Chapters here on will be edited in due time (slowly..)

4. Stepping up

Ray Edson was facing a crisis of unprecedented levels. It was a first for him. He was stuck and his usual measure proved no help. All his life he had made through by just moving forward. He had determination, he had a strong will and he produced results. Invariably. Consistently. Efficiently. He just had one thing on his mind, to move forward. And he was spectacular at that. He had good scores in academics and a fine performance at sports. He was good at everything and it was not because he was a prodigy, it was because of his diligence. Irrespective of the circumstances, he chose to move forward. With every fiber of his being, every moment of his thought.

Yes, he was a very forward-minded person. He felt elated when his new mentor had assigned the present task. To move forward. It was the very essence of his life.

Yet, he was stuck. In fact, he was being dragged back. He willed the entirety of his determination, with every fiber of his being, to move forward. But it failed. It had never done so.

This was an existential crisis. If he could just move forward, everything would be straightforward. Turning back meant complicating things. Ray was in deep thought.

He looked down. There were bracelets on his wrist and anklets on his ankle. Then there were elbow guards, spaulders, chest plate, knee guards. All thin plates of metal. Enchanted to increase weight. He was about twice his weight now, but his physique remarkably endured. Next was the tougher part. He was waist deep in water, downstream of a brook that flowed down the hill. The flow was smooth yet brisk, and the ground was firm but sloping. He had been ordered to climb upstream until he could reach the top.

“You are doing this wrong,” Arthur said. The knight was observing as Ray struggled upstream, taking a step forward and being pushed two steps back. It was funny but Arthur had lost most of his sense of humor during his own training. Instead, he chose to lecture his pupil, “You are going against your weight, letting it drag you back. You cannot win against your weight. Do not fight it, use it. Do not drag it, rely on it. It is not a burden, it is your weight.”

Those were some difficult words. They might have carried some deep universal truth but Ray found them to be obscure. “Can you please put it in simple words, master?” He had taken to calling Arthur as master, in an appropriate display of respect that Arthur approved.

“I am telling you to stop stubbornly pushing forward. Your center of balance is too low, it will prevent your fall but you will never move forward that way. Lean upon your weight, let it pull you forward while you focus on balance.”

Ray nodded his head, those words made more sense. It was the first time he had been told that he didn’t need to push forward, something would pull him. He only needed to maintain balance. Now he just had to figure out how to make his weight pull him.

Regardless of push or pull, he would eventually move forward. The existential crisis was resolved.

Ray took a deep breath of relief as he observed the surrounding forest. It was green and filled with trees and grass. Pretty much normal. The soil was friable with a reddish tinge. A layer of humus spread about unevenly. The terrain turned rocky as it ascended. The forest was peaceful in these parts, with fewer animals and monsters. There were mostly rabbits and squirrels, but also monkeys and wild buffaloes. Lizards and insects roamed freely.

This part of the forest was closer to the castle, starting about fifty kilometers off south. The distance was by no means something to scoff at, not unless you rode a Fulgur. They did. The Fulgurs were supposed to be horses, half-bred with some primitive monsters long time ago. They looked mostly like horses and ran mostly like monsters. The entire distance was a leisurely two hours stretch for them. Ray would have fainted if not for the timely breaks and the enchanted saddles.

Ray whisked away the dreadful memory and turned his attention back to the surroundings. The vegetation was more pastoral and thickets were spaced, probably because of logging and human activities. It was a good spot for training, open and peaceful. The others were here too.

Claire sat further south in the forest, meditating. Upon a smooth, grassy depression overshadowed by trees and hidden by rocks. A small lake resided nearby, providing bathing space for animals. Some lizards crept around her, wading through the leaves in search of prey. Claire did not mind, as long as there weren’t any snakes. Claire did mind because she did not want to sit like a statue, eyes shut and breath calm. She didn’t want yoga classes. She wanted to go out there and fight, hunt and slay monsters, use magic, live adventures. After the humiliation this morning however, she had no right to object.

Hunt five slimes, they had been told. Claire was enthusiastic over finally getting a chance. Slimes were low-level monsters and after a week of training, they could easily hunt a few. Wrong.

Slimes were disgusting and resilient, like cockroaches.

They scouted to find a group of slimes hovering over a carcass. The dead body was deformed beyond recognition, flesh turned black, skin inexistent. Slimes surrounded it, their nasty pseudopods smothering and sucking out of it. Their bodies were turbid green, fluctuating with light into amorphous colloidal masses with rotten residues. The stink was mild, but the sight itself felt nauseous. Sylvia almost retched.

