them even offered me a quick salute when none of the others were looking, which I hastily returned.

  I’d hoped to leverage my winning the duel to extract more information out of Jerome directly, but it was looking like that wouldn’t be possible. It turns out that detonating even one part of a sword someone is holding is generally pretty bad for their health, especially when said weapon carries powerful shroud-piercing enchantments. Recovering was going to take him a while, possibly longer than the evening.

  So, I’d need to exploit my victory in other ways. I’d look for anyone I’d seemingly impressed…and then there was the matter of a reasonable demand by the winner.

  With the loser incapacitated, I went to speak to his second, Maria Wolff. I was a little surprised that she hadn’t left with the group that was taking care of the injured man, but it made things convenient.

  “Well-fought, Lord Cadence,” she said as I approached, tipping her head. “You performed above my expectations.”

  “Thank you, Lady Wolff.” I returned the gesture. “I hope that this incident will not cause any enmity between us.”

  She raised a hand to her mouth and laughed. “Oh, hardly. That was likely the highlight of my evening. The man was insufferable!”

  I gave her a strange look. “If…you disliked him, why would you serve as his second?”

  Maria gave me a scoff. “What, as if you’ve never made a decision because of politic
s? Please. House Schmidt serves House Wolff. It was an honor to serve as a second for one of our loyal and righteous vassals.” She rolled her eyes. “Believe me, if it were plausible, I would have fought on your behalf instead.”

  “Then…frankly speaking, why would he choose you? He seemed to have a loyal entourage.”

  Maria sighed. “Yes, yes, of course he does. Men like him always have their boot-scrapers. I believe he hoped to impress me with his performance. Perhaps he was hoping I would…” She shuddered. “You can guess.”

  “Ah. Right.” I shook my head. “It’s been a while since I’ve been to one of these events. I’d forgotten the amount of…marriage jockeying?”

  “Marriage jockeying! What a hilarious and perfect term for it.” She laughed again, then glanced toward someone else nearby. “This has been a pleasure, but I can only be social with the enemy for so long. At least in public.” She coughed politely, her implication clear. “I’m sure you understand.”

  “I do, thank you. For the moment, I believe there’s just the business of any disputes you may have about the match?”

  “I have none. You acquitted yourself well and with honor. I don’t know quite how you made his sword explode, but it was perhaps one of the funniest things I’ve seen in a duel. And no, I won’t be demanding satisfaction if you sabotaged it in advance. That would be a feat of ingenuity worthy of a duelist in itself.”

  I grinned. “I didn’t, but I appreciate that nonetheless.”

  “There is one more thing,” she noted. “You may demand something of the loser. And given that he is incapacitated, it falls to me to adjudicate what is ‘reasonable’.”

  I’d been considering that for a while, but I’d planned to ask when the man recovered. This was easier. Given that she didn’t like him, I suspected she’d be happy to take the chance to tweak his nose in a way that he couldn’t complain about.

  Asking Maria for a political favor was within reason, but given the temporary nature of this event, I took a more pragmatic approach. And so, after a few more words were exchanged, I claimed my prize.

  One slightly damaged magic sword — the distinguished Mr. Stabbington — went straight into the Jaden Box.

  Maria and I parted ways — although I noted her throwing a look back in my direction as she headed into the building — and I returned to my own second.

  “That was amazing!” Patrick cheered. “How’d you make his sword explode?”

  Patrick was, it seemed, still not quite as subtle of a second as Maria.

  I lifted a finger to my lips. “Ssh. I’d rather keep my role in that a little vaguer. Equipment sabotage isn’t illegal, exactly, but it could be considered dishonorable.”

  “Oh, oh. Sorry.” He leaned over and whispered far too loudly in a conspiratorial tone. “So, how’d you do it?”

  “Right after I punched him, I touched his sword when I was retreating. When I did that, I attached mana threads. Most of them broke during the fight, but the others were stable enough that I was able to make a connection to the pommel crystal. From there, I had some options. I could have overloaded the crystal and made it explode, but I wanted to keep it mostly intact. So, I just pulled some of the power out — and rather than move it into another object, I just released it into the air. His sword had a lot of runes, but none of them were anti-tampering.”

  “That’s…pretty incredible, Corin. I would have never even considered doing something like that.”

  “He’s right, you know.” Sera walked up behind me. “I have to admit, you didn’t disappoint me in the slightest this time.”

  “That may be the nicest thing you’ve ever said to me.”

  “Don’t expect me to make it a habit.” Sera smirked. “And Corin? Please do ask me before risking yourself again. That was spectacular, but there could be consequences, even for a victory.”

  Based on the expressions of some of the Edrian onlookers, I suspected she was right. “You’re right, sorry. I got a little ahead of myself. I think it’ll work out, though.”

  “I think so, too. This time. Let’s get back into the party and see if we can make the most out of it.”

  I nodded. “Right. Let’s go.”

  We exchanged words with a few more people, then headed back inside. As we walked, I saw a number of eyes following me with newfound interest and respect.

  I had to admit, it felt pretty good.

