Chapter 50: Lightning Field
“This is so boring,” Rosalyn said for the third time since the duel had begun.
Ashlyn hid her smile, exchanging a look with Jinn.
“Why can't he just end it already?”
Ashlyn handed her a sandwich, which shut her up for a good couple of minutes, though she feared many in the audience shared the same opinion. The duel had been going on for half an hour now. In every second of it, it seemed her Pumpkin was teetering on the edge of defeat, yet he managed to hold on, barely gaining a few bruises.
Both of their auras had dwindled so astronomically that they were barely holding on; their stamina was not much better either. Only through sheer grit had they managed to remain standing.
“It seems you have trained your son quite well,” a new voice said from the side.
A familiar voice and an even more familiar figure, though Ashlyn had never thought she would see him here.
Arata stood at the edge of the row of seats. The last time they had met him, he had been in the legionary's colours; now, he was in a common tunic and trousers, a sword latched to his hip.
Jinn craned his neck, his pupil meeting that of an old friend.
“Am I unwelcome here?” Arata posed the question, not to Jinn but to her. He knew full well that although most of his disputes were with Jinn, it was her he needed to be wary of, as Jinn was more forgiving of his circumstances.
“That would depend on your business,” she said.
“I’m just here to talk,” Arata said, raising both of his palms in a peace offering.
She met Jinn's gaze, and when he nodded, she agreed. “Have a seat then.”
There was no seat available in the same row, so Arata had to settle for one behind them.
“The boy moves fine,” he commented, eyeing Jinn. “I didn't think you have it in you to grind him through the sword training.”
“I did not. He's just that talented.”
Arata arched an eyebrow. “Truly? How old is he? Perhaps with some precise training and Sword Forging, he might become the youngest True Swordsmanship to date.”
“That’s unimportant,” Jinn said offhandedly, still focusing on the battle. “You were the fastest to reach it in our generation. How did that work out for you?”
Arata scrunched his nose. “I’m not talking about moulding him into another you, but if the lad has really reached this height without the forging trials, then imagine how refined his aura will become once you put him through some challenges. Or are you fearing he won’t—”
Jinn turned to face him with a warning glare. “Why are you here, Arata?”
“Straight to business, eh?” He shook his head. “I guess we have not been friends for a while, but even before that, you were never a big talker.”
Arata fell silent, finding Jinn entirely nonchalant about the past. He let out a forlorn sigh, his gaze drifting back to the duelists on their last breath.
“I’m returning home.”
That got a reaction from Jinn. Even Ashlyn’s heart skipped a beat when she heard the next sentence.
“I came here to know if you want to return with me.”
She almost stood up to curse at the blighted man. She was aware of how difficult the decision would be for Jinn. A little of his family remained in Ryon, but his allegiance had always been to the people of his land. If the demonic invasions were distressing here in the Empire, they were many times worse there, Ryon being the final wall of protection against the blight.
“From what I hear, the situation is growing wildly erratic,” Arata said, regarding him. “There have even been some close brushes with a Blightlord.”
Ashlyn had thought Arata would use some ill tactic to provoke Jinn, but to her surprise, the man finally seemed to have grown a little conscience.
“It isn’t as bad as what Old Ryon faced, obviously. The saint still stands, the Goddess’s protection still impenetrable.” He prayed under his breath, a palm on his heart. “There were two reasons they sent me here. Now that I have seen through them both, I have no intention of remaining when my people sacrifice their lives every day.”
“I had the intention of returning,” Jinn said, turning towards her, “but now with the baby coming, I have shelved it for now.”
Only then did it register to Arata that she was with child.
“Well, congratulations. I pray to the lord that it is another healthy cub.”
On the arena below, Arilyn’s duel finally reached its climax, though nothing climactic unfolded. His opponent, the spearman, simply surrendered, finding no way to get through his defences.
“Although I’m leaving,” Arata said, standing to his feet, “you might see more familiar faces.”
“They are sending more people here?” Ashlyn frowned. “Why?”
“Well, mostly younger folks,” Arata explained. “I don’t know the details, but it seems we have made a deal to send a number of our young talents to train in the fancy academy here. There’ll be a few older fellows too, including many artisans and shapers.”
“What’s happened to the deal for getting weapons back to Ryon?” Ashlyn asked.
“Oh, we got a deal, all right,” Arata said, though he did not seem too spirited about it. “The Empire agreed to deliver ten thousand pieces of equipment, at least of the Noble Class. The problem is that we won’t get them in one sweep, but in small instalments over the next eight years.”