Ray drew his sword and swept in, intending to slash the monsters in half. The motion caught one of the slimes and the sword dug, like knife in jelly, piercing the blob. The slash did not part it however, as the slime reformed the defect while the sword was impeded by its mass. Ray pulled out the sword with little difficulty and repeated the attack, to no effect.

The other slimes were alarmed and began a slow retreat. Claire darted soon after, her kick assaulting the one farthest. It deformed the slime and then plunged in. It felt like wading through a blob of cheese, a repulsive, green, gooey one. She frowned in disgust as the slime reformed, retracting her foot.

Physical trauma could not kill them. Sylvia had reached the same conclusion and she ignited a fireball that shot into a slime. There was a subdued screech, like a lament, as the fire assaulted the slime. The slime reacted fast, expelling the charred segment that fell down on the grass, dissolving in noxious fumes and viscid fluids. Fire had an effect.

“Burn the whole of its body,” Claire suggested.

But Sylvia shook her head, “This is a forest, if I create a large flame we might have a forest fire on our hands. I don’t think I can just extinguish my magic if the grass catches flames.”

Meanwhile Ray dug through the slimes again, trying to stab its heart, if it had one. The slime’s body impeded the sword and piercing strikes turned to slow thrusts. Slicing away at their pseudopods didn’t work either. They would either reclaim the lost part, or it would melt away without harm. If he continued this, he would have to scrap them bit by bit until they were small. He pummeled another slime with force and parts of it splattered on impact.

“Eeek!” Sylvia shrieked as some of the splattered goo landed on her.

“Ray, stop that.” Claire brushed away the gooey fluid off her shoulders as it melted.

Ray scuttled back and joined them. “What do we do?” he asked, not sure how they were supposed to hunt slimes.

“There has got to be a core somewhere, something that controls the body,” Sylvia remarked.

“I stabbed their body many times, hoping to hit the heart, but it doesn’t work,” Ray added. The slimes were now gathering in the distance, preparing to escape. They were surprisingly passive for monsters.

“Why don’t you use other forms of magic,” Claire asked as she darted off to hit the slimes back, cutting their retreat.

“I tried wind, it doesn’t work. I don’t know earth magic well enough to crush or confine them. Lightning will work just like fire, carrying the same risks. And water, well it would be stupid to use water.”

“Then think up something, find the core or whatever, you’re the smartest after all,” Claire told Sylvia.

Sylvia deliberated for a long time while Claire and Ray circled the slimes, refusing to lose the catch they had but could not kill. Sylvia hit them with every elemental magic she knew, fire, earth, water, wind, lightning, yin. They would cause a small damage and a part would fall off, melting and evaporating. Water jets did no damage at all. She tried to restrain the slimes using shackles of yin but they spilled over it. She observed as all efforts just scraped off parts of slime, unable to kill them. At this rate, it would be evening before they could actually kill even one with sheer force.

She debated using a large scale fire, she was capable but her control was not good. She watched again as Ray split another pseudopodia that melted. Then it clicked; they melted, they were semi-solid. The states of matter.

She fired up her mana and thought up a strong image, an image of ice, chilled, frozen, solid. She shot it at the nearest slime and it froze all over, engulfed in ice. The other slimes jerked at the sight, visibly afraid. The frozen slime stood rooted for a moment, and then she saw them, extruding from the base, with a small part of the body.

The cores, the one thing the slime had tried to save after being frozen. They had been before her eyes the entire time, how stupid! They had been eyes!

“The eyes!” Sylvia shouted, “The eyes are the cores!”

That broke the deadlock, suddenly the slimes turned aggressive, sensing the threat. They tried to smack their pseudopods at Ray, trying to secure escape while fighting. But Ray was fast, and he knew what to do. He skipped and his sword found its way into an eye, the small black orb shattered on impact. He turned slightly, drawing the sword back and using the force to stab the second eye. The slime shivered, then doubled over like a limp body, finally melting away.

A lightning bolt tore through the air, striking the eye of another slime. Then a fireball scorched the second. Sylvia aimed at slimes in succession. She stood at close range so the shots didn’t miss. Claire pulled out her daggers and dove in with speed, stabbing and slashing at pairs of eyes. Killing a second slime before the first could melt.

In minutes, there stood a viscid swamp of slime remains, bubbling over and seeping out. There was no blood but the ground was stained dark. They stood beside the scene, glistening with sweat and grime. What seemed like a lofty achievement was actually more of ridiculous effort.

They had taken hours just to get rid of petty slimes, the lowest of monsters. Realization dawned upon them as they made their way back.