  ***

  As we walked back into the house, I found Dalen Mitsurugi waiting for me at the door. I had, admittedly, almost forgotten about his handsome face during the duel itself — but not because he had an attunement like his descendant’s. He wasn’t blending in at all, I simply had been that focused on the fight.

  “You performed wonderfully out there.” Mitsurugi made a near-silent clapping gesture as I walked closer. “I should like to see you fight again at some point. Perhaps you or your retainer would be kind enough to give me a sparring match later this evening?”

  “I would be delighted to do so once I am sufficiently refreshed.” I nodded in spite of my own hesitation. Sera had been right; one duel was never the end. “Patrick can, of course, speak for himself.”

  “Of course.” Mitsurugi nodded in approval, then turned to Patrick. “Shall we?”

  “I, uh…right now?” He asked.

  “I see no reason why not. Unless your lord has an immediate need of you?”

  I shrugged at Patrick. “If you want to go spar with him, you’re welcome to. I’ll be fine. I need a chance to chat with Sera, anyway. I’ll catch up with you afterward.”

  “Oh…okay.” Patrick nodded to me, then turned back to Mitsurugi and waved toward the doorway. “After you, then.”

  “Excellent.” Mitsurugi stepped outside of the house, with Patrick following.

  Sera waved ahead toward the library and resumed walking. I followed behind her until we found a quiet spot to chat. Along the way, I received congratulations from many of the house staff, as well as a few other nobles.

  Notably, I did not get any from the other Valians, who seemed to be watching me cautiously from a distance. That was interesting and perhaps a bit worrying.

  When we arrived back in the library and found a quiet spot, Sera glanced around suspiciously before saying anything.

  “You think we’re being watched?” I asked.

  “After that? You can be sure of it. You don’t happen to have one of those nifty silence enchantments like Cecily’s umbrella handy?”

  I shook my head. “No, and I don’t have the right crystals to make one. The standard one uses perception mana, which neither of us has. I know some variants with sound mana, but we don’t have that, either.”

  Sera groaned. “Okay. We’ll do it the old-fashioned way.”

  “Which is…?”

  “Whispering, Corin. I mean whispering.”

  “Oh.” I didn’t think that would be a particularly effective measure, but it was better than nothing. I leaned in closer. “I’ve discovered a terrible secret.”

  Sera raised an eyebrow. “Oh?”

  “Yes, Sera. The secret is…Edria doesn’t like us very much.”

  Sera snorted. “Be serious, Corin. We actually have limited time here.”

  “Sorry, sorry. Teasing calms my nerves. Okay. What’ve you got?”

  She rubbed her forehead in apparent frustration. “Well, as ludicrous as your ‘secret’ was, it’s actually somewhat relevant. Your little duel was a microcosm of the atmosphere of this place. It’s not just us — everyone here has enemies.”

  “More so than a usual archduchy-level political gathering?”

  “Yes, absolutely. It’s almost as if someone deliberately curated the guest list to cause conflict. We’re not even the worst of it.”

  I frowned. “I have a difficult time picturing how that would be possible.”

  “I realize you have difficulty imagining how actual people feel about things, dear brother, but try to be creative.”

  “Right. Well, my ass
essment as an emotionless automaton is that you could try to be more direct. Trying to turn everything into a jab at me is inefficient.”

  “Fair point.” She nodded in a surprisingly agreeable fashion. “Okay. So, direct. Mara and I went to try to talk to the young Mistress Verena.”

  “And that failed because…” I made a “continue” gesture.

  “Now who is making pointless jabs? Anyway, it didn’t. The household staff seemed relieved — almost too relieved — that someone was willing to talk to her.”

  “Why?” I frowned. “Is she like, notoriously obnoxious or something?”

  “No, she’s not like you.” Sera managed a completely deadpan tone. “Or, rather, they aren’t anything like you.”

  “They? Oh, they take after Wydd?”

  “No, I meant ‘they’ in the plural sense. There are two daughters.”

  I blinked. “Two? But they only mentioned one debut. And a debut is usually on a birthday. And they can’t both have the…” My eyes widened. “No. You’re joking.”

  “Afraid not.” Sera shook her head. “We have a cursed pair on our hands.”

  I think my face might have paled. Cursed pairs — that is, siblings that are born at the same time — are forbidden by the sacred scriptures in the most absolute possible terms. We’re not even supposed to use the more common word for them while we’re inside a spire, lest we draw the goddess ire.

  I’m not superstitious, but I’m still going to avoid saying anything else, since I know it makes people uncomfortable.

  Anyway, given the severity of the scriptural prohibitions on the concept, I was more than a little surprised when Sera explained the situation. “What? No. An archduke kept a cursed pair? You think we would have heard about something like that, even if it’s historical.”

  “Actually…I think I did hear about this in class. There was a big uproar when they were born. Apparently, the archduke was called into court and asked to pick one, but he refused. He was censured, I think, and threatened. I don’t recall all the details. Even I didn’t put that much effort into remembering ancient Edrian politics.”