Ch.06: Whitney Armeina Interlude

During the time Rainier Forrester had first met Sataska, Whitney was busy trying to stay sane.

Nearly every step she took in the presence of members of the Rhime, they averted their heads and meekly offered a show of fealty or exaltation. Never before in her life had a group of people this large, or of any size for that matter, had held her in such high authority.

Whitney felt like she was a wise prophet of a popular religion. She even had some of the Rhimers request to become servants or slaves under her command. At one point, one of the Rhime spat in her direction and was swiftly beaten down by his fellows.

Whitney didn’t consider herself a great beauty at home. And though she didn’t feel she was ugly in the slightest, yet the Rhime even believed her to be a paragon of beauty.

Really, it was all too much for the woman in her early twenties.

At the moment, Whitney was being outfitted with a long dress that seemed natural for her body and harmoniously went along with the natural colors of the land. She was being measured by a stoic clothier woman who didn’t even bat an eye on the supposed fact that Whitney was the savior of her race.

Whitney was consoled by the fact of a constant companion almost always at her side. The bird that the Rhime referred to as a heavenly garuda was apparently a member of a species of bird that had once fought dragons for control of the skies. Most types of dragons were outright hostile towards anything except that which they let live, usually a mate or children. Thus they often plagued the outskirts of various nations, with the Rhime being favorite targets of ice and cloud dragons. The heavenly garuda is a mystical species that were birthed by a god long ago in order give the dragons a meaningful threat. That particular god felt that the dragons were being too arrogant and decided to curb their pride. It worked and thus the Rhime believed the heavenly garuda were bringers of divinity and justice.

Whitney was no longer a skeptic about anything in this world of Ademptis, fully believing in what she was told.

The heavenly garuda in question that protected Whitney from the assassin a while back was currently perched on a beam in the ceiling, grooming its feathers with its double beaks. As the two had acquired a sort of kinship, Whitney decided to give it the name of Soar, after a canary she owned as a child.

“How is this dress is supposed to protect me?” Trying to break the awkward silence between herself and the seamstress, Whitney forced herself to ask a question. She was quite nervous behind around the Rhime, especially those that didn’t seem intimidated by her being a great savior.

“Enchantments, my lady. The fabric with which I am going to make this dress will be given enchantments of the highest purity. As for the type of enchantments, you of course will make that decision.” The seamstress spoke with a clarity that Whitney was not used to. It was like her voice could blend in with crowds and be as inconspicuous as possible while simultaneously being capable of commanding the attention of an entire army.

“I see… I really am expected to fight for all of you guys.” Whitney’s tone drooped into slight despair.

“I don’t expect you to. In fact, I honestly expected you to abandon the Rhime at some point.”

‘That’s a bit rude… But she’s right, I really don’t want to fight. I just want to run away home and go back to my old life.’ With that thought in mind, Whitney dropped her arms and shoulders.

As she was currently measuring Whitney’s arm span, the seamstress halted her measurements for a moment. “Oh dear, don’t let my words get to you. What I said was in past tense. While I won’t force my expectations on you like the rest of the Rhime has been unintentionally doing, I don’t think you are a coward who would abandon people just because.”

“I don’t even know how to fight; I proved that when I sat there helpless when confronted with that assassin.”

“Fighting isn’t simply hitting the other until their heart ceases beating. Banging metal against each other until your weapon is stained with the other’s blood is a way of fighting reserved for barbarians. You could fling sharp sticks or hurl elemental balls of fire or air if that suits your fancy, but in the end you are simply trying to kill someone.”

“…” Whitney had none of these skills; at best she could be protected by those stronger than her like Soar.

“I am to understand that the heavenly garuda slew the assassin for you?”

“Yes, I’m too weak to defend myself, so I had to rely on Soar to protect me. Even then, I was only lucky enough for him to appear out of nowhere in that time.” Whitney continued to degrade herself, she truly thought she had no use.

“That is an incredibly amazing magic you have there.” The seamstress widened her eyes in amazement.