“So? How do you feel?” Diana had asked them when they returned to the lake. A spare set of clothes and some self-reflection awaited them.

“Ugh, that was humiliating,” Claire replied dejectedly.

Diana nodded at that, satisfied. “You are not weak,” she said sternly, “but yes, you are unprepared. And it is my job to change that, so don’t worry.”

Claire perked up at those words, “I will do that.”

Her friends had also received their respective lecturing and recovered some self-esteem. This was a lesson. It taught them where they stood. Even at their worst they could always kill slimes. At their best… well, that’s where they needed to be.

“Alright then, let’s begin your training.” Diana said.

And here she was. After so much excitement over Diana’s words. Sitting like a stoic monk meditating under a tree, ready for birds to perch on her shoulders.

Diana smacked her head lightly with a stray branch. “Focus,” she said.

“I am trying,” Claire rubbed the spot with her hands and went back to meditation, “Empty your mind, empty your heart,” she stressed her temples.

Another smack hit her head.

“What now?” she cried irritatingly.

“What is that you are chanting, empty mind, empty heart?”

“It is a secret mantra for focus in my world.”

“Useless.”

“Huh?” Claire looked with pitying surprise at the woman who had just decried a thousand years of wisdom.

“What I want you to do Claire is to listen, I want you to hear, to understand, to experience. To feel the world around you. You can never understand it with an empty mind, and never feel it with an empty heart. I am not training an ascetic, I am training a hero.”

Oh, that made sense. It was insulting to age old wisdom, but it looked acceptable. Unconventional, or may be the conventions were different in this world.

So Claire did as told, closed her eyes and instead of emptying her mind filled it with the ruckus around her. A veritable bedlam of noises gushed in. Gibberish and nonsense. Claire frowned.

“Then make a sense of it,” Diana replied to her mental question.

Claire acquiesced, trying to dissect the noises into voices. It didn’t work so well but as she kept listening, the noises stratified. Some were repetitive, some incidental. Some were rhythmic, some sporadic. She felt the differences, the similarities. She felt them like never before. Ever since coming to this world, she had been surprised at how fast her body adapted. She felt like a genius. The incident with slimes this morning had questioned that perception but now it was back. She knew she was gifted, she just had to put it into practice.

Another smack. “Do not digress.”

Claire focused. The noises settled down. Then rose up, slowly this time. She could hear them, separate, distinct. They were like threads in weaves, pick one carefully and it stood out, pick many and they entangled. She listened until she was wrapped and woven, sitting in cocoon of sounds. She picked a thread and traced it, feeling its distance. She could feel its undulations.

“Good. Now let your mana flow,” Diana advised.

Claire obeyed, she built up her reserve of mana and pumped it. The cocoon accepted it, feeding upon it. Within minutes, the world was different, transparent. She could see through her body, almost. She sat in a dome few meters wide. Every movement, every rustle, every flicker was hers to know. If she could interpret it, she could count the number of leaves around her, know where the lizard was crawling, where the worms were hiding, who was swinging—

Whoa! That was close. Claire dodged the branch that sliced down through the air, aiming at her head from behind. It was fast and threatening.

“What are you doing?” She glared back at Diana, opening her eyes and turning her head.

“And that’s how you do it”, Diana told her while musing, ‘Impressive, so this is a hero’s potential.’ “Alright, now repeat the process but open your eyes, observe while you hear. Understand. Then close them again and try to expand the area of effect.”

Claire nodded, returning to her exercise. She analyzed what she heard, remembered it, revised it, and extended it.

Soon the ambient landscape washed over her. She could feel the tree, the grass, the air and every bit of wilderness hidden within. It was taxing but calming, it was exciting but serene. It was paradoxical. Claire dreamt up her dreamland here. On the hollow trunk of a fallen tree she sat, dressed in beautiful clothes, and butterflies fluttered across and squirrels danced. The breeze was soft, the flowers aplenty. Beside her sat Ray—

Another smack. Diana smacked Claire, seeing the smitten expression and the clueless smile.

“This is no time for daydreams young lady. If you want to meet the boy, work faster and I will let you have a break. A private one,” Diana smiled cunningly. Claire blushed.

…..

The sunlight spun through the window glass, illuminating the book. The windows were closed to prevent the draft from storming the pages. The glass was textured to prevent the scene outside from distracting the occupant,

or maybe to ensure privacy. Parchment and penbrush lay in the center, with an inkpot at the corner.

