by Lupine King
The barons were lords that governed or ruled between two thousand five hundred to three thousand square kilometres of land. Their land was called a barony and was the basic regional unit in Bathar. They were the basic peers, granted title, seat and the permission to recruit their own private armies for the protection of their land. The further up the ladder you went the greater the boons, wealth and power.
For example, there were three baronies in every viscounty and it took three viscounties to make a county and so on until you got an earldom. There are only two earldoms in a duchy and only three duchies in the entire kingdom. What land remained was under the direct control of the royal family who superseded everyone else in power.
For the most part, each of the peers operated separately with the exception of their obligations to the immediate superiors and to the crown. However, the events in DaleGuard were obviously of such great import that it had drawn the attention of many. Many powers had come to take note of the happenings and see how they were affected.
It was not just Viscount DriftCloud. Looking around the Lord’s Booth, William and James could make out many visiting dignitaries who under normal circumstances would not be here at this time. There was a Viscount from a neighbouring county. Someone who they knew as the nephew of its current Countess. There was an official of the Duchy sitting with some merchants, drinking wine and covertly keeping an eye on the proceeds in the booth.
There was even a general of the royal army who had come to watch. And that was not counting the various other personages and their different allegiances.
Clearly, everyone was aware that the events in Cragsveil had the potential to change the regional political climate. They were thus rightly concerned. After all, the ripples could go on to affect them. In fact, none was more worried than the Count of DriftCloud, the county Cragsveil lay in.
His son and heir had not only shown up without a due cause or proper invitation, he also brought along his nephew, a young and powerful true practitioner, to partake in the events. Many of the onlookers could do nothing but smile sadly in the background. Everyone was aware of the fact the prestige of the Steelborns had begun to outshine that of the DriftClouds. They just never spoke of it.
It is hard being compared to your subordinates all the time. For the common folk to look up to them more than they did you. Ever since the Roland Steelborn became the greatest war hero the region had had in recent memory, the Steelborns had enjoyed constantly growing prestige. It did not hurt that by controlling DaleGuard they had their own feudal army in addition to their influence over the regional one.
An annoyingly large number of Steelborns served in the military where they possessed an uncomfortable amount of pull. Long story short, even though the Steelborns had not made any moves at expansion they were still the most watched and most respected clan in DriftCloud.
Now that they were taking further actions to consolidate their power and reaffirm their position the Count also had to scramble to prop his up. If not he would lose even more influence and control over his subjects. Thankfully, there was a slight opportunity he could make use of. The Zebre was open to all warriors.
That was why earlier today Viscount DriftCloud suddenly announced that his beloved nephew had followed him on his trip. He declared the boy’s intention of joining the tourney, saying that his nephew, being a martial enthusiast, had felt his blood grow hot at the thought of pitting himself against other warriors his age. It was all good.
If the Steelborns were going to use might to prove themselves overlords, he could do same. A DriftCloud winning the Steelborn tournament would send out the message quite well. He was not worried. His nephew was sure to take it. Besides being the most gifted youngster in their clan, he was acknowledged as one of the favourites in the competition as well as the most powerful in Group One.
The same group that Valerian was in.
The Second Day of the Zebre.
Valerian prepped himself for his battle. The second round of the group stages was to start. This was especially important for him. Normally, qualifying for the final required two wins. Due to the nature of his group, he needed three to be safe. Yesterday’s match was easy but he had been assured that today’s would be different. He had to give it his all.
He was up against a youth from the Lytaun Dojo. They were a powerful, battle oriented cultivator school. However, the Lytauns had only sent out one student this year, unlike the Greater Mountains who brought two. That meant he was bound to be the best they had. Definitely more powerful and well versed than his previous opponent.
He climbed up the fighting stage after listening to Richard’s usual warnings. By then, his opponent was there waiting for him. Blake of the Lytaun Dojo was a decent looking fellow. He was the same height as Valerian and dressed mostly in comfortable leather armour, sans sleeves. His feet however were shoved into boots made from a hard opaque material and his knee had metal plates covering it with spikes sticking out.
He bowed first, announcing himself, “I am Blake, titled Zir Naa’re, Tellurian Practitioner and representative of the Lytaun dojo in this tournament. May we duel?”
Seeing how more reserved and cultured this opponent was, Valerian did not hesitate to do same. Slipping into their fighting stances, they stood at opposite ends of the platform looking at each other, trying to glean some clues before the fight began whilst waiting for the signal.
“FIGHT!” the referee ordered and Blake immediately burst into action.
His stance changed slightly, his upper body leaning forward and low was the only pre-indication of what came next. He shot off like a firework, wind attributed qi swirling around him as he ran towards Valerian. It was so quick and sudden that he was nearly halfway across the stage before Valerian’s counter came.
He fired a volley of wind fists, seeking to block Blake’s advance. It was not difficult to see what he was planning. Valerian had proved his superiority at ranged battle in the last match. Obviously, any tellurian would choose instead to engage in at close range instead, where arcanists were notoriously poor. Thankfully, the wind fists hampered that plan somewhat.
‘As if I would let it be that easy’, Valerian snorted mentally, at first.
