Furious Scribe
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33. Basil - Mindset
🕑 Added 2024-01-31 00:09:36 +0000 UTC
Chapter 33
Mindset
By the time the sun had fully risen I was already gone from my room.
Much like the night prior, my rest came in only a few short bursts interspersed with wild thoughts and planning of how to raise myself to previously unfathomable heights. Atrea’s return with the items I had requested also awoke me for a time, as did Warrick leaving in the predawn light.
“I thought I was the one who was supposed to have good hearing,” he said, sheepishly, when I greeted him from the floor.
I stood, stretching my aching muscles – the rug covering the wooden boards hadn’t been quite as plush as I had hoped. “I needed to get up anyway,” I told him with a half-contained yawn.
“Don’t you have an afternoon match?” He moved to my wash room, where we took a mouthful from the water pitcher, swished and then spit it out into the waiting bowl.
“I do,” I confirmed without saying the rest of what was on my mind. I would have preferred him to use one of the cups provided instead of drinking directly from the pitcher, but this was Warrick: the fact he had managed to cultivate two Order with how he lived was a feat unto itself.
“Well, I’m off,” he said. “Need to write an essay for my probabilities professor. Can you believe my parents are holding classes during the tournament? Demented, eh? Don’t think I’ll make your match, but I’ll come back as soon as I can. And here,” he said, pressing something into my hand, “for letting me sleep in your bed when you deserved the rest much more than I did.”
By the time I looked down at what Warrick had given me, he was already out the door; in my hand sat two colorful bags of Tears of Les. They were the last sort of gift I would want, but I saw little point in chasing after him, not with all the work that had to be done.
I started with cleaning my room, which was in desperate need of it. Warrick had left the bed a distressing pile of rumples, so I straightened the three layers of sheet, blanket, and quilt, and then tucked them carefully in, double-checking my work, and brushing out any lingering wrinkles with the flat of my hand. I fluffed the two pillows, neither of which I had gotten to use, and placed them next to each other at the top center of the bed, perfectly equidistant from the edges as measured by my pointer finger. Then, using a small cloth from the wash room with a touch of water, I dusted all the surfaces in the room. I had only been there one evening, but whoever’s role it was to clean this set of dormitories had been lax in their work, as I needed to refresh the cloth – wetting it and wringing it out – multiple times before the job was done to my satisfaction.
I would have liked to do more, but I also needed to straighten myself, so I bathed using the remaining water in the sizable pitcher to wet my hair and scrub my skin in the clawfoot tub. I wasn’t always a fan of cold baths, but it served to wake me the rest of the way up, and it was with a spring in my step that I dried off and dressed in a similar outfit as the day before – this time with different underclothes and an undershirt with more ruffles that I was fond of. A bit of oil in my hair helped it swoop the direction I wished, and a dab from a different, tinier bottle, just below my jaw on either side leant me a pleasant scent.
I left the room, completing my cultivation of Order by locking the door behind me with a hand-sized key that produced a satisfying click when the mechanism was in place. From there, I passed few others as I ascended to the highest point I could find in the Coliseum. This turned out to be the same space that had served as our location of entertainment the night before, except that now it was deserted, both of people and furnishings. The tables were gone, and even the stage, meaning a team of laborers, and likely Souls, had worked to transform the space back into a flat, open-air roof surrounded by crenulations, the gaps in the stone looking like missing teeth. There were still some long streamers hung on a handful of raised poles, but those poles were too narrow for me to climb, so I went instead to the edge, lifting myself into the dip of one of the crenulations, so I could then get onto the higher part. It was quite a fall from that point, twice as high up as my balcony, but after so many years cultivating Air atop Pirtash Peak I was used to such dizzying sights. In addition, the crenulation was thick, at least four feet deep, so I could sit atop it with my legs hung over the inward side with little fear of falling.
My preparations complete, I closed my eyes, ready to start my secondary cultivation. For all his faults, Tipfin had drilled into me the importance of honoring your Sources every day. With the distraction of the tournament, I had failed to do so the day prior, and I wasn’t going to make the same mistake twice. Without proper attention paid to one's Sources, one’s attunement to them could degrade, like Hull’s lack of Order, and I needed mine flush and ready for my upcoming matches.
First, I focused on the Air outside of me, letting the way it tossed my hair, brushed my skin, and fluttered my clothes consume my thoughts. I tracked its shift from a light breeze, to a strong gust, to a return to playfulness. The brunt of its power came mainly from the East, but there were times when it pivoted, blowing toward me from the Northeast or even straight North.
