Morning arrived alongside an intolerable, moist heat. Letting out a disgruntled sigh, Alden sat bent over as droplets of his own perspiration rolled down his face in tiny rivers. His shirt was soaked through completely, its fabric clinging to his back in irritating fashion. His prison had become an oven, with each passing moment seeming to grow hotter and hotter. Soon enough, he imagined, his flesh would begin to melt from his bones into a puddle of human stew.

Though the sun had risen some hours ago, Amice had not presented herself before him, as promised. Instead she had sent guards dressed in mail and helmets and wielding short spears. To kill him, he thought. Instead they gave him disgusted looks as they gave him water. Warm, Alden downed the drink in a few gulps, a thin stream leaking down the side of his chin.

No food had been given to him. A reasonable decision, had he been in their position. His stomach still protested, despite the logic. Instead, the two guards stood outside the makeshift prison, do doubt sweating even more fiercely than Alden.

“This Gods damned heat,” said the first guard. “Is this the punishment for some damned sin?”

“Not likely. Priests and pillagers alike will be sweating in this heat,” the second replied.

“I swear, each year the summers grow hotter. By next year we’ll be able to fry our eggs on any rocks we can find.”

“Next year? That damned oracle in Highharrow said the hottest day won’t be until summer’s end.”

“Gods,” the first guard muttered. “Did she talk of a storm, too? Muggy as it is, one’s got to be close. A big one. I can feel it.”

“You can’t feel shit,” the second said.

“I can fuckin’ too. My legs’ve been aching something fierce since this morning.”

“We just walked a dozen leagues, you idiot, everyone’s legs are hurting.”

“I know what I’m feeling, Gods damn you,” the first said.

Silence followed. For his part Alden was thrilled. He wasn’t certain he could stand to listen to the two of them ramble on much longer. He would have almost preferred that they’d beaten him.

It was not long, however, before the two continued.

“It’s Amice,” the second guard said.

Alden’s ears perked up at the knight’s name. Slowly, he shuffled forward and tilted his ear towards the door.

“Where’s she been, anyways?” the second asked.

“Don’t know.”

“Well, I don’t like it.”

“None of us like it,” the first replied.

“Then we should do something, shouldn’t we? Instead of messin’ about with some noble brat?”

“Do what?” the first asked. “Ain’t a blade in this dumphole that could touch her skin if she didn’t allow it.”

Silence fell again, followed by the sound of clinking steel and the shuffling of feet. When the second guard finally spoke his voice was so quiet Alden had to strain to hear him.

“You think the bastard behind us is seducing her?”

“What in the Gods are you talking about?”

“Think about it. Bastard blasts her clear over the hill with some magic and she doesn’t have his head off? Or at least torture something out of him, for the Gods’s sake? Instead she waltzes into his little private prison and shuts the door behind her not once, but twice now. Look, now, she’s heading over to us, no doubt to talk to him privately again.”

“Nonsense,” the first guard said, though he did not sound so convincing.

He believed it, most likely, or at least had entertained the thought himself. Alden could only shake his head. Better this way, perhaps. If they knew what she was really doing they would have been far more concerned.

“Leave us,” came Amice’s stern voice. A second later she opened the door and stepped inside.

For all the heat, she looked no worse for wear than she had the day before, a facet all knights seemed to share, though Alden could not for the life of him figure out how or why.

“How are you?” she asked.

“Hot,” he replied.

Kneeling, Amice observed him a moment, her red eyes flashing this way and that as they took in his every detail. She seemed amused. “Are you prepared?”

Alden nodded.

“Good. Let us begin, then.”

Meditation, as Amice put it, was the cornerstone of cultivation. Sitting still, one would focus on their inner self and the flow of the world around them. Then, once the flow of the world was detected, one would draw it into their inner self.

“This energy, is it mana?” he’d asked.

Amice shook her head, the plumage of her helmet swaying. She never seemed to take it off. “It is the energy of the world itself, from which all life stems. Mana, as incredible as it is, is but an external facet of the world. A gift from the Gods, it is said. Hence why no interaction between the two seems to exist.”

“They don’t interact?”

“Not in any way known. Even the greatest cultivators are no better at magic than a standard person. Worse, Mother once said. Cultivation can often result in powers similar to those of magic, hence magic itself is rarely practiced in the southern mountains.”

“What can it accomplish?”

Amiced stopped and thought, her brows knit together in thoughtful frustration. “I do not know,” she eventually admitted. “Most of my training focused on the Body Arts.”