She chewed her gum, considering his statement. Ten thousand was not a small number by any means, even to Anvil, which was most probably the prominent dealer in this agreement. But to divide it over eight years? They could do much better than that. Because they had done it before. Even when the industry was not half as large, before the revolutions in the art of weaponsmithing, they had delivered larger shipments in less time, not to mention at a loss.
There had been an old agreement of faith. But, as it happens with faith, it tends to die along with the people involved. Even House Amadues had been slowly curtailing the oath, until the Empire seized most of their rights and estate of operation.
“We received no confirmation on the artisans we asked for,” Arata continued. “And then there is the blighted payment. We aren’t paying any lower than premium prices. Some show of gratefulness after we sacrifice our lives so that you all can live in peace.”
Ashlyn was not foolish enough to answer his jab. But Rose was not as mature, nor did she know a great deal about what they were talking about; she almost burst into a retort. Thankfully, Emi stopped her in time.
“If you’re desperate,” Ashlyn allowed herself to say, “I might be able to help broker a better deal with Dragonforge.”
That stopped Arata in his tracks. “Would your emperor agree?”
“He is not my emperor,” Ashlyn said flatly. “But yes, with the help of Sir Gaius, it is possible.”
As the old imperator was still not stronger than the Titan Blade.
“Though you would have to make a bed with Dragonforge. The prices can be much lower. Jinn and I had a good talk with them just a couple of days ago.”
Arata stared at them for a moment. “That would be terrific," he allowed. “Thank you.”
“Don’t thank me yet,” she smiled warily. “Even if the deal goes well, don’t expect a large shipment of fabricators, but Dragonforge’s craftsmanship always tends a shade higher than the industry standard. I’d advise getting nothing lower than Prestigious-grade fabricators.”
“Will they agree to that?”
“They do business in good faith. As long as you provide something of equal value, especially those rich ores abundant in Ryon, they might even agree to extend their roots here in the Empire.”
Arata narrowed his eyes. “Will they allow a few of their master artisans to leave with us?”
“I am not sure about that.”
“Even if we guarantee their safety?”
“You can pose the question to them directly,” Ashlyn said, though she wasn’t optimistic about it. The rich materials could certainly entice them, but artisans usually tended to be peace-loving folks. “You should be prepared. Even if they allow a few of them to go, I don’t think they would teach any advanced engraving techniques to your people.”
While they discussed and worked out the details for a meeting, Arilyn trudged his way over to join them. Without paying any attention to them, he flopped down, taking up a few seats. He hadn’t used a single wisp of essence in the duel, but the victory had come at the cost of his physical endurance.
She got him a wet towel and drinks to rehydrate while Arata departed after congratulating him on the victory.
“Why is he here?” he asked.
“Just for some talk.”
The first thing Arilyn asked after returning to their quarters was for two plates of food. The second thing he asked for was some tips on the aura resonance of weight.
Both of them had mastered the auric skill, but since Jinn was mentoring him on aura, Ashlyn was happy to watch. Even Rose joined, wishing to see if she could imitate whatever auric sorcery she was hearing about.
They kept at it for a while. Although Rosalyn was not proficient in aura, she was much more fluid with it, already digesting the basics with a clinical eye. It was Arilyn who was taking the lesson hungrily.
If Ashlyn had presumed that only shaping came naturally to her son, then she would have been greatly mistaken, as his mastery over aura seemed to be growing at an astonishing pace. It was quite outrageous. While Rosalyn played with a couple of layers of auric weight, Arilyn had already imbued six layers into his blade. And he had been practising aura for only a couple of months.
Yes, he had access to superior visualisation methods, on top of a great deal of Will, but they had never put him through any rigorous aura training. Much like the physical body, aura grew through relentless conditioning. Jinn had put him through some of that, but he was always too careful while helping him. Even adding the aura-suppressing weight Ashlyn had placed on him should not have resulted in such an astonishing outcome.
It could be an effect of the eluding gift, along with all his Honours.
Once Jinn finished the lesson, Emi handed him a plate of peeled apples. “If you are done with your aura training,” she said, “I would like to see how far you have progressed with your shaping. I have heard everything from Rosalyn, but seeing it will give me a better idea.”
Arilyn immediately retracted his aura and began displaying one element after another in complicated weaves, perhaps too occupied with impressing his aunt. He finished with lightning before moving into a weave duel.
Emi could have defeated him without even using her real abilities, but she let him show off before dispersing her essence.
“Good. I think you are prepared.”
“Prepared for what?”
“To learn a couple of weaves that earned me my Magus status. It’s called Lightning Field, and I think it will suit you well.”