《Swords Don't Kill Monsters》


 Prologue I

    Rane knelt in his room, focused deeply on his task.


    In one hand, he held a straw doll that wielded a slender twig that served as its sword. It was tied to the doll with fraying twine.


    In his other hand was a larger doll fashioned after some four legged creature; it was too crude for any further judgment to be made as to what it represented, but at that moment, to Rane, it was a large fenull. He had overheard his dad talking about them in a grave tone. Surely, if they worried his dad, they must be quite formidable.


    Rane bobbed the sword-wielding doll up and down as he mimicked the heroic doll sneaking up on the foul creature.


    He made a sudden whooshing noise with his mouth, and tossed the four legged doll away, as if it were thrown by some great power.


    Then, a savory aroma filled Rane¡¯s room, breaking his intense conversation.


    His dad would be coming home, and he was hungry. He quickly got up, his soldier doll still in his right hand, and ran to the kitchen.


    He made just as his father was walking through the door


    His dad was tall, and had to duck a little to get through the door frame.


    Or, thought Rane, maybe their house was just too small. He hadn¡¯t considered this before, and the possibility stumped him. How did people decide how big to build things?


    As Rane pondered the nature of their architecture, his Dad walked past to greet his mother.


    He gave her a kiss and asked what was for dinner, despite it being prepared right in front of him.


    ¡°Same as usual, Winz, now go set the table,¡± his mother said with a smile.


    ¡°Ah, what cruel slavery I must endure in my home,¡± Winz responded before snapping to Rane. ¡°Come here, you¨C¡±


    He dashed forward and picked him up, swinging him a full turn before proclaiming, ¡°wow, I think you¡¯ve gotten too big! I think I may drop you.¡±


    Rane squirmed wildly, and his father set him down gently, even as his swinging legs kicked up a bit of dust and straw from the floor.


    ¡°Rane, go set the table.¡±


    As Rane grabbed the three pairs of wooden silverware and plates from a cabinet, he noticed his was still carrying the doll. His previous thoughts of the structure of their home quickly vanished, and a new one popped into his head. It was a question for which his dad certainly would hold an answer.


    ¡°What makes a monster a monster?¡± Rane curiously inquired.


    ¡°Hmm. Basically, they¡¯re animals. They eat, sleep, have offspring, get old, and eventually die. What makes a monster, though, comes down to two things: how easily it can kill you, and how hard it is for an average person to kill it. A Classient can usually bring one down with a bit of support, but the bottom line is this: swords don¡¯t kill monsters.¡±


    His father¡¯s reply was serious. As a guardsman for a frontier town, he had little room to joke about the realities that they all faced. His child could be killed by a mountain cat, or a wild boar. He himself, with only a meager grasp on controlling ambient energy, could only face a monster with a squad of seven, and he¡¯d have to be prepared for casualties.


    It is for this reason that the term ¡°monster¡± exists. It does not denote species; it denotes power. If a creature is sufficiently powerful enough to kill you, and holds the intent to do so, while your arrows scrape harmlessly off its scales, and your sword refuses to pierce its skin, that thing cannot be referred to with the same term as a rabbit or a sparrow, or even bear; it is something on a different level, something much more dangerous, a monster.


    Later, when Rane had finished eating, he was in his room, thinking seriously about this newfound knowledge. He tried to imagine what such creatures would look like. Apparently, fenulls weren¡¯t really even considered monsters. His father had explained in greater detail what they looked like, and they seemed plenty monstrous.


    Looking down at his doll, he took the small twig and removed it from the doll.


    If you spot this story on Amazon, know that it has been stolen. Report the violation.


    *****


    Breakfast was interrupted by a voice that pierced the tranquil air, ¡°Winz, we gotta go. We¡¯re pushing the front today.¡±


    Pushing the front. Winz put on a smile for Rane. The day had finally come. Every three weeks, one squad would be selected to push the front. This squad would journey ahead of the road pushing west and scout the land ahead for the most optimal path. The terrain wasn¡¯t an issue. The forest was not an issue. The issue was that the further you get away from a settlement, the more likely you are to encounter monsters. The road had already been pushed nearly 50 miles into the forest of Kelston. The last two squads both encountered monsters.


    ¡°Tell mama to keep the stove warm for me when I get back,¡± said Winz.


    Rane quickly embraced Winz, then ran off to play.


    ¡°Let¡¯s get moving,¡± said June, the squad leader.


    With that, the group quickly made their exit from town. The journey to the front would take two days, but they would slow down greatly after reaching the front, and spend 7 days pushing ahead as pathfinders.


    **********


    The way had not been easy this time. The forest had not been kind. Ferulls, a small demi-human species, stole most of their supplies. June had broken an arm in an accident. The expedition would have to be called early.


    The pace back eastward was slow. Painfully slow. The forest canopy made even the brightest days nearly the same as dusk. The cries of birds and beasts, the creaking of branches, and the whistling of wind all seemed to be threatening the haggard group.


    The stalemate was broken as June cried out. His horse had fallen, its leg caught in the endless root floor of the forest. The caught leg was bent at an odd angle, clear even as the beast flailed. June made a motion with his good hand, and a root broke off, stabbing the throat of the horse, marking an end to the moment of chaos. The unsettling whispers of the woods slowly returned.


    ¡°Do you think anything heard that,¡± asked Neist?


    ¡°Yes,¡± responded June, ¡°but we can handle a  beast monster or two, even in these conditions. We¡¯ll be back to the road in less than a day.¡±


    June was confident. Especially in contrast to the other men in the squad, he was a powerful ambient user at brazient rank. Rumor had it that he was the 5th son of a capital noble trying to garner attention in the capital through his achievements in the field.


    As the group pulled together to move again, the sound of galloping could be heard echoing lightly through the trees. As the sound moved closer, the dull whispers of the forest grew more and more silent, as if the forest itself were retracting in on itself. The space they were in seemed to grow wider and more exposed. Winz could feel the change in the flow of ambient as the creature grew nearer.


    ¡°Formation!¡± ordered June. The group arranged quickly despite their injuries and fatigue. The two tanks stepped forward, forming a combined ambient barriers that would cover a roughly 220 degree field. The three spearmen took positions on the middle and side of the tanks. June stood tall in the middle of the formation. Winz, a swordsman, guarded the rear. Dust and leaves flew about from the frenzied movement of ambient created by the group of desperate men. Then, like a crescendo, it showed itself through the foliage ahead.


    They had been expecting a fenull, at worst maybe a pair of caanuls. What they were faced with was nothing like those things. A four legged beast resembling a horse faced them. It had no fur, appearing to be made of a dark black sinew, reminiscent of a deer that had been flayed and set to cure. It towered over the men, and attached to its back was a vaguely humanoid shape. At a glance, one could mistake it for a rider, but from this distance, it could easily be seen that there existed no separation between man and beast.


    The shape raised its arm. The ambient in the area seemed to freeze. The arm waved forward. A crushing force threw the two tankers off their feet as the spearbearers were skewered by their own weapons. June frantically waved his hands, trying to move ambient for a counter. He was interrupted by a wave of ambient that left him bisected at an odd angle.


    Winz watched with hollow eyes as the scene grew quiet. He raised his blade, willing it to be reinforced, and prepared for a strike. The weapon seemed too heavy, and there was an uncomfortable squelching sensation in his right boot. Winz fell forward with his weapon brandished high above his head, all life gone from his eyes.


    **********


    Without seeing a body, it¡¯s difficult to find closure. When attending a funeral, one forms a final memory of the deceased. Without a body, the last thing one remembers is their loved one as they were in life.


    Nyalla stood, unmoving, at the table, teardrops forming under her amber eyes as she stared at the table set for three. She couldn¡¯t clearly recall if she had set out the bowls, or if she had asked Rane to set them. Either way, three seemed the right amount. Three bowls on the table. Three pheasants in the soup. Three wooden spoons. Three people. Three days since the funeral. Or was it only two?


    Rane and Nyalla sat at the table without looking at each other. They ate in silence. Rane¡¯s bowl had more meat in it than normal.


    ¡°We¡¯re moving to Auryck,¡± announced Nyalla.


    Rane responded with a small, ¡®mmhm¡¯. He was eight years old ¨C too young to understand the crippling weight of losing the man of the house ¨C old enough to feel the crushing weight of losing a father. Nyalla felt both.


    She worked as a seamstress in the small fortress town of Kelston. There wasn¡¯t much industry there. The town existed primarily to support the needs of the garrison living there. With only a few members of the nobility, and no noble families, the garrison was purely a military foothold meant to push the Ambian Empire further East, through the forest of Kelston. In Auryck, she could find work far more easily. The journey from Kelston to Auryck was long, but she could afford it if she caught a ride with one of the garrison resupplies.

 Prologue II

    Rane spit out blood and glared at the towering figure of the boy across the ring. It was foolhardy to think he ever had a chance. He was older and bigger. He was from a rich family. He probably had an ambient tutor as well.


    ¡°I think you can chalk that up as another win,¡± said one of the boys making the ring.


    ¡°Not just yet,¡± responded Deidre. He brought his fist down. Across the ring, Rane screamed, his right arm hanging limp. Deidre wiped his brow. He was bleeding. Head wounds bleed a lot, but he hadn¡¯t expected Rane to land a blow. Deidre hoped that it wouldn¡¯t leave a scar.


    ¡°If I catch you stealing from our shop again, this will end with more than a bum shoulder, ¡° Deidre said as he walked away.


    ¡°Shit, ¡° whispered Rane. Tears flowed from his eyes. It was nearly all he could do to stop himself from screaming again. He sat against the wall of the alley and closed his eyes.


    ***


    Rane awoke. There was a single ray of sunlight poking through the walls of the alley, shining on his right eye. He squinted his dull brown eyes and put his head down, pulling his long, unkempt, gray hair into his field of vision, again giving his eyes respite from the beaming sun. He would need to go home soon. His mother would be furious. He lived more than a mile away from the alley where he slept for the night.


    He drew no attention as he began his arduous journey back home. There was a clear line between the haves and have-nots in Auryck. The line wasn¡¯t literal, but the Southeast district was certainly considered ¡°off-limits¡± to anyone that did not already live there. Rane was heading there now. Progress was slow. Moving at a pace any faster than a confident walk would send a searing pain down his whole right side. A mile had never seemed such a long distance. As he walked, the buildings began to show noticeably more wear. The shops were more barren. The signposts were a duller blue. The people had more holes ¨C in both their clothes and their eyes.


    Rane slowly opened the door, his small mind desperately working on scenarios that would see him through this scolding. Suddenly, he was pulling into the room, his hand still on the door.


    ¡°Where have you been!?¡±


    ¡°UUUAH!¡±


    Rane¡¯s scream of pain overlapped with his mothers interrogation opener.


    Nyalla yelped in confusion, ¡°and you''re hurt!?¡±


    Rane began to explain the events of the previous night. He couldn¡¯t lie to his mother. He had stolen a small and decorative paring knife. It was little more than a child¡¯s whim, and he presumed that, judging from the quality of the store and items, that the small object wouldn¡¯t be missed. Unfortunately, his act did not go unnoticed to Deidre, the son of the shopkeeper.


    ¡°You should not have done that.¡±


    ¡°Because it''s wrong?¡±


    ¡°It¡¯s wrong, but that¡¯s not why you shouldn¡¯t do it. You shouldn¡¯t do it because what you do is who you are to others. You will be a thief, and a thief cannot be trusted not to steal again. A murderer cannot be trusted to not kill again. Most wrongdoings can be boiled down to this: if you want to live like a human, you have to prove that you provide value to the group. If you provide value to the group, you will be praised, or at least not abandoned. If you prove to be a threat to the group, you will be cast out from the group. You can¡¯t just make all your decisions based on a black and white list of rights and wrongs.¡±


    She continued, ¡°But with all that said, what you did was definitely wrong. If you¡¯re not here before sunset for the next two weeks, don¡¯t expect dinner. Now, let me look at that shoulder.¡±


    Love this novel? Read it on Royal Road to ensure the author gets credit.


    She placed her hands on him, using ambient to feel out the wound.


    ¡°Good. It¡¯s just dislocated. If it were any more, I¡¯d have to beg a healer.¡± As she spoke, she collected ambient around the bones. She breathed slowly, then picked up a small wash rag.


    ¡°Bite down on this.¡± Rane placed the rag in his mouth. It tasted sour. It was that thought in his head when a pain many times sharper than the blow that dealt the damage. It was shocking to the nine year old boy that healing could possibly hurt. With that in his mind, his consciousness slipped away, and his small body slumped toward his mother.


    She let out a relieved sigh, though, soon, a more complicated expression painted her slender face. It wasn¡¯t long ago that she could be considered fair. Now, she was tired, haggard, and gaunt. She looked older; she felt older, too. They had decided to have only one child so that they could give their all to a single cause, that he may be greater than them. Now, it seems even that would be a lofty goal.


    She had greatly overestimated her value as a skilled worker and greatly underestimated the value of connections, of which she had none of value. She was only a dynient rank ambient user. Still, to her surprise, her skills were lacking when it came to providing quality work for high class clientele. She had never made a dress worth three months'' salary. She mended casual clothing for the soldiers of the Kelston garrison, and occasionally a new dress for one of their wives or children. In Auryck, she was little more than a 31 year old apprentice, and she was paid as such. Winz¡¯s parents were in Auryck, but they could do little more than provide the single room lodging in which they currently reside. Nyalla¡¯s own parents had suffered unfortunate fates shortly after her marriage to Winz. Rane¡¯s future, the one they had both given up so much for, was uncertain at best.


    ¡°Fight fate with everything, and may the Ambient witness your struggle,¡± whispered the woman.


    ***


    Rane awoke to the low sound of boiling water in the small room. It was already quite cool; the room was never built to be airtight. He peered over the blankets, a confused look in his eyes.


    ¡°You slept the whole day and night after we took care of your shoulder,¡± said his mother. As the fog of sleep was washed away by the faint smell of boiled eggs, Rane remembered the events that led him here: the fight, the night, and the shameful journey home. His shoulder felt fine, as if nothing had happened.


    After breakfast, he performed his usual routine, the city tour. He referred to it as such because he had only been in the city for a few months, and had not been able to get far at first. As such, there was much of the city that he had not seen. This time he would go to the barracks nearest to the Southeast district. The barracks were closer than the market or the merchants district, but he hadn¡¯t toured them yet. First, he had seen barracks many times. Kelston was basically just a military base, anyways. Second, being near the barracks made Rane feel extremely uncomfortable. The uniforms, the haircuts, the men ¨C all made it feel as if his father would suddenly emerge from a door, or show up behind him without warning. The feeling saddened him, young as he was. He knew that despite how much this place reminded him of his father, he was not there.


    There was a commotion at the barracks today. It seemed that there was to be some sort of inspection. Like a well rehearsed play, the soldiers created a procession path using a platoon of 49 on each side of the procession and another at the end of the procession. The men were early, as they ended up standing at attention for nearly 15 minutes. Slouching was immediately reprimanded by squad leaders.


    Just as Rane was going to leave, he felt it. Then he heard the sound of hoofbeats. Rane was intrigued, not by the sound of hooves, but by the fact that he could feel the shift in ambient before even hearing the beating of the parade of legs on the perfectly aligned stone road. Rane, like his mother, was dynient rank. Who could possibly cause a shift in ambient large enough for him to notice?


    Soon, the question was answered. A group of riders, 7 in total, turned that last bend on the street. The one at the lead was clad in a sleeved blue overcoat, which billowed behind him softly, exposing a deep black tunic below. His entourage was dressed in black uniforms similar to the soldiers lined up to receive them, but with more detail in their blue embroidery.


    ¡°Make way for High Commander Havertz Aethelwulf Kaid Auryck, second son of Aethelwulf Suroh Thael Auryck, may Ambient surround him always,¡± announced the first commander.


    Havertz slowly made his way down the rows, looking intently at each soldier.


    ¡°To continue pushing the front, we will need classients and brazients in each and every unit. A dyniant in that field is of no more use than another packhorse,¡± he declared.


    The commander responded, ¡°yes, we have tightened the barracks and doubled the training regimens. All soldiers are now living in the barracks.¡±


    ¡°Better and more, Commander. Better and more. High capital wants us to push the front, so we must push ourselves first,¡± said Havertz.


    From his vantage point, the inequality of man was enforced. He was not the same as the ranks of soldiers beneath him. Power, wealth, education, and ambient ¨C he had them all, and he would use them to lead as the nobility should.


    From his perch atop a nearby hill, Rane felt this as well, a crushing sense of inferiority. He was not close enough to even be in Havertz¡¯s area of direct control, but his young mind conjured a word for this feeling - monster.

 Chapter 1 - Making Swords, Sharpening Yourself

    While focusing on keeping the steel strip at the perfect temperature, Rane continuously pounded the steel. Sweat poured from his brow, though the only heat in the room emanated from the strip of steel in front of Rane. It needed to be pressed out longer, and the tang had not even taken shape at this point. It was a long way from being a sword. Breathe in, breathe out, strike, repeat. Keep the heat of the metal consistent. That was the real key. Focus on the ambient in everything, and maintain the level of energy keeping the metal malleable. Breathe in, breath out, strike, repeat. A drop of sweat dropped from his brow, slightly cooling a small section of the strip before quickly returning to its previous dull orange color.


    There was much to think about, but it could not be done here. The combination of ambient manipulation and physical labor pushes one to fatigue. Ambient does not run out, because it is everywhere, in everything, an individual simply may become too weary to deftly wield it. The cadence of the hammer strikes became irregular, and the metal began to shift between orange and yellow in places. Rane let his arms drop to his sides as the strip of steel, now vaguely sword shaped, slowly cooled. He had a long way to go. A skilled swordsmith could make one in under an hour, making the metal take any desired shape through the careful usage of ambient.


    ¡°That¡¯s all you got?¡± Staal said as he opened the door to the back. ¡°You¡¯ll need to make improvements to your stamina and control if you wanna turn a real profit. It''s been two hours and, well, you¡¯ve got something resembling a sword, which isn¡¯t quite the same as having a sword, no?¡±


    ¡°It¡¯s better than when I started.¡±


    ¡°If it wasn¡¯t better than when you started, you wouldn¡¯t be allowed within 49 meters of the anvil. ¡®Better¡¯ ain¡¯t the goal, son, and neither is ¡®good enough¡¯.¡±


    Rane did not respond. There was nothing to say that was not just a poor excuse. When he was at an anvil, he could focus well enough, but getting there was the problem. There was much to do, and money that had to be made now. Staal¡¯s smithy made enough money to support his mother and himself, but they lived in the Southeast district. A smith could only sell so many nails, axes, spades, and shears to a population that lacked the money to buy them. One could sell swords and spears to the military, but they, of course, had their own skilled smiths. His thoughts drifted to where he would get his next odd job. There were several families in the West district that would pay for short term workers.


    A case of theft: this story is not rightfully on Amazon; if you spot it, report the violation.


    And so he found himself early the next morning, clearing waste and digging a new latrine in the yard of the Kenly¡¯s. As he looked around the yard, he considered how large an area one needed to possess in order to call it a courtyard. The Kenly¡¯s ran a successful mercantile operation, but were definitely short of the sort of wealth that would put them in the North and Central districts. He began to think about the closed sections of the North district that he had been chased away from as a child, or at least a younger child. He had faced his 14th winter a few months ago. At his current age, rather than simply being shooed away, he could possibly even be jailed for trespassing. Rane was broken from his daydream by another shrill voice, much like the ones he had heard in the North district.


    ¡°If you aren¡¯t going to do the work, you can beat it with no coin, ditch dreg,¡± said Ma¡¯am Kenly.


    With his head lowered, he quickly replied, ¡°Yes, ma¡¯am.¡± He expected to be treated this way. It was not actually that the Kenly¡¯s held much higher status than his family, despite having much more wealth, but rather that the Kenly¡¯s just held themselves in rather high regard. They seemed to think that by ingratiating themselves with a few friends of a distant Baron, they could get peerage. In reality, their business did not have nearly the economic sway to grant such a title.


    Not that this bothered Rane in the slightest. He had organized most of the local helping hands, all boys around his age into up charging for this family¡¯s chores. They could only ever find out by speaking with their neighbors about the price of their part time custodial staff, a topic that Rane suspected that the prideful Kenly¡¯s would be unlikely to broach. And so, he continued to work, a light smile not visible under the light scarf covering his nose from the dust and smell of waste.


    The following day he would work the forge again. He struck the metal again and again, striking a cadence as if he were setting the rhythm for a traveling bard. Staal was working with him, their timing matching, but slightly offset, creating an aggressive harmony. They needed to make thousands of nails. It was monotonous, meticulous, and exhausting. Rane hadn¡¯t made any significant progress in ambient control in months. As such, he was producing the cuts of metal for Staal to do the finer shaping on. The repetition of the process didn¡¯t allow him to lose focus. Time was money, mistakes meant loss, so lack of efficiency meant loss of money. In Auryck, that wasn¡¯t something one could afford. The shadow of the evening sun passed fully across Staal¡¯s face, marking the time for the day''s end.

 Chapter 2 - One Step Forward, Two Steps Back

    Rane walked along the street, on his way back from collecting his coin for about two weeks worth of work. As always, he warily observed his surroundings as he grew closer to the Southeast district where he would find his home, his mother, and Staal. He knew the way, but something felt odd. He couldn¡¯t place it though. His control and mastery over ambient were not enough to enhance his perception. He lamented the fact, but his training with Staal had long lost the steam of his original progress. He checked his shoulders frequently as he proceeded forward, the streets becoming more and more narrow the further one went into the Southeast district, eventually, they would become less like streets, and more like animal trails in the forest. In the worst areas of the southeast, people lived simply wherever there was space, be it in the street, above the street, or even sometimes, below it.


    It was this area that Rane was aiming to get. It was too tight and too densely populated for a robbery to be effectively carried out. No one would help, of course, it was simply too easy for a mark to escape through the wilderness of randomly assorted homes, tents, and tunnels.


    The streets grew tighter and tighter, and Rane picked up his pace. He did not see anyone, but he trusted what he felt. Rane glanced down, needing to be sure of his footing. Upon looking back up, he was met with a sharp blow to the chest, knocking him to his back. Above him, he saw a crude cudgel. No one was holding it. Rane was frozen in fear as a skinny man in a hastily done headwrap stepped out from behind a tent, plucking the cudgel from the air. The man was clearly at least a classient, and had obviously held back. A good swing from the blunt weapon now held at his waist could crack his skull even without ambient.


    ¡°Rane isn¡¯t it? How ya doin,¡± said the masked man. His accent was clearly faked, but that didn¡¯t really narrow anything down. ¡°Ya know how dis goes,¡± he continued, ¡°gimme the coin, you forget this happened, and ya go back to whatever ditch you crawled outta.¡±


    Rane¡¯s heart slammed in his chest. The man hadn¡¯t killed him immediately, so he was mostly thinking about how he could get out of this situation with his coin purse intact. His left hand was pressed to the ground, scraping some dirt and sand into a fist. Two weeks worth of coin wasn¡¯t something he was particularly interested in losing. He couldn¡¯t use ambient. At this range, a classient would feel its movement. Rane took a deep breath, and reached his right hand for a pouch containing nothing but some daily necessities, taking it off of his belt, stretching it forward. Rane expected the man to step forward to take the pouch. He did not, instead elected to pull it from his hands with ambient. That would work as well. Rane tossed the sand along with the pouch, both being pulled towards the classient by ambient.


    Unauthorized use: this story is on Amazon without permission from the author. Report any sightings.


    Rane didn¡¯t wait to see the fruits of his efforts, instead turning immediately to flee. He did not get far before a flash of pain exploded in his right knee. He fell, and the force of the street rising up to meet him took the breath from his lungs, rendering him unable to scream out in pain, however much he wanted to. Warily, he took a glance at his leg. The knee was bent inwards from the cudgel¡¯s blow, and a bloodstain was already forming on his loose pants, making them stick tightly to the skin, accentuating the break.


    ¡°Coulda just give me the coin,¡± his assailant stated. He began ruffling Rane¡¯s clothes, turning up the corners and folds of his jacket, his sleeves, or any loose fold that could hide a pocket. He found the coin purse quickly, then moved to a pat down search for more items. Rane nearly bit down hard on his tongue as the man smacked his crooked leg. Rane tasted iron, and grimaced as the man got up, satisfied with his search.


    ¡°That¡¯s rough, buddy.¡± The man left with a content air about himself, like a rodent that had found itself in a winter grain store.


    Rane was in the middle of the narrow street. He cursed his luck, the Kenly ¡®s, his accomplices, and the Ambient itself. He knew he needed to get out of sight. Getting home was obviously not an option. He attempted to roll over, but a flash of sharp pain rendered him quickly immobile, his face contorted as he pressed his forehead into the hardened soil of the pathway.


    He waited for a time. It may have been a minute, it may have been a dozen, before trying to move again. This time, he would simply drag himself forward, leaving his leg as still as he reasonably could. Every movement shot flashes of pain that he could feel all the way in his left hand. He could feel every beat of his heart in his knee, and even that seemed to bring pain as well. Luckily, places that were ¡°out of sight¡± were easy to come by in the Southeast district. He couldn¡¯t get up to place his back against the wall he found, so that is the state in which his consciousness left him, lying in a messy heap against a few wooden planks that constituted the outer wall to some shop or vendor.

 Chapter 3 - Going Through the Motions

    Rane opened his eyes, only to close them tightly again as waves of pain washed over him, instantly giving him a headache. He felt dizzy even though he was laying down. He slowly opened his eyes again as the sense of dizziness faded a bit. He recognized his place. He was back home.


    Memories came back to him, not in a flood, but a slow trickle. It hurt to try too hard to remember. He must have hit his head pretty hard the last time he went down. Such a thing wasn¡¯t easy to notice when his leg was pointing the wrong direction. He thought a moment more. Staal had found him. He hadn¡¯t actually been too far from home, so they had gotten word quickly of someone that looked very much like Rane lying unconscious in the street drain of a pottery shop, his clothes and face stained with red clay.


    Recovery would be a while. Nyalla could set the bone, but was nowhere near the level to repair the damage done to the rest of his knee. One had to understand the original placements of all those things, and have the level of ambient control to place everything perfectly back in place. Ambient found within the body was also much trickier to control than ambient without, made even more so if the healer is not of a higher stage than the patient. He thought of a time so long ago, when his mother had fixed his shoulder and sighed. They still couldn¡¯t afford a healer. Sleep found him once more.


    It took a week before he was able to walk again. When he could, it was straight back to the forge. The sound of the hammer on the anvil made his head pound, and the light from the forge fire felt all too bright. He never liked forge work, but it was different now. He wasn¡¯t lacking in focus; rather, his work was as good as ever. Rane tired quickly, and went back to bed, too fatigued to consider his lack of¡­ something.


    For the next week, his routine was the same, and mind numbingly boring. Wake up when the first light of the sun leaks through the myriad slits in the boarded up remnants of what used to be a window. Glass was expensive, and in this district, it wouldn¡¯t last long anyways. A lot of people just seemed to enjoy the sound of it breaking. The forge needed to be ignited, then he would prepare materials, and fetch water from the nearest well. It was undrinkable, but they only needed it to quench the steel. He would fetch drinking water later, from a well further away. That one cost a bronze to draw from. Most of the daylight was spent in the forge.


    If you encounter this tale on Amazon, note that it''s taken without the author''s consent. Report it.


    Breathe in, focus the ambient in the metal, maintaining its temperature, strike, and repeat. He still felt the same way he felt at the beginning of the week. His skull no longer felt like it had its own pulse, and his eyes no longer punished him for looking at a candle, but he still felt more listless than ever. He needed to start looking for side work again. The robbery set him back a bit more than two weeks, and set his mother back more even than that. He had to be taken care of while unconscious, and every moment not earning a coin was the same as losing a coin.


    As he left their home wearing a dark expression, his mother called out, ¡°are are alright?¡±


    ¡°Fine, just tired,¡± he responded quickly as he ducked his head and hurried his step out of the door. He didn¡¯t know why he was so annoyed by the question.


    He headed back toward the West district. He was in no mood for the antics of the Kenly¡¯s, but he had other go-to clients.


    ¡°Hey, I¡¯ve been ¨C,¡± the door was quickly slammed in his face. Well, that was uncharacteristic of the Raver¡¯s.


    ¡°Good Afternoon, Mrs ¨C,¡±


    ¡°Beat it, caanul piss,.¡± Another door shut, this one catching his toe as it swung a bit outside the frame from the force. He stumbled back and fell on his backside in a bit of a daze. It would seem that this neighborhood was no longer welcoming to him.


    He screamed and beat his fists on the ground, loose ambient throwing up a bit more dust than his clenched hands. The street wasn¡¯t crowded, but this just made him stick out more. He quickly made his exit.


    Maybe they found out about his business plan, or maybe there was just a nasty rumor being spread about. He HAD been involved in a robbery, after all. In the gossip circles of the middle class, he could have been made into a bloodthirsty veteran bandit hiding in the skin of a young boy while he had still been unconscious. It wasn¡¯t worth sticking around to find out.


    Rane walked briskly, but without purpose. He wasn¡¯t going to another neighborhood, just away from this one. He felt clouded, muted, as if everything was a little further away than it really was, like looking through the wrong end of a telescope. He continued his resentful walk until his thoughts were interrupted by the sound of marching. He was near the South barracks of Auryk.

 Chapter 4 - Like Father, Like Son

    Their encampment was placed on higher ground than the surrounding area, giving an air of audacity to the flags bearing the regalia of the Ambient Empire. A raised wooden wall surrounded much of the position, on which there were men standing at attention at regular intervals with others on patrol beneath them. Men were shouting, and responses shook the air as dozens replied in unison. Even on the outskirts of the camp, Rane could feel the ambient moving chaotically at the collective will of those within.


    Rane looked up to the soldiers performing afternoon drills. Even now, the sight of the neat barracks and uniforms made him think of his father, though the sense of discomfort had long since passed. From what Rane knew of him, he probably wasn¡¯t higher ranked than classient, perhaps not even that. Maybe I could be more, Rane thought.


    He snapped his head down, mentally kicking himself for taking this long to sort out his emotions. He wasn¡¯t built for the life he had here in Auryck. He had no passion for the forge. If he had remained in Kelston, he likely would have followed in his fathers footsteps. His thoughts drifted to dreams of adventure, fighting battles against humans, demis, and even monsters. He would become powerful, enough even to stand aside the altients of the nobility. He would be granted peerage, and choose a surname.


    He thought of his mother as he walked toward the camp. She would not approve of his decision, yet it was not hers to make.


    *****


    Stolen from its rightful author, this tale is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings.


    Nyalla remained calm as Rane told her of his decision.


    ¡°If that is what you wish for¡­¡± She was unable to finish the sentence, its meaning conveyed in the first segment anyways. It was more than just not her decision. It was illegal to refuse his status as a volunteer. She felt hollow as she excused herself from the room.


    ¡°I think this will be good for you,¡± Staal said, clamping a large hand down on Rane¡¯s shoulder. ¡°Plus, you get paid during the training period, which will earn us more than you produce in the forge anyways. I didn¡¯t really see your future there either, but I never would have suggested the military anyways, on account of your mothers situation.¡±


    Nyalla stood facing the wall just a room over, but heard nothing. A tear rolled down her cheek, leaving a trail for more to follow. She turned and sat against the wall, tucking her head down, remembering the poem she had written for Winz¡¯ funeral.


    What do you see, amind the wood


    That calls to thee so strong


    What lies there, around the bend


    That makes your brave heart long.


    What came over you, under the trees


    That said, leave me alone.


    What did you think, across the lake


    When you knew you¡¯d not come home.


    She didn¡¯t recite it at the service, instead putting on a brave face and writing a different one, one that remembered him happily, as if he was not lost without a trace, not even a body to give her closure. She had felt guilty for leaving Kelston for years after the move, imagining him simply popping back up, haggard and worn, but so very much alive, only to find his family gone. Now, her son might share his fate.

 Chapter 5 - Strength and Conditioning

    Rane¡¯s legs screamed before his heart rate even began to rise. Each time his boot hit the ground, it felt as if he shook the Earth itself, and each time he raised it once more, it was as if he were running through a bog after a rain. Many of the guys in his enlistment class reassured him that the first day was the hardest. They were wrong.