Boris was surprised. Maybe it was the window, or maybe the sunlight, or maybe the book itself was magical. If not, he would have to concede that the humans of this world were silly, their language so simple, their scripts so elementary, and their nuances so basic. The learning curve sure was flat for Humarian and he was climbing fast or rather striding across it. Boris held up a sheet he had scribbled on in the light, letting the attendant get a closer look.

“Is this correct?” he asked in crude Humarian. It was too much to master the language in half a day, but his progress was considerable.

The attendant took the parchment and held it to close scrutiny, his eyes scanning the words and sentences. He shifted forward on his seat, bending to grasp a penbrush//. He stroked under the mistakes, writing the corrections over them. “There, much better,” he told Boris as he proceeded to explain the mistakes verbally, correcting grammar and intonations. He was surprised at how fast Boris was grasping the language but then, given that he was a companion of the heroes, it was not all too surprising. The summoned heroes had always been like that. Tales spoke of their uncanny capabilities and incredulous deeds. Learning a language was a small feat, even if considerable.

There was a knock on the door but Boris was too submerged in reviewing his mistakes to take notice. Then there was another knock. “Maybe I should take that?” the attendant asked Boris. Boris nodded absentmindedly, still lost in contemplation. The attendant received the call and returned to inform him, “The princess is calling for you Boris.”

“Princess?”

“Her Highness, the second princess Maina.”

‘Oh, her. Come to think of it she said something like that yesterday.’ Boris recounted. But in his state he would rather learn up some more. “Make excuse, I need to stay,” he told the attendant.

“That would be unwise,” the attendant told him plaintively. The poor chap had probably faced some flack in the past because of the princess. Boris clucked his tongue, reluctantly getting up. “I will be back soon,” he told the attendant while taking time to stack up the papers in order and clean the table. The attendant could take care of that, but Boris preferred not relying on servants for everything.

The door was now being banged quite fervently as Boris held his head in slight frustration, obviously the princess didn’t know of patience. When he had finally cleared the table, he left for the door.

“You made me wait!” the princess shouted right as he opened the door, her snappy tone obviously the result of her banging on the door and getting a late reply. A servant stood beside her, apologetic in his posture. He was probably the one who had knocked before.

“Why are you so late? I want to play hero,” it was all questions and demands. She crossed her hands over chest authoritatively, expecting him to answer.

Violet stood beside her, shrugging her shoulders at him. She looked to have failed at dissuading the princess. She was also concerned about him, whether he could understand anything of the language yet. The concern was misplaced.

Boris looked down at the spoiled princess and brushed her head, “I am sorry princess Maina, let me make up.” He offered the princess a seat on her shoulders and turned around, finding Violet wide eyed at his response. He smiled back politely at her, “Will you be with us?” he asked, his speech still rough around the edges.

He trod outside as the princess held his neck, enjoying the view from his shoulders. Violet followed in tow.

“I am surprised,” she said, “it is unnatural to grasp a language in a day, and it hasn’t been even a day yet.”

“Your language is simple, easy to learn. Need few days to get better.” He told her confidently. He whirled about thoughtlessly on his foot as the princess exclaimed, “Yay!”

Violet frowned, “It takes months for many unlearned to do so. Children take a year.”

“Then I must be smart.”

“Hard to deny, but impossible to believe.”

“Once more!” the princess demanded and Boris twirled twice, “Like it?” he asked. The princess was happy to cheer again.

They reached a garden and Boris lowered himself trying to have the princess dismount. The princess refused, liking the new seat she had occupied.

“Evil eyes are you alright?” the princess asked, now nuzzling her head against his hair.

“Hmm? What about?” Boris asked her.

“Violet told me you were in trouble. Is Elaine scolding you?” She bent down so she was now directly looking into his eyes, while grasping the sides of his head.

Boris laughed loudly, “Hahaha. No, Miss Elaine was unrelated to my troubles. Wait, she scolds you too?” He caught her back so she wouldn’t fall.

The princess made a difficult face, her mouth inverted, her nose lifted as a slight frown formed on her face. She closed her eyes in reminiscence, “She is strict, but nice… like mother.” A slight loneliness formed on her face and Boris regretted it.

He immediately formed a nasty expression, scrunching his nose up and his eyes narrowing, “Elaine is nice?” he asked in a ridiculous tone. The princess laughed hard at his face.

“What about me?” a voice asked suddenly. The Devil had turned up at the mention of her name. Elaine walked out from behind the tree, sudden as the lightning, nearly as deadly.

“Were you talking about me?” she smiled at the dumbfounded Boris.