“Huh?”

“The heavenly garuda answers to no one except those it believes can command it, which is supposedly only the god who created it, Talo-Ar. And the fact that you summoned it out of thin air is truly awe inspiring.”

Whitney was confused as to why she was being praised this much. “What do you mean? I summoned Soar?”

“Yes, summoning magic is a type of cosmic magic that essentially teleports things, in this case it would be living beings. Aptitude for it is rather rare, and to be able to summon a heavenly garuda means your talent for it is exceptional.”

Whitney gave the matter thought. She knew magic had no ends, especially considering the many scenes she had witnessed in the Rhime city of Friye.

“My talent, hm.” Whitney then looked straight at the seamstress.

The seamstress was an ethereal beauty. Her pale blue skin was neatly complemented by her snow white hair and loose set of silver robes. She always had a mysterious smirk that only moved to allow words out of her mouth. Whitney felt like she lost a hundred beauty points by just looking at her.

“Talent comes in all forms, for myself it is enchanting and tailoring; for you it is summoning and perhaps more. If you wish to help the Rhime, and do not force yourself to do so, please understand you have something to cultivate into a powerful weapon.”

The seamstress took Whitney’s hands and clasped them together. Despite the cold aura her skin emitted, they truly gave Whitney warmth.

“Thank you, really… Um, I never did catch your name.”

“Ah, how rude of me. I was given the name of Light Frost; I am pleased to make your acquaintance, Whitney. Now, what sort of enchantments can I give your dress?”

Whitney took Light Frost’s words to heart. She intended to fully develop this magic she was told she had talent in. Reflecting on that, summoning had the connotations of having minions or creatures to fight on your behalf, even sacrificing their life for the summoner.

Taking that into thought, it was highly unlikely Whitney would ever be engaged in a melee except on worst case scenarios. Most attacks on her would be ranged based, presumably from magic projectiles or arrows or anything else.

“Then I recommend a tungsten based metal enchantment for ranged defense. It is an incredibly strong and flexible metal which would be ideal against penetrating projectiles. However, the enchantment is not designed to stand up to a close up attack, for that you will need actual armor or a melee defense enchantment.” Light Frost gave her suggestion with a finger resting on her chin.

“A tungsten based metal enchantment?” Whitney was slightly surprised. She hadn’t expected to hear the name of that metal back on Earth’s period table, she honestly expected there to be a slew of new metals and elements.

“Yes, it is a rare metal, but I only need a small portion to apply a transparent enchantment borrowing its strength.”

“Interesting, how do enchantments work exactly?” Whitney had decided the best way to follow through with the responsibility forced upon her was by understanding the strengths of not just her but those around her. She by herself is quite weak; Whitney understood that as evidenced by her supposed specialty in summoning. However, Whitney was determined to not be deterred by the fact that summoning was essentially relying on those stronger than her.

“Well, I suppose the easiest way to explain it… Enchanting can be divided into two types. The first is what I will be doing, which is imprinting the properties of various materials onto another object. An example would be giving a ceramic plate the elasticity of rubber, though that destroys the purpose of the ceramic considering it is supposed to be a decoration or tool static in form.” Light Frost gave her explanation as she and Whitney exchanged views on various accessories and embellishments that would go with the dress. “The second type would be using cosmic magic to directly apply a natural law onto an object. An example of this would be like how a kom (a fruit eaten by the Rhime) is normally crunchy, but you enchant the kom with magic with the intention to make soft. You literally declare with your imagination that the kom is no longer a crunchy fruit, but a soft one.”

“Wow… They both sound so incredible.” Whitney was overwhelmed with the potential behind a single aspect of magic.

“Of the two, the first method is more reliable and effective since you’re using an object as a medium to copy its traits. The second is restricted by the enchanter’s imagination, and besides, those particular enchantments are common and thus relatively weak. Changing a natural law takes up much of the power put into the enchantment in the first place.”