Next, I focused on taking it in, breathing deeply of the Air around me, feeling it spread through my chest, expanding it. On my following inhale, I concentrated on pulling deeper, into the space below my rib cage, and after a few more breaths, I was able to get it all the way down to my belly button. Each time I held the Air, noting how it filled me, swelling and strengthening my core. As I did this, I realized that I had been wrong the other day to think that an apology was nothing but air. Air was tangible, and with intention behind it, had great force. While it would be more convincing when paired with action, it was still powerful unto itself, and I had been foolish to ignore it as an initial overture to Esmi.
Today, I would correct that error in judgment, as well.
Finally, I focused on adding my own Air to the world. When I had been younger, that had been simply breathing out – or as some of the other children with me at the time had joked, passing gas – but many years later, I now did so with song. I didn’t have the best voice, but after more than a decade of such cultivation, it was clear and, I liked to believe, strong:
Sources swim with the Twins at the end of time,
Fire churns the restless wyrm that burns inside,
Water waits beneath the waves to one day rise,
Earth regrets seasons spent without Fate to guide,
Air swirls around the world when Fortune smiles.
A took a breath to start the next refrain and –
“You are much better at that than I remembered.”
I turned to find my brother Gale on the crenellation beside mine. Unlike me, he dared to stand tall against the wind that whipped at his long hair. He couldn’t fly like the king, but one of his soul abilities allowed him to adjust his weight. That, combined with the strengthening bracers he wore strapped to his ankles, let him leap through the city practically weightless and then take root with greater mass wherever he wished to lounge.
“I appreciate the kind words, brother,” I replied, donning a mantle of formality and Order to do so, which felt more stifling than normal, coming on the heels of cultivating Air. “To what do I owe the pleasure of this unexpected visit?”
“Mother’s been asking after you,” Gale said, his light blue eyes making the gold in them stand out all the more.
“She has?” I asked, not liking how hopeful my voice sounded.
“She heard that you had taken up with some lowborn boy who entered the tourney, and when you chose to stay at the Coliseum instead of coming home when its only a short carriage ride away, she became downright moody. So, I took it upon myself to check on you. Easier than continuing to live with her in such a state by far.”
I slumped. She still viewed me as a child, concerned for my safety and not what I might accomplish. I quickly straightened out of that old way of thinking. If I planned to raise my soul to Epic and beyond, then moving beyond my mother’s expectations would be the least of the hurdles I would need to overcome.
“You can report to her that I’m doing well and merely living by her example: a weed is not always a weed, particularly not when given the proper soil and attention to thrive.”
He nodded, looking amused at my tart reply. “If you win your next match, you’ll be in the top eight of the tournament. That means you’ll get to have dinner with the king tonight. When Randel and I competed, it was a humorous affair, and I’m sure it will be similar this time around. The king is eccentric at best, and he’s only become more so over the years.”
“I am quite aware of those things,” I responded, having heard those particular stories over our own dinner table for many years. I didn’t bother confirming my brother’s assessment of the king by sharing how our liege had appeared unexpectedly, wishing to compete in a category none could match and damaging the entire gathering with his Lightsong ability in the process. If I managed to gain similar power one day, would I also become as out of touch as he seemed to be? Hopefully not with someone like Esmi at my side, or a Soul like Atrea. “The opportunities you describe are precisely why I am here,” I said to Gale, “preparing for my match. If you are finished confirming my wellbeing, I would appreciate it if you let me return to my cultivation.”
Gale smiled again – that knowing one which often irked me. “Luck, brother,” he said, crouching slightly in preparation to jump, and then with a wink, “Give your fiancee my best, would you?” Before I could respond, he leapt off the crenulation, soaring away in a perfectly executed arc.
I watched him go, more likely to cultivate Nether with the sudden spark of rage I was feeling than anything else. The sensation was momentary though, gone with the breeze. Gale wasn’t serious about Esmi – he wasn’t serious about anything. He was just tweaking my nose, a pastime both my brothers engaged with annoying rigor. Well, raising my soul to the heights I had planned wouldn't just be useful for putting princes in their place but also interfering siblings.
With that pleasant thought in mind, I closed my eyes, and started again, feeling the wind upon me. Though I had a few errands I planned to run before Esmi’s match, I still had enough time to –
“Master Hintal,” a gravelly voice said.
I let out a sigh that was more of a grunt, opening my eyes. For a moment I didn’t recognize the man, with his grizzled features and dark clothes, cut more for travel than social gatherings. Then I placed him as the one who had been with Plutar.