The Body Arts, she explained, were separated into two components: the Inner Body & the Outer Body. The Inner body focused on the strengthening of bones, organs, and the like, as well as improving systems such as the blood circulation and digestion.

The Outer Body, as one might expect, dealt with strengthening the skin, enhancing one’s musculature, and improving the senses. The two worked in tandem, each enhancing the other as one progressed through the various stages.

“Feel the energy,” Amice said, her eyes shut, “and pull it towards yourself. Let it flow through your skin, your muscles, your bones and organs. Then, slowly, absorb the energy into your flesh.”

Eyes shut, Alden allowed his thoughts to fall away as he focused on this imperceptible energy. There was nothing at first, no indication that the energy even existed, and for a moment he thought he had been caught in some sort of ruse.

Then he began to feel something.

Where magic was molten liquid that flowed through his veins, the energy of the world was something entirely different. A solid force that pressed on him from all around, it buffeted against his flesh like a wall of iron before, slowly, sinking into his flesh. There was no pain, but that did little to stop the apprehension he felt.

The solid feeling moved through him, as if he’d become partially intangible and was walking through a wall of stone, its hard material grazing against the cells of his body. Steeling himself, he began the slow and subtle process of incorporating that stone-like energy into himself.

Through Cultivation Strength has grown.

Reward: 1 bonus point to Strength.

Through Cultivation Strength has grown.

Reward: 1 bonus point to Strength.

Through Cultivation Strength has grown.

Reward: 1 bonus point to Strength.

Through Cultivation Strength has grown.

Reward: 1 bonus point to Strength.

Through Cultivation Endurance has grown.

Reward: 2 bonus points to Endurance.

Through Cultivation Endurance has grown.

Reward: 2 bonus points to Endurance.

Through Cultivation Endurance has grown.

Reward: 1 bonus point to Endurance.

Through Cultivation Endurance has grown.

Reward: 1 bonus point to Endurance.

Through Cultivation Agility has grown.

Reward: 2 bonus points to Agility.

Through Cultivation Agility has grown.

Reward: 2 bonus points to Agility.

Through Cultivation Agility has grown.

Reward: 1 bonus point to Agility.

Through Cultivation Agility has grown.

Reward: 1 bonus point to Agility.

Through Cultivation Dexterity has grown.

Reward: 2 bonus points to Dexterity.

Through Cultivation Dexterity has grown.

Reward: 2 bonus points to Dexterity.

Through Cultivation Dexterity has grown.

Reward: 1 bonus point to Dexterity.

Through Cultivation Dexterity has grown.

Reward: 1 bonus point to Dexterity.

Skill Up

Learned Outer Body Cultivation Rank F

Reward: 50xp

Skill Up

Learned Inner Body Cultivation Rank F

Reward: 50xp

Notice

The Skills Outer Body Cultivation and Inner Body Cultivation have been combined into the Body Arts Cultivation Skill.

Gasping, Alden fell forward onto the ground. His muscles trembled and ached, as if they had undergone hours of intense activity, and his lungs burned from strain. So absorbed in his cultivation he had forgotten to breathe, and for how long he didn’t know. Minutes, at least.

His body continued to shake as Amice hefted him upright, her iron limbs steadying him. She looked him over, her eyes knit in a look of shock and confusion.

“How?” she asked.

“How what?” Alden answered between gasps. The pain began to ebb away, and in its place was an invigorated feeling he’d never experienced before. It was as if his entire life he’d been living on a half charged battery, and now that battery was full to the brim.

“You’ve…” she began, her words catching in her throat. Eventually she found the words to speak. “I will teach you no more,” she said.

“What? Why?”

A well of confusion and anger rose up in him. They couldn’t end it there, not after making so much progress. This cultivation of hers was a godsend; only a fool would pass up the opportunity.

“Because I will not,” she said sternly. With her words came a storm of pressure, blowing away all the resistance Alden had mustered.

He had forgotten himself for a moment. Forgotten that the woman before him could kill him with a single blow if she thought it necessary.

“Alright,” he said, turning away.

Her expression softened. Kneeling once more, she said “Do not take offense. I am merely… concerned. You’ve exceeded every expectation I had for you. It took me weeks to even sense the energy of the world. For you to have done so in moments… it poses great risk. To me and yourself.”

“Risk?” he asked. “You mean me escaping, don’t you?”

She did not answer.