“I see. Thank you so much for teaching me, the enchanted dress, and your kind words. They’re really something I needed to hear.” Whitney was truly happy to have a conversation between equals with Light Frost.

Nearly everyone so far in Friye had acted subserviently towards Whitney as she was supposedly their savior for the Rhime. And those that didn’t act like a submissive serf were silent and simply bowed their heads in Whitney’s presence.

Light Frost was the very first person that Whitney could hold a real conversation with; it relieved the stress in her mind immensely.

Light Frost simply shook her head. “There is no need for thanks. I’m simply trying to help a young girl.”

“You can’t be that much older than me.”

“Maybe not, I don’t know how long a human can live after all. I’m still quite young myself at fifty-seven.”

‘How long do the Rhime normally live if fifty-seven is considered quite young? It is definitely longer than a human lifespan.’ Concurred Whitney.

However, just now Light Frost said something Whitney was curious about. “So how long ago did the humans of Ademptis become extinct?”

“Well, I’m not a historian but it was a few centuries at the minimum. If you want information, then I’d seek out the royal library of Rhime in the second city of Frasran. Of course making the trip there will be dangerous despite it being regularly patrolled.”

The remnants of Rhime’s empire consisted of three grand cities their outlying villages. The three major cities were located so that a rough isosceles triangle was formed. And while the distance between Friye and Frasran formed the smallest line of the triangle, it was still a considerable distance on foot.

“Soar is very strong, so I don’t think there will be too much trouble. Though I would be underestimating Ademptis if I thought that.”

“Indeed.” Light Frost nodded in agreement. “Should you decide to make the trip, it would be prudent to take a few guards or willing people to fight with you.”

“And where would the best place to find these people be?”

“If you don’t wish for a royal escort, then go to where everyone dumb enough to search for treasure and artifacts in the hostile land of Ademptis would be, drunk at a tavern.”

-----

With her newly tailored travelling dress, Whitney arrived at the underbelly of Friye known as Lower Friye. Considering the principled and clean air the Rhime had around them, Whitney had never expected there to be such a dirty and raunchy portion of the city. It was intriguing in a way.

In fact, the ratio of docility in the residents of Upper Friye compared to Lower Friye was quite vast. In Upper Friye, Whitney was supposed to become a legendary hero that would help the Rhime rise from squalor.

And yet the residents of Lower Friye could not find it within themselves to care. Of course there were still many that showed admiration and awe towards Whitney, but the amount was far less compared to Upper Friye.

Soar flew high above, perching on top of various buildings. Every time he shrieked, Rhime’s citizens looked upwards and pointed in awe. Heavenly garuda were much more famous than Whitney first realized.

After walking a fair distance, Whitney noticed a commotion over yonder. Nearly all of the people that saw commotion seemed to know what was going on and rushed over. Whitney followed suit, but in a more relaxed and curious manner.

Once she reached the mass of people, Whitney found a gap and moved herself through. Once she finally got past everyone, she saw something interesting.

There was a cart being pulled by a sort of pack animal Whitney had seen a few times during her time in Friye. Inside the cart was a large silver statue at least six meters long, covering the statue was numerous marks marring the grey coloring of the statue’s skin.

Accompanying the cart were three men and one woman with the latter riding on the beasts pulling the cart.

Whitney was curious about the sight before her, so she asked the Rhime next to her.

“That cocky group from a few days back everyone said was going to die actually succeeded! That’s what!” Then, the Rhime male noticed that he was speaking to Whitney. “Ah, I’m sorry my lady, I didn’t reali-”

“I’m not bothered, don’t worry… But what exactly is the context behind this commotion?”

“Oh, ah, yes. Well, a week ago, that group of four over there came from one of the other civilized nations named Tangura belonging to the Tago race. Even though they are Rhime, they were apparently living there for quite a while. Well, once they arrived, they received some animosity from Rhime purists and got in an argument.”

Rhime purists were those that absolutely believed in the power of the Rhime. They decided that Whitney was not only incapable of saving the Rhime but also completely unnecessary and unwarranted. Though there were variations of that belief. At first Whitney agreed with them, but now she was determined to prove herself.