To his surprise, none of the wind fists he sent out had the effect he expected. When they appeared a swift change happened in Blake’s qi. The swirling streams around him quickly condensed forming a brighter cyan glow that centred itself on his legs. When that happened, a strange grace slipped into his movements as his skill transformed.
He began to jump and leap, twisting and contorting his body to evade the wind fists that came his way. With nothing but grace and skill, he moved ever closer to a stunned Valerian. He had not expected that!
The combat skill that Blake was using was one of the Lytaun Dojo’s prized ones: Zotta’s Six Drives. It was a method that allowed for six special skills; two movement, one evasive, two attack and one supplementary. Blake started with the First Drive, [Rushing Wind], a dash skill that boosted linear speed then switched to the Fourth [Playful Gust] in order to manoeuvre through Valerian’s volley.
It was an impressive display of skill and control. Not many experts, even in his own dojo, could switch between Drives as easily and quickly as he did. There was a reason he was the primary disciple of his generation.
Valerian quickly tried thinking of a counter but he had already run out of time. Blake was already before him. Left with a mere four-metre gap, Blake again did something unexpected. He leapt into the air. Valerian fired a series of wind blades to pursue. They did not help.
Blake had switched to the Sixth Drive – [Tornado Kick]. The streams of wind qi appeared again only this time in greater number and intensity. Blake continued to rise until he was about five metres in the air and then he began to spin, his qi spinning with him. Faster and faster he went, forming a miniature tornado in the air. The wind blades Valerian sent were caught in this sudden storm and sucked in, becoming part of it.
For
the first time in the tournament, Valerian felt some trepidation. As if to give justification to this feeling, Blake shot downwards. His figure could not be seen. There was only a bladed twister of wind qi.
Valerian swung his mace to meet it. His arcane energy surged and a massive screen of metal essence responded. The sound of screeching metal filled the arena as the spectators became witnesses to a tornado attempting to grind its way through a metal sheet. The stalemate lasted for maybe a second and then surprisingly, the tornado was sent flying away.
Blake was barely able to stop himself from being thrown out of the arena. Using his spin to his advantage, he was able to arrest control of his force and land back on his feet. However, he was clearly shaken and drained by the clash. There was an ache in his lead foot. The one that formed the tornado’s point.
The two youths stared each other down, huffing a bit at as a result of their abrupt and intense exertion. Slowly, a smile crept onto Valerian’s face. The trepidation in his heart had given way. All he felt now was excitement. Contrarily, a strange calm came over him as his excitement grew whilst his heart began to beat faster. This battle was a pleasant surprise and exactly the sort of stimulation he had been seeking.
Blake was the same. He had hoped to end with that but it seemed his opponent was tougher than he expected. Still, he realised that he had to end this quickly. [Tornado Kick] was the most qi intensive skill he knew. Its power came at a cost and it was not enough. It had nearly been but it lacked that final push. He had to break through his opponent’s defences before he run out of qi.
With this in mind, he ran at Valerian again, taking huge steps forward before jumping and transitioning into a flying kick.
Valerian looked at his opponent somewhat warily but with a trace of bemusement. The idiot was attempting a flying kick from a dozen meters away. How was he supposed to hit anything from there? Then his sharp eyes caught the twist his foe’s body made. A split second later, they widened in shock as Blake once more turned into a tornado.
‘That skill can be used horizontally?’ he exclaimed mentally in shock.
EIGHT
Conclusions
Blake came spinning at a surprised Valerian. However, Valerian did not remain stunned for long. Collecting himself, he raised his mace as if about to cast a spell but at the last second, he leapt to the side instead. Tornado Blake turned and followed causing a smile to appear on Valerian’s face.
He raised his mace again and this time, he swung with murderous intent. A golden radiance covered his mace as well as his body and everyone who possessed the eyesight necessary could see the tendons in his neck stand out from the effort. He was not using any skill or spell but rather his full strength, enhanced by his qi and drawn forth by his will.
The tornado that was Blake met this attack in yet another awe-inspiring clash. However, this one did not last as long. He was batted away like a sponge ball. Shocked gasps could be heard all over the arena. Just what level of strength would it take to do that?
The shock that Blake felt was even greater. He was the one thrown around the stage after all. Barely succeeding in controlling his flight, he came out of the Sixth Drive confused and dazed. His lead foot though protected by the swirling winds ached from the impact. That was unfortunate because Valerian did not plan to let him recover. Rather, he appeared right in front of him, swinging his fists as if planning to take his head off.
Blake barely got out of the way of the first swing. Raising his own arms, he attempted to block the next. A terrible idea. An audible crack rang through the platform as his right arm shattered under the force of Valerian’s strike. Blake screamed his head off but Valerian did not even pause. Instead, he slammed his next punch into his opponent’s gut.
Spittle and blood flew out of Blake’s screaming mouth, forced out by the expelled air. He distinctly felt something in his abdomen pulp and at least two ribs break. Strangely, the sharp, dreadful pain also cleared his head. Now in genuine fear for his life, Blake did not even hesitate to activate the Fifth Drive: The second movement skill, [Fading Wind].