“Elaine!” the princess cried happily, she jumped off acrobatically and landed on her feet, her arms wide apart. The recoil jerked Boris backward and knocked his back slightly against the bench.

The princess ran and jumped straight into Elaine’s arms, much happier than when Boris played with her.

“Tch,” Boris grumbled. He could clearly see a hierarchy at work, Elaine stood high above like a queen while Violet stood at rock bottom like a beggar. He felt jealous of Elaine and sorry for Violet. Meanwhile Violet was smiling maliciously, seeing Elaine steal the princess from Boris, unaware of his rude thoughts.

“My, my, Maina, I heard you were bothering Boris but that doesn’t seem to be the case.” Elaine lifted her up gently and patted her back. There was a certain motherly charm to Elaine’s actions and Maina cuddled up, “I wanted to play hero, Boris said he will play.”

“Is that so? Alright, I don’t see why not.” Elaine gave her approval as she let Maina down gently, intending for her to go back to Boris. But Maina held her hand firmly, “I want to play with you,” she told Elaine.

Boris could take no more of the hierarchy. Just the moment ago, the little princess had been stubbornly clinging to his head, and now he was like air to her. He felt like he had lost the very little dignity he had. If he had any. So he planned vengeance. He would whisk away Elaine and watch the princess whine helplessly, while he taunted her. The only problem was the Devil Elaine, she would turn him to dust if he provoked the princess.

Then a clever plan formed in his head. ‘Everything is fair in love and war, and games.’ If the princess wanted to play, he would play. ‘Mwahaha,’ he laughed wickedly in his thoughts while he tried to force the most innocent expression outside.

Boris crept up slowly behind the princess, in full view of Elaine. Elaine would obviously subvert him if he troubled the princess, but the target was Elaine herself.

“Kahahaha,” he laughed pretentiously, causing the princess to turn in surprise. “What?” she shrunk back into Elaine.

“Hero Maina, you caused me great trouble,” he glowered.

Maina relapsed into her heroic mode, “What do you want evil lord?” Her hands clenched over an imaginary hilt, holding the hero’s sword and she stepped forward bravely.

“I want thing which is most important to you,” Boris pointed towards Maina as she looked over herself, then his finger instantly hovered over to Elaine. Elaine raised an eyebrow curiously but Boris took her by surprise, darting in and using the momentum to lift her up his shoulders. Elaine suppressed a gasp of astonishment as she was hoisted into the air, her hair swayed over Boris’s shoulders and her lips crooned confusingly.

“Quiet,” Boris hushed her, “play along.” He was confident she would calm down once she thought it was a game. She did calm down, and Boris shifted to face Maina, “I have taken the Princess, hero. You will never see her again!” He laughed crazily this time, letting his words sink into hero Maina, whose eyes widened.

Then he turned and ran, Elaine swung over her shoulder, as he darted across the garden. The garden was large, large enough for him to make some distance. He slowly turned around to find Maina chasing after him with determination. He would exhaust her a bit and then taunt her, he thought maliciously.

He circled the entire garden playfully, reaching to where Violet sat, while Maina followed in heaves. Violet looked at him with a mix of pity and despair, as if looking at a dead man. It was then that Boris first began to question his plan. Was it perhaps not good? Did he commit a mistake somewhere? He was by now panting more than he should be, sweating at the weight of Elaine he had carried. He turned to see the princess’s determination had run out, expelled by the tears in her eyes. He sighed mentally, it was probably too much for Maina.

He had completely forgotten about Elaine’s reaction.

He put down Elaine unceremoniously, his head down in heavy breaths. Elaine’s face was red with simmering anger but he couldn’t see it, she held her head low in silence while he rose up. He wiped the sweat from his brow before carelessly sputtering, “Huff, I never thought you were that hea—eeaaagh!”

A foot was thrust over his own left foot, threatening to crush it into the ground. It had followed promptly in the middle of his speech, reminding him of his imprudence. Boris had little time to consider the fact though.

Reflexively, he labored to pull the foot back from the assault, but the foot was anchored firmly and instead pulled him towards the ground. In the next instant the anchor, Elaine’s foot, was lifted and left him in a state of imbalance as his arms flailed around to grip air. He bent forward in a mistaken attempt to gain balance. The action offered his abdomen in full faith to the well-placed knee of the lifted foot, his own weight guiding his demise. Boris groaned in pain, disconcerted and terrified. Then collapsed. In his blurred vision, he saw a seething Devil.