Also, the Tago were one of the few races along with the Rhime that had survived to this day, albeit barely.

“The travelers then declared this: ‘We will defeat and bring back Marst, the Silver Deity that has been haunting these mountains.’ At first everybody thought they were just being arrogant and cocky, they did have a few to drink after all. And once they left, everybody thought that they had died. And now that they are here, with the Silver Deity, it seems their claims were not just for show.”

The area between the circle of onlookers and the four adventurers was still quite large, but the group of four and their cart halted moving once four of the onlookers broke away from the crowd and stepped forward to face them.

“So this is the result of your farce. You honestly expect us to believe that the four of you who abandoned the Rhime and lived with the pitiful Tago defeated a silver deity. The metal creature probably froze up in the mountains and you just carted it down. There’s no way you shits can fight the silver deity. Only the strength of a pure force of Rhime can hope to fight something that powerful in the cold mountains.” The supposed leader of the purist group began a blustering speech filled with self-praise towards his race.

Then one of the male members of the group of four walked forward and met the man eye to eye. “If you don’t believe in our strength, why don’t you test it yourself? There are four of you and four of us, don’t tell me you’re afraid…” The Rhime man mockingly held his hand up to cover his mouth as if saying “Oh my.”

The leader of the four purists twitched furiously, though he calmed down seconds after. “Very well then, the four of us will show to might of true Rhime.”

‘Why does it feel like they are already going to lose?’ Wondered Whitney as she watched the purists confidently draw their weapons of choice.

The purists face off with the adventurers in a diamond formation. The leader took to the front with chainmail and a regal sword and shield. The purist to his left wielded a large two-handed curved sword almost like a hooked scimitar, he wore green leather armor. The purist to the right held a battle pick in one hand and a curved shortsword in the other, he wore similar armor to the purist on the left. The purist in the back had tight fitting cloth vestments and held a single wand in one of his hands.

The group of purists looked well polished. There was no doubt that they had all fought as a team before and survived. At first, Whitney thought that the purists were going to win, but that thought only lasted a moment because she was overwhelmed by their sudden display of discipline.

Then the adventuring group took their formation, in a completely straight horizontal line. Simply looking tactically, anyone would think that the adventurers were just a bunch of amateurs that randomly lined up to fight, Whitney realized otherwise. They weren’t just lining up because they felt like it, they weren’t lining up because they believed there was no need.

Whitney glanced over the group starting from the left, the male Rhime furthest from her. He had tight winter clothes lined with fluffy fur on the inside. His weapon of choice was a staff with bladed edges on opposite sides on one end each, the blades slanted like windmill. Although it was slight, Whitney felt like the air around her was gravitating towards him.

The next one up was another male who held a large sword at least a meter and a half long before him with two hands. He wore leather pants with golden colored greaves along with a single golden chestplate covering his torso. His arms, save for the hands that had thick gloves, were completely bare showing off developed muscles under his blue skin.

The third person was the final male who seemed to be the leader of the group wore loose fitting white robes covered by a crossing leather straps from his shoulder to waist. Apparently under the robes was a thin layer of armor judging by how the cloth rested against him. His weapon appeared to be a spear with spearheads on both ends, though the head on the lower end resembled a harpoon and the head on the upper head looked like a conical arrowhead.

Lastly, the sole female of the adventuring group and the one in the line closest to Whitney stood tall and proud quite literally considering she was quite possibly the tallest Rhime in the immediate area. She wore a complex set of hardened leather plates laced with numerous small metal spikes and many different pouches filled with various items. Her weapon of choice was an odd one, considering it seemed she was interested in a melee fight. It was a complexly designed crossbow engineered with many mechanisms and parts that Whitney wouldn’t even begin to try understanding.

Aside from the jeers and cheers of the encircling crowd, the two groups being focused on was completely silent save for the pack animals and the clinking of armor.