    One did not start the first day sore. One did not start the second day broken. This was day three, and Rane found himself feeling both. He remembered some of the opening statement from the High Tally Cloud.


    ¡°It is part of the civilian misconception that you can ¡®run out of ambient¡¯. You could not be more wrong. Ambient is nearly everywhere, and in quantities so large none of us could dream of depleting. You are the ones who are simply too weak to make use of it, and so first, we fix that weakness.¡±


    It was much too soon to confirm the truth of the High Tally¡¯s claims, but much too late to back out. Military exercise was not an unbreachable topic, but the Empire considered its exact training methods to be secret, so recruits that made it to this section were forced to complete it, or be required to serve out the remainder of their military service as a porter.


    On day one, they had been ordered to run until they could no longer run. The bottom 2 of each squad would have no meal that night, only water. If the entire squad could continue for more than an hour, all would be dismissed. If none of the squad could make over an hour, all would share the same punishment as the bottom two. One recruit asked about rewards. Low Tally Cobble told him that his reward was strength, then took his meal privilege.


    Day two was ten percent more running than you were able to do the day before, then unarmed combat. Round robin in your own squad, then another three bouts against someone who mirrored your placement in the round robin seeding. Rane placed fifth in his squad, and found himself against an opponent he was sure was 40 pounds over his own weight, and taller by a decent margin.


    Rane began by stepping forward, feinting a jab before quickly taking one step back. When the taller boy took a step forward, Rane pivoted on his left foot driving his foot towards his leg. Rane was too slow, and the boy simply lifted his left leg to avoid the blow. Off balanced by the miss, Rane postured awkwardly with his right leg too far forward to do anything other than keep him from falling. He turned his head towards his opponent just in time to see his fist coming down from above, striking him in the cheekbone. He fell backwards and half scrambled, half ran away for a second before the pain really registered. Rane opened his mouth and worked his jaw for a moment before putting his fists back into his best impression of a guard. The opponent did not wait for him, and quickly advanced, throwing a right-handed jab that Rane did manage to catch with his left fist raised. This accomplishment was fleeting, however, as the force of the blow still drove his own fist into his face. The next strike was low, a hook that hit him just below the ribs, paralyzing him with pain as he went to ground instantly. Rane lost all three rounds.


    And it was so that on the third day, Rane considered his commitment to all this as each footfall brought him closer to his mark. Not by distance, but simply time. Today he needed to run for 55 minutes without stopping. It would continue to rise by ten percent until they all reached 2 hours. And so he ran. Rane cursed the guys that told him day two would be the worst, reminding himself that he never needed the advice of his peers again. He had thought them savants just a day ago. Now, bruised and battered from the sparring, his muscles screaming from the running, Rane couldn''t imagine a place better than the cot found in his tent at the barracks. It was actually less itchy than the one he had back home.


    This tale has been unlawfully lifted without the author''s consent. Report any appearances on Amazon.


    His thoughts were interrupted by the cue of a low tally he didn¡¯t even know, ¡°Dreg Rane, time¡¯s up!¡±


    Rane made a move to slow down. His lower limbs, however, did not take this order as he stated. He lost his balance, falling face first down into the dust of the track. He thought to himself that he had been wrong previously, this may actually be more comfortable than the cot, which was the last thing he thought before waking up in the medical tent.


    ***


    Rane woke up to the yelling of Low Tally Cobble blasting through the tent. Was it possible for a man to be so loud?


    ¡°Wake up, Dregs, you¡¯ve all been healed of any life threatening injuries, report to weapons training at dusk. Any questions?¡± his voice boomed. The tent was large, but was it large enough for an echo? That was the primary question on Rane¡¯s mind, but he didn¡¯t have the courage to vocalize that one.


    Another recruit, the one that had beaten him senseless in the hand-to-hand training, had tried to stand as soon as the tally had said to report somewhere. He did not succeed, instead falling to the dirt floor of the tent as his knees weakly buckled underneath him. This one had a question.


    ¡°Were our injuries not healed,¡± he asked?


    ¡°Do you have corn in your ears, dreg, I said, ¡®life threatening injuries¡¯. A brazient class healer has better things to do than massage your weak little ferull legs.¡±


    The tense air seemed to normalize a bit after the tally left. Rane took a look around and opened his mouth to ask what day it was, but closed it when he realized that he actually didn¡¯t know any of these recruits. It seemed that none of his other squadmates had run into this particular issue. Well, technically he had met one guy, the tall one that killed him in hand-to-hand. Well, the devil you know, Rane thought.


    ¡°Hey,¡± Rane said, a bit too loudly, prompting many to turn to look at him. He quickly shook his head and pointed, ¡°him.¡±


    ¡°What?¡±


    ¡°What day is it,¡± asked Rane.


    ¡°Wednesday,¡± he responded. ¡°You make a habit of passing out for multiple days or something?¡±


    ¡°No. Well, actually it¡¯s happened more than once now, but I wouldn¡¯t call it a habit exactly.¡± Rane was more scared that he had missed something important. He missed a meal, but he could always make that up later. Doing too poorly in this induction would have his military service be a far cry from the glorious demi hunts he dreamed about on the day he decided to enlist.


    ¡°I¡¯m Mack, but my squad already calls me Puddles,¡± he said as he reached his fist forward. ¡°Apparently, I sweat a lot.¡±


    ¡°I¡¯m Rane, nice to meet you.¡± He met Puddles¡¯ fist with his own. ¡°No nickname, just Rane.¡±

 Chapter 6 - Weapons Training

    No need to confuse things in the military, as the weapons training bouts would be done the same way as the hand-to-hand evaluations. It would begin with an in-squad round robin, then move to matchups against another recruit who had performed similarly. All squads had been assigned randomly at the start of the week. They would all be reassigned based on their performance when they completed their training anyways, so Rane didn¡¯t know all their names by heart, but he knew the one in front of him well. Across the ring denoted by a shallow trench stood Ben, the man who fancied himself captain of their squad. Things like that weren¡¯t decided yet, but the man was skilled enough to back it up. His father was a career military man, so he was familiar with all the basic skills he would need as a soldier. It bitterly reminded Rane of yet another thing he lacked, something he would have had if he were simply¡­ luckier.


    Trying to lighten the mood a bit, Rane spoke at the cry of the tally to begin the bout, ¡°Hey, Ben, I would say ¡®may ambient surround you,¡¯ but I think I actually want to do well, and I need all the help I can get, so do you know any good curses?¡±


    ¡°May ambient abandon you in life, such as it will in death,¡± Ben responded as he lunged forward. He had gone with a longer greatsword that he wielded with both hands, keeping it moving with wide, flowing arcs that could never be considered slow, even if they were not nimble.


    Rane¡¯s chosen weapon was a spear only a bit shorter than himself. He took a careful step back to avoid the first arc of the weighted wooden blade, taking a quick, probing stab forward with his spear that was a bit too ambitious. Rane wasn¡¯t incredibly familiar with its reach, and the failed strike was deflected ruthlessly as Ben brought his weapon back around in another arc that nearly ripped the spear from his hands. Rane took a quick step backwards, pulling in his spear closer to his body, preparing for the next arc of the blade.


    It never came. Ben had actually lost his balance after striking the spear, sending the weapon¡¯s tip into the densely packed dirt. He balanced on that for a moment before pulling the blade back closer to his body, placing his right hand above the crossguard.


    ¡°Ah, ambient favors me today, hehe,¡± chuckled Rane.


    Ben¡¯s face flashed a bit before posturing forward, focusing noticeably more than before. He was currently ranked at the top of their randomly assigned squad, and likely within the top 10 at the camp. It was only the first week, so there were still some undefeated recruits.


    Ben charged forward again, swinging a wide arc that he reeled in at the last moment, choking up on the weapon to get closer and faster with jabs rather than cuts. Rane stepped back and thrusted his spear forward, but the tip was slapped aside easily. Ben stepped into the open space and the blunted tip of his greatsword found itself pressed into a rib in front of his right lung.


    Rane fell to the ground attempting to breathe but unable to take a breath. He rolled face down and pulled his knees in. It had only been seconds, but time seems to move a bit slower when one finds themselves unable to breathe.


    ¡°Get up!¡± yelled the tally that had begun their fight. ¡°We have another 4 rounds here in the next thirty minutes.¡±


    Rane looked at the man with panic in his eyes and opened his mouth as if to speak. It was then he caught his breath, producing an odd gurgling noise as he inhaled and vocalized at the same time.


    ¡°Yessi¨C,¡± Rane erupted into a fit of coughing, each racking breath throwing a bit more blood onto the gray dust as he fell back down to one knee.


    ¡°Don¡¯t reach for things you can¡¯t get,¡± said Ben, looking down on him from above, indifferent to the red stains Rane had placed on his boots.


    ¡°Ugh, Dreg Ben, get him off and fetch Specialist Orin,¡± said the tally.


    Ben grabbed him by the boot, tucking it under his arm to drag him outside the circle. Rane¡¯s head bounced up and down a few times as he was dragged over the arena¡¯s barrier. That wasn¡¯t as much of a concern to him as the fact that each breath was itchy, causing a shallow cough that felt like needles in his chest being pushed up his throat. Each needle push brought with it another fine spray of red flecks, ceremoniously decorating his exit from the ring with bright red flecks. The thought brought a wry smile to his face.


    ¡°What are you smiling about, street rat? I know what part of town you¡¯re from. I¡¯ll go get the specialist when I feel like it,¡± declared Ben. ¡°They should put you in the porter corp from the start.¡± He walked away with a performative swagger that betrayed his age. Mentally, Rane had been referring to him as a man, but he wasn¡¯t. He was older, sure, but by no more than a few years. He wasn¡¯t a grizzled veteran whose experience couldn¡¯t be matched, nor a height whose peak couldn¡¯t be reached.


    Unauthorized tale usage: if you spot this story on Amazon, report the violation.


    Rane still felt irritated. He was not unfamiliar with what the people of Auryck thought of the Southeast district, but it remained frustrating nonetheless. He wasn¡¯t even from Auryck. That wouldn¡¯t matter much, however, as much of the Southeast district would be composed of people ¡®not from Auryck.¡¯ Refugees and fallen opportunity seekers were no strangers to the seedy district. He and his own mother could fall into either of those categories. If one looked hard enough under the hoods and cowls of every vendor in every ally, you could even find some demis tucked away. Axtls, mostly, and from what he knew, they weren¡¯t even real axtls. Real axtls were supposedly giant, but all the ones he remembered seeing in Auryck were dead, and much closer physically to himself than someone like Staal. He¡¯d heard that axtls born too small were left for dead. What a barbaric society.


    He didn¡¯t know how long it had been, but a couple more matches played out while he was waiting. Ben didn¡¯t injure anyone else. He gave some the opportunity to yield, or just knocked them out of the ring. Puddles fought a bout in this ring as well. He was not nearly as gifted with weapons as he was with his body, and despite electing to use the same two handed zweihander as Ben, he did not move it with the speed nor grace of the other boy. Rane had been watching, a bit of envy growing in him until he saw his new friend lose handily to one of Ben¡¯s lackeys. Surely everyone couldn¡¯t be bigger, stronger, and more talented than himself. He knew he should have wished the best for his newfound friend, but the large boy¡¯s shortcomings brought him some small comfort as he lay there, wheezing against a rock well outside the ring. The specialist had to be on his way eventually, right?


    Rane was right, and Specialist Orin came around shortly. It didn¡¯t seem that Ben had gone to get him at all, and that the man was just on a normal stroll, as was part of his job. Injuries were not uncommon in weapons training. He noticed Rane and began to walk towards him. The ambient shifted as he grew a bit closer. A shiver went down his spine, reminding him of the pain in his chest while it was at it. His area of direct control was not as large as the tally, but Rane knew. The specialist was significantly stronger - brazient class.


    Despite the heavy atmosphere caused by his very presence, the man had a smile on his face as he approached.


    ¡°What seems to be your ailment, young man?¡±


    Rane attempted to respond, but only let out a short cough that put a viscous mix of blood and saliva dribbling down his chin. It would have been quite embarrassing if he weren¡¯t in too much pain to really care.


    ¡°Ah, it hurts to speak?¡± Rane nodded. ¡°Well, don¡¯t do that,¡± the specialist responded, clearly finding himself more entertained than his patient.


    ¡°Hold still,¡± he said as he knelt down, placing a hand firmly on his chest.


    Rane winced a bit from the pain, but remained largely unmoving, the presence of the man helping to give his mind compelling reasons to force his body into submission.


    Specialist Orin frowned a bit, ¡°Still your ambient too. This is easier when you aren¡¯t conscious.¡±


    Rane didn¡¯t know how to ¡®still¡¯ his ambient. What level of control did one need to even do that? Did he mean to slow it down, move it predictably, or try and coalesce it all to one place? Rane didn¡¯t know, and in his confusion, did nothing.


    ¡°Ok, sorry dreg, you are going to experience some discomfort.,¡± the specialist said as he took a deep breath and tensed his hand.


    In the next instance, Rane felt his connection with the ambient outside his body cut off. It was painless, but like losing a limb, being in a dark room, and losing the ability to breathe all at once. Unfortunately, that was just the beginning. At that point, he still vividly felt the ambient within him swirling about, giving him constant unconscious feedback about himself. Before, he knew that one of his ribs was scraping against his lung. He knew that the pain in his legs and arms was nothing serious, that there was nothing out of place. Then suddenly, he knew¡­ nothing.


    The hand on his chest may as well have been clasped around his throat, strangling him. Its weight could have been tons. There was worse still to come. Now, ambient began to move around his chest, burrowing around, probing, shifting, and poking around. Yes, ¡®discomfort¡¯ was an appropriate word for this sensation, but it did not come close to expressing the extent and form of such discomfort. Previously, he was aware of things, felt things. Then he did not. His life was in the hands of Specialist Orin. He could simply stop his heart, if he so wished. Rane knew it.


    Then, he felt his ribs move back into place, the small fissure in them mending together quickly, as if there were glue running through the cracks and hardening immediately. He felt as the scrape on his lung filled with blood, then congealed, then faded away, leaving him¡­ intact. Rane lacked the medical knowledge to truly understand what had been done to him, and wasn¡¯t close to the degree of control needed to perform such a task himself.


    Rane felt sensation flood back into himself, then back out into the world. He tried to stand, but the return of his sense for ambient was like a blinding light and a deafening ring. He fell off the rock, only succeeded in sliding himself back about a meter from the specialist, who, in Rane¡¯s mind, had grown horns and sharp canines.


    ¡°Hmm, no ¡®thank you?¡¯ Dregs are so unappreciative,¡± remarked Specialist Orin.


    ¡°Take care of yourself,¡± he said as he sighed and walked away.


    Rane would try. Rane would try desperately to take care of himself.

 Chapter 7 - Runt of the Litter

    It was the third week of training. Now, they only ran a few times a week, mostly, it felt, simply to prove to the tallies that they still could. Every single day consisted of hand-to-hand training followed by weapons training, each of which ending in sparring. The round robin and inter squad system had been replaced. By what, Rane didn¡¯t even really care to find out. It seemed that the tallies were just making whatever matchups that they saw fair. Or simply entertaining.


    His saving grace, however, was that they had been deemed ready to begin practicing ambient. Ambient control was something to be practiced in a way that was more meditative than active, especially at the dynient class. One could only really begin to learn combat applications of ambient once their control over the force was strong enough for it to be as effective or more than just throwing a rock, or kicking dirt at your opponent.


    It was too early for Rane to be excited, though. He had survived the day¡¯s hand-to-hand training with few enough bruises and no broken bones. Now, it was time for weapons training. Today¡¯s weapon of focus was the glaive. Rane felt relief, as he was most familiar with spears anyways.


    ¡°We¡¯ve not drilled swords a day since getting here,¡± whispered a recruit Rane didn¡¯t know.


    He didn¡¯t whisper as low as he thought, and caught a glaive haft to the chest as Low Tally Cobble looked them all over with the casual disdain that officers seemed to exude naturally.


    ¡°The sword is a peasant weapon, old, and outdated. Its only advantage is its versatility. On the battlefield, you¡¯ll fear not the one using a sword, but the one who has become a weapon themselves. Until you reach such a level, it¡¯s best to focus on staying as far away from your opponent as possible, probing at the edges of their area of direct control. Outside of the battlefield, you¡¯d kill a boar with a spear, and a bird with a bow. And monsters? You¡¯ll wish you¡¯d have been assigned to the archer corp, even from the distance you could throw a javelin. Swords don¡¯t kill monsters,¡± he said as his lecture concluded.


    ¡°Now get familiar with the reach of the blade. If you¡¯re taller or stronger, try one with a longer haft. Reach and space are the basics of all combat,¡± said the other tally, Low Tally Cord. Were all the tallies here related, or was it just coincidence?


    The ranks dispersed as the lines of dregs grabbed, hefted, and swiped with glaives of differing lengths. After the logic of length and space were explained, Rane chose a glaive with a haft that ended slightly above his head, the blade protruding another two heads above that, and made his way to his individual training space where an unadorned wooden stump had been wrapped in straw. The tallies would be walking through, observing technique, balance, and footwork, giving feedback as they deemed necessary. Rane needed to ensure he was familiar with the glaive¡¯s reach before then.


    He exhaled and stepped forward towards the post, reaching his glaive out in the simplest of stabbing motions, both hands still on the haft. The blade touched the straw, but was not close enough to penetrate the layer of loose scrap cloth that held the straw in place. He took a step forward and began to pose for swipes at the stationary target. The weapon was much different than a spear. Missing a swipe was easier to off balance yourself, and this one was single edged, meaning he had to pay much closer attention to edge alignment, lest he just slap the target with the flat or dull side of the blade.


    ¡°Dreg!¡±


    ¡°Yes, Tally!¡±


    ¡°Walk around the target as you strike. Don¡¯t cross your feet or click your heels.¡±


    Rane began to circle the target as he sent probing jabs and swipes into the tough thatch on the post.


    ¡°Take a step back out of your own range,¡± said Low Tally Cord. ¡°Then tuck the shaft under your right arm, step forward and extend at the same time.¡±


    Rane followed the note of the tally, striking the post, but only avoiding falling because of the blade reaching the post.


    ¡°Poor balance,¡± noted the tally as he turned to walk on to the next dreg.


    Rane attempted the strike another time, bending his knees and letting his left arm hang behind for counterweight. His right foot slipped forward a bit,  causing another loss of balance. He frowned, resolved himself, and began preparing to try again.


    His arms began to tire before he could fully become accustomed to the glaive. It was not as much like the spear as he had originally thought. Now, it was time for individual bouts.


    He was still walking back from the training posts when he received his assignment from a messenger. The messenger was shorter than Rane, with a slim build and sharp eyes. He didn¡¯t look like the type to fail basic, but there were other ways to be relegated to non-combat positions.


    You might be reading a stolen copy. Visit Royal Road for the authentic version.


    ¡°Dreg Rane, ring 7, bout starts in 5,¡± he said curtly before looking down at his wax tablet and leaving Rane behind.


    No rest for the weary, Rane thought as he used the haft of the glaive to stretch his arms, placing it behind his head with both hands clenching wide on the shaft. He was confident that he would do well enough here. A glaive wasn¡¯t a common weapon outside of the Empire¡¯s organized forces. They were more unwieldy than a sword and not as versatile as a spear. If a civilian encountered a monster, or simply someone a class or two above themselves, it wouldn¡¯t matter anyways, so most dynients and even low classients just carried knives and short spears. Both were throwable, as well.


    Rane¡¯s confidence took a small blow as he got close enough to the ring to see his opponent. It was another member of his squad. Not only did this mean that they knew his strengths and weaknesses better, but most of his squad also fell under the Ben camp, this one no different.


    ¡°Nice weather, yeah, Jester,¡± Rane said as he stepped casually into the circle, not going to let it show that he was unnerved at the sight of his opponent. Jester was shorter than Rane by a head, and had long, flowing, dark red hair that covered his bright green eyes. His uniform was a bit too big for him, and he was constantly hyper, which the squad found funny, giving him his name. None of this made Rane nervous. What shook Rane was that the small boy was a fiend in their daily spars, having made quite the name for himself. Underneath his poorly fit uniform, he was equipped with a chest that looked like it belonged to a man of 28 winters.


    ¡°Yeah I''ve had fun - are you ready,¡± Jester responded quickly. There seemed to be barely any pause between his sentences.


    Rane looked around the ring. There was a small group of spectators. People liked to see Jester fight. Ben was there as well. Rane flashed him a defiant smile. Ben pretended not to notice the gesture.


    Tally Cord stepped into the ring with a few thick leather scabbards, fitted for the glaives. He took his time ensuring that their weapons were safe and secure. As safe and secure as they could be, anyways. Being hit with a large stick wasn¡¯t exactly safe, but it wasn¡¯t a naked blade either.


    The tally took a large step backwards, and let out a sharp bark, ¡°BEGIN.¡±


    Jester had been bouncing up and down, waiting for the moment anyways. He nearly sprinted forward, opening with a low sweep with his short glaive, making full use of its length, not even bothering to hold it with two hands for his opening blow.


    Rane tucked his glaive beneath his arm and lifted his left leg, hopping a bit to make certain that the wild strike didn¡¯t connect.


    It did not, and the momentum of Jester''s unwieldy strike sent him into a controlled tumble. Despite the boy getting up from the acrobatic roll fairly quickly, it wasn¡¯t quite fast enough to avoid Rane¡¯s counter. As soon as Rane¡¯s left foot was planted back on the ground, he stepped forward, swinging the glaive still tucked underneath his arm, striking Jester square in the back, sending him stumbling out of the ring, back arched and wincing in pain.


    ¡°Ring out. Round one goes to Dreg Rane,¡± cried the tally.


    Jester turned swiftly, a look of anger and confusion in his eyes. The small crowd spawned no cheers for the ring-out. It wasn¡¯t an impressive way to win a round, and Rane had no fans anyways. He heard but paid little attention to the cacophony of voices saying things like, fluke, lucky, and ditch dreg. Rane was sure that the last one had nothing to do with their military assigned ranks. Somewhere during the first round, Ben had appeared among the small crowd as well. Perhaps he had been one of the many displeased voices.


    None of that mattered. Jester stood before him once more, this time not bouncing up and down in agitation. Instead, he kept the point of his glaive moving in different patterns. His hands flexed and loosened their grip on the haft of the weapon.


    ¡°Round two, BEGIN!¡±


    Rane moved forward this time, meeting Jester¡¯s confidence with his own. Rane sent a sharp strike towards Jester¡¯s left leg. Jester¡¯s glaive caught Rane''s just under the blade, and as if it had fingers of its own, pulled backwards, bringing Rane in significantly closer as he attempted to retain both his balance and his weapon. In a grand feat, he accomplished both, however, neither of those things were the actual goal of the red haired menace. He had only needed to close the distance, nullifying any innate advantage Rane held in height and reach.


    Several rapid jabs from Jester¡¯s glaive followed shortly, and Rane moved to his right and backwards, choking up on his glaive and trying his best to avoid another cracked rib.


    Jester moved his right hand up his glaive, and suddenly the haft of the weapon was sailing through the air. Rane heard the whistle of air being moved as he turned his head, hoping to avoid the worst of the blow. His world exploded into a myriad of dark stars across his vision, and he didn¡¯t notice that he was lying on the ground of the ring until enough of the stars had faded for him to make out the gray color of the dirt.


    ¡°Round two, win by incapacitation, Dreg Jester takes the bout. You are both dismissed. The next bout begins in 5 minutes.¡± Tally Cord¡¯s words sounded far away, and Rane sat up, but didn¡¯t move until he felt a hand on his shoulder.


    ¡°You did well enough to take a round off of Jester,¡± said Puddles. Rane shrugged off his hand and sat forward before picking himself up. Before he was able to stand fully, he lost his balance, falling back to one knee.


    ¡°You ok? He rang your bell pretty good, I think.¡±


    ¡°I¡¯m fine, just need¡­¡± Rane trailed off. He didn¡¯t know what he needed; he simply wanted to make it to this afternoon¡¯s ambient training.


    ¡°Mess hall?¡± asked Puddles.


    ¡°Mess hall sounds good, actually,¡± echoed Rane. The tallies hadn¡¯t been vocal about any rankings lately, but with this result, Rane was sure that he was at the bottom of his squad.

 Chapter 8 - Will of the World

    The mess hall was quiet. It wasn¡¯t yet peak hours, but thankfully, meal tokens could be taken at most anytime. It was the saving grace of their time in the training camp. Rane navigated his way to the front of the hall where the cooks were beginning to place pots of steaming liquid and spices. Well, not heavy on the spices other than salt, but it was better than some of the grain gruel he had eaten growing up in Auryck. He grabbed one of the simple wooden bowls from the stack, and held it out to receive his portion. The cook deftly poured a portioned amount into the bowl. Rane paid close attention, and was disappointed. It seemed he had gotten more potatoes than meat. He grabbed a chunk of bread and took a seat next to Puddles.


    ¡°I don¡¯t get what their problem is,¡± sighed Rane.


    ¡°Wait, what,¡± inquired Puddles. ¡°Your Southeast, that¡¯s enough for them.¡±


    ¡°Yeah, lots of people are from Southeast,¡± Rane countered.


    ¡°That¡¯s not really all of it. If you stretch it by a few street blocks, you could say I¡¯m from Southeast, but you can¡¯t even say that, can you,¡± asked Puddles.


    Rane frowned, not really getting it. ¡°I¡¯m full blooded imperial, and my father also served the empire as a soldier.¡±


    ¡°Wait, where are you from,¡± asked Puddles.


    ¡°Kelston.¡±


    Puddles sat back and smiled, nodding to himself, ¡°yeah, that¡¯s not a real town.¡±


    Rane was only more confused at this point.


    Puddles seemed to be enjoying it, so the two just ate some soup as he allowed Rane to soak in anticipation.


    ¡°Kelston is only a few decades old, and has no resident noble family. Technically, one of them probably owns the territory. To get to the point, it¡¯s not a very political place. Soldiers - and the families of them - make up the majority of the populace, and a couple moderators and commanders run the city government. The Empire basically pays for the city to exist.¡±


    ¡°Here in Auryck,¡± he continued, ¡°things are different. There are quite a few little factions always jockeying for power, but as long as the peasantry is fed and bed, everyone is happy, but as you know well, the Southeast district has plenty of people that don¡¯t fit into either category, and to make matters worse, many of them aren¡¯t from Auryck.¡±


    ¡°But many of them have nowhere else to go. Most of my neighbors were there because of monster attacks on smaller villages,¡± Rane argued.


    ¡°Poor people tend to only be as charitable as they are wealthy, and the wealthy have the charity of the poor, so the word lately has been mostly, ¡®get out.¡¯ My dad said the whole city would be better off if the whole district burned to the ground overnight.¡±


    Rane looked down at his bowl. He had nothing to say.


    Puddles looked left and right, as if searching for something, and scratched the back of his head a bit. ¡°So¡­ Why¡¯d you enlist?¡±


    Rane answered reflexively, ¡°because of my dad.¡± He knew that wasn¡¯t really the answer, but it had been enough for the enlistment office, and enough to appease looking to make light conversation. It wasn¡¯t enough for this boy.


    ¡°You don¡¯t strike me as the generational service tradition type. Where¡¯s your dad now?¡±


    ¡°He¡¯s dead actually,¡± Rane responded without missing a beat. It was Rane¡¯s turn to hold the other in suspense for a bit. After he¡¯d had his fill of Puddle¡¯s discomfort, he continued, ¡°he died a long time ago. They think it was a monster attack while pushing past the Kelston front. Probably stumbled into something''s territory.¡±


    If you come across this story on Amazon, be aware that it has been stolen from Royal Road. Please report it.


    ¡°You had me going there, so why¡¯d you really join?¡±


    ¡°I had to get away from Auryck. I was training to be a blacksmith,¡± explained Rane. Puddles raised a brow. Skilled trades weren¡¯t common in the Southeast. ¡°A bad blacksmith. I had no talent for it. I figured I would enlist, get strong, kill some demis, and move to a port city. All for the Emperor, of course. What about yourself?¡±


    Puddles lowered his head and glanced about the room. ¡°I¡¯m doing it for the girls, man. I¡¯ve seen it myself. I had a cousin come back from his term, still in uniform, a few medals of distinction, and he practically had marriage proposals falling like leaves after the first freeze.¡±


    Rane broke the silence with a quick burst of laughter. ¡°I can¡¯t believe it. You joined for the girls? If sir, tall, blond, and bashful needs military service to round out his resume, I¡¯m gonna need my weight in medals hanging from my chest when I finish my term.¡±


    ¡°Come on, it''s not that bad, you just need a bath. And a haircut. And brush your teeth. And maybe become altient. And you could ¨C¡±


    ¡°Yeah, I get the point, pretty boy,¡± Rane said, cutting him short. ¡°You ready to work with ambient? I didn¡¯t do well in the hand-to-hand, nor the weapons training, but that¡¯s not where real strength lies anyways.¡± The spark of ambition could be heard in his voice.


    ¡°Yeah, been looking forward to it,¡± said Puddles. ¡°I¡¯m actually pretty close to classient already.¡±


    Rane starred incredulously, but quickly shifted gears to disbelief. ¡°No way.¡±


    ¡°Really, my area of direct control is about¡­ This big.¡± He held his hands over the table sheepishly. They were about shoulder length apart. ¡°And within it, I can move little rocks.¡±


    Rane breathed a sigh of relief. Puddles was definitely further than himself, but he wasn¡¯t truly close to classient. Classient was the first class of ambient control that actually mattered. Before that, any application of ambient was little more that you could get out of simple tools, or drained far too much energy. You could boil water, close cuts, start fires, or maintain the heat of metals in the forge. Technically, he could heat up the metal without a forge, but he¡¯d likely pass out doing so. Classient wasn¡¯t some kind of epiphany or breakthrough; it just represents the first time any of your ambient abilities becomes powerful enough to add to your skill, as opposed to something you could just use a stick or a rock to achieve using less focus and greater precision.


    ¡°Alright Sir Puddles of the Myriad Pebbles,¡± said Rane, ¡°let¡¯s head out to the training ground. We are starting ambient training a bit out into the bush, and I¡¯d probably have to become a deserter before facing the consequence of being late because I got lost from a short walk into the woods. ¡° Puddles nodded in agreement, and they left the mess hall.


    *****


    Rane thought himself wise as a sage. Apparently, the meeting place for ambient training was more than just a short walk into the woods. The training camp was on the west side of Auryck, and the meeting place for their work with ambient was supposedly two and a half miles from there. Rane¡¯s only experience in the wilderness was as a child in Kelston, so he didn¡¯t really understand the challenge. Two and a half miles through the bush was in no way comparable to two and a half miles on a main road, something which this place was certainly lacking. The trail that began from camp quickly became less and less recognizable until finally, Rane was sure that, although he believed himself to be on track, the trail itself did not connect to the training location.


    They crested a rather large hill, looked at each other, and turned to survey the area. Everything seemed familiar. The trees here were a bit larger and older than where they had been 30 minutes ago, which gave Rane confidence that they were, in fact, heading further out into the forest, and not just skirting around Auryck.


    Puddles gestured for his attention and asked, ¡°do you remember if the sun rises in the west and sets in the east, or the other way around?¡±


    Rane thought about his home in the Southeast District. ¡°The sun definitely rises in the east.¡±


    Both boys looked to the heavens. Unfortunately, the sun was still too high to really give them a bearing. It would need to be a bit closer to the horizon to give them a good sense of direction. And, with no other ideas, they simply waited until it was.


    They found the training site about an hour before the sun fell below the tree line as they could see from the large clearing. Once they had found the correct area, it was rather hard to miss. Report time was 30 minutes prior to sunset. They were not the first arrivals, but neither were they last. Recruits continued to trickle in even as they were called to attention for the address of High Tally Cloud. The low tallies stood along the outskirts, no doubt documenting those who were either late, or simply absent.