If [Rushing Wind] was a forceful advance then [Fading Wind] was an all-out retreat. Valerian was left grasping at air when his opponent’s own qi dragged him backwards and away like a fallen rider with his foot caught in the stirrups. The speed at which this took place was even faster than when Blake charged at him at the start of their battle.
However, Valerian was not slow either, like a hound who had tasted blood he went after his quarry. The burst of speed he put on surprised even the judges. It made for an interesting sight. A broken tellurian being dragged backwards in mid-air by some unseen force and the armoured arcanist following him at nearly similar speeds.
Blake stared at his pursuer. The platform was not endless and he was fast reaching its edge. Having drawn away, he quickly switched from the Fifth to Third Drive hoping to slip past Valerian. With his manoeuvrability boosted he executed a half turn and watched his opponent go by. Unable to stop himself, Valerian shot past him, going nearly two metres before he could stop and turn back.
Holding back the only curse he knew, he made another pass. He knew he had to keep the pressure up. Being relentless was one of Harry’s Principles of Attack after all. His opponent was at the end of the tether. A few more strikes and he would have settled it. However, he was finding all but impossible to lay a hand on him. One, two, three attempts, all of them failing.
Valerian was forced to admit that his current mode of attack was not going to work. Both he and his opponent possessed similar levels of speed but when using that infuriating skill, the other outstripped him in nimbleness and evasive skills.
He raised his hands, choosing instead to rain [Scything Blades] at him. As predicted, Blake dodged. The Third Drive was extremely good at avoiding those kinds of attacks. As a matter of fact, he took the opportunity to get some space between himself and Valerian. Widening the gap so that he could make one last attempt at turning the battle around.
Unexpectedly Valerian let him, choosing not to pursue. Actually, he stopped attacking altogether. The annoyed Blake, he did not want to think his opponent was taking pity on him. ‘No matter’, he thought. ‘It will all be over with this.’
With that thought, he forced his body into the Fourth Drive.
Zotta’s Six Drives was an incredible art. It was a Regal ranked tellurian art but its potential and power made it stand out even in that category. For generations, the Lytaun Dojo had relied on it and a few others to maintain their position in Cragsveil. They were not one of its top ten institutions for nothing. However, even in the dojo, only a few could bring out the full brilliance of the skill.
Like every other, it had its strengths and weakness. It was powerful and exceptionally suited to combat. It could also be practised by tellurians of every attribute. It brought speed and striking strength to a high pinnacle making its users tough to fight. Sadly, this was also its problem.
Zotta’s Six Drives was constituted of six sustained skill modes. Two for movement, one for evasion, one supplementary and two attack. The underlying principle that tied them all together – speed. It had no defensive skills nor did result in a body that could shrug attacks. If you couldn’t evade, you were done for. If your speed was not up to par, everything suffered.
That was why despite being theoretically possible for tellurians of every attribute to practice it the Lytaun Dojo only allowed cultivators with innate attributes of wind, lightning or light to do so. These were the elements that lent themselves most easily to speed. Of these in particular, the innately wind attributed were zealously sought after.
Wind was Zotta’s own attribute and the one that worked best with his techniques and style. Because of this, the ones who became the true inheritors of the technique in the dojo were the wind attributed. In truth, that was the only reason Bake was part of the dojo.
He had been an orphaned street urchin when his qi awakened. Luckily, he drew the attention of the main branch of the do
jo which was coincidentally situated in the city he lived. His had not been the guided safe awakening that happened in temples, schools or private homes but a forceful, violent one.
He had been caught stealing. His captors being the type to take the law into their own hands, chose to enact instant justice. They beat him. Beat him so badly that his qi rushed out to save his life. He was six then. Even today, seventeen years on, he carried the scars. Thankfully, not long afterwards, an elder of the Lytaun Dojo picked him up and took him to the dojo. There he found a home. There he found family.
It could be said that he was not fighting for his dojo but for his home. Even his name, Blake, was given to him by the Master. This tournament had the entire region unsettled and as the prime disciple of the Lytaun Dojo he would be remiss if he had missed it. He had to win. Their dreams, the dreams of his fellows, his master, his family had been entrusted to him and he would not fail them.
That was why he persevered through the pain and why he was going to stake everything on this last attack.
‘[Surge]’, he intoned mentally.
In response, his qi went crazy. Every ounce of it was squeezed out of his core and forced into his weakened flesh. This was the Fourth Drive, the supplementary one. It boosted every single parameter of the user at the cost of his qi and body. It consumed qi to push one past his or her limits and doubled the qi intensity.
To all the onlookers, he went from someone with winds swirling around his body to the eye of a storm. The wind currents whipped his surroundings, leaving scars on the arena platform as well as ruffling his clothes. His eyes burned with determination and his aura was filled with it. Even the densest spectators could tell that he was going all-out for this one.
Ignoring his arm and his gut, he put one foot in front of the other, running at Valerian. Leaping into the air, he entered the Sixth Drive once more. Just before the first revolution was completed, his eyes made out Valerian’s face and the smile it had.
