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Chapter 72. Viable Strategies
🕑 Added 2020-08-11 15:31:00 +0000 UTCA week flew by. Ian spent the majority of his days brainstorming a way to weaponize soul gems, helping Germaine move her studio to Zukal’iss, and training his abilities. While the technology of a glosSword was beyond Ian’s knowledge, he figured that designing a device that could replicate the sword’s defensive aegis mode would prove useful during combat.
The key is the soul gem, Ian mused, hovering the prismatic gem before him. If the problem is with my ascendant energy, I have to find ways to avoid using my own energy entirely. He began to spool bits of energy off the gem, teasing out gooey strands and hanging them in the air. After a few minutes, he had a network of thin strands spanning the air around him, beads of oily energy traveling along its pathways.
Ian considered the different threads. He wanted to experiment with arranging the threads in the kinds of patterns and arrays that were common when architecting glossy devices. He suspected that the glosSword utilized such a strategy to interface Death energy from soul gems with the sword’s glossy components.
He began to cross strands of energy over each other, but frowned. Not quite right. The crossed threads weren’t interacting like rigid, inscribed glossy conduits; rather, they were sticking together, growing tangled. He shifted positions, running a hand over one section of clumping threads.
He thought back to his work in the loop, when he was inspecting the necromancer’s Dark puppet. Then he’d focused on making use of the puppet’s inscriptions and shaping them to obey his commands. Trying to replicate something similar from scratch was far more difficult.
He tried to think about what it was he was even trying to do. What kind of shield was he trying to make, exactly? It would need to be able to defend against both physical and non-physical attacks. Ideally, against mental attacks from Remorse practitioners. Most ideally, against bindings from End practitioners like the Eldemari.
He calmed his mind and thought of the first thing he’d need to do. First, he needed to be able to create a shield manually. Once he had a working shield that accomplished his requirements, he could eventually automate such a defense.
“Let’s start simple,” he murmured. Physical attacks seemed like the lowest hanging fruit to address.
It only took him a few minutes to bind the strands of energy to pieces of bone and cast them up like a net. They were dispersed around him, but as soon as he willed it, they drew inward at a specific point. He could add more bones to increase the area of coverage, though what he had for now was enough of a proof of concept.
But how to deal with nonphysical attacks effectively? He could try using raw Death energy, as he did during the duel, but he had already seen how ineffective it was against a concentrated burst of power from a powerful elementalist.
He inspected the spooling strands of energy, looking for inspiration. He flicked one such strand. Unlike an actual thread, the energy didn’t vibrate; rather, it bent flaccidly, energy wafting around his finger like a cloud of dust.
He felt as though he was onto something, but shook his head, dispelling the energy for now.
Later in the evening, he continued his training session with Euryphel and Guardian Urstes.
“Come out and fight,” Ian bellowed, smiling wryly. Urstes could be a real nightmare in a duel, the man disappearing into the ground and zipping around underfoot, evading Ian’s grasp by staying a solid seventy-or-so meters away at all times.
Even though Ian was several feet above the ground, the ground spit out rotating discs of earth that threatened to cut him in half. He dodged one by ducking underneath, only to find himself nearly skewered by a spike jutting underfoot.
Of course, there was also the Steppesinker’s signature move, Cavern Crush, which he liked to use whenever Ian moved quickly across the field. Ian twisted out of the way, Urstes’ attack snapping behind him like the jaws of a massive piranha.
In the beginning, the duels with Urstes ended because the earth elementalist ran out of energy. Ian was eventually able to devise a sure-fire strategy to defeat the man, though it took him a solid four days to figure out how.
Ian was enacting such a strategy now, a cluster of bone projectiles cutting through the dense ground to box the earth elementalist in. He orchestrated the bone shards while he navigated Urstes’ offensive, the dual task requiring spatial awareness of his position relative to Urstes at any given time, the bone projectiles, and Urstes’ attacks.
It took another minute, but Ian achieved another victory: Urstes’ elbow came within Ian’s range. Ian then yanked the elementalist by the arm and locked his body in place. While Urstes could still technically attack, the man recognized the disabling of his body as checkmate.
Ian released his hold; Urstes shot up from the ground, emerging in a cloud of dust. He motioned with a hand and all traces of dirt evacuated his vestments, falling to the ground. He then motioned for Ian to come close.
“The problem with what you’re doing,” Urstes grunted, breathing heavily, “is that it’s too obvious that you’re just playing with me.”
“I’m not playing with you,” Ian said indignantly. If he grew distracted for even one moment, Urstes would be able to claim victory.
