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Rise of the Archon- Book 2, Chapter 47
🕑 Added 2024-12-30 10:21:23 +0000 UTCI almost expected Lord Sinnett to strike me down in some fit of petty rage even as I walked away. Thankfully, no attack came, and the door clicked shut behind me without incident. I stood there for a few seconds, feeling my heart rate slow as I caught my breath.
Once more, I was left at the mercy of some arrogant noble who had an issue with me for no understandable reason. And once more, I was left with more questions than I preferred. Why the hell had Lysandra brought me along? She had phrased this as a learning experience, but what was I learning? How best not to anger the walking corpse of a fire mage?
The healer had to have known what kind of man Sinnett was, yet she had invited me onto this trip anyway. Was there something I was not seeing, or had she simply miscalculated how he would react?
I shook my head and walked away from the doors, deciding it did not matter either way. There were better uses for my time, namely exploring my home for the next few days.
The fortress corridors were dark and cramped, lit only by small, flickering torches. I tried to recall the path we had taken before, but Master Lysandra had moved far too quickly, and every one of the damn hallways looked the same. Ultimately, it took me almost twenty minutes to find my way back downstairs and into the courtyard.
Outside, everything looked the same as before, for the most part. The midday sun was high overhead, the air had taken on a gentle warmth that spoke of oncoming spring, and I heard sea birds calling on the salty winds. All in all, it was not an unpleasant scene.
Sailors moved about the courtyard, speaking with guards and servants as they carried crates and barrels up from the docks. Part of why we had come by boat was to protect these goods, which would ensure the fortress remained supplied for months to come. I also knew that the captain and his crew would be well-rewarded for their troubles, and a small, greedy part of me wondered if a portion of that would come in my direction.
I watched them for a few seconds, then shook my head and slipped past the sailors, heading to the docks to retrieve Cat and my things. However, halfway there, a thought occurred to me. I paused and glanced back to the fortress, or rather to the walls that overlooked the coast. Although I did not want to poke the metaphorical bear, I could not deny the morbid curiosity that ran through me.
So, with a mental sigh, I turned around and walked back up to the fortress. It took me a minute or two to find a guard who was not speaking with anyone. The man stood by a wall, half-slumped against his spear with an expression that looked disciplined but was, in truth, barely hiding the boredom radiating off his body.
"Excuse me," I said, and the guard jumped. His glazed-over eyes darted toward me. He straightened his back, and the heels of his boots clicked together as he stood at attention.
"My lord!" the man said sharply, eyes staring straight forward with practiced perfection.
I almost protested his formality, then mentally sighed before responding, "I had a question if you could spare a moment of your time."
"Of course, my lord! How may I serve you?"
"How do I get up there?" I asked, pointing to the upper walls of the fortress.
"The walls, my lord? There are several paths there. Ordinarily, I could show you the way, sir, but I'm afraid I must remain at my post. Please accept my apologies, sir."
"Understood. And I do not suppose these servants are any more available, are they? Hmm, do you know who can show me the way?"
The guard nodded, his face still a mask of professionalism, "Yes, my lord. If you follow this path around the side of the building, it will lead to another, smaller courtyard. There should be guards there who are off-duty and able to assist you."
"Fantastic, thanks," I replied, nodding to him. I tried not to notice how he refused to meet my eyes or how he stood painfully straight. It was the same response I had seen many times now from non-mages and commoners.
He was afraid of me.
"It is my honor, my lord," the guard bowed his head again, then returned his focus to watching the sailors.
I tried not to sigh as I walked away, following his directions around the building. It took me a minute to reach the second, smaller courtyard, built in front of another building that I suspected was the servant's quarters. They resembled the ones found on Duke Estton's lands but made of stone rather than wood and with yellowed, dead grass rather than lush greenery.
Yet that did not draw my attention so much as the guards training in front of the building.
Eight figures fought in pairs, sparring with spears in one hand and small shields in the other. They wore thin clothes with only light armor protecting their bodies, which, in conjunction with their weapons, suggested a focus on speed and mobility rather than protection. Most notable was their style, which was wholly different from the movements I had come to associate with typical Ferren guards.
They did not move with the slow, decisive moves of a guard. Instead, they favored quick, in-and-out strikes, fast blocks, parries, and counters. They flowed from spot to spot, light on their feet, always moving, and never staying in one place for longer than a heartbeat. It was a dynamic, fluid way of fighting that was confusing, hard to follow, and, I suspected, inefficient as hell. It would cause no end of trouble for most opponents, but it also burned through stamina like crazy and would do little to punch through heavy armor, much less more magical protections.