    The voice of High Tally Cloud blasted away the hushed murmurs of the recruits like the first clap of thunder in a soft rain, ¡°Some say that ambient is the will of the world itself, but that¡¯s not something dregs like yourselves need concern your feeble little minds with. You need only be concerned with your own will, because that is the primary way to use ambient to exert change onto this world.¡±

 Chapter 9 - Westward Expansion

    In a secluded villa North of Auryck, Caeris Teld Wind Auryck tapped idly on the massive table in front of her. She was the youngest of those in participation today, so she was expected to be there earlier than the rest, as etiquette demanded. Ridiculously, it did not detail how early was appropriate, and, in the past, her brothers had found it infinitely amusing to humiliate her in front of their father and various guests by arriving over an hour before the designated time. And so she found herself alone in a conference room sizable enough for 50. She looked around, bored, as she had seen the gilded interior of the room many times before, studied every painting of her father in detail, and, when she was younger, looked for hidden doors. There weren¡¯t any, as, in any true emergency, wood and brick walls posed little in the way of anyone more powerful than a brazient, and any sneaking about would not start or end in a conference room anyways.


    There were a few maids and staff in the room, but they were all stationary and silent, awaiting the arrival of the first member. She did not get an announcement. After all, it would be strange to be announced to an empty room. She did not have to wait too long. It would seem that she was right, and that one of her brothers had indeed tried to arrive early.


    The doors opened with a creak that echoed throughout the chamber.


    ¡°Enter, Luca Aethelweulf Matich Auryck, third son of Aethelwulf Suroh Thael Auryck, may ambient surround him always,¡± the voice of the butler at the door was strong, and the reverberation of the sparsely populated chamber made his arrival sound especially grand.


    Luca knew when he was announced that he couldn¡¯t be the first, so he entered with a disappointed look as his eyes scanned the room. When his gaze landed on Caeris, she mockingly began a quiet round of applause to further punctuate his small failure.


    ¡°Welcome back, Caeris. I do hope that you enjoyed your time in the academy.¡±


    ¡°Yes, it was¡­ I learned many lessons there,¡± replied Caeris.


    ¡°Oh,¡± said Luca, feigning interest as a maid pulled his chair out for him. He did not acknowledge her existence, as if the chair moved according to his own whims, ¡°for example?¡±


    ¡°Well, all nobility are quite similar really. There is a universal currency we share.¡±


    ¡°Now, dear sister, don¡¯t keep me on the edge of my seat for too long.¡±


    ¡°Power,¡± she said.


    She watched closely, not wanting to miss it. There it was. At that word, he flinched, the icy surface of his facade cracking a bit before he was able to regain his composure. It would seem that, in her absence, his jealousy had not faded, but rather festered.


    ¡°Ah, yes,¡± her brother continued as if he hadn¡¯t missed a beat. ¡°It comes in many forms: The wealth of the Luger¡¯s, the secrets of the Darkhart¡¯s, or the military might of Warlskill.¡±


    Caeris nodded in agreement but continued, clarifying her point. ¡°Yes, power comes in many forms, but you¡¯ve attended the academy yourself. The Emperor values one form over others: ambient. Such is the power of The Empire¡¯s youngest ducal family, the Astael¡¯s.¡±


    There it is, she thought. He was cornered in this conversation. If he could be moved to public anger, it could benefit her greatly. Her thoughts were interrupted by the croaking hymn of the door, opening once more to the announcement of another member of today¡¯s council.


    ¡°Enter, Jaskil Fyord Ten Warlskill, fifth son of Jaskaer Herald Ten Warlskill, may ambient surround him always.¡±


    He was from the Warlskill family, and looked the part. The tall, blond man wore the black uniform of a high commander, gilded with the emerald green colors of his family. He carried himself like the veteran of many battles. With his station and family, he most likely was.


    Jaskil spoke up with what sounded like a command, ¡°Greetings, hosts of Auryck, this seems to be our first meeting, so an introduction is in order.¡± He looked first to Luca.


    If you come across this story on Amazon, it''s taken without permission from the author. Report it.


    Luca bowed quickly and shallowly, ¡°I am Luca, third son of Marquess Aethelwulf. Your presence here honors us.¡±


    Jaskil then looked to Caeris, but did not wait for her to introduce herself. ¡°You must be Caeris Teld Win Auryck, the second daughter.¡±


    Caeris was a bit off put, unsure as to why he would be already familiar with her. He spoke up again, nearly cutting her off as she decided on what to say in response.


    ¡°You were determined to be of altient class before leaving the academy. Such a feat deserves many congratulations, and doesn¡¯t go unnoticed by Warlskill¡­ Though, I imagined your shoulders to be more broad; I am happy to be mistaken. You look stunning, Lady Caeris.¡±


    Caeris gripped the arms of the chair tightly, trying not to sway at the barrage of emotions she experienced in only a few short sentences. This was a serious meeting, and he had insulted her. Then, he had complimented her appearance, nearly in the same breath. She felt pride, anger, and embarrassment one after the other. Now, all three lingered as she struggled to think of what to say. A look at Luca brought her back into her body. He had also been taken off guard. She composed herself, and responded calmly.


    ¡°Are all of those from Warlskill so lacking in tact,¡± she asked.


    ¡°In Warlskill, we would use words more like ¡®candid¡¯ or ¡®direct,¡¯¡± he responded.


    ¡°Maybe so, nonetheless, this gathering is more akin to an imperial war council than a summer ball. Perhaps I¡¯d like to hear those words underscored by a nice tune, but alas, my father seems to have forgotten the band,¡± said Caeris. She was a bit concerned that it would be perceived as disrespect, but this was important to her. She was not a swooning maiden gawking in the presence of a duke¡¯s son. Her seat in this room had been earned, and could ensure her future would not be as a pawn of political convenience. She had an opportunity to carve out something of her own. She would not miss it due to the frivolous flirtations of a man.


    ¡°Ah, well I hope to see you at such an event, then,¡± Jaskil responded, undeterred.


    Caeris smiled and gave a polite nod, effectively ending the topic. She sighed and rested her head against the high back of the chair. She thought of what it would do to her tight curls, and sat straight once more, a bit more conscious of her appearance than before. It was time for the remaining members to start arriving.


    ¡°Enter, Justice Geld Lars Luger, second son of Kalway Derlit Lars Luger, may ambient surround him always.¡± Justice would most likely serve the operation as a moderator, running logistics. He did not carry the aura of a combatant, his dull brown formal attire speckled with the royale blue of the Luger family¡¯s financial experts.


    ¡°Enter, Havertz Aethelwulf Kaid Auryck, second son of Aethelwulf Suroh Thael Auryck, may ambient surround him always.¡± He didn¡¯t lock eyes with anyone in the room, as if his gaze was constantly fixed slightly above them. Havertz carried himself with a confidence that bordered on arrogance, but the inhabitants of the room were well aware such was not the case. The only man more accomplished than the second son would arrive next.


    Before the butler made his announcement, everyone knew he had arrived. The air seemed a bit heavier. The hairs on the back of their necks spiked up. A closer look at the maids would reveal that, despite their training, they were shaking.


    ¡°Enter, Aethelwulf Suroh Thael Auryck, head of the Auryck family, Marquess of Auryck, may ambient surround him always.¡±


    All eyes snapped to the massive doors, which swung inward once more. Their focus was glued to him, like a mouse unwilling to lose sight of a snake. His steps were quick and light, but made some in the room flinch as if a giant was crashing its boots down on the floor. His eyes were a striking gold color, like a bird of prey eyeing the room. He was unlike his second son. His gaze did not flow over their heads. Each and every member of the room felt the moment that they had been recognized.


    He sat down, and with a concentrated focus, decreased the amount of pressure being exerted in the room. Caeris noticed that around her father was a shimmering distortion, almost like the waves that could be seen on the paved roads of the capital. This was seltience, the only real qualitative leap in power among human distinctions of ambient classes. As one¡¯s control over ambient grows, it expands outward, and its effects are enhanced, but the classes of dynient, classient, and so on are nothing but arbitrary markers of varying degrees of power and control. Seltience was only achieved after one had reached the very peaks of control and potency, then found themselves able to coalesce ambient itself into a physical form. Caeris had been determined to be of altient rank after her time at the academy, but she felt herself nowhere near grasping the concept of seltience. If she were honest with herself, she barely understood the concept at all; most others didn¡¯t either.


    Aethulwulf was 70 now, and had achieved seltience about a year before her departure to the Imperial Ambient Academy. She had not met him since then. He seemed¡­ Different. Caeris couldn¡¯t really tell if it was simply the passage of time, or something else.


    His voice knocked most everyone out of their stupor. It was unchanged, still strong, but smooth and polite, just like she remembered, ¡°Greetings, and welcome to Auryck,¡± he began. ¡°Today, we begin the process of planning the next step in the growth of the great Ambient Empire: westward expansion, and the subjugation of the demi human species of the Kelston Primeval Forest.¡±


    He paused for a moment as he let his opening statement linger before continuing, ¡°And we can take a short moment to celebrate my daughter, Caeris Teld Wind Auryck, for being appointed as one of the commanders for this operation.¡±

 Chapter 10 - Learning Curve

    As High Tally Cloud finished his introductory statement, Tally Cobble stepped forward.


    ¡°Every one of you here knows something about ambient. You are born with it; you live with it, and you use it daily¡­ But most of you do not improve it. The improvement of your ambient control takes consistent training and the repeated practice of a core concept that can be expanded upon as your skill grows. Tonight, I will show you the concept of ambient rotation, and you will disperse into the forest, practicing it until sunrise.¡±


    ¡°Don¡¯t worry about the wildlife,¡± added Tally Cord, ¡°this segment of the forest is regularly patrolled by brazients and up, so you should spend the night in relative safety.¡±


    Tally Cobble stepped forward once more. They were all directed to encircle him. From an outside perspective, this would all look quite ritualistic. Maybe it was, Rane didn¡¯t know very much about ambient.


    High Tally Cloud would narrate what was happening, and Tally Cobble would perform the exercise. Tally Cobble bent to his knees and let his arms hang to his sides, relaxed in a meditative posture.


    ¡°First,¡± began the High Tally, ¡°he will focus inward, becoming intensely aware of the ambient within his own body. Everyone here should have reached that point, whether before coming here, or during the physical training that pushes your body to become stronger.¡± Rane felt a small victory, as he was a part of the previous camp. His work in the forge had made him at least capable of that.


    ¡°Next, he will begin to rotate the ambient within his body. He will not focus on speed, only the movement of his internal ambient. Once the ambient is cycling, then he will increase the tempo.¡±


    At this step, Tally Cobble¡¯s hair began to shift and flow in front of his brow, despite it being a windless night. Rane was unable to fully grasp the feeling, but it was also as if the tally had become more increasingly present. He seemed to stand out from everyone else.


    ¡°Finally, he will take that rotational force and begin to expand it beyond his body.¡±


    Dust began to kick up around the tally, spinning around him for a bit and being dropped, picked up again, and repeated.


    ¡°However,¡± said High Tally Cloud, ¡°this is not what it means to be classient. We can kick up dust around our ankles using our boots. Faster and further.¡±


    At this comment, Tally Cobble opened his eyes, pulled a small blade from his uniform, and stood up. Dust continued to cycle around his ankles. He shrugged his shoulders, and suddenly, the cyclone expanded exponentially, to around 4 yards, and enveloped many of the closest to him in a spray of blinding dust. As they scrambled back, Tally Cobble tossed the blade forward, into the cyclone. The blade was suddenly lost in the swirl of dust and the dark of the night.


    ¡°But again, classient isn¡¯t about how large Tally Cobble¡¯s little cyclone is. It¡¯s about that fact that he is significantly more lethal than any dreg present.¡±


    A sharp, whistling, noise turned the heads of many, and a heavy thunk revealed the blade which had been lost, now embedded in the side of the officers nest of the training ground.


    ¡°And he is also,¡± High Tally Cloud said as he pulled out an identical blade of his own, ¡°significantly harder to kill.¡± He thrust his hand forward, propelling the blade dead at the center of the Tally Cobble¡¯s cyclone. As soon as the blade entered Tally Cobbles area of direct control, it changed direction, and soon, the noise of metal hitting wood was heard again. There were now two blades embedded into the officers nest.


    ¡°You are all now dismissed,¡± said the high tally. ¡°Find an isolated area for yourself anywhere near the camp and begin your meditation. The more isolated, the better.¡±


    ¡°Why more isolated,¡± asked another recruit. It was Lint, another member of the initial squad Rane was a part of.


    ¡°That¡¯s not information you need to know, son,¡± he replied in a tone that seemed almost threatening.


    It didn¡¯t seem that others had noticed, but Rane was also sure that he felt all of the tallies'' presence flare a bit, just as when Tally Cobble was beginning his demonstration. Well, I¡¯m more concerned with the hows than the whys anyways, thought Rane. Others had already begun to leave. Rane decided to wait a bit to ensure he could leave in a direction that would be less populated. Just to be cautious, he was also going to note the direction that Ben and his lackeys chose. The bush of West Auryck was starting to seem more and more like the tight streets of its southeast district.


    A case of literary theft: this tale is not rightfully on Amazon; if you see it, report the violation.


    After everyone he had an eye on left the clearing, Rane chose a direction and began walking. There was a full moon, and the wind had picked up, bringing a gentle breeze that waged valiant combat against the mild summer heat. He came across a shallow stream. If his sense of direction could still be trusted, it was running toward Auryck, so it should be safe. He pulled out his knife, the same blade that was a part of every recruit¡¯s basic kit, and cut a few branches to mark the spot where he began following the stream. He continued his journey into the woods, the sound of leaves crunching beneath his feet interrupting the barely audible noise of running water.


    He guessed he had been walking for about five minutes. He found a secluded clearing near the creek, and dropped his pack to remove his water pouch. He couldn¡¯t see any fires from the camp, nor hear the breaths and sighs of a night in the barracks. He hadn¡¯t been alone like this in a long time. Actually, maybe he never had been.


    Rane walked around the clearing, stomping down some low grass, and pulled a small blanket from his bag, placing it on the ground. He tried to recall what he had seen from the tally that afternoon, and knelt on the cloth, letting both arms hang to his sides. He tried to focus as he did when working the forge. There was nothing except himself, the anvil, the hammer, the metal, and himself. Here, there was only himself. He should be able to do this.


    He inhaled, and as he exhaled, Rane only let his mind dwell on the sounds around him. He sorted them out: the cry of an animal, the creaking of branches, the crack of leaves, the buzzing of insects, and the ever present sound of running water. He let thoughts return to his mind as he focused on the sound of the water, and then inward. He felt his ambient. He always felt his ambient, but that was different from being conscious of it. The healer had wanted him to still it. He had tried, though in circumstances not quite conducive to learning. The tallies instructed him to rotate it, and did so in detail, with a demonstration to top it off.


    Ambient was constantly moving within the body. He took another breath, trying to imagine the dust cyclone within himself.


    It worked! Rane thought with excitement. Then he twisted violently to the side and vomited. He was dizzy, and his insides felt out of place. Hmm. It would seem that ¡®internal rotation¡¯ is slightly more complex than that. It would be a long night.


    *****


    He had figured out internal rotation after a few tries and uncomfortable failures. Maybe his body helped him out after figuring out that he would just continue to try different methods, but he had succeeded in adding a rotational force to his ambient.


    After that, he had hit a wall. The constant buzzing and biting of insects broke his concentration, and though he felt on the cusp of breakthrough, he did not succeed in externalizing the rotation before rays of sunlight began to trickle through, lighting up his face as his unkempt gray hair fell over his eyes. He just let himself fall forward onto the blanket, and sleep took him.


    Rane woke up with the sun high above him. He looked around, attempting to recognize his surroundings. Things didn¡¯t look the same during the day. He rubbed his eyes and began to pack up his things. It was time to make the trip back to the training area.


    It was a good thing that Rane had set up the sticks where he had found the stream. As he followed it back east, he realized that he didn¡¯t really remember anything in particular. He took his time, making sure he didn¡¯t lose his way out in the bush. The tallies claimed that it was regularly patrolled, but they did not say how often was ¡®regular¡¯. Additionally, something like a group of ferulls could probably escape their notice completely, but would be like the specters of death to a recruit like Rane.


    As he walked back into the training area, he was met with unfamiliar sights. What had been a largely open clearing was now filled with tents, campsites, and sparring rings. It would seem that many of the other recruits had returned at the break of dawn without much success, and had been tasked with setting this up instead.


    Rane¡¯s arrival caught the attention of Tally Cord, who yelled, ¡°Dreg Rane, report!¡± He marked his tablet for his attendance.


    ¡°Dreg Rane, reporting. I made some progress in ambient rotation and collapsed from exhaustion near sunrise. I wasted no time after waking up, and made my way directly back to camp,¡± Rane reported concisely.


    ¡°Report to the tent where you will find the rest of your temp squad. You are dismissed.¡±


    Rane left, but was in no hurry to find his squad, which he thanked The Ambient was only a temporary squad. They would all be reassigned after their training was finished, and then await their first deployment. Rane was searching for either the mess hall, or Puddles. He found the tent that would serve as the mess hall rather quickly. It was the most popular area of the camp, and was abuzz with chatter.


    ¡°Have you heard,¡± asked one recruit, ¡°we only get one meal a day while we¡¯re here. They expect us to trap, hunt, or forage for food while we go out for our ambient training exercises over the next week.¡±


    This was news to Rane as well. He frowned and looked up to the heavens. He had no idea how to do any of those things, and he suspected that scavenging out here in the bush was much different that his scavenging back in Auryck. He looked across the tables that had been set up, and to the pots of soup and piles of bread, wondering whether or not he could just survive on one meal a day. At the very least, he didn¡¯t think he would starve. He grabbed a bowl and walked towards the cooks, not looking forward to meeting his squad later. Last night was peaceful. He really hadn¡¯t known what he was missing until he got it. No matter, it was time to find his tent. It was at least a place to drop off his things and rest.

 Chapter 11 - Hard Lessons

    When he entered the tent, 5 pairs of eyes snapped to him. One of the squad was missing. He didn¡¯t see Caid. The others were all present: Ben, Bask, Lint, Jester, and Jackal. They did not address him as he walked to a clearly open space near the back of the tent. He began to set down his bag, took out his water pouch, and sat down to face his strange tribunal.


    ¡°So,¡± Ben began, ¡°how was your first night?¡±


    ¡°How many times did you throw up,¡± asked Jester. It seemed that there was genuine curiosity in his question, and the others mirrored, listening intently for his answer.


    ¡°I threw up four times. Well, only the first couple times could be considered vomiting. The last two were definitely just me, nauseously heaving nothing onto the ground,¡± said Rane, a bit embarrassed. They probably had all gotten it after a try or two.


    ¡°HAH, told you he didn¡¯t get rotation on the first night. The ditch dreg probably can¡¯t even feel his ambient,¡± Bask said hurriedly.


    Lint snorted and said, ¡°it¡¯s ok, Rane, no one was betting on you for the first three days anyways. Maybe you¡¯ll get rotation next week. I¡¯ve heard the Southeast is full of hard workers just down on their luck.¡±


    Rane felt his pride flare up, and argued back, his voice raising as he spoke, ¡°I¡¯ve been able to feel my ambient for years, and last night, I did at least make it to rotation.¡± His audience was startled.


    ¡°You didn¡¯t get rotation and he did,¡± remarked Jackal. ¡°Embarrassing.¡±


    ¡°No, it¡¯s not fair, he must have¨C,¡± Ben placed a hand on Bask¡¯s shoulder, stopping him from continuing.


    ¡°I think you¡¯re right, Bask. It¡¯s not fair. But we can make it fair,¡± said Ben. He took a step forward, and it was somehow only now that Rane understood that this conclusion had been one forgone. The open area at the back of the tent; their anticipatory gazes as he entered the tent. Since his conversation with Puddles, he should have realized it. He knew that they didn¡¯t like him, but he had been naive. A few of these boys actually hated him.


    He opened his mouth to scream for help, but Ben was fast, much faster than he had been in their spar. The first blow was aimed well, directly into his stomach, cutting upwards as if he meant to drive his fist under Rane¡¯s ribs. He collapsed in a heap, letting go of his lunch as the rest of them descended onto him. He tucked his head as the hits began to land. A kick managed to land on his jaw. After that, it was hard to think about anything in particular except that he still needed to stay still and keep his hands over his head.


    Even still, there was one clear train of thought that rose, allowing him to focus on something. If they hated him, he could hate them, too. He retreated inwards, no longer fully experiencing his own situation as he focused on his own dark thoughts. He would stand above them as they stood above him right now. But not as a group beating an individual. Rane, now more than ever, wanted true power, like the tally displayed on the first day. Power like he felt from the healer. No, even higher. He may reach it before them, but these boys would reach classient as well. It was nearly guaranteed. Several of them would reach brazient. He wanted to stand at a height that they couldn¡¯t reach, and to torment them as they did him.


    Suddenly, he remembered the words of his mother, spoken to him so long ago, You shouldn¡¯t do it because what you do is who you are to others.¡± Yes, mother, but who are they to me? He did not remember all that she had told him on that day, but it seemed so much less complicated to him now. They were his enemies.


    This story has been unlawfully obtained without the author''s consent. Report any appearances on Amazon.


    *****


    Rane heard once that you go in life to where you were wanted. That place was clearly not his squad¡¯s tent, and so moving out was suddenly a priority. Unfortunately, it was not his only priority. He had to stop his head from spinning, and see if he could stand up. He would need to be able to attend the afternoon briefing. And he would need to make his walk back out in the bush to practice ambient control. He was close; he could feel it.


    Rane tried to sit up, but felt a flashing pain in his lower back. He nearly lost consciousness. He also couldn¡¯t call for the healer. Ben¡¯s boys had an airtight story. If Rane raised the issue to the tallies, they would all testify that he attempted to stab Bask. They even claimed to have a few dregs from other squads to back them up, making it look less like conspiracy. Even without this threat, he shuddered a bit in natural fear at the memory of the brazient class healer. The shudder caused pain to flare again, like he was being branded, but this pain was different, normal. He would try to fix himself. His mother had been able to fix minor injuries.


    It was difficult to focus amidst the noise and clamor of the makeshift base. Even still, this was not something that he could elect not to do because it was ¡®too difficult¡¯. Currently, Rane couldn¡¯t walk, and so he looked inwards once more, repeating his process he started out in the woods, albeit without the meditative pose or the sound of running water. The dull hum of boots stomping and random yelling would have to suffice.


    As he felt his internal ambient, he focused around his lower back. He was no medical expert, but he felt certain that if the problem was that a disc in his spine had popped out, putting it back into place should fix most of his problem. He was unsure if he could do that either. He could move the ambient within his body. He should also be able to use it to move things within his body, and so he began rotating a small section of ambient in his lower back, feeling around his spine, giving him a mental map of what the area looked like. He spotted what he determined to be the problem bulging inwards a bit, and pressed his ambient gently against it, coaxing it back into place with a pop that broke his concentration and nearly made him scream. He was biting his own teeth so hard he feared that they might break.


    Slowly, Rane stood up and gathered his things, which he had expected to be strewn about, but blissfully, were not. He did not plan on seeing the inside of this tent again. With a flash of inspiration, it occurred to him that some small, insignificant section of his revenge could begin now. He looked around the tent. Was there anything useful that they had left him?


    And so he walked out of the tent, hiding a limp as best as he could, with a pack containing a few extra water pouches, dried rations, and twine. Back in the tent he had left their bags just a bit lighter, and maybe with a few loose threads as well. It would not amount to much, and he would never get to see it, but he could imagine Bask¡¯s next excursion into the bush, during which he would find himself thirsty and with a pack barely holding itself together. It brought a smile to Rane¡¯s face as he considered what Bask¡¯s blood would look like on the outside of his body.


    Rane found a secluded spot near the camp, and collapsed in a heap. He had to get some sleep before the next briefing, or they would clearly see him unable to stand. As he closed his eyes, his mind quieted, and he was taken into a dreamless, black, sleep like that of the dead.


    *****


    ¡°And again, to repeat, check-ins are once a day until you break your ambient through your body, after which, you will only need to check in every three days. Tallies will be on standby to coach those who are struggling, and the cooks will be giving out dried meats and grain to those who wish to train for longer periods of time. At the end of the month, we will hold a final round of sparring that will help to determine your assigned squad.¡±


    Rane listened through the assignment, trying to look as relaxed as he could while standing at attention. A lot of things still hurt, but he had made it here, and now he needed to make it back out into the bush again, where, blissfully, he could stay for days on end, only needing to come back for check-ins with the tallies.


    When they were dismissed, many immediately headed for the forest. Rane elected to go get his rations from the cooks. The best way to ensure he wasn¡¯t being followed was just to not go first. He may not be exactly the last to enter the bush, but he would at least not have a whole platoon staring at the direction he took.

 Chapter 12 - A Class Act

    Rane found the place easily enough. He was pleasantly surprised that there was not another recruit kneeling in his spot, but then again, Rane had asked around a bit in the cafeteria, and the general consensus was that most others had not really gone more than five minutes in any direction. Some just meant to stay near camp for the easy sleep and rations. Others feared the dark maw of the forest, despite the tallies'' affirmations that they were ¡®safe enough¡¯.


    No matter, he was here now, and with a different purpose than before, a sharper purpose than before. He placed his things, knelt in the clearing, and immediately began to meditate, feeling and rotating his ambient. He had been close before ending his last session. This is it.


    Rane let out a breath akin to a sigh, and his face twitched a bit. He could still feel the pain on his ribs. If he lifted his shirt, he could also find a myriad of colors, none close to matching the normal, olive color of his skin. While he had been lying in the tent, he had been thinking of mostly revenge, but also this. What was the difference between internal rotation and externalizing that rotation? Why did the ambient within his body belong to him, and why not the ambient touching it? He had reached a conclusion: it was will. High Tally Cloud mentioned that ambient was sometimes referred to as the will of the world, and also that it didn¡¯t matter. It needed to be their will that was exerted.


    He was small right now, and so he simply imagined himself to be greater. Not taller, not more muscular, nor added weight around the chest. He focused on the spark of ambient that he controlled fully, that within his own body, and fanned its flame, wishing it to break the confines of the shell that confined it. And break it he did.


    It felt like his skull broke along with it as he suddenly felt a rush of new sensations hammering themselves into his mind. He struggled against the pain, trying to make sense of what he had done. He could feel so much more, but it was clumsy, as if he had been granted a third eye, arm, and could see another color. He realized with sudden clarity, this is my area of direct control. He could perceive ambient within it with significantly greater clarity. In line with his envisioning of its expansion, the ambient in what seemed like a large flame centered on him now belonged to him, and that was the source of his headache.


    He could sense the blades of grass crushed under the blanket he rested on. He knew that there was a spider the size of a silver skittering away from him. As it got about a yard away, he could not really tell, but everything else he could¡­ All at once. This would take some getting used to. The summer sun, though mild, shined down on him as continued his silent act. It tracked along the sky, and Rane did not move until the orb commenced its daily ritual of hiding amongst the trees before tucking itself away, beyond the horizon.


    He opened his eyes and let out a deep breath. The pain in his head had subsided. He stood, and moved to the stream, whose clear waters would sustain him for his time in the bush. He had no intention to return for more than the required check-in. He knelt to the stream and cupped his hands into the water. The stream was cooler than he expected, and he brought the water to his mouth, spilling as much on his clothes as he managed to drink. He looked up and down the stream before simply plunging his face into the clear water, opening and closing his mouth to take immense gulps of the rejuvenating liquid.


    He stood up and embraced his newfound sensation, feeling the water in front of him. He would start with what he knew: rotation. And there it was, a small swirl evident on the surface of the water. A passing leaf fell into his meager current and began to spin tight, small circles along with the water underneath. Now, he could add some depth to the rotation. The middle of the pool sank as the circulating force both increased in speed and scope. The edges rose a bit as the leaf was sent over the edge of the whirlpool and back on its journey down the creak. He tried to increase its intensity more. The stream was only about knee deep here, could he expose the bottom? He inhaled sharply¡­ And fell forward into his meager project. He stretched his arms forward, bracing against the smooth rocks on the bottom of the stream as he raised his head, gasping for breath. The realization struck him that he was exhausted. He would need to get used to how this worked. Using the ambient within your body did not fatigue one in the same manner as stretching that natural ambient outward. He felt like he had been sprinting for 5 minutes. He crawled to the edge of the stream and closed his eyes while on its bank, the sound of its trickling flow guiding him into his dreams.


    *****


    As he stood before Ben, he seemed to tower over him. Ben hefted his greatsword, but it was all in vain. Rane wielded no sword. He didn¡¯t need one. Ben charged forward, swinging his weapon in wide, flowing, arcs that showed his mastery of the weapon and his dedication to his training. He had been doing the wrong kind of training. A nearby stone took flight with an unnatural jerk, flying towards Ben. It connected with his sword, breaking it. The spark of fear in his eyes grew into a flame, and Rane shuddered with elation as he began to walk forward. Ben took a step back, but Rane raised the ground beneath his feet, tripping him.


    This tale has been unlawfully lifted from Royal Road; report any instances of this story if found elsewhere.


    ¡°Stop, I¡¯m sorry, It¨C it wasn¡¯t fair,¡± Ben said.


    ¡°I know,¡± said Rane, ¡°but I can make it fair.¡± Rane would make him feel the powerlessness he felt from the healer. It was brilliant. It was all his fault anyways.


    Ben¡¯s eyes hardened as he became resolved to face his fate.


    ¡°Monster,¡± said Ben. Fear was gone from his visage as he gathered himself and stood to confront Rane once more. He leapt forward, surprised Rane, who flinched. When he looked again, Ben was gone. Instead, there was something else.


    He could feel it as if it pressed him in from all angles. He tried to take a step, but didn¡¯t know which direction to go. Anywhere, he decided, but now found that he could not move. His legs were buried in the soil up to his knees. He felt like screaming, then he saw the being approaching.


    He was towering on his horse, and had a blue cloak that he was wearing over a deep, midnight black tunic. Rane could not tell where the man ended and where the horse began. Perhaps they were one and the same. His face was hidden in the dark recess of the blue hood, but Rane could tell. He was looking at him. He was sizing him up, but not the way a man would take the measure of another man. He looked at him with the cold indifference of a predator that had gotten its fill. He was considered, but not imperative. He could be killed for sport, or maybe just for later.


    Rane¡¯s instincts cried out in his mind, begging him to flee. He did not flee, but it was not courage that kept him rooted, but the Earth itself, rising up to betray him in favor of the rider. Rane realized that he wasn¡¯t breathing, then looked up to see the raised arm of the cloaked man. The Earth erupted in a wave coming towards Rane.


    There was only fear in Rane¡¯s eyes as he looked to his fate whispered, ¡°monster.¡±


    *****


    Rane jolted awake as he flailed his body against the solid ground, bashing his hand against a rock, drawing blood. Cold. Despite the pain, and despite his panic, his mind cleared itself to deal with his most pressing issue. He had fallen asleep, wet from falling into the stream, and now the forest¡¯s breath had chilled his clothes and his body.


    He was shivering and his heart was pounding as he made his way back to the center of the clearing. He removed his clothes and placed the blanket he had been using for kneeling on the ground of the forest around his shoulders. He had gathered wood and materials for a fire earlier, and leaned forward, eager to use his newfound power to light the kindling. As a middling dynient, one could only heat up things that were both familiar and within your grasp. Such a thing made fire starting possible, but fickle. As with many things at the dynient class, it was easier to use flint, or even a fire bow.


    He rotated ambient tightly around itself, heating it up rapidly to the point of combustion. The kindling ignited, and Rane¡¯s shadow began dancing on the treeline behind him. The sun hadn¡¯t risen, and he couldn¡¯t see the moon. He didn¡¯t know how long he had slept, but he knew that not all of his time spent asleep had been restful. Vague memories of the dream danced around in his mind. Rane was not interested in remembering the contents of the dream, but he couldn¡¯t forget the way that he had felt in its end. It reminded him of something familiar, but he could not quite place it.


    The light of the fire seemed to dim as the fire of dawn drowned its meager glow. Rane was not well rested, but he didn¡¯t feel that he could sleep in his current state. His heartbeats had felt like the strike of a hammer on an anvil since he woke up, only easing in intensity with the soothing glow of the sun¡¯s rays through the leaves.


    Rane, now shirtless, placed his blanket on the ground and knelt. He would continue to train as his clothes dried. He tried to clear his mind of the remnant emotion he felt. It was terror, but he was too prideful to admit to himself that he was still shaken from a nightmare as if he were a child. He would grow stronger, then have nothing to fear.


    *****


    It had been almost three weeks since the nightmare. Rane was kneeling on the ground as he had done multiple times daily for the past few weeks. A soft breeze tickled the grass surrounding him, but closer inspection would reveal that the grass in front of him and behind him swayed in opposite directions. Rane shrugged his shoulders, and the wind suddenly intensified, laying the grass down in a circle around himself. Its radius was about three yards. It was close, but he had made it. The tallies would label him a classient.