Euryphel, meditating nearby, opened his eyes and chuckled from the side. “I can’t see what’s happening underground; can you explain, Urstes?”
The elementalist sighed. “Any Mountain practitioner would be able to see that he’s trying to herd me, rather than just attack me directly. Skai’aren, isn’t it the case that it’d be easier to pierce me through with bone directly, rather than chasing me around? Finally...the way your bones cut through the dirt...”
“Does it look like the earth is melting around them?” Ian asked, a bit of incredulity seeping into his tone.
“No, that’s not it. Rather...they shouldn’t be able to move so quickly,” Urstes said after a moment of contemplation. “Not through earth that I’m directly controlling.”
Ian sighed. “What am I supposed to do, then, if I can’t even send bone projectiles out to kite you into my range?” He was out of other ideas. He turned to Euryphel, then asked, “How would you defeat Urstes?”
“In a standard duel, the Crowned Prime would lose against me,” Urstes said coolly. “It’s a poor match up for him, given that he’s a wind elementalist. Initially, I wouldn’t be able to touch him because of his Regret affinity. But since his elemental affinity is lower than mine, the prince would run out of stamina first.”
Euryphel...would lose? Ian had trouble believing that Urstes was a more difficult opponent than the former Crowned Prime, O’osta Kestrelius Selejo.
As though sensing his thoughts, Euryphel said, “Urstes is specialized in defense and battles of attrition. If you can’t find some way to cut apart the earth when he’s fully submerged himself, or defeat him within the first half-second of the duel while he’s still on the surface...there’s nothing to be done. His swift defeat during the demonstration was solely due to ignorance of your extensive suite of capabilities.”
Ian nodded his head slowly. It wasn’t that the Steppesinker was necessarily the most powerful practitioner, but that he was possibly the most difficult to defeat one-on-one, without the assistance of another earth elementalist to impede his movements underground. This defensiveness was in stark contrast to the former Crowned Prime, who relied on a swift and overwhelming offense.
Still, considering the miracle of Euryphel’s victory against O’osta...Ian had a suspicion that if Euryphel truly wanted to, he could devise a way to defeat Urstes. Perhaps the win would come not through his wind elementalism, but through his End affinity. If he could create some kind of array that could extend its reach underground, it’s possible that he could land incorporeal attacks.
Ian suddenly realized that he was going about fighting Urstes the wrong way. Why couldn’t he devise some kind of energy array that would operate underground?
He frowned, realizing that using an energy array would be considered cheating, according to the restrictions that he’d agreed on with Euryphel. The whole point of these exercises was to avoid employing outside manifestations of Death energy. But he could also try and construct something else. It could be like a net that will close in on itself, trapping Urstes within.
In practice, Ian’s new strategy started off looking similar to what he’d been doing before: a cluster of small bones darted toward Urstes through the earth, though Ian made the bones intentionally slower to address Urstes’ previous critique. The lack of speed initially appeared to prevent them from properly encircling the elementalist; however, after about thirty seconds, the bones accelerated and seemed to contract inwards, cutting through the soil like hot knives through butter.
Ian’s lips curved into a grin: an attractive force between the bones created a pressure that brought them together, inward. Said force was a product of his will: he treated the bones like individual components of a single bone construct. Even though the bones soon grew distant, the command to become one entity with Urstes at the center persisted.
Though Urstes tried numerous evasive maneuvers, within fifteen-or-so seconds the bones pressed against his body at several different points. He voluntarily returned to the surface and admitted his defeat, sweat beading up around his brow.
“I didn’t know your bones could do that,” he panted. “They technically moved even faster than before, toward the end.”
“I didn’t know they could either.” Ian wiggled his fingers, causing the bones around Urstes to disengage and dance around his hand. “So, is this strategy viable?”
“I said before that your bones moved too quickly, but that wasn’t quite right. Before, your bones maintained a constant speed; it felt artificial. But the technique you just employed felt much more natural. It felt like the kind of technique a peak practitioner would employ.”
“I’m glad to hear it,” he murmured. His mind was starting to churn through different applications for the technique.
The Steppesinker snorted. “I doubt you’ll be forced into needing the strategy, but if you’re up against someone slippery, you can count on it as a trump card.”
—
“Wow, this place looks just like the one back in Shattradan,” Ian mused, his eyes poring over the collection of half-finished, easeled paintings.
Germaine smiled. “The moving team did a good job. I confess I was a bit concerned since there was so much to move, but everything arrived safe and sound.”
Ian hummed in acknowledgement. “I haven’t seen any of your newer paintings.”
Germained flashed a smile. “I suppose you wouldn’t have gotten the chance.” She began setting up a pallet with paint.