Violet had caught the running princess and covered her eyes, fearing the nature of gore that followed would be too much for an innocent mind. She knew all too well what awaited Boris and made no attempt to save him. The fool deserved it. There were some lessons that were best learnt the hard way. One of those involved a show of courtesy towards the maiden of light and obviously abhorred flinging her over one’s shoulder.

There was brief period of lecturing, which involved Elaine explaining to Boris the fallacy of his deeds, while she pulled on his ear with a tender smile and ear-rending strength. Boris was allowed to smile back and nod in obedience. Anything else and he feared the he might miss his ears.

“I noticed you learnt the language fast,” Elaine commented after calming down.

“Yes, but not complete. I need to learn more,” Boris admitted while rubbing his ears softly.

“The progress is admirable nonetheless,” Elaine praised.

“Is not it?” Boris smiled in satisfaction, finally getting some praise.

“Now then, for the punishment,” Elaine affirmed.

“Eh?” Boris uttered in surprise, surprise that the lecture and ear pulling were not the real punishment. He had thought he had gotten off easy but he was wrong. Any thoughts of escape had already been curtailed, thanks to the past experiences. He could only pray that mercy existed.

“I know, why don’t we play the hero game?” Elaine proposed. She seemed immensely refreshed now, energy radiating from her bright expression. Boris pondered poorly over his role as a stress reliever.

He nodded in agreement, not that he had a choice.

Boris the steed was having a hard day. The hero had rescued the Princess and now struggled to bring her to safety. He could only trust his horse while he strode on, the princess at his back. The horse neighed in almost human laments as he desperately faced the weight of the treacherous road. Yet the horse never failed to respond to the hero’s trust, sometimes sprinting, sometimes crawling as he labored on. Finally, he caved in from exhaustion. The hero cried no tears as he climbed down with the Princess to continue his journey.

Boris the troll was notorious. He blocked the hero’s path haughtily, asking him to hand over the Princess. The hero refused and had a difficult fight. The hero stomped the troll’s left foot with great valor and the troll cried in grief even as he danced on one foot, holding the other in his hand. The troll talked in ludicrous language of cruelty and fairness as the hero left him in dearth resuming his journey. The great archimage joined him to defeat the Evil lord.

Boris the demon lord was horrendous. He limped crudely as his face twisted, a half in smile and the other half in agony. Truly he was the most repulsive of demons. The Princess herself aided the hero in his effort and the archimage chimed in. Together they pulled at his red demonic ears, causing the demon lord to fall over and apologize profusely. The hero gleamed at victory, justice had been done and evil vanquished.

But victory was short lived.

“What are you doing?” an accusative tone coursed through the air. There was another sudden appearance. Boris the human was getting fed up with sudden appearances. He had had enough of them for a while, including his own sudden appearance. The surprise had died down and only misgivings remained.

Therefore, when the new guy entered Boris expected nothing but trouble from him. The guy spared him no glance, like he was a stone by the road. Well he did technically lie on the ground by the side but he was too big and different in form.

“Are you playing those childish games again, Maina?” his tone was sharp, with a certain pride that the nobility held as their prerogative. Then there was this annoyance in his tone, kind of like the king.

“Brother! You are back,” Maina spoke in half joy and half guilt, but with the same innocence she always carried.

“Maina, how many times have I told you to stop wasting your time? You need to grow up prim and proper, mother cannot look after you every time,” the prince continued to scold the princess, without as much as a greeting in response. He irritated Boris, who wanted to whack him off. Against his impulses, Boris refrained from interfering in what he considered a sibling fight.

Maina was slightly irked. She made a defiant frown while she searched for excuses, “But it was only for a while, and I even asked Elaine.”

“Maina, there are no excuses for slack and sloth. Our father is busy with the kingdom’s affairs and our mother is sick. Even our siblings are busy with their responsibilities. The least you can do is not cause any more trouble.” The offensive touch of authority streaked his tone.

This was definitely a spoilt brat, Boris reasoned. He was barely of age, maybe twelve or thirteen, and yet he behaved as if he was the next king-to-be. He talked in big borrowed words when he barely understood them. His behavior disgusted him.

“That is enough!” Boris roared rather unnaturally as he stood up, anger overflowing his voice. The people around him cringed, he had never used a sharp tone before.

The prince looked at him for the first time, finally noticing the stone only after stumbling upon it. He narrowed his eyes in a creepy stare and a curious expression. “Who is this?” he asked as if Boris was an object.

“I am Boris Debron, one of the summoned,” Boris told him curtly.

The prince looked from Violet to Elaine before finally turning back to him, “Oh yes, the fourth one. I heard about you, they say you are… inept?” The voice held obvious ridicule, causing Boris to twitch. His fists clenched, ready to whack the arrogant snob.