Still...with a few adjustments, it might be useful in the right hands. Namely mine. I made a mental note to spar with them while I was here if only to get some ideas for my personal style, then straightened my back and walked over to the group.
It did not take them long to notice my approach. All eight pulled up short, standing at attention well before I reached them, and I tried not to roll my eyes as they all said in unison, "Good afternoon, my lord!"
Clearly, Lord Sinnett had drilled into them the value of discipline and formality, which spoke as much to the man's ego as anything else. I pushed aside my ever-growing distaste for the man and nodded to the nearest of the eight, a man at most two years older than me.
"Do I have the word 'mage' written somewhere on my body?" I asked with a chuckle, "This is the second time now one of you has assumed I was one."
The guard shook his head, "No, my lord, you do not. The captain told us to expect mages visiting from the north, my lord."
"Ah, and I look the part?" I glanced down at my clothes, a simple set of dark pants, a shirt, and boots, "And here I thought I looked more like some well-to-do scholar. Then again, I suppose that is what all mages are at the end of the day."
My joke fell on deaf ears, and I sighed before continuing, "No matter. Would it be possible for one of you to show me to the tops of the walls?"
The group remained silent aside from the one I had already spoken with, who asked, "The walls, my lord?" in an uncertain tone.
"Yes, the walls," I smiled, "My master is busy at the moment, and I find that I need a way to keep myself occupied. Besides, I have read about fortresses such as these and heard that the view from atop their walls can be quite impressive. Call it a curiosity."
The guard visibly swallowed, then he nodded, "I can take you up there, my lord. I would need a moment to clean myself and change into my formal uniform, though, but if you would like, I can go without—"
"Not a problem, I can wait here," I folded my arms across my chest.
He shifted in place, glancing back to the other guards who were still standing at attention, then returned his focus to me. I saw him steel himself, almost as if he was terrified of saying the wrong thing, then he bowed at the waist and hurried back towards the smaller building, presumably to change into his guard uniform.
I watched him for a moment, then turned to the guards and said, "While I am waiting, could one of you show me a little more about your techniques? I watched some of your sparring and would love to learn more."
By the time the first guard returned, I had gotten a very brief overview of their techniques. As far as I could tell, it was derived from a mixture of influences, namely fighting within the cramped confines of a fortress and on a boat, where rigging and sails and ever-shifting decks made constant adjustments a necessity.
I was unsure if I would have any chance to spar with them and get a first-hand experience of their techniques, but even that short conversation was enough to lead me down an interesting train of thought.
Was it possible to make a single, "perfect" martial style that fit all situations? No. Or rather, not for a regular human with a natural lifespan. I could spend decades trying to learn as many techniques as possible to compensate for as many scenarios as possible, but ultimately, that would take too much time for too little reward.
Instead, I needed to create a base that was already flexible and adaptable enough. I could not fixate too much on perfect footwork because what worked for one type of terrain or one weapon might be ill-suited to another. A strong defense was good with a shield, but what if I lacked one? And how would the cuts and thrusts of a typical sword function once I added in magical reinforcement?
No, none of the existing styles I had learned would truly fit my needs. I would need to take the best of each, stripping them down and merging them into something all-purpose. A generalist style. One without major flaws that I could shift and adapt as needed, targeting weaknesses in my opponents and pressing advantages in a particular situation.
The guard broke into my musings with another boot-clicking salute, and I rolled my eyes before nodding to him and commanding, "Lead the way."
Not unlike Master Lysandra, the guard led me on a merry path through the fortress. This time, we did not go through the main building but instead through a secondary entrance built into the walls themselves. He was slower than my teacher, so I managed to follow with less difficulty, and soon we exited back outside.
The top of the walls were flat, wide enough for multiple guards to walk side by side without issue. Near the far edges stood cannons, larger than non-magical variants and covered in runes. I had not noticed them on our approach and realized this was at least partially by design. After all, you did not want to give any attackers too clear a target.
I turned and looked past the walls and out to the ocean. The view was not dissimilar to Aranth's, with the sun shining across an endless stretch of blue. The light bouncing off the surface was almost blinding, and I once more caught the smell of saltwater and the sound of bird cries.
Slowly, my eyes looked further out, and almost by accident, memories overlayed the sights. I saw a shining green blade, larger than seemed possible, splitting the ocean. I heard the screams of dying men and the crunch of metal and wood. I felt the same mixture of awe and horror now as I had then, and all at once, it hit me.
This place, this small, dingy little fortress, was where I would have died.
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