    If he had to describe it, he would only say that it was boring. After his initial breakthrough, the only thing holding him back from being a classient was his area of direct control. That meant repetition and rotation, constantly trying to increase the reach of his control. During those weeks, he had found himself easily distracted and irritable. Progress was slow and monotonous, reminding him of his time in the forge, but without any end product, just diminishing returns on his efforts. He had begun to sleep multiple times per day, and by the end, a single insect bite would end his meditation. During one of his visits to the camp, Puddles had tried to ask him about his progress. Rane snapped that it was ¡®none of his business¡¯. His tall friend had been determined classient only a week or so into the training.


    However, training his area of direct control was not Rane¡¯s only focus. He did not forget the reason for his efforts.

 Chapter 13 - Graduation

    Rane was proud of his efforts anyways. He was definitely not the most adept of the recruits, but he would most certainly not be relegated to the porter corp. He felt the sting of his previous defeats, both in the ring or outside of it, and he had plenty of time to think about what he would do. Dark thoughts filled his head as he walked through the city of tents where his fellow recruits slept, though he felt little in the way of fellowship.


    He walked with a single minded purpose. There would be three matches, which meant three chances to be met with his goal. The board posted near the officers¡¯ building would detail all of the matches. He did not wish for matches that he could win; he just wished to see his squad. The drone of the camp was loud, but it felt like nothing but a buzz to Rane, who continued with his clear goal.


    ¡°Rane!¡± shouted a familiar voice, ¡°so how¡¯d it go?¡± It was Puddles.


    ¡°I made it,¡± Rane responded curtly. He still wasn¡¯t happy with the boy for his seemingly easy progress, but he had given it some thought. He may be his only ally in the camp.


    Rane took a breath and softened his tone a bit, ¡°what about you, oh chosen one?¡±


    ¡°My area of direct control is up to just a bit over four yards¡­ I just can¡¯t seem to produce effects at that range. Maybe I¡¯ll just specialize in my area, be a scout,¡± Puddles mused.


    Rane nodded, then motioned for Puddles to keep following him. He knew where they were going. It was not a long walk, and so now they found themselves in a bit of a crowd surrounding the only actual building in the camp. Rane pushed through the crowd to stand in front of the board, Puddles following close in his wake, placating those perturbed by Rane¡¯s rudeness. Rane reached his destination and looked up to it, searching for his fate, only really hoping for a single outcome.


    C Bracket - Round 1


    <ul>


    <li style="font-weight: 400">Bask vs Rane</li>


    <li style="font-weight: 400">Jester vs Tower</li>


    <li style="font-weight: 400">Kilter vs Nast</li>


    </ul>


    Rane couldn¡¯t believe his luck. It was round 1. He would open the tournament. Suddenly, he felt nervous, but hurriedly steeled his resolve. He hadn¡¯t come this far to allow butterflies to ruin his plans.  His mood brightened greatly.


    ¡°The Ambient favors me,¡± Rane whispered.


    ¡°What?¡± asked Puddles.


    ¡°Nothing,¡± said Rane, ¡°I¡¯m just looking forward to this.¡±


    *****


    Rane stepped into the circle only lightly armed, the same as his opponent. Both fighters were equipped with the same blade, a blade roughly the length of the elbow to the fingertips. It had no cross guard, and a handle that was difficult to grip. It was not meant to be held in the hands anyways. The edges were blunted, like most of their weapons for training, but they remained dangerous. Rane was sure of that.


    Bask was clearly happy with his round one draw, ¡°hey, Rane, fancy seeing you here, we haven¡¯t seen you in a while. We were starting to think you had deserted.¡±


    Rane calmed himself, not responding to the provocation.


    ¡°May ambient abandon you in life and death,¡± whispered Rane. The crowd was not stifling, but as the first match of the tournament, there were more eyes on it than normal. This would also be everyone¡¯s first time seeing classients fight each other. There would be much to learn.


    ¡°What?¡± Bask did not hear him over the crowd. Rane hadn¡¯t wanted him to anyways.


    Low Tally Cobble¡¯s voice broke their interaction, ¡°BEGIN!¡±


    As the match began, Rane felt Bask¡¯s presence spike a bit, as if he were suddenly more important, more radiant than everyone else. The gray dust of the sparring ring began to kick up around him. Rane took note of his area of direct control. It seemed to be about two yards. And it seemed erratic. It probably was not intentional, but it could prove more difficult anyways.


    Rane responded with his own ambient as he grasped control around himself. His rotation was smooth, but he matched the radius to Bask¡¯s own, hiding his reach. He needed to feel him out. Bask was not talented by any measure, but Rane had thought about this for a month. He would not lose to his own arrogance. He stepped forward onto his left foot and pulled his blade back. Bask postured defensively for a moment, and Rane stepped his left foot back again, letting his right lead. The ground beneath Bask erupted forward, slinging rocks and gray dust up and out towards Rane. Bask himself was shortly behind, or at least his blade was. He had simply thrown it forward, letting go of the handle. The short blade flew through the mask of rocks and dust, piercing into Rane¡¯s area of direct control, where it was all he could do to manipulate the trajectory of the blade to his right. The blade returned to Bask¡¯s hand as if on a string.


    The story has been stolen; if detected on Amazon, report the violation.


    Even still, Rane stumbled backwards. A rock had struck him on the right cheekbone, and it was hard to open his eye. Bask had revealed his hand. It was now or never. Rane threw a wide swipe from the left and down into Bask, who swiped up to meet it with his own blade, again letting go of it. The two blades met, and Rane¡¯s weapon was knocked out of his hands. It clattered to the ground on his left about three yards away. Bask pressed his advantage immediately leaping forward with his blade outstretched. Rane narrowly avoided the blade, ducking to his right.


    No one noticed the discarded blade flying through the air, but for Rane, this had been an option from the start. He focused on his rotation as he pushed the blade faster towards its destination. He willed it to be fast. He willed it to strike true. He willed it to be sharp. And so, sharp it was. The dulled blade met Bask¡¯s protruded neck and passed through without resistance, continuing its journey across the ring, falling to the ground rapidly as it exited Rane¡¯s area of control.


    Blood hemorrhaged from the gash on Bask¡¯s neck, showering Rane in the unclean liquid. There was a brief moment of silence, during which Tally Cobble shouted for the healer, who was on standby, but not actually right beside the ring, where he was stationed. The crowd erupted into arguments and shouting. It was all a dull hum to Rane, who had his arms resting at his side, and his eyes locked on the foe in front of him. A fleeting moment of regret flashed through Rane¡¯s mind. Bask looked younger now that he wasn¡¯t moving. Rane looked up, surveying the unruly crowd. He saw Ben, and his resolve was steeled. He did not look stricken by the loss of a friend. He was staring directly at Rane with unmistakable fire in his eyes. Rane broke his gaze to blink and wipe the blood dripping from his brown down into his eyes, then looked down at Bask. He flashed a short, red smile at the body.


    *****


    The death of Bask was ruled an accident. Apparently, the blade had not been properly dulled. Additionally, the healer was not stationed properly. Military training was meant to teach them to kill, and so they intentionally nurtured such an environment. A few recruits had been simply lost to the woods, finding themselves either unable to pathfind, or perhaps accosted by some beast unnoticed by the patrols. It would not take a monster to kill an unsuspecting dynient. Rane, however, had killed a fully aware classient.


    To add to his fortune, he missed his other scheduled matches due to the investigation. Squads had not yet been re-assigned, so his tent was technically still with Ben and his boys. Rane planned to sleep out in the bush again, and so he walked with a step that bordered on jovial as he thought of his deployment. It would be glorious. In the place of Bask, he imagined ferulls, demis, and caanulls. He couldn¡¯t place a reason, but he didn¡¯t want to see Bask¡¯s face. He remembered it clearly. He shook his head as if to shake the memory out by force, and continued his walk, placing one foot in front of the other as if he were following a straight line.


    ¡°Busy day?¡±


    Rane tripped and fell down to one knee as he frantically searched for the owner of the voice. He knew it well. He found him about 12 yards away, appearing from behind a tree as if he were an apparition.


    ¡°Ah, yes, Ben, very much so. After the accident ¨C¡±


    ¡°Shut up. That wasn¡¯t an accident and you know it.¡±


    ¡°How¡¯d your matches go?¡± Rane asked, ignoring his comment. His blade was unsheathed already, suspended behind him by rotating on its vertical axis.


    ¡°I won them all, and don¡¯t avoid my question.¡±


    ¡°What question,¡± Rane asked, striking a pose as if he were thinking, ¡°Oh, Bask? The tallies said it was, and so it is.¡±


    Ben¡¯s presence flared, ¡°I could kill you.¡±


    ¡°You could try.¡±


    Ben shook his head. He said that, but he knew that he couldn¡¯t. Well, not and get away with it. Rane had been clever to do it in a spar, he thought. When he had seen Rane covered in blood, he looked frightening. Many recruits saw someone die for the first time today, and he was included in that number. It invoked curiosity in him towards the one that committed this inaugural act. He wanted to know what it was that Rane had, what made him look like that during the spar, but he was not impressed. What Rane had was simply what they had given him. Rane was fighting to kill from the start. The rest of them were still in training, but Rane had already graduated.


    ¡°Watch your back¡­ And if you try anything, we¡¯ll see if you can take another one versus six¡­ five,¡± Ben said as he left with an unveiled threat.


    Rane stood in silence for a while, listening intently and spreading his ambient about, looking for anything out of place. He didn¡¯t trust Ben. He couldn¡¯t trust Ben. After he was satisfied that Ben was well and truly gone, he plucked his blade out of its slow orbit and placed it back into its sheath. Rane moved forward slowly and deliberately to find his camp. He couldn¡¯t sleep in enemy territory.

 Chapter 14 - The Gangs All Here

    Rane woke with the chirping of morning insects. Why did some people refer to them as singing? He sat up and rubbed his eyes, memories of his dreams floating around vaguely in his head before fluttering away. He may have seen Bask¡¯s face again. He most definitely dreamed of his deployment into the fronts, where he would find that which he sought. He gathered his things, washed his face in the stream, and set back out to camp. It will be a busy week.


    Rane entered an already buzzing camp. Recruits were running about everywhere, gathering things, some taking down tents, a few setting up new tents, but everyone seemed to have some assignment to do. Rane decided he would head to the kitchens to grab breakfast before finding out what he should be doing. He would not actively seek work. It could find him itself.


    And so it found him as he ate his modest portion of grain gruel that the cooks liked to call porridge.


    ¡°Rane!¡± Puddles yelled from across the cafeteria. ¡°I¡¯ve been looking for you.¡± He hurriedly made his way over saying as he sat down, ¡°we got our squad assignments¡­ Oh, and by the way, you have to call me ¡®Captain¡¯ now.¡±


    There was a flash of jealousy that sparked in his mind, but Rane quickly extinguished it. Puddles was his only friend in this camp of almost 200 recruits. He forced himself to think logically. I am monumentally lucky for this occurrence, and if I¡¯m correct, he deserves this. He wasn¡¯t one of the camp''s pinnacle talents, but he had better ambient control than Rane before even starting the training for it, and I already had practice in the forge.


    Rane got up from his seat in a rush and placed his left arm in front of himself as if holding a shield, ¡°Yes, Captain Mack!¡± He yelled loudly enough to draw the attention of the entire cafeteria who were now looking at the two embarrassed recruits, one still stuck in a mocking salute to the other.


    ¡°Come on Classient Rane, you¡¯re late for your first squad briefing,¡± Puddles replied with a sigh. He was looking down at the table, and muttered, ¡°I could probably punish you for this now.¡±


    ¡°What¡¯s that?¡±


    ¡°Nothing, don¡¯t worry about it¡­ Until you have to,¡± his new captain responded cryptically.


    ¡°Let¡¯s go,¡± Rane said. They both hurried out of the cafeteria. At this point the attention had long left them, but neither wanted to linger there longer. Puddles led him through the bustling rows of the tent city where things were being rearranged in the center.


    ¡°What¡¯s going on there?¡± Puddles asked.


    ¡°The commanders are coming in tomorrow for deployment commencement. We are part of Auryck 72nd Platoon. They are leaving us in suspense for any more information.¡±


    Rane was not particularly excited, but the ceremonial look of it all, the stage, the podium, and the many unfamiliar banners of noble houses struck him with a grand sense of awe and depth. He would once again see a completely different class of people. They wouldn¡¯t be simply wealthy, like the Kenly¡¯s back in town. Nobility were qualitatively different people, or at least, all Rane had heard of were. And the one he saw as a kid still left its mark on him today.


    ¡°This way,¡± said Puddles, as he disappeared to the right and into a squad tent.


    Rane placed his hand on the flap to push, but hesitated. The last time he had faced a tent of his peers, things hadn¡¯t gone well for him. He heard Puddles from inside the tent answer a question he hadn¡¯t heard, but could guess from the answer.


    ¡°He was right behind me, maybe he got lost.¡±


    Rane took a breath and pulled the tent flap wide, ducking his head to enter the large canvas structure. There were six pairs of eyes trained on him, but without the intensity of before. These boys weren¡¯t curious about much other than his name. Maybe it would stay that way.


    ¡°Anyways,¡± Puddles began before the silence reached an uncomfortable length, ¡°this is Rane, and yes, if he is to be believed, that is his real name. Now,¡± he gestured, ¡°introduce yourselves.¡±


    Rane looked to the leftmost recruit first. It seemed he was to be the first to speak up. He had brown hair and was a bit taller than Rane. He looked a bit older too, lacking many of the boyish features shared by many of the other recruits.


    ¡°I¡¯m Erick of Auryck,¡± he said with a quick wave.


    The next to introduce themselves was now on the far right. It seemed this introduction had no real order to it.


    ¡°I¡¯m Sven of Auryck, good to meet you, Rane.¡± He flashed a smile that made Rane sure that this one couldn¡¯t have joined to have a better chance with women despite being the shortest present. He had loose blonde hair and features that could almost be described as pretty if his jawline weren¡¯t so pronounced.


    Rane nodded in acknowledgement. He was not sure whether he was supposed to say something back to them all individually, but he had already skipped Erick, so he would just wait until the end.


    The next was to Sven¡¯s left, a tall, bulky one with deep red hair.


    ¡°Mud. Well, that¡¯s what they call me.¡± He spoke softly, but the depth of his voice could still be heard. He sounded old enough to be one of the tallies, and he didn¡¯t offer his real name.


    ¡°Klein of Hardtskirt,¡± said the next. He had gray hair, but not the gray of the elderly, but a lustrous gray that made Rane wonder if he were finding some way to wash his hair.


    If you encounter this narrative on Amazon, note that it''s taken without the author''s consent. Report it.


    ¡°Last and least, I¡¯m Aabe of Auryck, and I¡¯ll get this out of the way. I haven¡¯t reached classient yet.¡±


    ¡°Yeah, and I¡¯ll take the explanation,¡± Erick piped in. ¡°You see, dear Aabe here led a more pampered life than the rest of us. I understand you had a blacksmith apprenticeship. Aabe was being groomed to take over a cushy merchant business before he made his family mad enough to send him off to the military.¡±


    ¡°Idiot. You should have let me trade places,¡± muttered Klein.


    After a short pause, Rane decided it was his turn to speak, ¡°well, as Puddles said before, I¡¯m Rane¡­ of Kelston,¡± he glanced around to gauge reaction there before continuing. ¡°I look forward to serving with you all.¡±


    ¡°Aright,¡± said Puddles, his voice now loud with authority. Rane had not heard this from him before. It suited him, though. ¡°We have a lot to get done before tomorrow¡¯s ceremony, so let''s get to it. Rane, Klein, go to the kitchens and stock dry rations, Aabe, Erick, go check in with the tallies to report our squad as complete.¡±


    Rane glanced at Klein and nodded. As Puddles continued to give direction, they gathered some bags and set out toward the kitchens. Now that solo training was over, there would always be work to do.


    *****


    On the following day, they stood at attention in front of the stage. It seemed higher up than it did from afar. The banners seemed to have more color. There was a group of VIPs seated at the back of the stage. High Tally Cloud stood above the recruits, preparing for the opening address. The stoic man seemed nervous. It was the first time any of the recruits gathered had seen this expression, so they could not be sure. Rane looked around. There hadn¡¯t been many times that everyone gathered at once. He estimated that about 200 recruits remained. It was enough to make up four platoons, each with seven squads of seven. As Rane racked his brain doing the calculations for military grouping, he felt High Tally Cloud¡¯s presence flare up. He glanced up just in time to see him open his mouth to emit the booming voice of an officer that they all knew.


    ¡°Recruits, Dregs, Classients. Most of you are now the latter. It has been my honor to guide you onto the path you will take to serve the Empire. It will be your honor to continue this path in its service. Regardless of rank, you are now soldiers all, and so I will present your commanders, starting with commander of the Auryck 70th platoon, Jaskil Fyord Ten Warlskill, may ambient surround him always.¡±


    A man stood from the section behind the tally, walking towards the podium. He was taller than High Tally Cloud, and his long, blond hair contrasted the black uniform he wore. Over his uniform was an emerald green sash, likely tying him to his house, though Rane was unfamiliar with the great houses, so he couldn¡¯t be sure.


    He opened his mouth to speak, and at the same time, did the same thing as the High Tally did, somehow seizing the ambient to amplify his voice. The difference, however, was palpable. Rane felt as if he¡¯d been grabbed and shaken for a brief moment before he calmed down. As he looked around, he knew he was not the only one. In his stupor, he had missed the first thing Commander Jaskil said.


    ¡°And to lead these fine troops, under me will be veteran tallies Atly and Nash. I look forward to serving with you all.¡±


    After Commander Jaskil was Commander Germaine, another from Warlskil. He would lead the 71st. Rane¡¯s eyes drifted along. Ceremonies, he decided, were boring. The only relevant information they would get here would be the introduction of their tallies. Anything else important would likely be reserved for the closing bit. They had to know themselves that the group of young men that they had just proclaimed to be soldiers were not wholely enraptured by the speeches of their new commanders. Well, Rane thought, some people are.


    Puddles had not broken his attention a single time. He clearly admired these men. Rane did, too, but it seemed to border worship to give them any more than the respect of silence and attention.


    Soon, Commander Germaine was finished with his introductions, and the next commander stepped forward. Rane¡¯s attention was suddenly held. This commander was clearly a woman. She wore a similar black uniform to the rest of them, but in an obviously differently tailored cut.  She was slim, and she was shorter than the other commanders, though not by much. It was difficult to judge height from below. She had brown skin, sharp eyes, and tight, black curls that created a short but noticeable afro. She carried the aesthetic of a woman, but still exuded the same aura of superiority as the others. The High Tally announced her as she approached.


    ¡°Commander of the Auryck 72nd Platoon, Caeris Teld Wind Auryck.¡±


    Her entrance caused murmurs among the troops. There were no women among the recruits; however, when she gathered her presence to speak, Rane flinched. She was noticeably more impactful on the surrounding ambient than Commander Germaine.


    ¡°Greetings, soldiers all, I am the second daughter of Aethulwulf Suroh Thael Auryck. I come to you as a member of the nobility, unknown, and you all can ascertain my age, and yet I stand here, above you all.¡±


    Rane was paying attention, but not feeling particularly inspired. It was as she had said. She was no child, but many would harbor doubts anyways.


    ¡°And that is where I belong!¡± Rane suddenly found himself listening more intently than before.


    She continued, ¡°I will have the counsel of veteran tallies Gap and Hertz, your new low and high tallies respectively. I am Caeris Teld Wind Auryck, and by decree of the emperor, I shall lead this us to victory through might and merit alone.¡±


    It had been a brief address, but more impactful than the others by quite a margin. There were several that cheered, but they broke down quickly under stern looks from the tallies present.


    The next commander was introduced as Nastael Darkhart, who put on another performance that lacked the luster of the commander of the 72nd. He was an off-putting man. Rane could not really place why the commander made him feel that way, but the slender man stood with the poise of a coiled snake. The reds that embellished his uniform were gradient in quality, as if dyed unevenly in blood. He spoke quietly, but enunciated every syllable in such a way that no words were missed, and no one dared to make a sound.


    Finally, the tally spoke again, ¡°High Commander Havertz Aethulwulf Kaid Auryck.¡±


    He walked towards the center stage, carrying himself with an air of confidence that was similar to Commander Jaskil¡¯s, but overshadowed it in maturity. He was putting on no airs, instead letting his presence speak for itself. He had eyes much like his sister who had spoken before him, albeit with darker skin and a larger frame. Everything about him spoke of pragmatism, from his largely unembellished uniform to his shaved head. He reached the center of the platform and surveyed the crowd, waiting for absolute silence before he began.


    ¡°Congratulations are in order. You have already been changed from boys to men, and now you will go from recruits to soldiers. Soon you will go from rookies with bright eyes to veterans with worn soles. The Emperor, may ambient surround him always, has ordered that the west be won, and so this regiment will deploy to Kelston, which will be the staging ground for the operation.¡±

 Chapter 15 - Challenged Ambition

    ¡°From Kelston, we will embark on a series of smaller campaigns against the entrenched demi humans that occupy much of the Kelston Great Wood with the ultimate goal of cutting a path all the way through and establishing ourselves on the other side.¡±


    The High Commander continued his speech, going on about the difficulties that they would all face and overcome in the name of the emperor. Rane had tuned it out. There was something wrong. He felt it, approaching rapidly. He didn¡¯t know if it was close or far, but he knew that it was powerful.


    ¡°Ah, and I forgot to add. Our family head, Marquess of Auryck, has found time in his busy schedule to inspect the troops and see us all off. You may find his presence stifling, but as long as you do not drop to your knees, he should not be disappointed in you all.¡±


    It began to spread throughout the formation as they all began to feel the same presence. Rane should have felt relieved that he was in no immediate danger as he had thought before, but it didn¡¯t seem that way. He saw a few shuffling their feet. One asked a tally flanking the formation to be dismissed to go to the latrines. He was denied.


    The feeling of an invisible hand pressing down on their shoulders only became stronger as it seemed an eternity, but a small regiment of riders arrived to the stage. There was no question as to which was Marquess Aethelwulf.  He did not stand much taller than his son, but seemed to dwarf him anyways. His steps were calm and assured, yet it seemed that each one was capable of sending him all the way across the stage in an instant. His golden eyes contrasting the skin of his face, which was darker than his son and daughter. He wore an ornate blue cloak over a black military uniform with golden patches detailing his accolades. The details couldn¡¯t be made out; it was as if the Marquess was a piece of metal straight out of the forge, producing a small, distorting haze around himself.


    He spoke, causing many to flinch and avert their gaze, ¡°what a fine bunch you have produced this year. High Tally Cloud can be proud of you all. It seems¡­¡± His eyes darted quickly around the crowd. ¡°About 95% classient.¡±


    He gathered himself and began to speak once more, ¡°my son will have finished giving you what you need from the ceremony, the briefing, and the encouragement. I am here for a different reason. I wish to see the mettle of those who will represent my lands.¡±


    At that, he seemed to be ten feet tall, yet still standing the same height on the stage. When his eyes swept across the crowd this time, they seemed to lock with everyone able to look at him. Rane¡¯s black eyes locked with the golden irises of the Marquess.


    You might be reading a stolen copy. Visit Royal Road for the authentic version.


    And it was at that moment Rane¡¯s ambition was challenged¡­ And it was found lacking. His ambition was the dream of a child. He would cull ferulls, fight demis, and even kill other men. This was different. It was crushing, like the air inside his lungs had been seized. If he faced such a monster in combat, Rane knew what he would do. He would run. He would hide. He would hope that he was not seen as worthy enough to warrant attention. But it seemed that here, among his peers, he had been seen. Perhaps he was overestimating himself, and underestimating the Marquess. For one like that, he could see them all at once whether he locked eyes or was facing the opposite direction.


    Rane closed his eyes tightly, taking breaths quickly in an attempt to calm himself. Beside him, Puddles stood still, looking at the stage with gritted teeth. Elsewhere in the crowd, Ben had braced himself as if he were looking directly into the sun, but he looked on still.


    With a loud and exaggerated clap of his hands, his presence collapsed back in on itself. ¡°Well,¡± he declared, ¡°we really do have a fine group here. And a few with much potential. I will be looking forward to hearing of your future accolades.¡±


    Rane was still concentrating on his breathing as the Marquess turned to depart. It seemed he truly was a busy man, as he got immediately back onto his horse, then turned it back into the trail back towards Auryck, his small group of mostly ceremonial guards following closely behind.


    Rane was only able to fully control his breathing once he could no longer feel the man¡¯s presence.


    There were murmurs of awe, looks of shock, and hearts of turmoil left in the wake of the Marquess¡¯ visit. They were dismissed shortly after, and would depart in the morning.


    ¡°To the caf?¡± asked Puddles, ¡°not much to pack.¡±


    ¡°Nah, I¡¯m gonna take a walk,¡± Rane responded. He set off, making his way out of the crowd rapidly before ducking off into the woods. Soon, he was at the site of his ambient training, splashing cold water into his face. His heart was racing again as he tried to forget the feeling of inferiority he faced. He could avoid it, but it lingered still.


    The flowing water of the creek was quick to regain its calm, and Rane was left looking at his own reflection, his once pale skin having taken a slightly darker tone from his days in the sun. He thought for the first time in a while of his home in Auryck, his mother, and Staal. He wasn¡¯t homesick yet, but it was settling in. He hadn¡¯t seen them in a few months, and it could be years before he was back in Auryck. Looking back, he wished he had given a more proper goodbye.


    In the morning, he would go back. Back to Kelston. When he had decided to follow in the footsteps of his father, he hadn¡¯t meant quite so literally, and he now wondered just how closely he would follow that path. Maybe his mother had been right to worry. In this world, there were monsters.

 Chapter 16 - Routine

    Rane stepped carefully through the brush. Over the course of the past two years, they had increased the surface area of their patrols. Over the past two months, they weren¡¯t patrolling trails anymore. Instead, they would blaze their own trails, and after a few repetitions of the route, crews would come in to cut away the flesh of the forest, carving predictable patterns into its irregular green skin.


    Erick was leading the way through the brush. He had a good sense of direction and rarely stumbled into any obstacles that he did not know how to navigate. He had been invaluable in the past few weeks, as they moved onward and forward into the brush.


    Erick held a hand up, signaling a stop. He motioned for Puddles to come forward.


    ¡°Fenull burrow over there on the right, at the bottom of the hill. See it?¡± Erick asked.


    ¡°Faerull? The aggressive little demi-shits?¡± Puddles responded, again in question.


    ¡°No, fenull, the cat-like ones.¡±


    ¡°Hmm,¡± mumbled Puddles, clearly thinking it over. ¡°They are usually alone, and our orders are to clear any threats near the paths. How much time until sundown; we can¡¯t fight it in the dark.¡±


    ¡°We should have about 4 hours,¡± Rane weighed in as he walked to the front of the loose formation. He had gotten a good glimpse of the sun earlier and was adept at judging its pace as it burned its arc across the skies.


    Puddles bobbed his head left and right before giving his orders, ¡°we get in ready positions and check the burrow. If it¡¯s empty, we wait until Rane say¡¯s we don¡¯t have enough daylight to finish what we start.¡±


    He continued with specific orders, ¡°Mud, take first vanguard; Rane, take second; Klein, third. Sven, Erick, and Aabe will handle flank persist, and I¡¯ll stay on the overlook. If it gets away, I¡¯ll re-engage until we can set up again.¡±


    Rane fell in, quick steps taking into position right behind Mud. It was routine, and he felt confident that he could deal with anything that the larger man could not. He was ready, no longer the anxious recruit he had been upon his arrival to Kelston. None of them were.


    As they all took their positions, ambient began to flow, each of the men taking control of an area around them, pushing their control forward, towards the burrow. Their captain was the last to take position, up the hill and slightly above the burrow. They waited in suspense for his pulse, which would wake the creature up, sending it charging out. If it was there at all.


    That was an option, too, in the bush approaching the Kelston Great Wood. Old and new collided here, and some creatures knew better than to stick around through the sickle of humanity¡¯s advancement.


    Puddles sent the pulse; Rane barely felt it, as it was more or less aimed straight down, but he tensed anyways, tossing his blades into the air to be caught in his control.


    Rane heard it before he saw it, but not by much. The fenull burst from the entrance in a flurry of fur and claws. Mud sidestepped, bringing a longblade down on its spine. It connected, however, the beast was unperturbed. In fact, while the blow had taken the momentum out of its leap, Rane didn¡¯t see a scratch on it.


    Tough, he thought to himself, and immediately stepped forward into the gap created by Mud¡¯s shift. One of Rane¡¯s blades shot forward, going for its eyes. The beast ducked low to the ground, spinning in a clear effort to flee.


    Or find a weaker target. The beast was smart, turning directly to Aabe. He was classient now, but had significantly less finesse than the rest of them. Nonetheless, Aabe was unperturbed. He raised a wooden kite shield reinforced by steel bands, pushing the heavy object directly into the dreadful creature at full force.


    Love this story? Find the genuine version on the author''s preferred platform and support their work!


    It was clearly stunned, both by the blow and the display of prowess from what it clearly considered to be the weakest among the group of humans that had threatened its home.


    ¡°Finish it!¡± cried Puddles.


    Rain, Mud, and Klein advanced immediately, landing simultaneous strikes on the now writhing beast. They pressed their advantage, beating the thing ruthlessly. They still had not broken through its fur, but that was not unexpected. Both Mud and Klein had reversed their grips on their blades, using them as bludgeoning weapons. Rane had rotated to the beasts head, kicking when he could and rotating ambient around its head to keep it disoriented.


    Rane saw an opportunity, and another slender blade shimmered in the light of the falling sun as it flew. The fenull let loose a grating screech, and had a blade buried deep in one of its eyes.


    ¡°Now!¡± said Rane.


    Mud dropped a knee and shot forward grabbing its hind legs and twisting.


    Klein mounted the beast and pulled tight to it, restricting its movements.


    Rane pulled another blade and dashed in towards its now exposed neck. He willed his blade to be sharp and strike true, and so, with the creature immobile and exposed, it did. A spray of blood erupted from the wound as Rane twisted the blade and removed it.


    ¡°Dammit,¡± Rane was spitting and cursing as he wiped his face. ¡°It¡¯s in my mouth.¡±


    Mud and Klein relaxed their death grips on the now dead creature. Aabe, Sven, and Puddles loosened up, seeing Rane¡¯s antics as a clear indicator that the skirmish had reached a conclusion.


    ¡°Skin it and dump the body back in its hole,¡± Puddles decided quickly. ¡°We¡¯ll collapse the entrance in case it has any cubs still in there.¡±


    As they got to work on the body of the beast, Rane stepped away, splashing a bit of water onto his face from his canteen. He would have to wait until he got back to Kelston to truly clean himself, but he didn¡¯t want any of the creature¡¯s foul blood dripping into his eyes if they were forced into another confrontation.


    It had felt easy, but Rane knew that wasn¡¯t the case. If they had met such a creature upon their arrival to Kelston two winters ago, their numbers would have likely been halved. Four of seven would have lived, if they were lucky. Three if they were not.


    But it was not as if they knew that, back then. Many had scoffed when Commander Caeris had issued orders to patrol in no less than a low tally. On their first encounter with a small ferull settlement too close to the patrol route, she had accompanied them personally, as if showing a complete lack of trust in her soldiers abilities. She had been right, and Rane remembered it vividly, despite his embarrassment.


    He was on first vanguard at the time. Maybe it was because he was the only one in the squad with a kill. Maybe Puddles just thought that the most aggressive should be there. They had a whole tally, plus Commander Caeris and Low Tally Gap, tracking around 14 ferulls. It was overkill.


    The scouts rotated in and gave the report. The ferulls were just ahead, eight confirmed, and the rest were presumed to be in the makeshift shelters they had built from bent sticks and saplings covered in mud.


    They surrounded the fake village of the ferulls, and Tally Gap gave the command to commence the ambush. Rane had expected the creatures to be confused, dazed, and sluggish to respond to the sudden arrival of 23 humans. They were not.


    The ferulls dashed in every direction. Rane no longer knew how many there were. It seemed like more than 14. Maybe it was. He sensed one to his left, and guided a blade into it, crumpling it into a rolling heap, growing his confidence.