Elaine caught his arm as she stepped smoothly between them, obstructing the prince’s view. “That is enough, Your Highness Flynn.” She bowed elegantly at the prince, a very slight, very graceful bow. It was at moments like these when Boris wondered if Elaine was royalty, or something even more important. She felt detached, unreachable and enormously dignified, in a strong contrast to how she usually was. He felt his heart flutter in awe, nervousness beating through him. The prince jittered similarly, taking a step back.

Elaine smiled gracefully, “I beg your pardon but you have just returned from a long and tiring journey, why not take some time to rest? I will handle this issue, I assure you.”

The prince started and could not disobey her, “I-If you assure me. Alright, I will do that.” He turned and walked away imperiously, turning his head once to warn Maina, “Avoid bad company Maina, it only ruins you.”

Another of those borrowed words. The prince seemed to have been lectured in these tenets often. Boris smiled, considering that it was mostly his body and not his mind that learned those words.

Elaine sighed in relief as she released her grip on Boris’s hand. It was somewhat sad and lonely but Boris ignored the sensation and turned to Elaine in question. He wanted answers to his queries, the foremost being when he would get permission to beat some sense into the brazen prince. From the look on Elaine’s face however, he wouldn’t. She looked at him as if he was a five-year-old stubborn kid, shaking her head in dejection. She called for a servant and had him accompany the princess back. Maina was visibly shaken but Elaine calmed her down with some words.

With the princess gone, Boris awaited Elaine’s response, “Well?” he asked as they sat down.

“Well, what were you doing?” Violet retorted, looking at his now relaxed fist.

“Trying to knock some sense into him,” Boris answered honestly.

“What are you, dumb?! He is royalty! Even heroes don’t harm royalty.” Violet was appalled at his lack of common sense. It might have sounded playful over the last few days, but offending royalty was crossing the line.

“I don’t care, the guy is obnoxious,” Boris replied.

“Boris!” Elaine reprimanded him.

“I mean the prince does not show appropriate respect for his family,” Boris corrected himself.

“Listen to me Boris, you cannot antagonize the royal family. Besides,” Elaine sighed, “they have their own problems.”

“Like what? A sick mother and a busy father? Tell me about it, half my world has the same problem,” Boris obviously exaggerated. At some point, his language had improved, though he himself did not notice.

“Half your world does not reign over Cumaria. This is a different world Boris, and things are different here. You should have noticed by now,” Elaine told him exasperatedly. Then she sighed again, she was sighing a lot.

“Cumaria is a nation at front, always at the risk of an invasion from the demon lands. It is in a latent state of war. The royal family shoulders the responsibility to defend this nation. Their upbringing is harsh and strict, a lot more than other nations. Add to that the queen’s sickness and the advent of heroes and obviously, things get hectic. There will be some friction. In what family are there no sibling fights?”

“I get that, but he is just too rude,” Boris pointed out.

“That is how royalty are here. You don’t need to worry about Maina,” Elaine added, “Prince Flynn has a busy schedule. He will probably have left by tomorrow anyway.”

“If that’s what you say,” Boris conceded.

“Now, didn’t you have some learning left to do?” Elaine gestured with her head towards the library.

“Argh! I totally forgot! See you later,” Boris strode off towards the library. The event lingered in his head but learning Humarian took precedence. There was also Elaine’s assurance. Boris trusted her well.

When Boris had left the scene Violet and Elaine both collapsed back in their seats.

“He is too hot-headed,” Violet worried, “more troublesome than the heroes.”

“Now, now, that simple mindedness is a trait of honesty. Prudence, he will learn with time.” Elaine smiled faintly as her eyes focused at the distant library.

“If he has time,” Violet added bleakly.

“Do not lose hope, he is from a different world. He might very well survive.”

“Shouldn’t we tell him about his condition.”

“Don’t. Not yet. He was depressed just this morning when the comprehension magic failed. There is no need to burden him with concerns that might prove unnecessary.”

“Morning, huh? He tricked me well. How did you bestow him with the language, immersion magic?”

“No way would I know of such convenient magic. Didn’t you cast magic to enhance his retention?”

They both stared at each other for a while, surprised. “Unbelievable, he really learnt it?” “Impossible.”

…….

Sylvia stood before the backdrop of the sun, panting heavily. The rays glinted off her borders, giving her an enigmatic look. Her robe fluttered in the air, beating against the grass in soft hymns. Her hair was unkempt and sweat coursed along her face, dripping from her chin onto her bosom. Thankfully, the robe had been enchanted to reject dirt and remove moisture. It bore no traces of her ordeal.