“We won’t wait all day, go crazy on them guys.” The leader from the adventuring group then smiled and broke the cohesion of the line formation. He instantly rushed forward and stabbed forward with the cone end of his spear, spinning it for extra momentum and friction. The shieldbearer hunkered down, peering over the edge of his shield and holding his sword over the brim like a pike receiving a charging horse. However, the spear never reached the shieldbearer, opting to instead fly over him with the robed man following suit and leaping over him like the purist was nothing. He then began charging straight towards the wand holder.

To the side, the girl pulled the trigger on her crossbow and a bolt splintering into many shards like shotgun shell left the crossbow’s stirrup. The one she fired at was the dual wielder purist received some of the splinters and dodged the rest. She rushed forward and swung her crossbow wildly, latching onto the pick with a hook that was attached to both ends of the bowstave. She then ripped the pick away from her opponents grip.

Whitney was too focused on two of the adventurers that she didn’t see the third one somehow stabbing into the chest of his opponent (the one holding the large scimitar (with his spear. Whitney missed the lead up to the stab, but she saw the adventuring Rhime’s arm extend forward, spreading the reach of his weapon.

And Whitney didn’t even see the last two clash. The staff wielder had his foe’s neck trapped under his staff, threatening to cut off his supply of air. The purist was so effectively immobilized that even his limbs were incapable of budging.

Whitney’s eyes could barely accommodate the fast paced action that ensued. It was like she was watching a battle from a high fantasy movie from within the movie itself. ‘Is this the kind of battle I’ll have to fight in?’ Whitney wasn’t sure whether she was intrigued or frightened.

One thing she knew was that she was overwhelmed and left before things got too harried.

-----

It was nearing night time in Friye.

Whitney was sitting down in her luxurious bedroom with Soar perched on the windowsill that the assassin had come through before grooming its feathers.

“Hm, now that I’ve had time to think about it, I realize it would be safest behind others. And there’s safety in numbers. Perhaps I should accept the help of Rhime’s military?”

Whitney had received numerous pledges of support from various military leaders. She not only access to military power but political power as well.

“What do you think, Soar?”

Although Whitney knew she would not receive an answer, she asked for the sake of hearing her own words.

Soar crooned and tilted its head as if responding to Whitney’s inquiry with purely facial expressions. Of course a bird, no matter how intelligent or magical couldn’t speak Whitney’s language without even the right body parts.

‘I wonder how I can even speak the same language as the Rhime in the first place…’ Whitney had wondered this many times, and she realized that even though the written language of the Rhime did not consist of any language characters that she was familiar with on Earth, she seemed to somehow understand it.

Suddenly Whitney heard a knock on the door to her room.

“I apologize for disturbing you, Lady Armeina, but you have some visitors who claim they have a message for you.”

“Ah, thank you… Um, Night Dew, is it?” Due to the majority of names belonging to the Rhime corresponding to common words, she often had trouble remembering most of them. “Come in.”

“My name was remembered, you honor me.” Night Dew unceremoniously opened the door to the room spoke with a humorous tone.

Night Dew was similar to Light Frost in that he treated Whitney as a more normal person, though he still showed humble version of respect. He seemed to truly believe that Whitney was capable of being this savior, trusting her abilities wholeheartedly.

He was of course a Rhime, having a deep ocean blue skin tone along with a slender and rigid body type. Probably the strangest aspect about him was the fact he had his eyes were nearly fully closed all the time, in fact Whitney could sworn that he walked with completely closed eyes. Honestly, Whitney thought he was rather handsome for a member of another race, but she didn’t feel the need to pursue any relationship.

“What is it?”

“A group of four raggedy looking fellows came in unannounced claiming they have a message for you and you alone. They refused to show it to anyone but you, though they did mention that it was from the representative of the Tago.” Reported Night Dew calmly with a blank face.

‘Could it be those guys? It does seem like a mere coincidence, but it just might…’ Deciding it didn’t matter if it was the same people she saw engaged in the battle with the purists or not, she then nodded. “I guess there’s no harm in hearing them out, could you bring me to them please?”