    In his distraction, as two leapt from the shadows around him, knocking him to the ground and loosening his ambient control greatly. The little grey skin things were going right for his throat. He protected his vitals with his hands, and caught a makeshift blade right through his palm before Puddles took the deadly pair off of him with a wide swing of his blade.


    It was on that day that he learned that it wasn¡¯t easy to kill anything that also wanted to kill you, and that you could never really have too much of an advantage. The slightest lapse in judgment could make you a casualty in even the most ideal combat scenarios.


    ¡°Daydreaming¡¯s over Rane, time to head back,¡± said Erick, the fenull¡¯s felt draped over his back. It would be worth a good amount, but it wasn¡¯t as if they would be selling it. It would be given to a leatherworker and turned into pieces of protective gear for the squad. Money didn¡¯t matter if you didn¡¯t make it back from your daily patrol.


    Rane fell in line as they began their march back towards Kelston, continuing the same pattern they had followed for what now seemed like a lifetime. As they pressed through the bush in near silence, Rane thought of his mother. I hope she¡¯s doing well. May ambient be with her always.

 Chapter 17 - Major Orders

    Kelston was a city, but only now that Rane was older did he understand the military¡¯s influence on it, which was to say that the entire city, including the civilian sectors, were all meticulously planned and fabricated by the Moderators of the Empire. Auryck could be described as sprawling, with houses, shops, and warehouses littered throughout various districts of the city by class. Keltson had no such de facto influences on its layout.


    As Rane and his squad walked through the western gate, he could see nearly all the way to the fort in the center, where all important personnel worked. To the North, there were shopping districts and civilian homes, but none of those had direct roads. Those roads tended to follow irregular ¡®z¡¯ patterns, and either looped back to the same road, or ended in a dead end, greatly limiting how many ways an attacking force could move through the city, even in the event that the gates were breached.


    They followed the road for a while, ignoring the cries of the myriad street vendors lining the main road. The price of goods to be purchased here was awful, and they got rations for free, anyways.


    After walking deeper into the city, the blurred voices of the vendors began to grow quieter, and upon the first military checkpoint, disappeared altogether. The checkpoint itself seemed like an extension of the city itself, with the two buildings on their left and right suddenly protruding into the wide street, forcing all traffic into a couple doors barely wide enough for two carts to pass through simultaneously. Atop was a flat roof that contained a unit with a rare set of gear.


    The squad atop the checkpoint was nearly all in on range. They could not see clearly from below, but each soldier stationed on the building would be carrying dozens upon dozens of bolts, yet without a crossbow in sight. Their specialization was in range of direct control, and could wield such weapons with sinister accuracy.


    The gate was already open, and the only member of the squad to stop at the checkpoint was their captain, who would need to sign the checkpoint log. There was no need to hold up familiar faces.


    ¡°You heard?¡± asked the gate captain.


    ¡°No, been out on patrol today, and most of the week,¡± responded Puddles.


    ¡°Major orders finally coming in, High Commander Havertz gonna give the address within the week.¡±


    ¡°Ah,¡± remarked Puddles, ¡°so they¡¯ve finally decided that it¡¯s time to push the front.¡±


    ¡°Seems like it,¡± the gate captain paused for a moment. He was a grizzled man, clearly nearing the end of what his service in the military of the empire could be. ¡°It¡¯s rough out there. You youngins stay sharp.¡±


    ¡°We¡¯ve been pushing steady for the past two winters, my squad knows how to handle themselves.¡±


    The man sighed and shook his head, ¡°snot¡¯ the same. We¡¯ve all run circles around Kelston for years. It¡¯s barely even real bush anymore. Out there, beyond the first peaks? There¡¯s true monsters about.¡±


    Puddles kept a smile and nodded in recognition of the advice. ¡°I guess I¡¯ll just take your word for it, sir. Have a great night!¡± Puddles said as he put down the quill and rushed to catch back up with his squad.


    Their first stop had to be a tannery. They were not capable of working with the tough hide of the fenull themselves, and now, Puddles knew that they would likely not get another chance to get this done for a long while. A deployment like this would complete their first terms.


    The squad moved in a loose pack through the streets of Kelston in a loose formation by pure force of habit. They stuck close and laughed often as they turned a corner that would take them closer to both their barracks and the armory district.


    Soldiers, while given uniforms, were held responsible for keeping their own gear and weapons. The best soldiers needed little in the way of weapons, but everyone could benefit from a warm cloak or a leather gorget to protect the neck.


    Other than absolutely vital areas, most soldiers remained very lightly armed, as most classients could close a wound, or at least staunch their bleeding, which covered the basics of what would kill most participants in combat.


    The author''s content has been appropriated; report any instances of this story on Amazon.


    They dropped the fenull¡¯s pelt off and set out for their barracks, where they would meet the rest of the 72nd, and hopefully hear the briefing from one of the tallies. The military district was bustling more than usual, abuzz with rumor, hearsay, and outright lies, but, if one listened, there was consistency to it all.


    Soon, their stay in Kelston would come to an end. The campaign to push the borders of the Ambient Empire was on the horizon. The mood was not somber, or contemplative. Soldiers have not often been known as great philosophers. Excitement hung in the air like a thick mist. Someone was yelling loudly at every street table, and in such an environment, an argument could heat up quickly. Rane saw more than one spat on their way back to their place of rest.


    The district of primarily young men could taste adventure, and Rane¡¯s own squad was no different. Rane was no different.


    ¡°Captain, is it true?¡± Rane asked, matching his stride to walk beside Puddles.


    ¡°I spoke with the gate captain on the way in, and it seems that way. Major orders¡¯ gonna come before the week is out, and there is only really one major order we could get. Well, I guess we could also be getting attacked here in Kelston, but an order like that would have the city on lockdown before sunup. There are procedures in place for it.¡±


    ¡°I can¡¯t wait. Another week of walking circles around Kelston may have been the end for me,¡± said Aabe.


    Sven weighed in, ¡°That¡¯s nothing. I used to dream of girls. For the past month, I just dream that I¡¯m walking through the woods again. And worse, sometimes you guys are there. Then I wake up, and spend the WHOLE DAY WALKING THROUGH THE WOODS.¡±


    The rest nodded in agreement. If there were any dissenting opinions, they mattered not. When the orders came, they would simply follow them. There were no other options, even if elation was not a requirement.


    As they arrived at a wide, three story building that was their barracks, they were greeted by Low Tally Gap.


    ¡°Welcome back, Captain Puddles. Your squad is the last I have to account for. Meet half past sundown in the courtyard for the briefing.¡±


    ¡°Yes¡¯sir,¡± their captain quickly replied before turning to them. ¡°You¡¯ve got about 30 minutes to get presentable. We smell like cat piss right now. Dismissed.¡±


    Rane hurried to his room, shared with Klein and Aabe. Squad captains got their own room, leaving the rest of the squad to split evenly. If Rane had known that, he may have tried a bit harder to reach officer status. At the time, it hadn¡¯t seemed like anything except a slight change in pay for more responsibility, but after sharing a room with two other men for over a year, sometimes Rane even missed the drafty walls of his home back in Auryck.


    The men burst in the door and began shedding clothing, all of it being thrown into piles near the head of their cots. At the foot were chests containing the rest of their clothes and personal belongings. For now, though, the only one that mattered was getting their sponges. Rane had scoffed at these being a part of their kit, at first, but that was before he had been assaulted by an angry ferull. He swore that even their blood was more pungent than other creatures.


    The nearly nude trio filed out of the room just as quickly, their speed born from spartan efficiency. They made it to the washroom of the building at the same time as the other segment of their squad, with their captain following not even seconds behind.


    They took seats along a singular stone aqueduct that went from one end of the room to the other and immediately got to the work of washing the day away. The water was cool, and somehow, everyone was silent, despite the tension around. The sound of flowing water and the soft scrape of sponges against bare flesh was the only thing filling the room.


    It was a reprieve that Rane wished to take it for longer. As he ran his sponge down his side, it occurred to him that he likely had few of these reprieves left. Soon, they would be weeks away from the closest thing to a washroom. Such a small thing, but one that would surely take a toll as the weeks turned to months, and men began to reek the same as beasts.


    ¡°We¡¯ve spent enough time getting pretty, boys. Go grab plainclothes and head straight to the courtyard,¡± Puddles ordered.


    *****


    The courtyard was loud with whispers. It was not a large space for the gathering of over 50 men. Their low breathes stacked onto one another summatively, resulting in a constant drone of noise that filled and echoed throughout the space full of hedges, and surrounded by brick.


    As High Tally Hertz entered the courtyard, the drone fell to a buzz, then to a murmur, until, in the span of mere moments, they could hear the sound of leather boots shifting nervously on the stone tiles. Hertz made his way through the middle of the crowd and continued. He would not address them with men behind his back. He made a point to face everyone directly when speaking.


    ¡°It seems that I have your attention without having to cry out or threaten you with foul duties. This is good. It speaks to how far you have come as soldiers. No,¡± he shook his head, ¡°not just soldiers. You were that as soon as you left the training camp outside of Auryck. Professionals. You have faced combat, loss, and the edges of the Kelston Great Wood. Now, soon, we will be given orders to face it in earnest. You are all ready, and the Commander is in the fortress as speak here, poring over maps with moderators and the other commanders. We will meet them tomorrow at the Kelston Fortress Plaza, where High Commander Havertz will give the final orders. Take care of your affairs here, as before the week is out. We will be deep in the bush. Rest well, and sharpen not your blades, but yourselves.¡±


    High Tally Hertz left the courtyard on the opposite side of his entrance. Low Tally Gap gave the dismissal before the murmurs could drown the order.


    Rane looked to the open sky above the courtyard. Clouds were gathering around the bright moon, threatening to hide its light from the dark world. He would sleep well tonight.

 Chapter 18 - Casus Belli

    Commander Caeris sat in a high backed chair in a large room, yet, despite the class of the room¡¯s attendants, the chamber was largely spartan, as were most things in Kelston. When the Empire had first built outer settlements such as this one, they were constructed to defend against both the known and the unknown, which meant that all expense was directed towards things like thicker walls, more complex corridors, or even comfortable barracks to bolster the morale of troops stationed so far from their homes.


    Even still, the chairs were made of a dark, polished wood, and adorned with a few light cushions. Meetings in this room were known to last for a while.


    Commander Jaskil was the first to arrive. Caeris would have cursed her luck, but one second thought, assumed it was far more likely that this situation had been created intentionally.


    ¡°Good evening, Commander Caeris. In spite of our urgent situation, you still seem to have found the time to look the part of a lady, ¡± Jaskil opened with a beaming smile.


    ¡°And yet, I have still arrived first. I wonder here, in this situation, who is said to be waiting on whom?¡±


    ¡°You wound me, Lady Caeris. I was simply tending to my many duties as a commander, a role in which I have served before.¡±


    Caeris tilted her head, thinking on where Jaskil was trying to lead this conversation. Upon deciding that she did not like its direction, she simply did not respond. The others would arrive shortly. He would not be so bold in the presence of her brother.


    And so they did. On her side of the table were the other commanders, Jaskil, Nastael, and Germaine. At the head of the table sat her elder brother, in the seat of the High Commander, Havertz Aethulwulf Kaid Auryck.


    Facing them, on the other side of the table, were two moderators, their faces covered by a thin sheet of dark cloth. The identities of the moderators were no great secret to those in the room, but as the men and women who actually made The Empire tick, it was their habit to obfuscate their roles and goals, making it more difficult to target any particular faction among them.


    Upon taking their seats across the table, they had identified themselves as Mod Kelston and Auxiliary Mod Five. Caeris herself knew that Auxiliary Mod Five was Justice Geld Lars Luger, as he had traveled with them to Kelston to assist in the management of the operation. It was difficult to completely hide one¡¯s identity for weeks while on the road, so he simply hadn¡¯t. Nevertheless, it was not uncommon for Moderators to introduce themselves incorrectly and with voices manipulated by ambient, so even now, she couldn¡¯t be completely sure which of them was the actual Justice.


    ¡°Commence,¡± stated the High Commander, gesturing to the moderators. What plan had they concocted?


    The auxiliary that she believed to be Justice spoke up first. ¡°Ah, yes, this evening will long be known as one that furthered the glory of his excellency. We have convened, and all of the funding for this campaign has been secured.¡±


    ¡°And the supply lines from Kelston have long been established. A supply cache will be constructed every 3 days march.¡± Mod Kelston continued, almost as if the first moderator had never stopped speaking. Their voices also sounded eerily similar.


    ¡°What of distance between the caches?¡± questioned Nastael?


    ¡°Such a thing is of no consequence in the Kelston Great Wood. A soldier could starve a mere ten miles from a cache if those ten miles are over a mountain pass, through a deep thicket, or perhaps around an uncrossable river.¡±


    ¡°For that reason our chain will be measured out by time between locations.¡± The moderators continued their habit of continuing the sentences of the other. Caeris wondered if such a thing were practiced. It had to be. Though, she had to admit, it was unsettling nonetheless.


    ¡°But this is not the topic of tonight¡¯s meeting,¡± interjected the Kelston Mod.


    ¡°Yes, all of those other things can be read in a simple report. The topic of tonight¡¯s meeting is of the nature that it is not written down.¡±


    You could be reading stolen content. Head to the original site for the genuine story.


    ¡°Except in the great hall of the moderators in the capital,¡± added the other mod.


    ¡°But fret not, the topic of this meeting is also more simple.¡±


    ¡°What is needed to start a war?¡±


    ¡°An army,¡± replied Jaskil.


    ¡°Intel and roads,¡± stated Germaine.


    ¡°Funding,¡± added Nastael.


    ¡°Powerful ambient users,¡± said Caeris.


    High Commander Havertz let out a sigh and finished the guessing game, ¡°Reason. Justification. It seems that my commanders are more green than I thought, despite your reputations.¡±


    ¡°What justification is needed if it is ordered by The Emperor?¡± Germaine inquired. ¡°Are we questioning the loyalty of our troops?¡±


    ¡°No,¡± explained her brother in a calm tone, ¡°it is simply that men only fight for loyalty a few days march from Kelston. Some men only fight for loyalty when in earshot of a tally¡­ But reason? Justification? A man, of his own mind, with a reason to fight, will chase your enemies to the ends of the Earth to crush them, for with proper justification, your enemies are their enemies. Many rulers have fallen along with their armies'' realization that the true enemy could be sitting on the throne behind them, sending them to their deaths.¡±


    ¡°The High Commander speaks well,¡±


    ¡°And with such eloquence,¡± the moderators quipped.


    ¡°Yes, it is that which we are here to discuss.¡±


    ¡°Our enemies are the demi human factions present in the Kelston Great Wood, or at least the segment of it that we have managed to map.¡±


    ¡°These demi human factions are primarily composed of elves and axtls. The axtls are  condensed into small tribes numbering from a few dozen on the low end to several hundred on the high end.¡±


    ¡°The elves are nomadic by nature, and have no real tribes to speak of, though we believe that there exists some sort of leadership cohort that ties them together.¡±


    ¡°One would think that this means that they would simply leave when threatened, but they would be wrong.¡±


    ¡°We now know that elves tend to believe that, though they own no land, they own certain routes, as well as the right for those routes to remain unchanged by any hand other than their own.¡±


    ¡°This is obviously problematic for any crew trying to establish infrastructure.¡±


    ¡°The story that we will present is of a unified axtl front coalescing to raid Kelston, which has come too far into their territory.¡±


    ¡°Additionally, it is no tall tale, at least not in its entirety.¡±


    ¡°The story functions more like a prophecy.¡±


    ¡°There is a lumber mill village some distance Northwest of here that has encroached on the territory of a particularly large axtl tribe. The village fell mere days ago.¡±


    ¡°There is no axtl coalition army.¡±


    ¡°But after our initial retaliations, there will be.¡±


    ¡°You commanders will deliver both the orders and the reason in the same rally.¡±


    ¡°The only things that must remain consistent is the existence of an army, the annihilation of the village, and the assertion that the elves act as their scouts.¡±


    The moderators had gone on for not more than a minute or so, but it felt as if they had delivered an oration of great magnitude. No, they had, Caeris just was not wrapping her head around it quickly enough.


    They HAD been attacked, there WAS an axtl force, but it was NOT an army¡­ Yet?


    It seemed convenient. Much too convenient; however, the genius of it was that it was inevitable either way. Even if the moderators were not part of a conspiracy to place a milling town in the midst of a large axtl tribe¡¯s territory, someone would have done it eventually anyways. A local noble could get zealous, or simply overestimate the boundary of their territory.


    After all, the whole allure of a border territory in the first place was that it placed one in the prime position for expansion. Central territories could only be expanded upon the collapse of another noble family, or by starting a civil war. The first was rare. The second simply would not be allowed to happen. The Empire would crush internal disputes that rose into full fledged conflicts, and assimilate both territories, eventually deciding how to redistribute them later.


    The auxiliary mod spoke again, breaking her train of thought, ¡°and so tonight we will outline your addresses to your platoons.¡±


    ¡°If you have questions, please ask, and when you are finished, we are required to review your outline for verification that the items we wish to remain consistent remain intact.¡±


    And so Caeris began to work, drafting with quill and paper words that would stir the hearts of her men. They would go to war for revenge and retaliation, or rather, that is what they would call it. In reality, it was no war at all, just a brutal slaughter in the name of an ever expanding empire. No, she thought to herself, you know better than to underestimate the demi humans. It would not start as a war¡­ But it would end as one.


    As she penned a great web of truth and lies, she thought of the one that helped her in the final trial back in the academy. I am sorry, Aasha. I don¡¯t know what else to do.

 Chapter 19 - Resting Place

    Rane awoke to the pounding stomps of a tally¡¯s boots striking against the wooden floor of their barracks, accompanied by the cries of a meeting time that was always a bit too soon to actually make. As Rane turned in his cot to stretch his legs over the edge, he contemplated the art of it he had developed.


    Being on time wasn¡¯t really possible; however, being too late could land you in a world of trouble. The key was to arrive in a group, all piling in at the same time. That way, no one could be said to be slacking. If he were honest with himself, though, it wasn¡¯t actually much of an art, he thought as he pulled a pair of wool socks up to his knees. He simply had to get ready as soon as possible. There weren¡¯t any significant variations in how long it took a veteran soldier to complete a morning routine.


    Rane threw the uniform vest over his shirt and looked around the room to find Klein lacing his vest, and Aabe throwing his right arm through. As they looked to the others to confirm they were all ready, they each gave a curt nod and began to file out the door, into the hallway that was already bustling with other half squads filing out of their respective dorms.


    They met in front of the barracks, where their tallies were all present to oversee their dispersal into formation. As soon as the last slot in the formation was filled, High Tally Hertz gave the marching order.


    They moved through the streets of Kelston¡¯s military district in a practiced unison. The streets were filled with the sound of dozens of boots stamping in unison, and the shops were, for the most part, closed, or nearly empty. All their patrons were doing the same thing as Rane, marching towards the fortress. To the Kelston Fortress Plaza, where they would be given the final addresses, and official marching orders.


    Rane was eager, and had to steady his focus in order to prevent from breaking the pace and distance of his strides, as he had nearly clipped the heels of the one marching in front of him multiple times in just the past few minutes of marching.


    Soon, they reached the plaza, and Rane looked side to side as he beheld the sight of six platoons filing into the wide courtyard.


    The plaza was shaped like the maw of some great beast, opening wide towards the city, but growing more and more narrow as one went closer to the fortress itself. The open space was sparsely decorated, with the only raised features of the plaza being the short knee wall that marked the main entrance to the plaza, and continued to the fortress proper.


    Three platoons gathered on each side of the dividing wall, facing inwards toward the fortress where a stage had been hastily erected. Atop the stage were all of the commanders Rane knew, and a few people he had never seen before.


    He thought nothing of it. He was rank and file, after all. For him and his squad, they would listen to the address and leave the plaza. For their tallies, it would also be a logistics and intel meeting. No one below the rank of tally needed anything besides a departure time.


    It appeared that the primary address would be given by High Commander Havertz. He stood tall in the midst of many powerful figures. The dark clouds this morning had brought humidity, and the wet air made his dark skin glisten with a thin sheen of sweat. His eyes, though, were not quite like that of his father¡¯s. He was powerful, but Rane knew. He was no monster.


    At least not yet. From what Rane knew, the man was barely over 30 winters, just half the age of his monstrous patriarch.


    As the last of the platoons arrived and stood at attention, all the characters on the stage sat besides the High Commander, who then took several steps forward, his presence suddenly a bit more than it was before. Perhaps he was more formidable than he had thought.


    The presence silenced the murmurs of the soldiers that had previously filled the plaza with an excited ambiance. Now, in just moments, Rane could hear insects buzzing through the humid air, and the heavy breathing of those that had arrived moments ago.


    The High Commander spoke with the same booming command that the tallies utilized.


    You could be reading stolen content. Head to Royal Road for the genuine story.


    ¡°I will not stand here before you today to mince words. As of this very morning, we are at war. The axtls tribes have formed a coalition army that, on the night of the 15th day of The Emperor¡¯s 8th Calendar Month, engaged in a brutal slaughter of the nearby Castonville milling village. This information comes to us late, as the dogs left no survivors.


    The silence that followed each sentence of the high commander was now broken by shocked gasps and whispers that contained pure vitriol. ¡°We knew only of their treachery shortly after the first shipment of lumber failed to arrive. As is our duty in service to the Great Ambient Empire, we have received orders to march into the Kelston Great Wood and suppress the demi human threats within.¡±


    Angry shouts now were erupting from some within the buzzing crowd. High Commander Havertz¡¯ tone rose as he gave the final note of his oration. ¡°We will show their vile spawn the same mercy that they showed our brothers and sisters in Castonville.¡±


    The plaza erupted into fervent cries for battle, blood, and vengeance. Rane, though excited still, was silent. There was something that he needed to do before he began his march into the depths of the cursed wood that surrounded the city where he was raised.


    *****


    Rane actually had very little to do in preparation to march. He held few belongings, and their squad hoarded very little in the way of gear or weapons.


    Though they had been ordered not to leave the city before their march on the following dawn, Rane had still slipped out before the sun had gone down to hide below the horizon. He wore a long, dark cloak that hid all of his military issue gear aside from the short blade that hung from his side.


    He had been putting this off for a while. He told himself that he would visit as soon as he arrived in the city, but when he arrived, there was always some excuse he could give himself to avoid it.


    Just a few minutes after he had exited the Northeast side of the city, he passed by the first gravestone. Soon, there were more scattered about, none in uniform pattern. Some stones were small and smooth, like the rocks found at the bottom of a river. Others must have been carried here from some quarry.


    Not every headstone faced the same direction either. Some faced the sunrise. Others faced the sunset. Some faced the capital, Ambien. Others faced back towards Kelston.


    Rane came to a stop before an unassuming headstone that bore only the name, Winz, and marker that he had died as a soldier in service to the Emperor.


    A memory surfaced at that moment, of someone who knew his father telling him that the engraved marker was a great honor. He had not cared, then. He did not care now, either. He would have preferred to have his father back. In the end, his father¡¯s honor had not been enough to save him from an impoverished life in Auryck, so what good was this honor to Rane?


    Rane didn¡¯t know if this headstone faced anyway in particular, but he knew that it was unique in at least one way. There was no body beneath this rock. None of the bodies of his father¡¯s squad had ever been recovered.


    But a grave was less about the dead anyways. Graves were for the living.


    Rane spoke very softly, maintaining the subdued atmosphere.


    ¡°Hey, dad. I told mom I would come by and clean your headstone, maybe drop some flowers. Sorry about that. I still didn¡¯t bring any flowers.


    ¡°I used to think the same way mom did, about what you did, about leaving us behind. Now, I¡¯m in the same place. It was exciting, wasn¡¯t it? Going out there, always seeing something new. I don¡¯t know much about where you grew up, but I¡¯ve been in Auryck for a while. It wasn¡¯t a horrible place, but it was boring. We worked ourselves to the bone to scrape by, but I don¡¯t know. Maybe I¡¯d rather die than live like that, too. Of course, dying isn¡¯t in the plan.¡±


    ¡°Oh, and mom got a new person too. He¡¯s a good man, as far as I can tell. I won¡¯t bore you with any more details of your wife moving on.¡±


    Rane didn¡¯t have any poignant closing remark to tell the empty grave of his father, so he just knelt down and used his ambient to remove the moss and grime from the stone.


    He just stood there, for a while. The sky was filled with the same dark clouds that had painted gray lines in the sky that morning, and the setting sun cast long shadows that told him that he had little time before he had to be getting back.


    He had told Puddles what he was going to do, so he wouldn¡¯t be reported, but that did not mean that he could not simply get caught by the prowling senses of a tally.


    Rane clasped his hands together and whispered, ¡°may you rest in The Ambient, always.¡± He turned away, and with a serious expression on his face, began his trek back to his barracks.


    His cot was waiting, and he was determined to use it one last time before such a right would be taken from him for a long time.

 Chapter 20 - Narrow Road to the Interior

    Life on the road was many things, but most of all, it was busy. Over the course of his time in Kelston, Rane had grown efficient in the usage of his time, and often found himself with little to do. He knew that his mother considered herself a bit of a poet, but he had not gotten quite bored enough to follow in her footsteps. Also, it reminded him of her, making him unnecessarily homesick.


    On the road, it had been constant walking, pitching tents, digging latrines, waking up to the barking orders of multiple tallies, then repeating.


    It was only their third day pressing into the Great Wood, but they could already feel the density of the forest reaching a critical point. The trees were now taller than even the homes of the nobility, and the brush could be more difficult to pass through than their walls. The ground was crisp with the leaves of the last fall, and each step loudly announced the presence of myriad intruders into the wood.


    The light heat of the late summer seemed somehow more pressing even in the shade of the great pillars of wood and leaf. Sweat dampened his clothes and drove his body to greater thirst more quickly.


    They reached the point where they would set up their first supply cache. In a clearing near a small pond, they would construct more permanent versions of the tents they pitched nightly for themselves, this time using posts amputated from the bodies of the trees that surrounded them like another hostile army.


    It was here that Rane heard that the company had suffered its first casualty. Some unlucky fellow had been worried that his stash of liquor would be found and confiscated, so he found a solution he thought to be foolproof. He finished the supply of liquor, and a dozen minutes later found himself stumbling. Unfortunately, he lost his footing and rolled down a hill, bashing his head a few times on the way down.


    Rane helped pitch their own tent. He would sleep with Puddles and Erick tonight, enjoying very slightly more room than the other tent, which would contain the other four members of the squad.


    They were so tired of marching that they said nothing outside of what was necessary to cooperate in the building of the tent.


    They slept soundly until they heard the scream of ¡°attack¡± from one of the members of the squad attached to the lookout duty.


    Puddles was the first to respond, up as if he had never been asleep in the first place. ¡°This is it, boys, get up, leave everything non essential. Check the tent perimeter first and fan out towards the squad that sounded the alarm. If you see a tally, get new orders.¡±


    Rane emerged from the tent into a maelstrom of activity, all flickering in the dim light of small cooking fires and lanterns set up to allow men to go to the latrines. It seemed chaotic, but Rane knew better. They moved with purpose, and so did he.


    He expanded his ambient sense and immediately began to walk clockwise around the tent. Erick followed behind him, moving counterclockwise. They met at the back of the tent, and Erick fell behind Rane as they completed their rotation, meeting Puddles back at the front.


    ¡°Clear,¡± said Rane.


    ¡°Move,¡± responded Puddles.


    Klein arrived moments later with the other three in tow, Aabe in particular looking still caught in the grasp of his dreams.


    ¡°Fall in,¡± commanded Puddles.


    They reached the edge of camp swiftly to the scene of two tallies arguing. At their feet was a still body of one of the lookouts.


    ¡°We need to send two squads in pursuit NOW, every moment¨C¡±


    ¡°Daft fool! You¡¯ll have even more blood on your hands!¡± High Tally Hertz cut off Tally Nash of the 70th.


    Aura flared before being quickly suppressed by the arrival of their respective commanders. The murmurs turned silent, and Rane heard only the noise of bugs and the boots of Commander Caeris and Commander Jaskil arriving at the scene.


    Stolen from its original source, this story is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings.


    ¡°To call another a fool is unnecessary many times, even if correct,¡± interjected Commander Caeris.


    ¡°Lady Caeris is correct,¡± continued Commander Jaskil, ¡°and we will not pursue. If it were elves that attacked, it may have simply been their expression of displeasure at our choice of site for our supply cache. Our squads would never catch a pair of elves in their own territory. If it were the axtl coalition, an ambush is all but guaranteed.¡±


    Commander Caeris spoke again, ¡°Well said. Hold our position, double the sentries, and go back to sleep. We march early.¡±


    Rane was still looking down at the body of the lookout. He recognized him. It was Lint. It was almost strange to see him. He had such little contact with his original squad members from his time in training. None of them had fallen into his division, and he sought little contact outside of his own squad.


    Lint had done what he had done; however, it was still sobering to see him lying as such on the ground, much like Bask had come to rest so long ago. Rane had spent enough time away from them that he no longer considered them ¡°enemies¡± as he once had.


    Now, the young man was simply the first real casualty of war, a reminder to them all that their lives hung on the balances of an unfair scale.


    They went back to their tents, but they were unable to get much sleep. It was difficult to calm their racing hearts, or loosen their grasp on the surrounding ambient.


    *****


    They marched on for another two days. It was busy as always, but felt uneventful. Lint¡¯s death had marked the true beginning of the war for most of the soldiers, and for the group of mostly young men, fighting was the only true reprieve from their dogged march. The veterans may not have agreed, but Rane didn¡¯t care. He signed up to fight, and so he would fight.


    They did not have to wait too long. The scouts returned to the company later that day with reports of an axtl fortified position. Puddles went to an officer''s debriefing to get the full news and relay orders back to the rest of the squad.


    Rane, Erick, Klein, Aabe, Mud, and Sven waited in a small clearing with a few other squads. They were told not even to pitch tents. They sat and discussed in low voices.


    ¡°Three bronze says Aabe gets the least kills,¡± said Sven.


    ¡°Forget kill count, Sven, I¡¯ve got bets with a couple other squads that you''re gonna be the next to die,¡± Erick said with a grin. A couple grabbed their mouths and hunched over, trying to hold in laughter. It wasn¡¯t that funny, but they were nervous, and any joke seemed as if it had been told by the most hilarious of wandering jesters.


    ¡°Don¡¯t catch the attention of a tally,¡± said Klein. ¡°And don¡¯t joke about who will be first to die. It¡¯s bad luck.¡±


    The six sat in silence until Puddles arrived to give them their orders.


    ¡°We follow Commander Caeris, who will take the front and lead us to the encampment. Once there, she will drop back and secure our perimeter. The orders are to kill every axtl in the fortified position and surrounding.¡±


    Rane looked around the group at the conclusion of the order. Solemn, silent, subdued excitement. There was a range of emotions present, but Rane could only feel his own.


    He felt¡­ Nothing. He was calm. He didn¡¯t care about the lives of the axtls. They were closer to the fenull they had killed on patrol back in Kelston than himself or his comrades. Maybe they were worse. After all, they could walk and talk, and yet, had still started a war of annihilation by razing the milling village. They were vile beasts, rabid dogs, and Rane would serve his country by eliminating them.


    Rane felt the presence of Commander Caeris and turned to look. He had been the first to turn. She was suppressing her own presence, he realized, suddenly coming to understand why she would take her division in as vanguards.


    Her dark skin made her features difficult to see in the shadows of dusk cast from the canopy above, but, even with her presence suppressed, at this range, the young woman felt as if she was another pillar surrounding them, tall and strong. She nodded and walked out into the bush as if she was heading to a local market, yet making no sound.


    With their torches extinguished and ambient flared, the entire division followed behind.


    *****


    She heard wooden clappers in the distance.


    Caeris knew that this day would come, but that didn¡¯t make her hate it any less. She thought again of Aasha, the old elf to whom she owed her life. Aasha would probably kill her if they met in a place like this.


    And yet, here she was. She wanted to inspire change, but instead had become an instrument of the Emperor''s relentless pursuit of power. She was too confined. She thought of the soldiers behind her. At least they had made their vile choices freely.


    They also knew not that which she knew. They believed themselves righteous and just.


