aerland

/ ˈɛ:land/

Noun, any of the various levitating lands that grace Eryth’s skies. Some are static, anchored to one location, while others meander the heavens like nomadic sojourners.

“ Damn! That was a hell of a work out,” Arthur groaned as he toweled down his hair. He and Aeskyre were about to sit down to a hearty lunch. Aeskyre had drilled him in the Gusting Swallow Sword Art until the sun sat at high noon.

Blocks, jabs and lunges earned him bruises at the back of his palms, in his ribs, and on his shoulders. He’d earned them because swordcraft was not like magic, where you only had to worry about paper cuts from gold vellum.

At the beginning, swordcraft favoured rote learning and seemed to favour the stick. Having the forms beaten into him seemed like Pavlovian conditioning aimed at honing his battle instincts. It inculcated the importance of staying on his toes like a tightly wound spring.

And each sword art was a composition with several forms that could be strung together, enabling one to switch from one to the next. Art of the Gusting Swallow of the Gusting Swallows Sword Art had 9 forms but it was no less simple. Each form could be thought of as a still in a piece of animation.

There were movements in between that marked the transitions, and he had to learn and time them correctly as the situation demanded. The rationale of the whys and whens was something Aeskyre had given him as homework if he ever trained in his own time. That clued him on the existence of training manuals somewhere in Aeskyre’s library of tomes and miscellanies.

Ragged as he was, he was lucky that he didn’t have to cook. Their meal was the previous day’s leftovers, wet fried storm wyvern steak with an accompaniment of mashed potatoes.

Aeskyre had offered to use some magestone tupperware enchanted with [Stasis] spells which meant that they could cook a feast and eat it for three days running. Yet the food felt hot, as though freshly prepared. And the Dragonbreath liqueur in the broth added to a warm, spicy feeling in his stomach, even if he’d only added a mere ladle of the drink.

It also felt reinvigorating; it must have been the mana in the drink and the meat. After the amount of energy he’d expended in the training field, it was well deserved.

“By the way, I meant to ask—” Arthur asked, hesitant about the response.

“Yes?”

“Whatever happened to the Mark Two?” He held his breath.

“If you mean that contraption that almost got you killed, I left its carcass where it lay. Why?” Aeskyre replied. The woman didn't look up from her food.

Arthur contemplated how he was going to convey his thoughts to his host as he piled a plate with his share of food. He took another breath and then exhaled , bleeding off his nervous energy. He’d picked up a habit of breathing exercises to serve as some sort of therapy whenever he felt anxious; it must have been something he’d picked from way before.

‘This could go either way’ he thought, meeting Aeskyre’s feline heterochromatic gaze.

“Well?”

“It worked. The engine was working as I intended, but then something happened to it.”

“So then? What do you need me for?”

“Huh? I thought you’d flip out or something. Won’t you stop me?”

“Why would I do that? You’re here, alive and well. That was then, this is now. If I started treating you like a fledgeling, I wouldn’t be doing you a favor. I might not always step in, but I will always make sure you have learnt the lessons from your experiences. I hope you learned what happens when you meddle with untested ideas—mana can be a fickle thing, “ Aeskyre pointed out.

“I understand.” Arthur said, regarding his food as if it contained the world’s answers. The steamed potatoes reminded him of home. Of all the things, food, among other things, he would have taken for granted had stayed with him.

“If I were well rested before I tested the engine, I would have been more alert to what was happening right in front of me. I failed to account for deviations in my testing. Better yet, I should have waited until you came back.”

“Your awareness of your own faults pleases me,” Aeskyre said, grinning like a proud mother. “As long as you’ve realized that, you can continue tinkering with your inventions. However, you’ll get no help from me on that front. Think of it not as a punishment but as training for your [Fulgor Mastery]. I am sure you can find some way to use lightning magic in your crafts just as I did.”

‘What a bummer. This might set me back weeks, if not days. Maybe I can salvage what was left.’ Arthur thought dismayed

“Assuming I don’t vaporize it...” Arthur mumbled as he picked at his food.

“Then I shall inculcate the importance of being conscious of the resources you have at hand. From now on, you will have to get the materials yourself. I have been generous enough…”

“I would not be quick to besmirch the generosity you’ve shown me so far. You've already done so much for me, even though I was just a stranger that happened upon you,” Arthur said. He internally cursed his predicament. If he’d been a little patient, he wouldn’t have had crafting resources taken away from him. Perhaps the draconic woman was giving him an incentive to go scour the aerland for things to use?

Aeskyre grunted and returned to her food. The two lapsed into a comfortable silence until they were done with lunch.