Pulling against his restraints, Alden felt the rope go taut then, forcing additional strength into his limbs, felt the material of the rope begin to stretch and break.

“Stop that,” she said, blasting him with another wave of her unusual pressure. His body fell limp in response, refusing to obey him. “You are my prisoner. I must keep you here, as that is my duty.”

“I don’t have to be your prisoner,” he replied.

“I must do my duty,” Amice said.

She stood and approached the door.

He wondered what she would do. She had seen him almost break the ropes that bound him. Finding a more suitable replacement would be the expected action, though he was confident he could break them, as well. Cultivation or no, his magic would destroy rope or steel alike.

Then he would only need to find the opportunity to run. Wait for Amice to be distracted, then slip away, head east or north. There were a thousand things that could go wrong, but it was possible.

Or he could learn to manipulate her. Already he could see the cracks in her personality, the way she sought to be understood. She wanted acceptance, and he could give it. And, in return, she would help him. A mutually beneficial arrangement.

It was no less dangerous than escape was, however. A simple misstep and she would realize his plan, and his head would be rolling on the ground. That, or he’d simply misjudged her. Who was he to say what she wanted, after all?

The only way to find out was to try.

“Wait,” he said, just as Amice’s hand touched the door. She turned. “Let’s talk.”

“What more is there to talk about?” she asked.

“Your family. Your mother is from the southern mountains, right? How did she end up in Hilva?”

“Why do you care?” she asked.

“I’m interested,” he lied.

Amice thought a moment, glaring reproachfully at Alden. Her hand fell away from the door.

“It was part of a trade deal between Father’s father and Mother’s father,” she said. “Mother’s father was the leader of a highly respected family in the southern mountains. Not a noble; they have no concept of nobles the way we do. But they were similar.

“The marriage was meant to keep trade relations open. Father’s father would trade steel, food, fur, and books on history and magic. In return, Mother’s father would enhance suits of armor.”

“Enhance?” Alden asked.

“A power of cultivation, though I have never learned it myself. By imbuing armor with the world’s energy it could be strengthened far beyond normal steel. My own armor is such a piece. Did you not think it strange that your magic had no effect on it?”

He had, though in the moment there had been more pressing matters. His life, for one.

“With that kind of armor your family’s men must be unstoppable,” he said. “Which begs the question. Why are you in some backwater village?”

Amice gave a rueful smirk. “My family was anything but unstoppable,” she said.

“What do you mean?”

“They are dead. Mother and Father. Mother, first. Not murder, or anything else so sinister, just pure bad luck. Cultivation presents many dangers to those who practice it, and among those dangers is undergoing Tribulation. A difficult thing for even the greatest cultivators, and lethal to those who fail.

“Father was heartbroken for months. He rarely ate, rarely spoke to anyone besides myself. Then, one day, Father went to sleep and never woke up. Heartbreak, the servants said. Poison, say I. Some of Father’s family was visiting at the time, and they have always been… ambitious.

“After that, it was a simple thing for my cousins on Father’s side to accuse me of killing him. Without Father and Mother, and with no male heir, I was to inherit the estate and the Barony. They had no proof for their accusations, but as the descendant of a foreigner Hilva’s king was all too ready to have my title stripped from me.”

Alden sat quietly as he took in her words. A sad story, not at all what he had expected. Yet, behind it all, he saw opportunity.

“I’m sorry to hear that. You have my condolences, and I hope you find peace.”

“I have had a long time to accept what has happened,” she said.

“Do you ever feel angry? Toward your cousins, I mean?”

“I do,” she admitted, her red eyes appearing like balls of flame. “More and more as the days pass me by, it seems.”

“You want revenge, then?”

Amice met Alden’s gaze. The fiery appearance of her eyes seemed to double.

“Wouldn’t anyone?” she asked.

“It would be difficult, especially if they inherited the enhanced armor you spoke of. Surely they didn’t inherit the trade deal as well?”

“There was nothing for them to inherit. The trade deal did not even last until my birth. Mother’s father was killed by a rival family, and the trade deal died with him. They would still have some of the armor, surely, but only a few. Five or six pieces split between braces, breastplates, and helms, less if they decided to sell them. Only I have a complete set.”

“Then we can do it,” he said. “If you release me. Train me.”

Amice was halfway past the makeshift door almost as soon as the words left his mouth.

He went to speak again, to stop her, but another wave of pressure assaulted him, forcing him to silence as he watched her close the door behind her.