    I am perhaps worse than them, she thought, for I know, and yet here I am, still going to kill those who have never wronged me, in service to a group of monsters.

 Chapter 21 - Savages

    The army of The Empire descended upon the axtl position as a thief in the night. Commander Caeris stepped silently forward with her division behind, and stopped near the edge.


    Rane saw rings of huts constructed from thick branches woven intricately with thinner twigs and leaves. The homes looked a bit primitive, but blended in well with the forest itself. If not for the lively noise they heard on the way here, he would have never noticed them without stumbling literally right on top of one.


    There were a few axtls lingering about, most of them small, like the bodies of the ones that he had seen as a child in Auryck. They lumbered about with a strange gate, caused by their digitigrade joints. They seemed attentive, but that may have only been because they had the habit of moving their entire heads to focus on something.


    Rane knew that there were many sub species of axtls, but these in particular were a bit more cat-like, though their snouts were just a bit too long for them to fully claim the looks of the species. Rane could not accurately judge the color of their pelts. It was too difficult to see in the flickering orange light of the various lanterns and torches they had scattered about.


    He looked to Commander Caeris, who gave a silent order to move forward, and, like a heavy stone parting a great river, stood still as her division flowed around her and towards the enemy.


    Rane and 50 other men flared their ambient at once, taking control of the natural world around them. He felt it within himself, the strange sensation of introspection immediately drowned by the fact that he also felt it outside of himself. He had become greater than the shape of his own body


    Currently, the ambient was still a bit subdued. There were many at once taking control, and Rane found that it made it more difficult to bend it to his will. This was not even to mention that they were in the presence of Caeris of Auryck, who was a full two ranks above them, and was subtly affecting the ambient. She had not seized control yet.


    Sven was the first in the squad to strike, hurling a short spear that closed the distance with startling speed and collided with one of the creatures. It fell to the ground from the impact of the object, but did not crumple or fall silent. It flailed about, thrashing violently, and let loose a high pitched sound somewhere between the wail of a dog and the scream of a big cat.


    Rane picked up his pace and cried out, adding his own voice to the cacophony of noise, his passion drowned out in the chaos of the opening stage.


    He soon found himself face to face with another axtl close to his size. Klein and Aabe were with him, and Eryk, Mud, and Sven were with Puddles. Rane took point, closing the gap and sending a short blade flying forwards at its chest.


    Rane¡¯s eyes went wide as the beast leaped towards him, the blade only cutting a small slit onto its torso as it hurtled towards him, its hands outstretched. Each of its fur covered digits ended in wicked claws each several centimeters long.


    He ducked and sent ambient rolling above himself, tossing the axtl over himself and onto its back a few meters away. Aabe drove a blade through its neck with practiced ease, as if he were reaching down to adjust his boot.


    The three locked eyes and headed onward, where heavier fighting had broken out.


    As they moved deeper into the village, more of it began to burn. Rane wasn¡¯t quite sure how, as he never saw anyone actually lighting the flames. Perhaps a torch had been misplaced, or maybe the boiling blood of the division had manifested in some literal manner. Many in the unit were capable of causing fires. At classient, however, they were not nearly potent enough to be lethal, especially against another classient.


    Rane sensed a presence to his right, and it shot quickly from behind a hut. He stepped to the side and lightly parried the blow, which sent him crashing to his back.


    This one was twice the height of the first that they fought. How big are these things, on average, Rane wondered. It towered over them, and its long arms kept them out of comfortable range.


    But this was only for a moment. Despite the size of the creature, its ambient control was apparently poor. A small swirl of wind from Klein forced it off balance, and a spinning blade from Rane severed its achilles, producing a menacing growl of pain from the wounded creature.


    It fell to a knee, where Aabe moved in close to finish it off.


    The narrative has been taken without authorization; if you see it on Amazon, report the incident.


    The creature lashed out with hardly diminished speed, and a dark liquid sprayed into the night.


    ¡°Aabe!¡± Rane called as Klein moved to take the axtl¡¯s attention and Rane checked Aabe.


    He was trying to speak, but only managed to gurgle. There was so much blood. Is it always this much?


    Rane couldn¡¯t heal the wound. He attempted to cauterize it, but Aabe just screamed and broke the seal immediately. He coughed and went limp with his eyes still open, staring at Rane with an expression of surprise and panic.


    Rane stood up and looked to Klein, who had just finished the large axtl. Its head was separate from its body, and Klein¡¯s longer sword was slick with glistening lifeblood.


    ¡°Is he?¡±


    Rane shook his head and looked down at his hands. He wiped them on his coat and retrieved his blade.


    ¡°We need to keep heading in,¡± Rane said.


    They both walked away from the two bodies and continued towards the sounds of intense fighting further into the axtl village with thoughts of exacting revenge many fold.


    *****


    Commander Caeris watched in silence as the first axtl fell to the spear. Judging from its size, though as tall as a man, it was little more than a child. Her heart burned inside as she watched the squads break into smaller formations to flood the village.


    A few were taking advantage of the chaos to set fire to a hut. That would spread throughout the village quickly. If she did not keep an eye on it, it could quickly cause damage to her troops as well.


    She stilled her heart and moved forward behind her troops. She would be needed once their warrior caste was mobilized.


    *****


    Rane was moderately surprised as he and Klein reached the center of battle. Apparently, the lumbering beast that had attacked them on the way there was of about average size for an axtl. There was some variation in size and color, but most towered over the human squadrons that had them outnumbered by a margin of at least five to one.


    Rane quickly located Puddles and fell in beside, engaging another axtl which had white stripes adorning its face. They may have been natural or used some sort of paint. Rane had no intention of asking.


    The creature was clearly a warrior, and was constantly attacking and counter attacking in order to keep Mud, Sven, Eryk and Puddles all in front of him. There was no moment to admire its skill, nor evaluate the fairness of another two classients joining the fight.


    Puddles glanced at them before barking an order, ¡°fall in, same formation as we use for fenull burrows.¡± After a moment he said a single name, ¡°Aabe?¡±


    ¡°Killed on the way. Ambush,¡± responded Klein.


    Puddles nodded and gritted his teeth to re-engage the axtl warrior.


    Rane tried to sling a blade towards the creature, but lost control of it as it approached. It fell to the ground with a sound that was drowned out in the surrounding noise.


    The axtl was using ambient, but not how they did. Rane held formation and observed as the fight progressed. The creature did not hold control over much area. Instead, its control was focused deeply inward. He couldn''t be sure, but he felt that the axtl warrior was using the ambient to augment its speed, and even at times, to obfuscate its attacks.


    But it could not hold for long against six. It began to slow as it lost its grip on the ambient around it, and Rane was able to rip a root from the just beneath the surface of the ground that caused the creature to lose its footing.


    Puddles did not miss this moment, and sent his broadsword straight forward, skewering the beast on the length of steel.


    As they breathed sighs of relief and struggled to catch their breath, they looked to the center of the camp, where a single fortified structure stood in an odd contrast to the surrounding huts. It was built from mortar and stone rather than sticks and mud, and in front of it stood three axtls.


    The one on the left and right wore skulls that appeared to be from large fenulls. The bone helmets were polished, and flickered like jewelry in the odd light of battle. Both carried a single large curved blade that they held with a single hand, despite it looking like it required both.


    The one in the middle wore a relatively simple headdress. Its fur bore many patterns, both of paint and natural origin. It wielded no weapon at all, which was the reason that when it casually raised its clawed hand, Rane dove to the side.


    From the direction of its six clawed hand, five fissures erupted from the ground as if being ripped apart by the deepest and sharpest of plows. Those caught in the fissures were simply bisected, losing much more of their body than a simple cut.


    From the human side of the engagement, the commanders seized control of the surrounding ambient, largely handicapping the area of direct control of their subordinates.


    Their role in this battle wasn¡¯t over, but a new phase had started, one from which they would not emerge if the commanders did not step in to assist.


    A phalanx of a dozen blades emerged from beneath Commander Caeris¡¯ military uniform.


    Commander Jaskil wielded a greatsword that was the width of his head.


    Commander Germaine stepped forward with no weapon, the ground in front of him shifting into a barrier with narrow slits.


    Commander Nastael stepped back, pulling two heavy crossbow bolts from his bag. He had no crossbow, but as the bolts took flight towards the two axtls wearing skulls, Rane knew that no crossbow could give a man such devastating power.

 Chapter 22 - Savages, Not Even Human

    Rane watched as the commanders stepped forward to end the life of the axtl chieftain, but not for long. He could feel it. This was not a place that he belonged in. As the first exchanges began, so did the dispersal of the rest of the fighters engaged in the battle. None wished to become fodder in the squabbles of giants.


    The battle, however, raged on. Rane¡¯s squad reached a place out of sight of the battle, but not out of earshot. The noise of the battle that ensued in their wake sounded like the anger of a sentient storm.


    Smaller skirmishes broke out once again, and Rane had no time to rest.


    They walked in a group of four and two respectively, Rane now in a weakened group by the loss of Aabe. They reached a small plaza where wicker baskets of various fruits and nuts lined the huts surrounding it.


    Many were spilled, and some others had been burned in fire that was now just smoldering, filling the area with a sweet smelling smoke that did not match the bodies lying motionless in the street.


    In the haze across the street, there were three more axtls, hunched over and moving quickly towards them. The one on the right was much larger than the other two. They were just a bit larger than Rane himself. He now knew these ones to be children, but that was ok. He had been a child once, too.


    Rane tried to trip the big one with ambient, but this one had much better sense than many of the others, nimbly stepping over the rock he had sent rolling across the plaza.


    Puddles and the others had already repositioned, and were setting up to cut the two smaller ones away from the larger one.


    That left Rane and Klein to handle the beast with just the two of them.


    Klein took point and stormed in, not even making an effort to hold his blade in his hand anymore. Instead, the weapon floated as if in a phantom grip another arms length away from his hand. He would tire quickly like this, but the situation demanded more.


    Rane also took things up a notch. The dust around him rose a bit and fell. Instead of a swirl of dust, two more blades emerged from Rane¡¯s clothing to begin orbiting him, their points remaining pointed at the threat in front of him.


    The axtl opened its arms wide and swiped from both sides, attempting to catch Klein off guard. Klein never stopped his forward momentum though, and simply ducked, barreling into the beast''s legs, sending it flying forwards into a roll.


    A blade from Rane¡¯s orbit suddenly picked up speed, shooting out towards the axtl, catching it in the right shoulder. That blade would be lost, but it would also lose mobility until the blade was removed, which was difficult, as the extra blades Rane pulled from under his clothing had no handles, specifically designed to be thrown with ambient.


    A horrible cry of pain could be heard from across the plaza as one of the smaller axtls lost its hand. It fell to its knees, holding its forearm as blood hemorrhaged from the open wound.


    Its cry was cut short as Puddles¡¯ blade fell directly on its skull, bisecting the creature to its chest.


    The larger axtl let out another roar, and Rane needed no knowledge of their language nor bestial culture to understand what they had done.


    Before, he was not sure that the axtl mind comprehended the world like he and his fellows. Now, hearing the scream of this axtl, he knew he had been wrong.


    This was something like how he had reacted to the death of Aabe.


    It may be how he would react to the death of his mother.


    Or, perhaps, more likely, how his mother would react to his death.


    Stolen novel; please report.


    He shook his head, having no time for such needless thoughts. This was still a battle, and this battle was still a war that they started.


    The parent axtl sprung forward towards Puddles, ignoring Klein completely, who flung his broadsword over his head in a wide arc, bringing it crashing down onto the creature¡¯s hunched spined, sending it crashing to the ground in a heap.


    It twitched its arms and writhed, still trying to move forward.


    The was another poor howl as the other smaller axtl was dealt a crippling wound, and the larger axtl thrashed wildly for a moment before growing still again.


    Both blows proved fatal.


    *****


    Caeris knew that battles among high ambients were devastating, but she had never participated in any against other ambients, only some relatively powerful animals that some liked to call monsters. She knew better than to call those simple beasts a title so lofty as monster.


    Even still, their surroundings were devastated. The only features that still remained were the small mounds Commander Germaine kept creating to obscure lines of sight and provide cover.


    Nastael and herself were solely focused on keeping the honor guards out of the fight between Jaskil and the village chieftain. The speed of the bone masked axtls nearly matched that of their projectiles; they evaded with uncanny ease, and their legs sent them springing like a grasshopper.


    But they could not hold out for long. Their areas of direct control were incredibly strong, but focused largely inward, increasing their physical attributes. In a 1 on 1 encounter, this would benefit them greatly. Unfortunately for them, humans rarely relied on 1 on 1 encounters.


    Germaine changed the surface around them time and time again, sometimes changing the soil to a dense, rock-like state, sending the towering creatures skating across their surface. Now, he had loosened the topsoil to the consistency of a freshly plowed field, sending another crashing to the ground as it landed, its paw sinking deep into the loam.


    Its luck ran out, and one of Nastael¡¯s bolts slammed into it from above, pinning the creature at an odd angle before each of its joints were pierced by Caeris¡¯ slender blades.


    This was a turning point in the fight, but as the commanders readied themselves to push their advantage, the chieftain let loose a guttural howl, clearly a command of some sort. The chieftain and the honor guard disengaged, briefly exchanging words before the chieftain took a somber step forward.


    Jaskil had not simply allowed them to converse; the axtl chief had simply rebuffed him while giving his final orders to the now fleeing honor guard.


    Now, the chieftain stepped forward, the patterns of his fur obscured by dust and blood. He opened his arms, sending slices of obliterating ambient in all directions, rending even the soil hardened by Germaine.


    He reached to his headdress, and from it removed a simple bone instrument. Without hesitation, he raised it to his mouth and breathed into it.


    The sound was like nothing Caeris had heard before. She could hear it, but she was sure there was more to the sound that she could not hear. It made sense that the axtls could likely hear more.


    But that was not all. She felt ambient present in the sound, as if the chieftain had suffused his ambient into the sound itself, like a much more complex variant of the manner by which tallies are taught to amplify their voices.


    Jaskil had shrugged off the last attack and was racing in at a speed almost untraceable by the eye. Not her eyes, but still, it was impressive.


    The chieftain turned to him¡­ and simply stepped into the coming blow.


    His head flew far from his body, the ornamental headdress falling from it when it hit the ground.


    The massive corpse fell to the soil of the forest with an audible crash.


    As the light of the morning sun snaked through the dense foliage, silence reigned.


    *****


    The plaza was silent after the last axtl died.  He also no longer heard the noise of battle from anywhere else. It was quiet. The lack of noise suddenly seemed so jarring, so foreign.


    Rane was also suddenly aware of just how tired he was. He had been fighting for a few hours. He sat directly on the ground, breathing heavily. He knew that Puddles would start barking orders soon, but he didn¡¯t care.


    He would follow the orders when they came. For now, he would rest.


    A shrill and pervading noise interrupted his rest mere seconds in. The noise was loud and pitched, but also seemingly everywhere. Maybe it was the echoes throughout the forest, maybe something else.


    He was curious, but too fatigued to care. He closed his eyes just as the burning summer sun rose, mirrored in the rivers of blood.

 Chapter 23 - Real Monsters

    Puddles decided that their rest was enough, and started shouting their orders. The orders were simple. Move back to the center fortress area, where they would regroup with leadership and decide what the next move was.


    Perhaps the small fortress would be absorbed into their own supply line.


    Rane glanced around at his gathering squad. Erick had blood running down his face from a wound somewhere in his dark brown hair. He wiped away at it, but it wasn¡¯t stopping. He paused, focusing his ambient, trying to seal the cut.


    Sven¡¯s smooth features were nowhere to be found. He looked as if he had fallen face first into a vile concoction of blood and dirt, giving him more of a street urchin look than his usual lady killer aura. His hair was matted to his head like a helmet made of mud and straw.


    Klein was mostly uninjured aside from some heavy bruises, but he could no longer lift the tip of his longsword. As he lifted it to put it in his scabbard, he missed the opening several times, quietly muttering curses all the while.


    Mud was breathing with wheezing gasps, holding his ribs and dribbling a bit of blood from his mouth. Apparently, there was some internal damage that he could not fix himself. Now that the battle was over, though, he would hold.


    Puddles looked the most in form of them all, but had lost the usual bark in his orders, and the vigor in his eyes. His shoulders that usually were straight and tall were relaxed in a bit of a slouch, even as he tried to hold his head high.


    Rane could not see himself, but he suspected that, humorously, this would be one of the few moments he could say that he looked like Sven. He could feel his hair knotted and clumped, some of it swaying around as he walked.


    Now that the battle was over, he was starting to notice the smells. Excrement and the smell of spilled entrails ambushed their noses at odd intervals and without warning. He smelled sweat, the stench of the wet fur of animals, urine, and every so often, the smell of spilled food that had been cooking when the battle began.


    Among all these smells, one existed omnipresently: the sharp iron smell of blood. The corpses of axtls large and small lined the path that they walked to the center. Some were barely larger than dogs.


    As they continued their silent march to the interior, Rane felt uneasy, then suddenly, oppressed. It felt as if something deep and incomprehensible had him in its sights. He flared his area of direct control to check, and found that the surrounding ambient had become ever so slightly more difficult to move.


    He knew what this was. He had felt it before, upon the approach of the head of the house of Auryck. Monster.


    ¡°We need to leave,¡± he said suddenly. His squadmates looked at him oddly.


    Puddles was the first to inquire, ¡°What are you talking about?¡±


    *****


    Caeris was confused. The final moments of the commander had been odd. He could have fought against them for a short while longer if he had not performed his strange ritual. There must have been something to it.


    The others thought little of the axtls, but she knew better. They were not just a simple people of superstition. Their rituals held symbolic meaning of course, but that was not all. Their rituals had purpose.


    Jaskil and the others had gathered around the corpse of the commander. Nastael had already retrieved its severed head, and they were currently discussing where it would be best placed. Caeris thought it barbaric, but knew that it would also serve a purpose that was not only symbolic.


    It would rally their soldiers, and hinder the morale of any surviving axtls. Not that any survivors would be left in the village itself, but that is why placement mattered.


    ¡°It should be at the edge of the village, a clear message to axtl and elven scouts of our purpose,¡± argued Germaine


    ¡°No, the morale of our own troops should be first and foremost. We should display it in the center of our own camp, or if we set our new location here, in the remains of the axtl fortification,¡± countered Jaskil.


    Then Caeris felt it. There was something rapidly approaching them. Something powerful. No, more than just powerful. She felt the familiar presence of seltience beginning to interfere with the ambient around them.


    That is when she understood the purpose of the vexing ritual of the now dead chieftain. He knew he could not defeat them, and so, he had attracted something that could: a monster.


    Caeris stepped forward towards them. They both looked eagerly to her, thinking she would be joining to settle the debate.


    ¡°We need to retreat. Now,¡± she said.


    Both looked at her with a bit of confusion before she hurriedly explained, ¡°there is a seltient creature approaching. A monster.¡±


    If you encounter this story on Amazon, note that it''s taken without permission from the author. Report it.


    Upon this statement, she turned heel and began her exit, only shouting for retreat to the soldiers in earshot.


    ¡°Coward. She¡¯ll leave her division behind to die,¡± said Germaine.


    ¡°I¡¯ll stay if you¡¯re staying. We can get as many as we can out and then escape ourselves,¡± proposed Nastael.


    ¡°Fools! We¡¯ve got no time for this. Germaine of Warlskill, come to your senses and retreat. No, flee. This is not something we can handle,¡± said Jaskil. He was backing away as he said it.


    He felt it now, too. The creature would be here in mere minutes.


    ¡°You sully the Warlskill family name, Jaskil. You will be branded a traitor and a coward when we return,¡± said Germaine.


    Jaskil was already on his way out of the village, shouting for an uncoordinated retreat as he went. Coward? he thought, one has to be alive to obtain glory. I guess, even in Warlskill, there are those who do not understand power.


    Jaskil had thought himself powerful once. Then, on his coming of age day, he met his father. That monster.


    *****


    ¡°We need to leave, NOW!¡± Rane repeated.


    ¡°I can feel something heading here, something powerful. Closest I can think of is when we met the Marquess of Auryck.¡±


    ¡°Maybe it''s him, then,¡± suggested Erick.


    ¡°No, it¡¯s not,¡± replied Rane.


    ¡°Well, we can¡¯t just full retreat on a whim,¡± said Puddles. ¡°Commander Caeris would have our heads as soon as we got back.¡±


    In the midst of their discussion, they were interrupted by a squad barrelling towards them at full sprint. Rane recognized one of them. It was Caid, from his original squad at training camp.


    As they ran by, Caid was the one to slow down and speak up, ¡°orders are in, full retreat.¡± He didn¡¯t stop to explain. He had only slowed down just enough to get the sentence out in their earshot.


    Puddles was decisive. ¡°Let''s move.¡±


    The squad gathered themselves and reoriented, no longer facing towards the fortress, but simply back into the woods. Dawn was breaking, but they still didn¡¯t have quite the sense of direction to immediately know in which direction they should be heading.


    The presence was stronger now, and the others clearly felt it. Rane could see Mud¡¯s legs trembling, and he knew that it was not another manifestation of his wounds.


    Their direction had been chosen for them, it seemed.


    It was a simple direction: away. Away from that, that feeling, towards that primal wish to feel safe again.


    Then, suddenly, shortly after their flight had begun, they were rudderless. Which direction was away? They no longer could tell. Rane understood what this meant, and the others must too.


    They were now in its area of direct control.


    They stood, silently, swords drawn and staring into the dimly lit woods.


    The sound of screams broke the silence, along with the sound of snapping trees, as if a great storm had broken loose in the forest.


    They heard the sound of hooves stamping against leaves, and then they saw it. It walked in the manner of a horse while towering even taller than the greatest of the axtls they had fought. Its skin looked like the expensive, aged meat sold by the butchers in Kelston. On its back was a mass of rising sinew that resembled a rider, but it was headless, only serving as a point from which three arms protruded at uncanny angles.


    Rane¡¯s body was paralyzed by panic and adrenaline. His heart was racing, but his mind was nearly blank. All he could think of was getting away from where he was right now. He looked to his squad.


    Puddles raised his blade, flared, his ambient, and shouted, as if in challenge.


    Erick had picked up a small javelin, and was preparing for a throw.


    Klein had dropped his sword and was trying to coalesce an ambient barrier in front of Puddles.


    Mud¡­ Had passed out


    Sven was on one knee, struggling to coalesce his ambient, but struggling in the presence of the fiendish creature.


    None of it mattered.


    The creature waved one of its ungainly arms with a fluidity incongruous of its shape, and Rane saw for the first time, seltience.


    The ambient in the air in front of it shifted, hardened, and was made manifest. Not in the way that he knew; however.


    Ambient was something that one sensed, like an omnipresent force that could be accessed and manipulated, but not touched.


    But as the thin, black line in front of the nightmare grew into a sickle blade shape, Rane understood that what was happening was different. He could SEE the ambient. It was no longer a mystical force; it had been granted form and body.


    The dark sickle shot disappeared as if shot from the limbs of the greatest bow.


    And Puddles was the first to fall. His body stood tall for a bit, the now broken sword in his hands still held out towards his enemy, but everything above his shoulders was gone. His body fell to the ground in what felt like an eternity.


    As he fell, Rane remembered their days in training, their march to Kelston, and the many times they had laughed together with their squad at the bars.


    Erick launched his javelin, but the projectile barely left his hands when it stopped dead in the air, and was sent back through his chest, haft first.


    Rane thought once more of his situation and his frozen body. He had thought himself strong. No, he was not so stupid. He had thought himself competent. He had thought himself ready to face the world as he was.


    I am weak. I am a coward. There will be no glory for me, and I am at the mercy of this creature of nightmare, this monster. I am¡­ Nothing. And¡­ I want to go home.


    With this admission to himself, he found his legs.


    And he ran. He turned his body and did not look back.


    As he ran, he released his hold on the ambient around him, and for the first time in years, withdrew it into himself completely. It felt as if he had lost a limb, but it seemed a correct choice, like a lizard that loses its tail to avoid capture.


    He ran, not listening to the shouts and screams behind him.


    He ran, not looking at the soldiers staring blankly at the creature that would bring their demise.


    He ran, not tasting the bile and blood rising in his mouth.


    He ran, not feeling the warmth of the rising sun which lit the dark world.


    He ran, unconnected to the ambient around him, which was once the will of the world, but now, was the will of only one being.


    A real monster.

 Chapter 24 - And so He Wept

    Rane continued to run long after the sun rose into the sky, sending beams of its blinding radiance through the foliage above.


    His heart was pounding out of his chest, yet still he ran. He didn¡¯t know how far he had gotten, but the light of day did nothing to dampen his fears.


    He was well aware. Monsters didn¡¯t only prowl at night. They were much more frightening than that. The radiance of the sun did nothing to deter their fiendish motives.


    Eventually, Rane stumbled and fell to the ground of the dense forest, sliding on a thick layer of wet leaves until his shoulder caught on a root, bringing him to an abrupt stop.


    Rane lay there, no longer moving, but his body still shook. His heart was racing. His sweat cooled in the soft breeze, causing him to shiver. His eyes were crusted, and his thoughts were a mess.


    He needed to calm down. He knew that, but he could not. He sat up against a tree, letting the strong trunk be his place of respite as he rested his legs, limply sprawling them out in front of him.


    He controlled his breathing, in through the nose, out through the mouth. He repeated this until his heart stopped trying to escape through his ribs. His mind was by no means tranquil, but he had to stop and think things through at some point.


    But he was not ready to think. Not yet.


    Tears formed around his eyes as he thought about what happened. About his squad. About what he did.


    Rane knew that he was not strong. That lesson had been learned when he met the head of the Auryck house. Had he been asked if he thought himself truly strong, he would have said no, but his actions did not reflect that. The mind was fickle, and he had let himself grow arrogant. He was skilled, valued, and even to a degree, respected. He was even someone to be relied on. Well, not anymore.


    His eyes leaked the same precious liquid that his throat demanded, leaving clean streaks down his filthy face.


    Rane felt as if there was a lump in his throat, rising without warning. He leaned over and gagged, his throat scraping against itself as he heaved, unable to expel much from his stomach. He hadn¡¯t eaten since lunch the day before.


    He sat back up straight, his body shaking with tired sobs. He struggled against them as the images of their deaths played back in his mind. He opened his eyes wide and tried in vain to focus on the trees surrounding him, but that did little to erase their images. Erick¡¯s last look of surprise. Puddle¡¯s stalwart defiance. The broken sword that clattered to the ground.


    He thought of what his father told him, all those years ago. Swords couldn¡¯t kill monsters.


    *****


    Rane woke up to the unmistakable sensation of an insect crawling on his face. In his panic, he squashed it against his cheek, adding to the layers of grime hiding his features.


    He groaned, sore and thirsty. He patted his clothing. His waterskin was nowhere to be found.


    He moved his tongue around in his mouth. It was made rough by the lack of liquid, and he could not manage to wet it with saliva. A deep breath through his mouth was a mistake, nearly throwing him into a fit of coughing when he again felt a presence.


    He immediately fell silent, his eyes wide like a prey animal caught unaware.


    Unlike the animal though, Rane wasted no time in stasis. He immediately bolted, looking anywhere for a place to hide. His ambient was still withdrawn, and he dared not flare it to help him find what he was looking for.


    As he ran, he turned his body, his head, and scanned everywhere. The presence was no monster, but was stronger than himself. Likely high brazient. This was no boon for him. It only meant that it was closer to himself.


    The author''s content has been appropriated; report any instances of this story on Amazon.


    He finally found something. On a short hill, there were the roots of a large tree, exposed by rain washout. It was a pity that there was no water flowing, but the space was large enough for him to squeeze into, and deep enough for him to hide within its shadows. There was a small amount of light at the back of the hollow, which came from a smaller hole on the other side of the tree, evidently where the water flowed into the space from.


    He stilled his breathing and waited, the presence still thick in the air. The forest was eerily silent as he began to hear the cracking of leaves, the telltale sign of a sole creature walking the woods.


    It was moving quickly. It was getting closer. Rane backed further into the hollow, pressed against the hard roots of the tree and the soft earth. He could see out the hole as well. He only hoped that it was not as easy to see into it.


    A shadow fell over the hole, and Rane¡¯s fears were confirmed. An axtl with dark fur, matted by dirt and blood stood at the top of the hill. In its hand was a large, curved blade. It was sleek, shining with a dark substance that stained its edge. Atop its head was a fenull skull, cracked and pressed into its brow.


    It was one of the honor guards of the chieftain. Rane¡¯s heart began to speed up even as he tried to control his breathing. The beast would surely see him. It stepped closer and closer still, until it was nearly on top of the tree.


    Rane could smell it. The blood and flesh on its fur created an odor like that of a walking corpse. And as it raised its nose, Rane noticed that the helmet was not just pressed into its brow. The splintered bone had pierced the creature''s eyes. The blood that ran down the mask was congealed, resembling tears of crimson red on its pale surface.


    It was a harrowing image, nearly making him gasp in terror. He barely held onto his sanity with the realization that the creature was blinded. He thought for the briefest moment that he could stand and fight, but squashed that arrogant hope. I am nothing, I am no one, and most of all, I am weak. He dared not move the smallest amount of ambient. Then he noticed another detail.


    Attached to its belt was a row of patches. They were the patches that signified one as a tally. Five. This beast had killed five tallies in this state. Rane again cursed his stupidity and weakness. This time, he praised his cowardice. This creature was a soldier, like himself. No, not like himself. It was better. And he could only hide like a mouse, and hope the cat moves on.


    After a brief moment, Rane felt a pulse of ambient wash over him. It was incredibly strange, as he was not circulating any ambient within himself, so it also passed directly through him. He squirmed in discomfort, but remained silent.


    The beast turned its head and moved on, its quick steps growing more and more quiet until Rane could no longer hear them. He was wheezing from his thirst at this point, but did not dare move for another half an hour.


    Eventually, thirst was the thing that overcame his fear. He needed water, and he was on a time limit. He knew from his training that a classient could survive several weeks to a month with minimal nutrition, but the same was not true for lack of water. Without water, he would be a corpse in merely a few days.


    He followed the hill down, taking great care that he moved in the opposite direction of the axtl honor guard. He was not completely lost, as he still knew the general direction of The Empire, but between here and there was a monster so powerful that the commanders had not stopped it. Traveling back through its territory would be little different that suicide.


    Now, he knew that wasn¡¯t all. At least one of the honor guards had survived, and was actively hunting the remnants of their army.


    West was his only direction that led away from those dangers.


    And so he walked westward and down, hoping he could chance upon some minor waterway flowing down from the great mountains to the north.


    As he walked, the sunlight began to wane, and the chatter of insects grew louder and louder. He could hear the beating of wings above him as small shapes darted around in the canopy of the trees.


    He continued to walk until night fell, but the moon shined so brightly that he could still see, if only well enough to avoid trees. He still stumbled on their roots, but his task remained the same. He feared that if he gave up now and slept, he would be in an even worse state than now, so, despite his exhaustion, mental and physical, he pressed onward.


    He heard it before he saw it. The trickle of water over rock. He closed his eyes and listened for a bit before nearly breaking into a hasty shuffle in the direction of the water source.


    It was beautiful. The moonlight refracted off shining rocks, and the water flowed over a small edge, separating into small droplets that flickered in the lunar glow before splashing into the small pool below, from where it continued to overflow and drain down the slope.


    Rane fell to his knees on the edge of the pool, and scooped water up with his hands. He wanted to submerge his head within the pool, but it was likely too shallow, and he didn¡¯t want to taint the little water that he had. Additionally, he feared that he may simply fall forward into the pool if he allowed himself to relax in such a manner.


    He drank deeply and greedily before pushing himself away from the pool and falling to his side. Despite the pain from his empty stomach, Rane found sleep quickly.

 Chapter 25 - Wilderness Survival Class

    With the issue of water solved, Rane knew that he had been granted the gift of time¡­ but that gift was still finite. He would need to begin sourcing food, and, in order to do that, he also needed to regularly use ambient, potentially revealing his presence to some of the more powerful creatures in the Kelston Great Wood.


    He tried not to think about it too much, but it did occur to him that the monster that wiped out their army might not be the only creature of such power within the massive expanse of trees and foliage. Humanity had not conquered here, and so, he had no idea what to expect.


    He did not expect the worst, but that was not because he was unaware of the possibility. It was simply that, if the worst were to occur, it would not matter anyways. He was lucky to survive the first encounter. No amount of preparation would save him from another monster.