Arthur approached the workshop, anxious at what he’d find . He'd seen the damage before he’d even reached the open doorway. The first thing he saw were the lightning flowers that blanketed the workshop’s walls like a proliferation of black lichen.

Hairline cracks marred the walls while the splatters of congealed blood stuck to the floor. A metallic tang and the smell of ozone suffused the air almost cloyingly. With everything strewn haphazardly, the workshop looked like the aftermath of a warzone.

The chromastones were flickering, casting the room in shadows that danced in the corner of his vision. But the gloom was no impediment to his view of the other odds and ends that formed debris. That included the husk of an engine that was the Mark II, attached wrapped in broken chains like a trapped animal.

He knelt alongside his creation with a world-weary sigh and ran his fingers across the frame of its metal. Some of the welding of the nacelles had come apart at the seams and a gaping wound remained testament to the origin of the explosion. Crumbly and soot-stained slag sloughed off and crumbled at his touch like scorched sandstone.

The damage from the exploded Pyrtherite crystal seemed to have been localized to the exterior. Less sturdy components like the runecraft that served as a mana circuit for a control system had been degraded. Most of the Aetherite had been rapidly drained from the uncontrolled thaumic reaction.

Luckily, he’d only used one canister in the test case where only one combustor had been in use. That had been undamaged since it was meant to take the brunt from aer and pyr reactions which meant its tolerances were at par.

Nonetheless, the mana conduits and their nullsteel insulation had fared worse. They had to go, as did the malachite foci, which had crumbled from the explosion. It was meant to be replaceable, but going forward, he’d use emeralds or Verdigian garnets.

But all was not lost. The most essential parts of the engine; the combustors, condensers, and everything inside the annular ring like the props and turbines, had come out unscathed.

“Well, I guess I don’t start from scratch.” Arthur sighed as he got to his feet and dusted off his hands. “But the soot and slag will have to be brushed down and the grease replaced as well,”

Getting down to work, the youth grabbed an unbloodied, albeit sooty leather apron and set about preparing things for another engine. First, he fixed the flickering sconces of chromastones using [Diagnostics] to find degraded runes which he remedied with [Basic Repair].

[Diagnostics] helped him find discontinuities in the less warped of runes; it was like a magical multimeter for magical circuits. He’d contemplated using [Basic Repair] to fix up the engine but the skill barely budged. Until he got a deeper understanding of how it worked he would not be using it that way.

‘Guess there is a reason it’s called [Basic Repair]; can’t fix something that is missing more than half of its internals. I’d wager [Null Field] also does what they say on the tin,’ he inferred. ‘I could try [Diagnostics] and [Basic Repair] to see if I can fix Earth technology. If it does work then it is a matter of understanding of the target not its complexity that activates the spell. Hmm, perhaps arcane materials are resistant to blanket use of the spell―meh, maybe later.”

Deciding it would be best to see what his other class skills did, he experimented with the chromastones . [Null Field] did what it said; it literally nullified magic around the lighting fixtures, plunging the workshop into darkness.It seemed to create a barrier which preventing outside interference, including interaction with the mana that powered the lights.[Null Field] was both an active skill just like its counterpart as well as a passive skill he could leave running for as long as his well of power was topped up.

‘Note to self: The World also rewards sticking your neck out, as long as you come out of it alive,’ he thought after testing his skills.

One quart later, the workshop was well and truly not flouting safety standards enough to cause a dwarf-smith an aneurysm. The lighting from the chromastones was stabilized, the coagulated blood had been scoured clean using a stiff-haired brush that would have been used to clean the inside of a forge.

He used his [Aer Mastery] to circulate hot air from a lit forge to dry it quickly. He learned that raw manipulation and larger unmatrixed constructs seemed to have steep costs, but not if they obeyed some rules. Like the second law of thermodynamics, which he used to create alternating air currents.

When he was done, Arthur sat down for a short reprieve, watching the entrancing flames dancing in the forge.

It was not long afterwards that Arthur got up, rolled his shoulders to remove the kinks therein, and picked up some ingots to get started on the replacement parts. Arthur made sure to estimate how much of the metal he had left and if he would need to melt down the warped metal from the engine nacelle.

He was fabricating sheet metal so making sure that there was no air in the molten metal as he poured it into prefabricated molds. Unlike the first time, there was no winging anything now that he knew his way around the forge. While he could not hope to become the best blacksmith, decent was passable for him. Most of the enchanting work involved outsourcing readymade components anyway.