Ian walked gingerly to her side. He stood there uncertainly, as though trying to think of how to phrase a question.
“Are you upset with me?” His words hovered like dust in the air.
“No,” Germaine said, refuting him calmly. “Why would I be upset?”
Ian shook his head and gave her a knowing look. “You have friends and a network back in Shattradan, in Gent. You have your gallery. Here?” He gestured with an arm. “I suppose you have this room.”
Germaine ran her tongue over her teeth. “I didn’t exactly have another option,” she admitted. “Still, the weather’s better in the SPU. And I always wanted to travel, but never made the time. Besides, at least people here speak Swellish.”
“If you ever want to leave Zukal’iss, tell me, and we can go together.”
Laughing lightly, she pushed a strand of hair behind her ear. “Am I allowed to take the Crowned Prime’s personal retainer away for a day?”
“Definitely.”
“How magnanimous of him. You know, I thought the first prince would be more imposing,” Germaine murmured. “But he’s quite approachable.”
Ian nodded. He sat down backwards on a paint-stained chair. “Perhaps he’s so approachable because he’s had practice acting like a regular.”
Germaine laughed softly. “What?”
“He sneaks out, from time to time,” Ian explained. “I reckon he’s more skilled with makeup than you are. He changes his features to be nearly unrecognizable when paired with common clothing.”
“Hmm. It’s sad, now that you mention it.”
Ian did a double-take: “sad” wasn’t what he expected her to come away with. He leaned forward against the back of the chair, causing the front two legs to pop off the ground behind him.
“Why is it sad?”
“He’s so young,” she said. “Just a bit older than us. The most exciting, free years of his life are practically behind him. It’s no wonder he’s snuck out from time to time disguised as a reg.”
“He likes being Prime,” Ian argued. “There’s nothing forcing him to hold the position. He could technically step down.”
Germaine snorts. “Really, Ian? You know very well that it’s more complicated than that.”
“Of course it is,” he muttered back. “Everything is always more complicated than it seems.” For instance, ruminating on the tangled relationship between Euryphel and the Eldemari was enough to cause a headache, not to mention his own circumstances. “This political ‘high-society’ bullshit is really grating on me. How do you stand it?”
“You grow inured to it eventually,” she said. “When I first started gaining critical success, it also felt a bit...” she trailed off, looking toward the ceiling, as though she would find the right words in the wooden beams. “Artificial,” she finally concludes. “Like every interaction was ever-so-slightly disingenuous.”
Ian nodded. “I’ve been trying to avoid politicking for that reason,” he said. “I don’t trust myself to always say the right thing. And anything I say, as Euryphel’s personal retainer, might be used against him.”
“It’s funny you say that,” she remarks. “I don’t think you quite realize the effect you have on people.”
“Well, the effect I have on Prime Ezenti is to make him as irritable as a soul swarm.”
Germaine’s lips curled into a sneer. “I’m not talking about Ezenti: He’s different. I’m talking about virtually anyone outside of the Prime of Fives and the Guard.”
“What about them?”
“They like you!” She shook her head. “Don’t you know that much?”
“Why would they like me? I haven’t done anything.”
Germaine held out her hand and started counting off her fingers. “First off, you dealt with the vermin problem.”
Ian rolled his eyes. “That’s hardly worth mentioning.”
“Second, you somehow managed to befriend a few of the new officer trainees. Many of them brought along their own retainers, and the general word around the palace is that you’re an approachable, hard-working subject of the Crowned Prime.”
“I wouldn’t say I’m friends with any of them,” Ian argued, genuinely confused. “I ran into two of them in the baths. Besides, how do you even know any of this?”
“Mother and Aunt Julia compulsively over-analyzed everything in the palace.”
Ian snorted, then shook his head and stood up. “All of that’s nice to know, Germaine, but at the end of the day, I’m a decemancer. People don’t like decemancers.”
She began to protest, only to be cut off by Ian’s decisive expression.
“There’s more than one reason they won’t release that practice video from the other day. While I didn’t break any laws, utilizing long-dry bones and the vitality of plants and small animals...there’s something naturally unsettling about this affinity.”
“That’s only because of people like that necromancer in your Menocht loop. Nobody likes the idea of skeletons raised from the dead, or shambling abominations invading pastoral hamlets. It’s why we have the laws we do.” She raised an eyebrow. “You’re doing nothing of this sort.”
At least not yet. War with Selejo and the Ho’ostar peninsula would undoubtedly change things. What would Germaine say then?
Ian decided to pivot the conversation. “Tell me about this painting,” he said, turning toward a large canvas propped on an easel. “Tell me about all of them.”