“To be honest, I don’t think that is a good idea. They could be related to someone who might wish to harm you…” Night Dew raised a point Whitney naively didn’t think about.

It would a mistake to assume that there would be only one assassin after that one appeared weeks back. Whitney knew this, but there had been no noticeable harmful indicators since.

“Well, I should be fine with you and all the other capable guards around here. Besides, Soar can take out anyone who gets too close.” Whitney scratched the back of the garuda’s head who crooned in delight.

“Well then, I shall bring them and several of our best guardians for assurance to the meeting room.” Night Dew bowed quickly and thusly before leaving.

-----

With Soar on her flapping from perch to perch, Whitney followed a servant leading her to where the meeting was going to take place. As she requested something soothing for her mind, the meeting was going to take place in the secondary dining hall, though it was more of a spot for influential individuals to partake of snacks and small meals while reading to pass the time.

Whitney sat down in a corner of the room with a grand window display presenting numerous snow-capped mountains and the dense evergreen forests around Friye. She liked this exact spot in particular because she was told that on clear nights, you could see the closest of the other two major cities of the Rhime, Frasran in between the cracks of the mountains. Although that was only the three tallest buildings one of which was a bright firehouse that served to disperse blizzards.

“Your grace.” A maid served Whitney a warm desert shaped like dome. It had a chocolaty taste mixed with a sharp citrus zest. One scoop of the ladle like utensil and the dome gave away like soft spun sugar revealing a network of strand similar to the nervous system.

“So delicious… Please thank the chef who made this!” Whitney was overwhelmed with the pleasant taste of the dish. She had eaten many things since her arrival in Ademptis and she enjoyed every new tasteful experience.

“I will convey your gratitude, the chef will be most thankful to receive your praise.” And the maid bowed and left.

“…” Whitney ate the desert in silence, mulling over various topics. “It would be nice if everyone wasn’t so formal with me.

Soar tilted its head like a parrot and squawked as if in reply. She scratched the back of the garuda’s head which pushed against the head with a soothing noise. To Whitney, it sounded like a purring cat, though a cat with feathers instead of fur and a double-beak.

Then she heard a large gathering of people appear beyond the bookcases. Listening carefully, Whitney heard harsh words. “I understand they were the perpetrators of that incident, but Sharp Grass is an influential member of the Pure Mountain. While they may be small in number and not very popular, they are relentless. Any of your erratic action may cause them to grow restless and try to bring harm to our savior. Also, if any of you were to attempt to harm the Lady, death will be swift.”

The person talking was Night Dew, who was speaking to what Whitney assumed were the visitors. The Pure Mountain was the name of Rhime’s purists that she saw earlier today, though there were of course more than just those four.

“Huh, Soar, it seems that coincidences do happen.” Why Whitney said this was because she had figured that the visitors were in fact those adventurers she saw fighting the purists.

“Lady Armeina, I present to you those four raggedy individuals I mentioned before: Four Leaves, Three Blades, Twin Souls, and Sole Peak.” Night Dew casually insulted the adventurers who showed mixed expressions while introducing them.

Whitney realized that playing the part of a dignified leader was essential, even if she was only a superimposed one. “How may I help you all?” She scratched under Soar’s chin, making her feel like a James Bond villain.

The one named Sole Peak, the leader of the group with the odd spear stepped forward, wary for the many guards around them. “Hrm, I came here with my group to deliver a message for you from the hero of the Tago tribes.”

Whitney blinked. The only thing she knew about these supposed heroes that Whitney is a part of is that they are all human. In fact they were the only twelve humans on this world, as the human race was technically extinct in Ademptis. Perhaps this hero of the Tago could shed some light on their situation?

“And this message is?”

“He wishes to convene a council with all the twelve heroes in order to discuss and share information. As well as to take action against a common enemy that threatens the very existence of civilization.”

Whitney Armeina – End.