He was satisfied that his[Magitech Crafter] skills would compensate for his shortcomings. Besides, his knowledge as an avionics tech from Earth that he knew by rote could fill in some gaps. Currently, Arthur had [Basic Rune Lore], [Eidetic Memory], [Detect Flaw], [Adroit Handicraft] and from his previous class which was already overkill for what he was doing.

Added to that, [Diagnostics] and [Basic Repair] and the slew of skills made Arthur well rounded to cover his own bases nicely. As it was, if he made it to civilization, he could open his own shop.

Arthur did not go to sleep until he had extracted the cast metals from their molds. He also made sure that he had inspected them for flaws. He would not be taking chances when he had limited materials to work with this time round. When all that was done, he cleaned up the workshop, freshened up, and went to bed. From then on, it was sword practice with Aeskyre in the morning to drill techniques into his body, then a bath and breakfast. Afterwards was the forge, where he started enchanting new components for the mana engine. That was the most tedious task of all—etching runes had to be done carefully, but he was building experience.

However, there were no Aertherite and Pyrtherite crystals at hand, nor were there malachite gems to replace the foci he’d lost in the explosion. As Aeskyre’d said, Arthur was going to have to acquire them himself. Therefore, he made sure his plans provided such allowances.

Before he knew it, days had blurred into nundines and then nundines into a month and then some. From the rigor of training in swordcraft, Arthur had calluses to show for it. He was greatly helped by [Regeneration] and therefore, they did not hamper his work greatly. Blisters were healed almost as quickly as they appeared.

He was also filling out his frame nicely because he took every meal, wiped them down to the last drop of soup. Where he had previously looked like a wiry convalescent, now he was close to being brawny. The sort of brawn that reflected a prime constitution in a 24-year-old youth.

As a side effect of overcharging [ Regeneration] he had grown a couple of inches taller, hitting the 6 foot 2 mark. Aeskyre assured him that he wouldn’t stand out because, well, there were half-giants who were even taller, but that was beside the point.

He also had stretch marks underneath his biceps, but they were so faint that you had to squint to see them. His body was also successfully accommodating his new strength.

Occasionally, he had to be careful not to cleave through a chopping board or mess up his rune etching. On the whole, he had grown up and been tempered well enough to be heads and shoulders above the average native, literally and figuratively. Arthur could only tell the passage of time by the amount of growth he'd put in.

If it were not for his lack of combat experience, which was, regrettably, still developing, he would have been a fine adventurer just starting out in the trade. There was only so much Arthur could do about swordcraft, especially when it only existed in works of fiction while he was growing up. Even then Arthur had gone from what his instructor dubbed flailing around, to a novice swordsman who knew where the pointy end went.

However long time had passed for him, Arthur had yet to pick up a swordsmanship class. An Erythean [Swordsman] was someone who might have started training while young, perhaps as young as 5 years old building honing their body and accruing experience to get the class. It was therefore understandable if he didn’t get the class even after a month and a half had passed bearing in mind that each had 35 to 36 days. Arthur did not know that.

Unlike studying and other manual work, which came easily to him, training and using muscles he’d never known existed was drudgery. Then again, Arthur had discipline in barrels and an unwavering enthusiasm to swing his sword until he got it right.

Having said that, occasionally Aeskyre continued to beat technique into him, by combat. She did it in the hope that putting him between a rock and a hard place would induce his psyche to gravitate towards the class as there were theories that classes would also manifest under pressure.

“ Are you sure you should be sparring in a dress? What if it gets ripped mid fight?” Arthur was a nervous wreck. He already had first-hand experience with Aeskyre’s strength, but this? This was madness.

As usual, Aeskyre had her practice longsword that almost dwarfed her. Her holding it one-handed willy-nilly like some sort of prop that weighed next to nothing never ceased to make for an amusing spectacle.

To an external observer from Earth who had no context, a petite woman in a sundress, toting a ludicrously large sword was utter insanity. For Arthur, it was the Pits. Again what was with the sundresses though? An observer could only wonder.

“Oh, pshaw!" She flicked her wrist indifferently. “It is enchanted to stop an arrow shot from point blank. How do you think I've been fighting wyverns without armor on? Now put your guard up, less talk, more fighting!”

‘Dragons must kidnap princesses for their clothes,’ Arthur mused.

Arthur took his preferred defensive stance. He kept his body low to the ground in crouch with one foot ahead of the other at a 45° angle. Then he held his own practice sword, which had been his companion for a while, in a two-handed grip with the blade diagonal to his dominant side as he met his partner's eyes.

“ Hmph! An offensive form,” Aekyre narrowed her eyes to slits. “ Remind me again the rationale for that?”