    His thoughts were interrupted by a pang of hunger. He could last a bit without food. That did not mean it would be comfortable. It also didn¡¯t mean that he would be still able to move in the final days of his journey to the grave.


    He needed to observe the area''s fauna and decide what he could reasonably catch or kill. He walked aimlessly downstream for a few minutes until he found an area from which he could observe while remaining mostly hidden. Then, he waited.


    During the day, the voice of the forest was hushed. The light breeze rustled leaves and limbs, producing a soft noise as if the trees themselves were breathing. And still, he waited.


    It may have been boring if there was anything else he could be doing; however, at the moment, nothing was more important than this mundane task.


    Then he heard the familiar crackling of leaves. For a split second, his mind shifted to one thought: the axtl honor guard, but he quickly dashed it away. The leaves crackled with an unfamiliar cadence. It was likely a small animal hopping around in the leaves.


    There it was, a small buck rabbit, with its dark antlers protruding from behind its gray ears. After each small leap, the creature''s ears twitched a bit, as if refocusing themselves to their surroundings.


    Rane¡¯s breath quickened, and saliva began to fill his mouth. He swallowed and seized control of the ambient around himself for the first time since he had fled from the monster.


    The buck rabbit¡¯s ears twitched again, and its head jerked towards Rane. It stared directly at him, then bolted away.


    A small blade took to the air, poised like an arrow in a crossbow. It shot forward at the fleeing rabbit with a low whistle, but only found itself embedded in the flesh of one of the many wooden columns that defined the forest.


    Rane could only watch as the small thing took bounds that carried it half a dozen yards each time.


    As it disappeared into the forest, Rane¡¯s stomach made strange noises that were accompanied by a pain that was currently dull, but that he knew would only grow sharper.


    Rane re-assumed his position and waited. As he waited, he thought. The thing had sensed his ambient as soon as he took control. It clearly wasn¡¯t a creature with much control over ambient itself, but it made sense that it could sense the presence of others through it. Without such a skill, there would be very few small animals in the forest.


    The real question though, was how would he manage to bag any prey without them sensing his presence.


    Rane knew that most hunters around Auryck used traps of some kind, but he had no idea what those entailed. He could have learned while back in training, but he had neglected that portion a bit in favor of diving wholly into his ambient training.


    It had worked, too. Despite his meager talent, he had achieved classient with a decent degree of control, though others may have learned some of the other key skills that they were supposed to learn while alone in the woods.


    In order to survive here, Rane would have to progress once more.


    And so he found himself once again sitting in a clearing near a stream, circulating ambient through and around his body, but with a new focus. Ambient aura suppression. He needed to be in control of the ambient surrounding himself without disturbing its natural movement.


    He had once viewed this technique as an announcement of one¡¯s lack of prowess, or confidence. Now, he knew that he was wholly incompetent, and that without such a skill, he would starve to death while weeks deep into the Kelston Great Wood.


    This tale has been unlawfully lifted from Royal Road. If you spot it on Amazon, please report it.


    The method of his training was relatively simple. Rane had placed sticks in the ground at the edge of his area of direct control, which was now about 7 yards. He was approaching the area of direct control that was associated with brazients, but he knew that he lacked the impact or control to claim such a title.


    Ambient aura suppression was a little misleading, as it only described what the outside effect of the technique looked like. In reality, there was no suppression happening. In order to claim that he had achieved aura suppression, Rane had to claim control of his surrounding ambient without making its flow predictable. It was like being in a state of constantly reaching out with dozens of hands. His area of direct control would be the same, but he could skip the step that required him to flare his ambient. Instead, he would simply be in control of all ambient within his ability to perceive it.


    He was on his knees while resting his quads on his heels. He slowed his breathing and with his eyes closed, identified the locations of the 17 upright sticks arranged around him. From this point of perception, he could see that he had not placed them all in a perfect circle. A few were also outside of his area of perception.


    He sat, motionless and focused on a twig behind him and to his right. How could he grab it without disturbing everything?


    Several hours later, the closest that he had gotten was isolating the ambient only on the space surrounding the twig, but he could not use it with enough force to remove the twig from the soil. He could knock it over, but he couldn¡¯t influence it with enough impact to make it lethal. It wouldn¡¯t be enough to fill his belly, and certainly not enough to save him from a creature that wanted to use him to do the same thing.


    The sun was going down, and Rane was no longer focused on his training. He sat near the stream, tossing leaves into the small pool and watching them float down the path before eventually disappearing into the dimming woods.


    Some leaves didn¡¯t make it, getting caught on the edges of the bank. Those ones tickled his mind, so he began breaking off small pieces of the twigs and tossing them into the stream as well, hoping that they would collide, sending the leaves on their way.


    He had little success, but was able to knock one leaf loose. He brightened for a moment before he realized again where he was, what he was running from, and when his stomach sent him another signal of dissatisfaction.


    Rane turned away, looking for a tree with a wide base. Such a thing was not difficult to find in such a location.


    Rane flared his ambient, taking control of the area around himself and drilling into the soil at the base of the tree, hollowing out an area large enough for him to sleep away from the elements. Maybe in the future he would bring in some grass or leaves to prevent himself from sleeping directly on the cool soil, but he was tired, hungry, and disappointed. He crawled into the small space where sleep quickly found him.


    *****


    He woke up sweating and panting as he tried to grasp hold of the fleeting remnants of some nightmare that had gripped him in the final moments of his rest.


    The pain in his abdomen was still muted, but was noticeably more constant. He began to look at the world a little bit differently. That leaf, that bush, the lichens and fungi on the bark of the trees. Any of them may prove edible. But alas, he did not know any of these things for sure, and a bad guess in a situation like his own would surely kill him.


    Today, he would not even leave the clearing beside the small creek. He had to grasp this technique, and not just to get his meal for today. He needed to remain hidden from many things prowling in this treacherous land.


    He crawled out of the small space and walked over to the pool, where he cupped his hands to drink. It seemed like the water quieted the protests of his stomach, if only very slightly.


    He knelt once more, closed his eyes, and began to take deep, slow breaths. Today, he noticed, he had actually not even knelt in the center of the circle of twigs. It bothered him a little, but he was not going to break his concentration over such a minute detail.


    The sun had just passed its highest point in the sky when Rane collapsed forward into the moist soil of the clearing. It stuck to the sweat that covered his face, and it smeared as he took gasping breaths that moved his whole body.


    He had made no progress, none at all.


    The training had kept his mind from wandering, but with his meditation broken, and his mind worn, the events of the past week flooded his mind again. The deep breaths turned to heavy sobs as he imagined what Klein must have thought of him as he fled. It wouldn¡¯t matter anyways, but that knowledge did not console him.


    Rane leapt to his feet, grasped the ambient around himself tightly once more, and screamed a scream of anger and sorrow. The air and ambient reverberated with the noise, suffused between the two. He stomped forward and lashed out with his short blade, willing it to be sharp, letting it leave his hand to strike true at the trunk of his temporary shelter. He continued to swing at the trunk of the tree, leaving deep gashes in its ancient trunk, until he tired, which was relatively quick, as he had been tired even at the beginning of his fit.


    He thought briefly of how stupid it was that he had made such noise and expended valuable energy, but at the same time, he couldn¡¯t bring himself to care. He should be dead. He didn¡¯t want to die, but he should have died with his squad. Even if he made it back, he did not think he would ever be able to face the families of his squad mates. He would flee from them, too.


    Rane crawled back into his burrow and fell asleep once more, this time with the sun still hours from abandoning the world.

 Chapter 26 - Aftermath

    Commander Caeris and Commander Jaskil knelt before High Commander Havertz. Both of their heads were down. They avoided meeting his gaze. Though he was the same rank as them, there was a subtle difference. It was in his bearing and his presence. The second son of Auryck was a wealth of strength and experience. Today, they had gained experience of their own.


    And now, they would get their reprimand. The tent of the High Commander was large, but felt small with his dark face towering above them.


    ¡°Two divisions lost, two more too damaged to put back together in any fighting capacity. Two altient rank nobles of the Great Ambient Empire killed without witness as another two retreated,¡± said Havertz, pausing as the causality toll sank in.


    ¡°There are crimes associated with abandoning your post. There are crimes associated with failing your task. There are even crimes associated with failure to represent the might of the Ambient Empire¡­ But none of these will be your charge. Your charge will be negligence. Gross, extreme, stupid negligence.¡± His voice began to rise as it infused with anger.


    ¡°Pushing the front was never a race, yet you rushed your progress. The axtls have never been weak foes, yet you underestimated the enemy. And despite having access to dozens of scouts, including one at the altient rank, you failed to uncover one of the highest tier monsters The Empire has confirmed in over two decades.¡±


    ¡°In the name of the Great Ambient Empire, I hereby relieve you of your current assignments as commanders, for what are commanders with no one to command. Return to your families and await further orders. This campaign will not likely see further success. Maybe you will fare better in the war against the coalition.¡±


    Caeris and Jaskil left the tent without raising their heads.


    *****


    Nyalla walked along the narrow path that was called a road in the Southeast district. Despite the heat, she wore a loose shawl that covered her hair and face. It was conspicuous in the city proper, but here, it was best for a woman to reveal as little as possible about herself.


    She continued her walk towards the nearest plaza, in search of a herald, one who would bring the people news of the empire and its exploits. Such was her daily routine. The heralds were not often detailed, but they often shared news of the 72nd company of Auryck, many of whom would have other family members in the throng of people gathered to listen to the cries of the herald.


    As she grew closer, the street began to grow in width as she started to see more shops and homes instead of stacks of shacks and tents. She was soon surrounded by people in a densely packed square. She watched as the crowd parted for the herald to come to the center, where he stood atop a small, brick platform there that lifted his head over the crowd.


    He appeared to clear his throat, but Nyalla couldn¡¯t hear until she felt the small change in ambient that marked the beginning of the herald''s spill.


    The herald''s voice was incredibly loud, the result of some interesting application of ambient to the voice. The technique was not hidden in any way, simply not useful to anyone who would have no role in public speeches.


    ¡°On this day of the ninth month of the calendar of the Great Ambient Empire, may its glory forever be known, I bring you these tidings.¡±


    This tale has been unlawfully lifted from Royal Road. If you spot it on Amazon, please report it.


    ¡°The Allied Coalition to the south is expanding its army and cowardly sending attacks of demi humans and bandits into the border territories of our great empire. The Coalition claims that these attacks are not a result of their doing, but their lies and falsehoods have been well documented by the moderators of the Emperor, may ambient surround him always. The four great ducal families encourage the people to ready themselves for tough times, for even a swift victory will affect the supply of necessities and trade.¡±


    ¡°The expansion of The Great Ambient Empire has been put on hold as a result, and the remnants of the divisions will be recalled to reinforce our border.¡±


    The word remnant caught Nyalla¡¯s attention as a hole opened in her heart, draining it of feeling as her breath caught in her throat.


    ¡°On the western border, the axtl threat has been contained; however, in their treachery, they summoned forth a great monster from deep within the Kelston Great Wood, which has devastated demi human and Imperial forces alike, cutting off the Great Wood. Two Commanders lost their lives in battle with the creature, Germaine of the Great Warlskill Family, and Nastael of the Great Darkhart family. The 70th and 73rd companies have been devastated and will be reformed into a new veteran company assigned to the border. The 71st and 72nd companies have been lost, may they find eternal rest in The Ambient.¡±


    Nyalla did not fall to her knees or burst into hysterical tears. There were many who did so, but Nyalla simply felt hollow. She knew that when she arrived back home, she would not come out for a while, but she had felt like this since Rane had left. She worried for him, surely as any mother would, but she had never felt that The Ambient had treated her kindly. She expected to hear the news of her son¡¯s demise on every trip to the plaza.


    To her, the herald was never a herald of The Empire, only the herald of death.


    She wrapped her shawl around her head as she made her way away from the crowd.


    *****


    Klein stood motionless outside of Kelston. His lustrous gray hair had grown long in his time away. He had never visited the graveyard here¡­ But there was a first time for everything, and he carried with him six thin stone slabs. Each stone bore a name etched into the roughly hewn surface.


    Mack. He had actually agonized over this one quite a way. He struggled to remember his captain¡¯s real name. When he did, he wondered if he would have wanted it on his grave. He thought not.


    Sven. He would have done well after the expansion campaign. He could have convinced some merchant''s daughter to marry him and split their wealth. Klein smiled a bit at the thought of him getting away with such a plot.


    Aabe. He had been the first to go. He wasn¡¯t cut out to be a soldier, but it was never their place to tell him that. He was stronger than most of the general populace would ever be.


    Mud. Klein never knew his hometown. He was a stoic type, older than the rest of them, and Klein didn¡¯t know his real name. He hoped that he wouldn¡¯t be upset that he never asked.


    Erick. The image of his death flashed in the eye of his mind. He almost dropped the tablets. He was of good humor, and strong to boot. Well, as strong as any of them could have been. No one was strong in the face of that.


    And finally, Rane.


    Klein flared his ambient, using it to create six clean patches in the grass in a circle around his position. He laid each tablet into the ground with great care, and when he finished, whispered a prayer for them all, ¡°may the ambient be with you always.¡±


    He looked around the tablets, his eyes coming to rest on one in particular. He quite liked Rane, but now, he was conflicted. He left them to die. He ran. Klein understood his action, which was, all things considered, the most rational thing to do; however, that was not what Puddles had done. That was not what Erick had done. They had fought to their last breaths.


    He left them there to die. If Rane was dead, which was the most likely situation, Klein could forgive him. He would bear no grudge against the dead, who have already paid the highest price¡­ But if he is alive, Klein thought, I will hunt him to the edges of the world to make sure that the price is paid.

 Chapter 27 - When You Whisper in the Wood

    Rane¡¯s eyes opened quickly when a familiar tickle brushed against his mind. Something was coming. Something strong. A different and sharper presence than the axtl hunter. It still did not compare to what he felt in the village, but it still could not be ignored. He had gotten lucky that the honor guard was wounded. He was not going to rely on luck again.


    Wasting no time, he poked his head out above his burrow and checked the immediate area before standing upright and gathering his few belongings. A couple blades that would do him little good against any threat stronger than a ferull.


    He quickly made his way to the pool to gather his bearings when he suddenly knew that he had been perceived. He turned his head upstream, and through the trees he saw four, yellow, serpentine eyes locked onto him.


    It was hard to judge its size from his location, but it was clear that it did not look small, even among the towers of wood surrounding them. This was not even to mention that the creature was likely at least of altient rank. Without a doubt, it could be called a monster.


    Rane wasted no time. He ran.


    He chose to follow the path of the stream, which he believed was taking him deeper into the Great Wood. Dawn had not fully broken, so he could not easily find his bearing using the sun.


    The path was dimly lit, and the stream began to cut into the earth a bit, its bed a few feet down from its bank. Rane kept his path as straight as he could, leaping from side to side as occasion demanded.


    His legs were burning even though he had not run for very long. It had been days since he had eaten a proper meal, and it was taking a toll on how much force he could exert. Nevertheless, he continued. To falter here by simple fatigue would spell his death.


    The stream began to gain width as Rane noticed that it had been joined by a few other small flows of water as he ran through the bush.


    He found himself in the ¡®y¡¯ of a fork, the stream now several times increased in depth and flow, still cutting its path through the earth. He stopped for a moment, and despite still feeling its presence, still knowing that it was behind him, he turned to look anyway.


    It was slithering across the leaves of the forest with frighteningly little noise, and making good pace. No, it was definitely catching up to him. It flew across the bends and gaps in the creek with its head lifted above the forest floor, flicking a tongue the size of Rane¡¯s arm.


    The two eyes on each side of its head were locked on Rane, making him shiver involuntarily. Its body was difficult to focus on, though, with its strange mix of browns and grays blending in with the forest to a degree that nearly gave him a headache as he tried briefly to judge its length.


    Rane had no time to backtrack from the fork he found himself in, so he leapt down into the creek, splashing into the water that was now up just above his knees, and moving with a speed just high enough to make his footing unstable.


    He needed to reach the other bank quickly. He could feel the serpent getting closer rapidly now. With his mobility hampered, it was gaining on him every second. He couldn''t let it happen.


    With great effort, he flared his ambient, cycling it around himself as strongly as possible, and pushed the water of the creek away from himself. He picked up his pace and broke into a short sprint through the now ankle deep water, throwing himself onto the opposite bank with deep, gasping breaths.


    The creature was closer still, and Rane¡¯s thoughts were impaired by the primal urge to escape. He looked back again, locking eyes briefly with the serpent. Its eyes flashed with something akin to understanding, and it blinked its eyes in unison once, twice, and on the third blink, its presence vanished almost completely as its body began to blur into the forest around them.


    Rane couldn¡¯t see it anymore, and he could no longer feel from which direction it was coming. The serpent¡­ Can suppress its ambient and apply some sort of technique to camouflage itself at the same time!? It was simply unfair.


    Rane flew down the bank of the creek faster than he had previously believed possible, suffusing his entire body with cycled ambient, trying desperately to increase his physical abilities even by a small margin. Maybe it was working; perhaps it was not. It didn¡¯t matter, as he could no longer sense how close the serpent was to him. He could only flee in the manner of a scared animal.


    The narrative has been taken without authorization; if you see it on Amazon, report the incident.


    Now that he could no longer focus on that which was behind him, he had purchase to focus on what was in front of him. The stream was picking up pace, churning itself into rapids that made him aware that he would not be able to cross the waters again. If he found himself at another fork, he would simply have to choose to give himself to the waters or to the serpent.


    He continued to run, and noticed the trees becoming a bit more sparse, the ground becoming less earthy, and the waterway, which had began as a small, flowing creek, was now a churning whitewater run that constantly released the noise of its body crashing angrily against the rocks on which it lay.


    Suddenly, Rane burst forward from the forest completely, the dazzling sun of dawn blinding him as he emerged from the tree line. He stumbled, fell, and rolled back up to his feet as his eyes adjusted to his new view.


    The waters to his left spilled infinitely over a rocky edge, down into a valley below, in which a proper river flowed through its bottom.


    The thought earlier that he may have to choose between the waters and the serpent resurfaced in his mind, and the choice was not difficult.


    Rane sprinted forward and threw himself off of the edge of the fall. It was not an act of bravery. It was a simple choice between certain death and almost certain death.


    He had never experienced the vivid rush of freefall, but even still, he did not panic. He knew that a poor landing could mean the end for him. Well, that was as long as the bottom of the fall was more than a rock bed.


    Rane fell into the deep basin of the fall with a splash that could not be heard over the roar of the cascading torrent.


    Far above, a massive serpent seemed to materialize as it reached its snout over the edge of the rocks, its tongue flickering as if tasting the overspray from the rapids. With its four, glittering, yellow eyes, it eyed the valley below with an intense gaze for a moment before turning away. As it slithered back into the trees, it did not even need the help of ambient to be quickly lost from sight.


    *****


    Rane woke up surrounded by water, inhaling a great bit of it as he twisted his body in shock and fear. He thrashed his arms and producing a racking cough that he hadn¡¯t previously was possible to do with a throat full of water. Eventually, he realized that he was still in the river, and tried to calm down as he realized that he could float just enough to keep his head above the water.


    He considered swimming to shore, but quickly found the idea unactionable. His body was somewhat worse for wear, and while the current of the river was not crazed and unpredictable, its subtle strength was far too much for him to overcome in his current state.


    He stretched his body wide and closed his eyes as he moved headfirst down the river, facing towards what seemed the brightest sky he had ever witnessed.


    It was strange that such beauty existed here alongside such horror.


    As he allowed the water to carry him in its embrace, he was struck with a thought, perhaps even a revelation.


    Just like the leaves that I tossed into the stream, and just as I am now being carried, was that how one could achieve aura suppression?


    He did not know for sure, but it made sense. Of course, it would not be as simple as that. He would have to study the flow of ambient, then match its flow, not with his own cycle, but using the cycle that existed innately.


    Rane closed his eyes, excited to test his new idea when he was more rested.


    He fell asleep in the river¡¯s care, and did not open his weary eyes until he felt his back scrap uncomfortably against the smooth rocks of the bank.


    He tried to open his eyes, but they were crusted shut, and his face felt hot. The river may have been kind to him, but the sun it seemed, held out no such goodwill.


    Just then, he felt a tickle on the edge of his mind. It was something close to the feel of another ambient presence, but he could not identify anything other than that presence in his head.


    Then the tickle grew to a dull pain, which grew into a splitting headache, which grew into what felt like something boring into his skull.


    Then it was over.


    And his mind was flooded with an ordered array of thoughts, sights, and emotions.


    He saw a body scraping along the edge of a river, small waves lapping at its clothes as it was pushed further onto the bank.


    He felt a curiosity as mental images of myriad creatures blasted his mind at once. None matched the one he saw before him.


    The curiosity intensified, followed by the sights of many dead creatures.


    The curiosity turned to question, and Rane¡¯s mind was again assaulted with visions.


    He saw two deer cautiously approaching each other before each making a few odd grunting sounds and turning to walk the same direction.


    He saw a buck rabbit hop to another, smelling it a few times before lashing out with a quick bite. It bounded away, the other close in chase.


    He saw two axtls spot each other in the deep wood. They made a few guttural sounds and gestures before letting out a loose series of contented barks. They each turned and went their own way.


    This¡­  Is a greeting some sort, Rane thought with question.


    Rane pictured himself and another human in the place of the axtls. They greeted, clasped arms, and Rane imagined himself asking for food.


    Amusement. Excitement. Novelty.


    Rane felt the grip of a clawed limb clasp his leg, and soon, he was being dragged away, still unable to open his eyes.

 Chapter 28 - Does It Whisper Back?

    Rane continued to struggle in vain to open his eyes. He let his head fall back against the wet leaves of the forest floor. They smelled vaguely of mildew and decay, but that did not concern him.


    He was still being dragged away. To somewhere. By¡­ Something. He still was not lucid enough to grasp hold of the ambient around him to substitute for some semblance of sight, but he did not think that it would matter anyways.


    Whatever being that held him by the leg was a presence that Rane had never detected. He assumed that it was the same thing responsible for breaking a metaphorical hole in his skull in order to bombard him with thoughts. If not for that, he would have thought himself being dragged away by a nearly completely mundane beast, the likes of which could be raised in captivity by ranchers.


    He had no way of knowing how far they went; however, at some point, it seemed that the creature had gotten frustrated with their speed and simply lifted him off the ground to begin bounding towards their destination.


    The creature eventually stopped. Rane could no longer feel the breeze nor the heat of the sun. They must be in a covered area. It¡¯s home, perhaps. If not, at least a cave.


    Rane flinched back as he felt the hot breath of the creature in his face.


    A single scene played in his mind. It was a small, striped creature with four legs that ended in hands rather than paws. The creature searched through the leaves for a moment before finding what it was looking for: a stash of various nuts and berries. It grabbed what appeared to be a fruit and brought it to its mouth to bite and tear away a bit of the spiked peel. It ate the flesh of the fruit while peeling it. It threw the peel away, and was careful not to consume any as it ate.


    When the vision ended, Rane found that there was something in his hand. It was the fruit from earlier. Its rough and spiky exterior were unmistakable even if he could not see. He brought the fruit to his mouth, and like the creature, bit into the peel with his teeth.


    He gagged and heaved, but there was nothing in his stomach aside from river water. It was easy enough to keep down. The peel tasted somehow bitter and sour at the same time, and gave off a pungent odor of fermentation. He quickly realized why the creature had no interest in the exterior of the fruit.


    He ripped away the peel to reveal the fruit inside, and brought it to his mouth again.


    He took a small bite, then took another few bites with the intense voracity of the starved. It was sweet, incredibly sweet. Juice dribbled down his chin and onto his neck where it immediately began to feel sticky. He didn¡¯t mind.


    The texture was strange, spongy and slick, with dense fibers running through it. They stuck in between his teeth as he continued to consume the strange fruit until there was nothing left.


    When he finished, he was taking deep breaths to make up for the lack of air he took in while eating. He relaxed comfortably against the wall. Well, as comfortably as he could. His face was burning, and now his stomach hurt as well. He definitely should have eaten slowly.


    The burning question on his mind; however, was if he could or could not cycle ambient. Would it provoke the creature, or would it not care at all? He knew nothing of it, and while it didn¡¯t feel powerful, that was incongruent with its abilities. It was literally communicating with him through some sort of mental connection; its control over the ambient could not be compared to¡­ anything Rane had encountered.


    Curiosity won out, in the end, and Rane grasped out at the ambient, cycling it and assessing the problem with his eyes.


    Rane felt another scene displayed to him, and the sense of curiosity intensified greatly.


    Rane ignored the scenes, but noted that it was not angry or threatened by him. Rane¡¯s eyes were swollen and irritated, and his face felt as if it could melt steel. He had been severely burned by the sun. It was not an injury that he could heal with his current skills.


    Burns were complicated injuries, somehow damaging the tissue in ways that Rane did not understand, and therefore could not fix. He could, however, simply accelerate his body¡¯s natural processes to speed up his recovery.


    This also increased his sense of fatigue, and he quickly succumbed to sleep.


    *****


    This story has been taken without authorization. Report any sightings.


    Rane opened his eyes with great difficulty. He raised an arm up to wipe them, which proved to be a mistake. His sleeve was speckled white with flakes of dry and dead skin, and the pain brought tears to his eyes. These were the first tears of pain that he had shed in a long while.


    He looked around to find himself in a cave, as he had assumed before, but instead of a roughly hewn burrow, he saw smooth walls and corners, which were mismatched against the rough, uneven surface of the floor.


    The dim light that allowed him to see all of this came from a series of root-like protrusions in the ceiling that glowed with a dull incandescence. Furs covered some of the walls, and others were filled with intricate carvings etched into the stone.


    Before he could focus on the stone work, Rane heard the taps of claws on the rough stone floor. It grew closer and closer until he could see the shadows dancing at the edge of the corner of his tunnel.


    Rane had no idea what to expect as it stepped into view, but even still, he could not have been prepared. It stood taller than most axtls, and on digitigrade legs, but that is where their similarities ended. Atop its head were antlers that stretched upward into many points. Some of its antlers grew down and around its bird-like snout, creating a natural helmet around each of its eyes, two of which sat on the top half of its head, and two that sat below.


    It sported four arms, two long and ending in a segmented set of claws, nearly reaching the floor even while standing, and two shorter arms closer to its chest that ended in a more dextrous looking hand which had opposable thumbs.


    Behind the creature was a thick tail that scraped and felt along the ground constantly, finding purchase in crevices briefly before moving on, sometimes seemingly assisting its balance, and at others being used as a human would use their arm to reach for a handrail.


    Rane¡¯s newly opened eyes were fastened on every aspect of the strange beast. Now, even more, he was sure that despite feeling no presence of ambient from it, this creature was surely a monster.


    So this is my savior, Rane thought with a sigh. He had run from all manners of beast, monsters and demis alike, but he still found himself here, in the lair of a monster.


    The creature turned its head, two of its eyes locking onto Rane, and thoughts and scenes again filled his head.


    Rane saw himself, then himself again, and again, and again, until there were dozens of him. Then, the dozens of figures scrambled, each changed slightly. Longer ears, lacking eyes, lacking limbs, and some with wings. Some were smaller, and some were larger. No, one was unchanged. One still was simply himself.


    Then, each figure began to do something different. Some took to the sky and caused great thunderclaps that struck the earth. Some hid under the ground as this happened, and others gathered around to fight back.


    Rane thought he understood. There was an emotion behind the scene. Inquiry, curiosity. It was a question of some kind. The first part seemed simple. Who are you? What are you? It was asking him to tell it what he identified as ¡®himself¡¯. The second part, he was unsure of.


    When he could not determine an answer in time, he felt another mental nudge, so he simply elected to answer the first part of the question. He closed his eyes.


    Rane thought of himself. In this mental image, he was clean, his gray hair flowing down the back of his head from a loose leather cord that kept it back from his face. Above him were his mother and father. His fathers face was blurred.


    ¡°Rane,¡± said the blurred face of his father.


    ¡°Rane,¡± said his mother.


    Both of the figures dissipated, replaced by the now dead members of his squad, who also repeated his name.


    He opened his eyes to find the creature still staring at him. It turned its head with a jerk, and it let out a coarse sound, ¡°aayy.¡± It shook its head loosely, and suddenly Rane heard his name called, seemingly from all around him. It was not loud, but it was clear. It was the voice of his mother. He looked at the creature in shock for a moment, but quickly regained his composure.


    Rane closed his eyes in preparation to ask a question in return. In a similar manner to what was asked to him, Rane conjured scenes in his mind, directing them instead at the creature that stood before him. Perhaps this would also give him the context as to what the second part of the question was, which he had been unable to answer.


    Rane saw a great storm cycling in front of him. From it came four beings, each similar to one another, all of the same species, specifically the species that was in front of him right now, in the cave.


    Three disappeared, leaving only one behind.


    The storm dispersed, and in its stead was a great mountain, beyond which was an even greater forest.


    The creature bounded forward, leaving a path of destruction in its wake. Atop the mountain was a great white bear covered in snow and stone. With a spray of red, it was over, and the creature stood over the mountain, looking down at the forest. Rane felt an intense and overwhelming sense of pride. There was nothing else that would challenge its rule.


    Rane opened his eyes with a new sense of understanding. Its sense of self was not the same as his own. It did not have a sound that represented itself, but rather a series of actions and position in the world.


    Rane thought for a bit before deciding that its name would be something along the lines of, ¡®the one which conquered the mountain and rules over the forest.¡¯


    It was definitely not a convenient scheme of getting one¡¯s attention or directing communication, but, considering how quickly the other three in the scene disappeared, Rane doubted that communication was something that this creature regularly did.


    Why, then, had it done so with him?

 Chapter 29 - Powerful Friends in Low Places

    Rane did not have much time to ponder his question when his thoughts were interrupted by another inquiry from the beast.


    Rane saw himself in the river, flowing backwards. Eventually, the river faded out, leaving only a profound sense of question.


    It wanted to know where he came from, specifically how he got here. Rane decided to start with specifically how he ended up in the river.


    He thought of himself, training in the woods, when he grew frustrated and began striking the tree under which he was to sleep.


    Rane felt pity from the creature¡­ And condemnation. Rane was too weak to make such noise.


    The creature was right, and Rane thought of the serpent that chased him along the creek.


    Rane¡¯s thoughts were cut off by a sense of boredom. It already knew of the serpent, and did not care. Additionally, Rane¡¯s sense of taste was stimulated by an overpowering gamey and bitter meat.


    The creature rested its body on its massive tale before sending another mental message.


    Rane saw the sun over the valley move in reverse across the sky, and then repeat several times over.


    And so Rane decided to tell the creature about Kelston, and his expedition.


    Rane conjured the image of Kelston¡¯s central plaza in his mind, where everyone gathered, and he felt the interest of the strange creature increase, as if Rane¡¯s mind were a book caught in the grip of a child¡¯s anticipation.


    Rane thought of his comrades, whom he walked alongside, and could not stop the great sadness that accompanied their visages. The creature did not show a reaction to his accidental foreshadowing.


    Rane thought of the axtl village, and their assault on it. When he thought of the axtl chieftain and the commanders, the grip on his mind became tighter still. Rane felt his head begin to ache, but thankfully, the sensation went away as the creature realized that Rane had not stayed around to witness that fight.


    Then, with dread, Rane thought of the final moments of his squad. He remembered that dreaded sound that carried through the air. He remembered the brief disagreement about what to do. Then, he remembered the fleeing squad that brought them the news of the orders to retreat. Then, he remembered their screams. Finally, he remembered the suffocating presence of the abomination, and then its horrifying visage.


    Rane¡¯s own scene fell apart here from the visceral response of the creatures with whom he shared the cave.


    Pride, indignation, and anger. Furious, murderous anger.


    For the first time, Rane began to feel the presence of the creature in front of him. And it was in no way inferior to any of the other seltient presences he had felt in his life. Maybe some were different; he could not tell. To him, it was as if he were an ant trying to compare the sizes of mountains while only able to stand at their base.


    Rane wanted to close his eyes, but he could not. They were locked onto the creature in front of him as he watched it undergo visual changes in response to its anger.


    The dull glow of ambient made manifest covered key points of its body like armor, and its claws that nearly reached the floor before had doubled in length, each on like a scythe capable of reaping countless lives.