She never thought that a mage’s training would require so much physical effort. She had been running incessantly while she stood at the same spot. The situation had given new meaning to the word worthless. But her mentor was satisfied. Grey Feyl Farlore was actually smiling meaningfully after she had finished with the exercise.

“Excellent work, Miss Sylvia,” he congratulated her, “I am glad to have such a gifted pupil.”

Sylvia looked at him in annoyance. The old mage had completed the same routine with her, yet his brow didn’t hold a single drop of sweat. Even if he had used magic, he was far too much accomplished. It irked her that he had barely suffered while she was down to her last straw of strength.

“Will you tell me now,” she asked, “tell me why you had me run on a rotating table like a clown?”

The old mage had literally put her on round platform, partially magical. It swerved on a long slender pointed axis, like a long spike. They stood on opposite ends of the platform and it rotated, swaying up and down slightly. Initially Grey had kept it balanced straight while he taught Sylvia how to manipulate yin for equilibrium, while she ran circumferentially on the platform. Once she had learnt the method, which she did quite soon, Grey started letting the platform stray wildly. Nausea and dizziness overcame her if she could not maintain her equilibrium. Doing so required a fine control of mana, and she was poor at that. The detestable mage had zeroed in on her weakness, teaching her the hard way.

The whole contraption was stupid and she wanted to blast it away, but Grey would not allow it. To her credit, she had learned to maintain her equilibrium rather well and after a few initial breaks when she had to be healed of vertigo, she had not been in an especially poor state. She was exhausted, however, and physical effort was not exactly her cup of tea, even after coming to this world. Though she fared far better than Boris because she had been blessed as a hero, she was not exactly as amazing as Ray.

“Why a rotating tabletop?” she asked Grey, who stayed silent in face of her grumpiness.

He offered her a seat he had just conjured out of earth and water he had brought along. She calmed down in a bit, returning to her usual composed manner.

“What you lacked foremost,” Grey began, “was the confidence in your control of mana. It is extremely important for an accomplished mage, one you intend to become. Now, there are a lot of ways to learn mana control but by my experience, equilibrium training is the most fruitful. It inculcates mana control into instinct. It makes it seem like breathing, involuntary and effortless.”

“And?” Sylvia asked.

“And,” Grey replied as he touched her hair, casting a spell to tidy it, “that contraption is the fastest way to do so. It is my personal invention. Seeing as you possess great aptitude for magic I chose the most efficient way for you. Does it displease you?”

“It does,” Sylvia spoke while her hair floated lightly at the spell, strands loosening and dirt escaping. A cool soothing sensation flowed through her head. “In the light of the results though, I will choose to ignore it.”

“Your consideration is much appreciated,” Grey gave her a quirky smile, “Now, I think you want to meet up with Ray. You had better hurry as we will be leaving soon.” The old man winked, he gave her one chance to spend some time with Ray and Sylvia gratefully accepted it. He guided her along to where Ray would have been resting by now.

The sun was climbing low and would soon touch the horizon. They needed to leave before dusk fell, which would barely be an hour. Sylvia reached the waterfall where Ray relaxed, with some timely help from Grey and the fulgur. The forest had begun to retire, flocks of birds returning to their nests and insects speaking the language of night. The air was peaceful and the waterfall cascaded down beautifully, leaving strong splashes in the ambient tranquility.

Sylvia searched for Ray. Her eyes caught his masculine figure upon a rock nearby. He had grown even more striking over the week, with the refined aura of a hero. She wondered if she herself had grown any prettier, if Ray looked any differently at her now. She knew he did not. Ray would not change even if he changed. He would always be dense but reliable. But she liked him the way he was.

She crept softly towards Ray planning to surprise him. The surprise came to her instead when she noticed that Claire was already beside Ray. She flinched at her loss but it was no time for regrets.

“Ray!” she called happily and jumped into a hug as he turned. Cherishing the strength of his arms as he caught her, the thump of his heartbeat against her chest and his breath against his hair. Claire would call this unfair, but she considered it her just reward.

The three sat in silence, dipping their legs in the cool stream and creating ripples that danced on water.

The moment passed and they made their way back to the castle, along with their mentors. They were all too tired for the day. There were no talks at the dining table. Boris was also quiet, maybe out of consideration. Sleep clung heavily to them and they did not resist.

The quiet night hung heavily in the air, silencing the clamor of the day with the calm of darkness.