“It allows you to extend your reach towards your enemy,” Arthur responded, orating as he’d been taught thus far as he watched the woman’s shoulders for where her blow would come from. His movements were no longer awkward, and the transitions lacked the hesitancy that came from having to recall them every time he had to switch. Besides that, he’d been taught how to use his Aer and Fulgor mastery to augment his attacks― augeo, the magic of augmentation.

Aer could speed up his swings or hasten his switches from feints to swings. Fulgur would imbue his blade with crackling lightning. Naturally, though the blades were wooden, ironwood was great at conducting lightning as long as it was magic.

“ Remember for the Gusting Swallows a defensive stance , you'd want to square your shoulders and hold your sword off to the side. It should be close to your body but not so close that you'll get in the way of your own sword when parrying―Let's begin!” Then she moved. No―she glided across the ground.

The woman crossed the ground with her sundress billowing behind her. Her bare feet kicked up sand as the ground cracked and from the use of draconic strength. She poised her practice poised for an overhead chop, but Arthur knew better than to fall for the gambit.

It was too open―at least that is what Velkyr swordcraft wanted you to think. Aeskyre could switch forms at the blink of an eye. The only thing Arthur could do to counter that was move in to steal away the time used in doing so. Velkyr swordcraft was meant to force the other party to react.

It was a feint, or was it not? There was no time to think; he had to react at the speed of thought. Arthur decided to hedge his bet and advanced with his sword poised to parry.

Blocks were ineffectual, unless he wanted to have his sword, his arms, or both broken by concussive force. Once you remembered that she had the might of a dragon, you had to think twice about meeting her head on.

Thankfully, it wasn’t a feint—Arthur parried the blow with a ringing clack of his sword. He twisted his sword to catch his partner’s blade on the parrying hooks but Aeskyre had seen it coming and retreated, pulling back her sword. She was fast!

The draconic woman darted back in, as if she’d bounced off the air angling her next swing towards his right thigh before he could recover. He almost flinched but he recalled that he could go faster if he willed it― a turquoise glow bathed his sword and it literally blurred as he curved it to counter.

The swords met in another clack of wood that jarred his bones; she really wasn’t pulling her punches. He watched her shoulders, she was going to dart back and then dart in again so what could Arthur do? Magic—He cast [Gale] to stagger her retreat and advanced to take advantage of her stumble. For the first time, he was going on the offensive.

Despite that, Aeskyre rebuffed his jab at her right shoulder. Aeskyre twitched, angling her body to the side, despite her disadvantageous form. She’d used her stumble to pivot around. A pivot turned into a pirouette as she rolled along the length of his blade.

Arthur managed to pull back his sword, adjusting his grip to angle the sword down and back with one gloved hand on the fuller. He was going to spin on his dominant foot so that he would face her as she came to rest and stop Aeskyre from scoring a blow along his right ribs. He, however, misjudged the force of her blow.

Heedless of such a small maneuverable space, the riposte came hard and fast. He winced as Aeskyre’s sword met his hastily and awkwardly put up guard. He’d fumbled the transition, moved his shoulder in a way it wasn’t supposed to, and the blowback almost sprained his wrist. Both combatants separated, Arthur biting down at his frustration as Aeskyre grinned predatorily. The two circled one another like two beasts warring over territory.

“Dead!” she declared. He had left himself wide open. “What did I say about flashy movements? If it were a real sword, I would have run you through the back.”

Dusting off the sand from his knees, he retorted, “No one would think about doing a front flip mid-lunge. Not everyone has the temerity of a dragon in a woman’s body.”

“Pardon me?! What is that supposed to mean?! You have to learn to expect the unexpected.”

"Hmph, show off,” he snorted, stowing the longsword on the weapon’s rack. As always, he’d lost to the woman who danced circles around him on the training yard. She had forced him to expend a lot of his mana just to keep up the speed of his strikes and guards.

Truly practicing the sword art and applying it on the fly were worlds apart. He’d started learning the Lightning Shrike sword art but switching from that to Gusting Swallows and then back again was throwing off his rhythm. So far he hadn’t even gotten around to use [Aer Mastery] in anything else besides augmenting the sword or [Fulgur Mastery] in anything at all.

Aeskyre regarded him as she stowed away her own sword “You're getting better at this nonetheless. You stayed in our fight longer than our last bout ”

“At the speed you’re moving, that assessment does not inspire confidence.”

“Mayhap you need a change of pace. Pushing yourself too hard will burn you out,” She added. “How about you stretch your legs outside? There have been no wyvern sightings for a while now, and the weather should have calmed down.”

“Mmh, good idea. I’ve been feeling pretty cooped up ,” he replied as he left the training grounds.