    Its featureless tail now sported spines of seltience, ending in a wide double blade like that of a woodsman''s axe.


    The creature was a bit territorial, so it would seem.


    It turned away, reeling in its presence as its form flickered like that of the four eyed serpent. So it can do that as well, Rane thought. Rane couldn¡¯t even hear the noise of the creature¡¯s footsteps on the hard, uneven floor as it left. It could have also arrived like that. It could have been some display of hospitality, or perhaps it may simply have felt no need to sneak around. It struck him as a creature with no small measure of pride.


    Only when the hair on the back of his neck lay down did he relax. He felt relief, but now that he was alone once more, he again felt his hunger. Surely there would be something to eat here.


    If you come across this story on Amazon, it''s taken without permission from the author. Report it.


    And so he began to explore the cave. He hugged close to the right wall, deciding to first move in the direction from which the creature had entered, hoping to get a sense of direction by finding the entrance to the cave. It was still dimly lit, and he held his hand on the wall and he tried not to lose his footing on the uneven floor.


    Soon enough, he began to see the light of day peaking out at him from a bend in the cave. He hurried his pace and immediately lost his footing, barely catching himself on a ledge hewn into the rock like a shelf. He slowed his pace and continued forward, a cold breeze flowing in towards him.


    The light of day greeted him with nearly immolating intensity. His eyes took almost a minute to fully adjust to what he was seeing. He could not fully see from his own vantage; however, Rane could conclude that he was on the face of a cliff, at least 50 yards from the next outcropping, which was covered in slowly melting snow.


    Further out still, he could see the tops of the trees that packed the valley like many people standing packed together in a courtyard, awaiting the news of the herald''s cry.


    The rock surface he could now see was a deep, slate black, which only made the melting snow even more blinding. When Rane looked directly at it, he winced, sunlight refracting directly into his eyes.


    Well, he thought as he scanned the view from the cliff-face, I guess I¡¯m not leaving anytime soon. With that thought, he turned once more to head back into the caves in search of food, now with a renewed sense of direction in his mind.


    Eventually, he found a set of furs that covered the entrance to a room that hit him with an intense smell. There were meats hanging from the ceiling as they dried, and various fruits and nuts that filled basins carved into the floor. Some were smashed into liquids that produced a large section of the intense smells that permeated the room. He now understood why there were so many layers of furs covering this section.


    It crossed his mind that this food was not his own, but he had little choice in the matter. The creature had clearly been willing to share with him earlier, and it would do Rane little good if he were to starve to death before the creature even returned to be angry with him. That was if it returned at all.


    The Kelston Great Wood would soon feel the devastation of two monsters fighting for supremacy. Rane never thought that he would find himself rooting for one of them.


    He shook his head and began browsing the storeroom. Eventually, he found more of the spiny fruits that the creature had given him previously. He grabbed two, as they were just slightly larger than his enclosed fist.


    Then, he glanced at the hanging meat, and decided to cut off a few thin strips with the only blade that he still had: a small hunting knife shorter than the length of his forearm.


    He sat near the exit of the storeroom to consume his bounty. This time, he used the knife to remove the foul tasting exterior, not making the same mistake twice. The meat was actually curiously not bland, tasting vaguely of the fermenting fruit within the storeroom. Rane was impressed. The creature apparently had class.


    Rane ate slowly, savoring the succulent fruit before taking small bites of the chewy and savory strips of dried meat. He sighed and looked up at the ceiling from which the glowvines provided their dim light, wondering if it was even alright for him to be comfortable like this.


    It was not. He needed to get stronger. If he could not get stronger, he could at least become adept enough to survive. Currently, he was neither of the two. Even the lowliest of creatures that could provide him with sustenance here in the Great Wood were apparently skilled enough in their detection skills to immediately sense the presence of one seizing control of their surrounding ambient.


    When he finished his meal, he began searching again, this time for another purpose. He needed a room where he could practice again. Any room large enough to facilitate his full area of direct control would suffice; however, while most of the rooms and side caves he found were neither cramped nor low, they were not often wide.


    Eventually, he found a shaft leading down. He felt like an intruder in someone else''s home, but in fact, he was more like a pet, he simply did not want to admit that. He began descending down into the shaft, for the first time grateful for the uneven floor, which made it impossible to lose one¡¯s footing to sliding.


    Soon, the glowvines started to become sparse, and sooner still, they lost their dull luster completely. Rane flared his area of direct control in order to sense his footing instead of seeing it, and continued on.


    He walked down, down, and still down. He must have walked down for nearly a half an hour. Just as he considered turning back, he felt at the edge of his area of direct control that the tunnel opened up, and he continued forward.


    He heard the echoing drips of water falling into another still body, and soon took a step that submerged him in water to his knee. He could not sense the other side of the room, and so he continued forward sensing some semblance of a path beneath the waters of this strange cistern. The path took him around and about, and he was now unsure as to exactly the direction of the exit. He could simply follow the path back. Eventually, the path took him back above the water, and onto smooth stone.


    It was pitch dark, but from what he could see with ambient, he was on a small stone section about 15 yards across, though it was uneven and not perfectly round. He could not sense any of the walls from this platform, though he could feel that there were some rocks that stood above the waters as if they had been rent from the ceiling of the cavern.


    In the center of the platform, there was a large mat made from furs. He had not sensed it so much as simply felt it when he stepped on it. Rane removed his boots and knelt on the mat, breathing deeply and trying to clear his mind of the gravity of his situation.


    He focused on the comfortable sensation of the mat under his knees and feet.


    He focused on the drips of water from stalactites into the pool below.


    He focused on the silence between the drips, letting it clear his mind.

 Chapter 30 - Posh Prison Walls

    He didn¡¯t know how much time had passed. He heard only the drips of condensed water into the still pool of water below. He saw nothing in the perfect night which covered his world. He touched only his knees on the coarse fur of the mat beneath him.


    He felt everything.


    Rane was close to a breakthrough; that, he was sure of. He thought during his time floating down the river that he may need to rethink his vision of what it meant to be ¡®in control¡¯ of the ambient around him.


    A river did not need to follow any specific pattern in order to sweep him away, so why should he need to specifically circulate his.


    Well, for one, he was not a river, and it most certainly made things easier. He did not think that it would be possible for one to begin to get a grasp on ambient control without first focusing on making the state of the natural ambient predictable.


    The leaf in the stream was not carried away because it was held specifically. It was carried away because all of the water in the stream belonged to its bed, flowing forever downhill.


    Rane breathed deeply in and out through his nose. His area of direct control had actually grown slightly since his meditation began. How long that had been, he did not know. It could not have been too long, as he was not hungry again yet. This place was strange, though. It was so easy to focus here.


    Rane exhaled and began his next attempt. With his eyes open in the dark, he could feel several small rocks at the bottom of the pool that surrounded him. He would try to bring them to the surface without changing the natural flow of ambient within the chamber.


    First, he had to focus on that flow, though, even calling it a flow was a bit of a stretch. Most ambient was still, only drifting around ever so slightly, like smoke in a room with no open doors. People made ambient move around themselves, and so ambient in cities had a bit of flow. Ambient in the wilds was generally quite stagnant in comparison. In a small and now irrelevant discovery, Rane assumed this was likely the reason that their breakthrough to classient needed to be in isolation.


    But that did not matter at the moment. He could not allow himself to be distracted by the particular workings of the world at large when his real focus should be centered on himself as the center of everything.


    He could feel the stone rising through the water. It was he that was doing it. Normally, the stones would be moving swiftly in an orbit around himself, or if not that, spinning on an axis of its own. He was only working with one stone at the moment. Any more would have seen the collapse of his efforts and concentration. And yet, the stone rose, as if the water itself were lifting it upwards. It did not remain completely rigid in its position, either. It tumbled a bit on its own as the water around it pushed on its uneven surface.


    Then, finally, the stone broke the surface of the water. The ambient surrounding had not been disturbed at all. And yet, this was the first step. It was one stone, slowly lifted out of the water. It was not something that would be useful to him for more than pulling a prank on someone.


    He needed more speed, more precision, and finally, control over more items.


    *****


    Eventually, Rane got hungry, and would need to find a place to use the restroom. He walked back up the path from the deep cistern with a satisfied expression. Now, he may be able to kill a buck rabbit.


    Fortunately, he would not have to put this to the test.


    Oddly enough, he was¡­ Safe? He was not sure that the creature that had brought him to its lair was something on which he could rely; however, there was no reason to assume that he would be butchered by the being. It appeared to be omnivorous, and to some degree, civilized.


    He made it to the top of the stairwell, and shivered a bit. There was a bit of a draft. He tilted his head. He could hear a rasping breath falling and rising. It would appear that the creature had returned from its task of pride. Perhaps it would tell him what happened.


    This tale has been unlawfully obtained from Royal Road. If you discover it on Amazon, kindly report it.


    It wasn¡¯t difficult to find, placing itself in one of the larger chambers in the central area of the caves; however, the sight that greeted him was not exactly what he expected.


    The creature was sprawled out on the uneven floor, staining some of its protrusions with blood that dripped from just a few gaping wounds. The amount of blood did not at all match the size of the wounds; of course such a creature would not allow itself to bleed out. Even now, Rane was watching in real time as its flesh seemed to knit itself back together at the edges, leaving behind a thin line of hairless skin where the wound had been. Rane traced the line up, up, and around.


    He reconsidered. Perhaps he did not want to know what had happened. It was possible that the vile abomination that had ended his division had also beaten this creature as well. Maybe it had just survived. It was at the very least strong enough to do that.


    As if sensing his doubt and fears, the creature turned and locked eyes with Rane, and his mind was branded with a single scene.


    He saw the creature before him standing tall, letting out a roar that seemed as if it were going to topple trees. There were no trees left to topple though. The wound that Rane saw in the cave was still fresh, and began from the creature¡¯s hip and winded up and around its arm nearly to its neck. Blood poured from the wound in spurts that slowed by each moment.


    Below the creature¡­ no, below the Great Wood Guardian, Rane had decided to call him, lay the other monster. Its two front legs were severed completely and one of its back legs was bent at an odd angle, twitching, but not showing any signs of the real recovery all such monsters possessed.


    The elongated seltient claws of the Guardian rose into the air and fell like the blade of the executioner, severing the misshapen lump of flesh that resembled a rider from the back of its equine portion. Yet it did not end there.


    The Guardian raised its claws again, and they fell again, and again, and again, until the monster that had killed them was little more than an unrecognizable mass of flesh.


    The scene ended, but Rane¡¯s vision was still blurred. He reached up to wipe his eyes, his sleeve coming back moist from the tears that had welled up as the scene played to him.


    His mind raced. It seemed impossible. It was incomprehensible. A monster had died. A horrifying abomination that had killed nearly everyone he cared about, and that had blocked his return.  A being that was absolute in the world had died. For now, Rane was unconcerned about the creature which had done the deed. He could only think about what this meant for himself. Could I go back now?


    No, he could not. He was still not strong enough to survive a brush with the strange, camouflaged serpent, and he likely still would be unable to hunt for his own prey in the woods. No, he could not go back. He wasn¡¯t even strong enough to fend for himself long enough to get home. At his best guess, he was a month''s journey from Kelston, and that¡¯s if he had a straight shot without getting lost, which he already was.


    His tears had nearly already dried on his cheeks as it occurred to him that his friends had been avenged. He hoped that they could find some solace in that. For himself, he could not find that same peace. They were dead; he was alive, and he was unsure if that was what he deserved. He knew that the world was not fair, but that did not stop him from thinking so. Something was different now, though.


    Before, he had not even entertained the notion that vengeance was a thing that was possible. Now, it had been done, and actually, he had been a critical part of setting it in motion. Even monsters could die.


    Of course, anything could die, but seeing it happen was another thing altogether. Something he had witnessed and considered to be the peak of power had simply died at the hands of another such creature, the Guardian. It made them feel almost mortal. Almost.


    He was not ready for such a thing.


    To the Guardian, he opened his mind and bit and did his best to transfer his sense of gratitude.


    It acknowledged his gratitude, but nothing else.


    Rane went about his mundane tasks.


    He would pursue the same goal as before: strength.


    *****


    Rane found himself again in the depths of the cave, listening to the water drop into the waters of the cistern. The Guardian did not seem interested in anything other than sleeping and occasionally making trips to its storeroom. Apparently, even monsters could feel fatigue. He shuddered as he wondered what the actual clash would have been like. He had only been shown the ending.


    Rane focused, slowing his heart rate, and feeling for the ambient surrounding him. This time, he picked up three stones, lifting them from the water simultaneously, and allowing them to tumble as they floated above the water at an odd angle.


    Then, with a sudden wish, the stones were thrown back into the water at a speed that created splashes that reached the ceiling of the cistern. He needed to be stronger still.


    Without sufficient strength, he was trapped exactly where he was, with the Guardian. Things could have been much, much worse for him; however, without more strength, this was nothing more than a prison. A bit posh, but a prison nonetheless.

 Chapter 31 - Baby Steps

    Rain flinched as the end of his step ended with a crunch of snow. When he was fully recovered, he had made his way out of the lair of the Guardian. He had a goal. He needed to be able to feed himself.


    To that end, he roamed the mountainous terrain in search of a few different small animals. Some, he had known; others, the Guardian had shown him in his mind, complete with some of their habits and natural tendencies towards hiding spots.


    Attached to the loops on his belt and back were a simple set of sharpened sticks. He had lost most of his combat blades in what seemed a long while ago. He still had the smaller hunting knife, which would still do in a pinch, but not significantly better.


    Besides, anything Rane encountered on this day that could not be killed with sharp sticks would more likely be hunting Rane than the other way around.


    He shook his head and focused around himself. He was not moving the surrounding ambient at all, and yet, he could control it still. It was a strange sensation. How could one be in control of a river without ever redirecting its flow? Apparently, the answer had been time, power, mastery, skill, and ultimately, the mental acceptance that he did not actually have to redirect anything in order for it to work.


    It was such a strange concept to him that he was sure that, despite some of his original thoughts on his training, he could have never learned to work with ambient this way from the start. There were steps that must be taken. He wondered also what other steps existed. It was equal parts fascinating and frustrating.


    He felt out across his area of direct control, looking for anything, tracks, burrows, or even droppings, any sign that something edible was in the area. Eventually, he found his sign.


    There were some droppings near the base of one of the threadbare trees that grew on this section of the mountain. From the rising steam, he knew that they were still warm. It had to be close.


    He quickly located its tracks, and began his task, thinking it ironic that something so mundane could be so difficult when outside of the civilization of The Empire.


    He leapt from bare rock to crunching snow, trying to make as little noise as possible, but not always succeeding. It only mattered that he did not startle the creature from far away. A forest was rarely silent. On this morning in particular, he could hear some strange birds making noises that sounded as if they were choking on their own long throats, and heard the chittering of a few rodent creatures that made no lack of noise as they sailed from treetop to treetop as if they could truly fly. At most, it could be described as falling with style.


    His boot stamped through a small layer of snow with a muted poof, and he sensed it at the edge of his control. It was a buck rabbit. Rane¡¯s mouth may have started watering if it hadn¡¯t been so dry. He had lost his waterskin, and found that such items were actually much more complex to make than he would have thought.


    Rane crept closer, not moving a single iota of ambient out of place as he moved, getting close enough to where his aura could be surrounding the small animal.


    When he deemed himself close enough, he lowered his head in concentration and steadied his breathing. He felt the bodies of three trees, one of which shielded him from the view of the buck rabbit. He felt the dried leaves from the last fall season layered over the rocky soil of the mountain, giving it many shades of brown and black on top of its gray surface. He felt a few insects crawling through the mildewing debris, though slowed as they were by the morning chill. Unauthorized content usage: if you discover this narrative on Amazon, report the violation.


    He felt the loose stones that covered the ground, and began his deadly task as the ambient noise of the woods around him continued. One, two, three stones, all behind the rabbit and outside of its massive field of vision began to rise, tumbling slightly as they shifted into the air, as if unwilling to go against their immobile nature.


    The stones began to tumble with more speed. Then, with a near imperceptible shift, one of the stones shot forward towards the small creature, which to no surprise, twitched an ear and shifted its body, avoiding having the projectile strike at the base of its skull, instead hitting it in the shoulder.


    It let out a shrill cry, but as it tried to bound away, the second and third projectile had already begun moving forward with great pace, one striking an antler, the other finding purchase in its eye, penetrating deeply and killing the creature instantly.


    It was all Rane could do not to leap into the air and shout. He did not, though. This success had only proven him to be a strong enough predator to hunt the weakest of prey in the forest. With a shudder, he thought of the strange serpent that chased him here. In the grand scheme of things, there were much greater predators.


    And The Guardian would do nothing to cull them, either. They were of no threat to his rule, and simply a part of the ecosystem here in the Great Wood. Perhaps the creature viewed some of them as delicacies.


    It was a sobering thought, that a creature from which Rane could only run and hide could be viewed as no more than an exquisite meal by something.


    Nevertheless, Rane was ready now. With this skill mastered, though he would not blaze a trail through the Great Wood and back home, he could slowly navigate a long way around back into the territory of The Empire. Back home.


    Rane walked forward, slightly less caring about his footfalls now that the buck rabbit would no longer be hearing them. As long as he did nothing foolish, he should not attract any unwanted attention. He bent down to pick up the creature by one of its antlers. It was already producing a pungent scent of blood and viscera. He would need to make his way back to the lair of The Guardian soon to skin and clean it.


    He retraced his steps, only walking for a little under a half hour before arriving back to be a guest in the strange cave. It did not seem that his host was here currently, but Rane could never really be certain. It had shown no proclivities for hiding, but it seemed unwise to assume that it could not do it.


    Rane found a spot to sit near the storeroom and got to work. He had some skins and a small basin of water to assist with his cleaning, but this close to the storeroom, he did not think that the smell of entrails would change much about the odor of the place.


    He dug his knife first into the neck of the creature, drawing a circle around its head to begin flaying its pelt away from its flesh. The knife was a bit dull, and Rane remembered something from what seemed like a lifetime ago, when he was sparring against Bask in what proved to be fatal, despite their dulled weapons.


    Rane focused, took a breath, and pulled from the memory of what he had done. He knew what made something sharp. It was not a difficult concept. The thinner something is at its edge, the sharper it is, and so he focused on that concept, willing his blade to take on those qualities, then continued his task with less difficulty than before, tracing down its sternum and stomach, careful not to press too deeply into the guts.


    Intestines and other organs bulged from the opening, which he widened before reaching in to pull them out of the small creature, carefully cutting them away before discarding them on one of the skins to his side.


    He traced down each leg, and then circled each of them with the blade as well, then got to work on peeling away the pelt.


    Soon, he was finished, looking at what no longer looked like a rabbit, but more like what one would see in a butcher''s shop. His hands were bloodied and despite his previous thoughts, the smell was definitely worse than before. He would need to clean up a bit more thoroughly. He did not know if The Guardian had a sensitive nose, but it would likely be impolite to wait around and find out.


    Now, how would he cook this small bounty? He thought of his mother briefly, but banished the thought. He could not dwell on something that would diminish his mental clarity. She would think him dead; he knew this. He simply hoped that she would still be there for him when he found his way back, for what greater horror could there be than returning from a journey of a thousand miles to find that you have lost your home.

 Chapter 32 - Departure

    Long gone was the stench of squelching entrails. Now, a salty, gamey smell permeated the smooth ribs of the cave walls, making Rane¡¯s mouth water. It seemed like such a mundane thing, the scent of seared game, but it only now occurred to him. I am not sure when was the last time I had a fully prepared meal. The dried fruits and meats of The Guardian¡¯s storeroom had been the closest thing he had to a civilized meal.


    Rane turned the buck rabbit over his makeshift spit, watching in apprehension as the meat began to sear and blister, dripping fatty residue that caught light in the flames below, causing the fire to flicker and pop at irregular intervals. After a while, the dripping slowed, and the blisters turned to dark browns and blacks, leaving a layer of crust on the meat that would provide a distinct flavor to his meal.


    Rane smothered the flames by laying a wet skin on his bed of coals, tapping a few times to leave nothing but smoldering remains. It was still hot enough to provide a bit of warmth as he leaned forward with his knife, carefully cutting a strip of meat away from the hindquarters.


    He placed it in his mouth without blowing on it or waiting for it to cool down. Rane came close to spitting the foreign object out reflexively; however, the taste permeated what seemed like his entire body, giving him a sense of relaxation so smooth that he paid attention to little else, not even noticing The Guardian noiselessly approach.


    Their eyes locked, and for a moment, Rane felt like a child that had been caught with his hands in the jelly jar. This made little sense, as he was eating meat that he had killed and prepared by himself, but the feeling remained. It was just a feeling of constant worry, that perhaps there was something he was doing wrong. Who knew what such a strange creature would consider a slight. Well, I don¡¯t think I even meet the criteria to offend.


    In an odd way, this was the first time he could be happy that he wasn¡¯t stronger. In the eyes of The Guardian, he may as well be a kitten, or some small shrew. Were he a tiger or badger, maybe their relationship would be more strained. As things stood, though, he was the shrew, a non-threat. The worst thing he could do to the thing, even if he were trying his best to kill it would likely amount to little more than annoyance.


    But it grated at his mind. No matter how much the tamer assures that his bear only eats berries and fish, one would still not find a hare willing to spend the night in its bed. It felt like living underneath a cliff held in place by twigs. Even when it spoke, Rane got the sense that it was being gentle. Could it kill him with a mere thought?


    Rane shook his head. He couldn¡¯t dodge this issue further. He waved his hand, trying to get the attention of The Guardian. The creature quickly returned his attention, and Rane felt a tickle in his skull as it directed the feeling of a question at him.


    Rane took a breath as he tried to compose his thoughts into their most coherent form. The last thing he wanted was a misunderstanding with a seltient class monster that had a mind above his own comprehension. He exhaled and began to portray his question.


    He imagined himself leaving the lair with a sense of apprehensive freedom, walking on quickly until he faded into the distance. He imagined himself in a few different situations throughout the forest, mostly hiding, then finally, he sent his final message, an image of Auryck, as he remembered it when he marched away years ago. He poured into the final image a sense of strong comfort, the comfort of sleeping in the same safe location over and over. Home.


    The Guardian responded. It sent images of its own lair and of its perch high on the mountain. Home wasn¡¯t the same for The Guardian. This cave was not safe due to location or shelter from the weather. It was safe because The Guardian lived there. It viewed home as a fundamentally different concept. Its home was likely this entire section of the Kelston Great Wood. This story originates from Royal Road. Ensure the author gets the support they deserve by reading it there.


    It then sent a feeling that made Rane incredibly uncomfortable, disagreement. It countered with a suggestion of its own. Of Rane staying here through the changing of seasons. Eventually, the Rane in the visions began to venture out with greater regularity, and was growing larger. After countless cycles of green to red to brown to dead and back around to green again, a vision of Rane that was nearly too tall to stand in the cave challenged and killed the serpent with ease, like a farmer would dispatch a stalk viper with the end of his hoe.


    Panic started to rise in Rane. This was not a bad deal, but did it mean that The Guardian would not allow him to leave? There was nothing to do but for Rane to stand his ground.


    Rane conveyed gratitude and confusion, but insisted on his departure.


    The Guardian grew silent, shutting its mind off from Rane. The last thing he felt was a small tinge of solitude from the creature.


    The cave felt smaller suddenly, and more silent. He could hear himself breathing, and could feel his heart pounding. A sharp draft caressed some exposed skin and Rane shivered immediately, glancing down at the buck rabbit that he had barely touched.


    He scooted forward, trying to make as little noise as possible, and began to pull strips away, eating slowly and carefully, leaving his mouth closed and keeping as still as possible.


    Could this be why noble etiquette is so demanding? Because most of their family tables hold a creature comparable to The Guardian at their head? Such a thing certainly made Rane consider his table manners. Such small actions seemed to grow in importance when the thought that doing something uncouth could draw the ire of a monster.


    The Guardian opened its eyes and mind again, making Rane fall backwards as he saw what it wished him to see.


    Rane left the cave and set out through the forest. A vision flashed past, of what seemed like a sea of countless trees, and Rane thought briefly that it could be a top down view of the forest. The vision of Rane continued through the forest, blazing a path that brought him deeper and slightly higher until eventually, the Great Wood became something of a Great Plain, and the vision of Rane turned here, and followed it to its conclusion.


    Was this the way he had to leave the forest? But the creature was not finished speaking with him.


    Rane saw branching paths, and the vision of himself began to explore those paths. Some flashed with the anger and resentment of The Guardian; others brought feelings of contentment and joy.


    In one path, a vision of Rane slipped and slid down a mountainside, lying broken at the bottom. In another path, he was surrounded by axtls, his body dismembered before he could fully die. In another, Rane looked out towards a broad wall of trees and stepped forward into them. He walked along rivers, he leaped through trees, he died to axtls and elves and monsters that he had never seen before but The Guardian surely had.


    Rane did not recognize all of the paths, but the paths that The Guardian associated with positively all tended to end up at the same place: back at his lair, or, with even greater joy, at the peak of the mountain.


    Rane thought for a moment, trying to discern what it was that the creature was trying to convey to him. It was a condition, or maybe a set of conditions. Regardless, it seemed that the creature had agreed to compromise, and it wanted something simple.


    It wished for Rane to come back one day, hopefully stronger, and stand with it atop the mountain.


    Rane expressed the deepest sense of gratitude that he could muster, and then imagined himself back in the spot he found himself in now, taller, stronger, and more sure of himself. He imagined he and The Guardian leaping from rock to rocky outcrops, snow growing heavier and heavier as they increased elevation. In Rane¡¯s world, the peak of the mountain was a blurry place, for he had only ever been there in the visions of The Guardian, and the creature clearly saw the world not just more sharply, but also somehow completely differently. Nonetheless, he continued his vision, where he departed from the mountaintop, but did not end it there.


    Rane imagined himself going back again and again as he grew in age and power, each time journeying to the mountaintop with The Guardian. Finally, Rane revealed his final ambition. He imagined himself and The Guardian leaping from the mountaintop together, both exuding the raw strength of seltience, and blazing a trail through the Great Wood in a glorious hunt.


    He did not know whether The Guardian would take him seriously or not, but his goal had been clear from the start. He needed to be stronger. Strong enough to hunt monsters.

 Chapter 33 - Nyallas Resolve

    Nyalla deftly moved the needle in and out in what seemed like an unending task. It would be a wool cloak stuffed with feathers for warmth. Not the incredibly soft down of the underbelly of waterfowl, but simply the feathers of plucked chickens. Such luxury was hardly noticeable under a layer of wool anyways.


    She moved the material with a skill that showed her many years of experience as a seamstress. Soon, the task which had seemed unending would reveal its path to completion. Nyalla breathed deeply, feeling the ambient around her and in the fibers of the material, holding it all together as she moved the needle so quickly that it was lost in the many folds of the cloth that would come together to make this cloak.


    Nyalla¡¯s stomach growled. Rationing had come more swiftly than anyone had anticipated. The Southern Coalition had abandoned its pretence of being uninvolved, and had moved forces into an open occupation of Empire territory.


    Still, this didn¡¯t explain how sudden and severe the food situation had become. Staal, among many others, had gone to a plaza to demand answers, or at very minimum, try to find solutions. Some within the city could trap and hunt in the surrounding wood, which would not satiate in population, but would serve at least to boost morale. Doing nothing as people become more desperate would be a recipe for disaster. Nyalla knew this, as did Staal.


    He promised he would be safe, and she believed him. She had to believe him. She didn¡¯t know what she would do if she were to lose another column from her life. Another, and she would surely crumble and break.


    And so she did as she always had done. She put down her head and went back to work, deftly continuing her task. Her hands moved in and out with the needle as the material flipped back and forth, seeming to flutter as if the cloth were a grounded bird struggling to leave the surface of the Earth.


    Ingrained in her tasks, she could be at peace. She had done this for a long, long time, so this could even be considered a meditative state for her. She could feel the cloth in her hands, the cloth covering her own body, and a meager area around herself that would allow her to know when someone entered the room. This was enough for her; it always had been.


    Some pushed and trained and strove for the ambient to grant them power. For Nyalla though, she was like most. Ambient was no path to power, only another tool by which the world functioned, like how a water wheel may seize the power of a river.


    And the cloak continued to come together, nearing its completion. Its outer layer was a subdued gray. Its inner layer was a deep black that hid the many pockets sewn in the folds of material within material. Men loved to carry things, Nyalla knew. Rane never had enough pockets, and would return home with pants full of rocks, bugs, and sticks. In many cases, his hands would also be full.


    As he got older, that became a bit of a problem, as his hands sometimes became full of things that were not his own. Her thoughts drifted, and her concentration waned.


    The pain of a needle in her palm pierced the fabric of her daydream and revealed before her a man with a look of pain in his eyes. His pain was not of the physical kind. She feared that soon, neither would hers.


    ¡°M-miss Nyalla?¡± he stammered, clearly unsure of how to continue.


    She stared at him with a hollow look that betrayed her experience hearing some version of this. She knew the man, somewhat. His name was Nedhaam, and he was a friend of Staal¡¯s. You might be reading a pirated copy. Look for the official release to support the author.


    ¡°Soldiers dispersed the assembly. Staal didn¡¯t do nothing wrong, and they just cut him down. They¡¯ve declared martial law in the city, and we saw fires from the city center. Its not safe¡­ If you would, you can stay with my wife and-¡±


    ¡°No. Leave me be.¡±


    ¡°But the guard will-¡±


    ¡°LEAVE.¡± Nyalla¡¯s voice penetrated the air and shook the thin walls of their humble home. Dust fell from the eaves that stored their few excess belongings.


    Her tears did not betray her until Nedhaam closed the door behind him. After that, she did not think about time for a good long while.


    *****


    ¡°Open up, on authority of Lord Luca Aethulwulf Matich Auryck. Nyalla, spouse of Staal, is being arrested on charges of treason and conspiracy to create a coup!¡± shouted the soldier leading the group of four guards.


    ¡°She¡¯s long gone,¡± said another shorter guard behind him. ¡°The neighbors said that they aint heard nothing from this place since the night of the attack, and that was near a week ago.¡±


    ¡°Do you feel anything, Quin?¡± the guard at the front asked.


    ¡°No, should be an empty house. Lets just do our job,¡± he said as he stepped forward, brushing past his superior and bringing his boot up with a kick that splintered the door and left it hanging by a singular, curiously well made hinge that had replaced one of the originals.


    They flowed into the shack one by one, through the broken door, each taking a slightly different angle in a practiced fashion as they began to search the place, dumping boxes, opening cabinets, and smashing pottery that may be hiding any secrets.


    Quin went into a small room beside the main bedroom and came to a sudden halt. There was someone here. How had he not sensed them. They were draped with a grey cloak. In the dust around them he caught the smallest glimmers of light reflecting off of objects too small for him to make out in the candlelight. The cloak was of the deepest black on the inside, giving a sense that, in the dim light, there was nothing within. He still sensed nothing, which seemed to confirm his fear.


    ¡°Capta-¡± he attempted to cry out when he found himself unable to speak as one of the glimmering objects had darted forward without warning nor shift in the ambient. They were needles, he realized as another shot forward, ending his thoughts.


    *****


    Nyalla stepped out of the house wearing the cloak that she had made for Staal. It was a bit too big for her, but she had adjusted it as best as she could.


    The loudest part of the incursion of guardsmen had been the kicking of the door. It was actually surprising how easy it was to escape their clutches. She shuddered to think what would have happened to her if they had.


    But they had not. Each of their necks now quite resembled the small cushions that she used to store her needles safely in.


    Nyalla began to walk towards the nearest gate. There was nothing left for her here, and she had made up her mind. She thought that she would wither away, but she had not. They had taken Winz, then they took Rane. Now, finally, they had taken Staal, and it occurred to her that it would be the greatest insult if they were allowed to take her also. She would not allow it.


    *****


    Back in the mess of Nyalla¡¯s home, a soldier lay dead, still holding something in his hand. It was a small notebook filled with the loose scrawlings of a woman. Lists, dimensions for garments, and occasionally, poetry. It was open to its last entered page.


    You were like him to the end


    Kind and thoughtful


    With a heart waiting to be filled


    You were like him to the end


    Brave and adventurous


    Lacking the strength to be so


    Yet, perhaps you were like me too


    For I have not yet broken


    Though I have bent.