“Yes?” I asked, equal parts wary and frustrated. How did people keep finding me? Gale could have guessed that I’d be cultivating Air and searched the high points of the Coliseum, but this lackey? Did he possess the Hunt ability or a lesser one associated with tracking?
“From my lord,” the man said, holding out a rolled piece of parchment with an orange wax stamp keeping it closed.
I reached to take it, but a thought forestalled my hand. Unfurling it, reading it, those things would take time, and today mine was especially valuable. Not to mention this was probably just another base attempt to distract me.
“What does it say?” I inquired.
“Master?” he asked, as if confused by my question.
“You seem close to him, a trusted vassal,” I explained. “He might have even dictated this message to you. You know its contents, do you not?”
He looked somewhat uncomfortable at that idea, but eventually jerked a begrudging nod.
I folded my arms. “Then tell me what it says. In the shortest way possible.”
The man pressed his lips together, but did close to what I asked, breaking the seal and spreading the vellum lengthwise between his two hands.
“Hintal,” he began, in that rough voice, with only a touch of the accent that Plutar possessed, “I was disappointed to learn that, while I was indisposed, you allowed Esmi to be harmed by Prince Gerad. If you have any dignity – ”
Anger swelled in me, something I would normally curtail, but again, I found myself resisting my usual nature. Why must I temper my reaction for this individual? Just like my mother would need to accept my independence, I needed to gain the respect of those I interacted with, and, as well as I could judge, some heat in this particular situation wouldn’t go amiss.
“I did not ask you to read it,” I snapped at him, letting my displeasure show – it was uncomfortable to speak so, but the Air in me seemed to resonate with the freedom of the act. “I asked what it said. What is the point of this message?”
Again, the man didn’t look happy, trailing his eyes down the sheet as if to confirm the words it contained
“He asks that you forfeit your match against him and relinquish your status as Esmi’s fiance, since you are, judging from your recent inability to act, unworthy of the title.”
I slid off of the crenulation, booted feet landing on the stone. I summoned a full set of cards into my hand, which widened the other man’s eyes. Bronze flakes danced there, glittering off of the new sun – he was only a Common Soul, with probably no more cards in his Mind Home than I now held in my fist.
“Tell your master that I will beat every last shard from him during our scheduled duel. Also, inform him that if he tries to play any more games with me before our match, I will not wait for our sanctioned duel but instead find him and settle our differences in the raw, as they do on the streets.” I had never been in a street fight myself, but I was confident Hull could give me some pointers should the need arise.
The man stood there a moment, seemingly shocked by my claim, and I turned one of my cards into a floating ball of Order Source.
“Do I need to send an Executioner after you to make sure it’s done?” I asked, my voice nearly as rough as his.
Whether it was from my tone or the threat, he flinched – a grown man, actually shying away from me – and then he turned on his heel and marched away, not running, but moving a good sight faster than walking.
Watching him go, I was just as surprised by my behavior as he had been. Making demands, threatening people? That certainly wasn’t how I usually comported myself. And yet, would constantly being polite let me reach my new goals? I somehow doubted it. Halfway across the rooftop, the man glanced over his shoulder to make sure that I wasn’t sending a Soul chasing after him, and seeing him do so had the oddest effect on me – I felt a warmness in my heart, as if, even if it was only for a moment, I was in complete control of my destiny.
The sensation didn’t last long, replaced by the realization that I needed to get a move on if I was going to accomplish all that I had planned. One of my most important tasks for the day was to watch Esmi’s duel, not only so I could provide her support, but because after defeating Plutar – which I would do; he was a bug compared to the prince – I would face the winner of their match.
Whether that ended up being the bruiser from Darlish or my fiancee, I aimed to be prepared.
Comments
Furious Scribe
Fun theories. I'm hoping to explore that a bit with Ticosi, with his conflicting Chaos and Order, and then with some others later who are in a similar boat.
Gail
Interesting. I can't pretend to know who'll win the upcoming match, I don't have nearly enough info on Esmi's deck to speculate. Hmm, so attunement takes upkeep. That makes a lot of sense, and shines an additional light of difficulty on my idea of gaining one of each source a few chapters ago (although I imagine just having one of a source is relatively easy to keep up). Makes it even more impressive, and a little sad, that Hull has managed to work up 7 Nether. He's lived such an angry life that, natural affinity notwithstanding, he's swelling with that power of hatred and want. I wonder about the difficulty of holding opposed Sources in your soul. Does having and reaffirming an affinity with Chaos degrade your ability to hold Order, or can you do both? What about the elemental sources, or the planar ones? Trying to have both might be exceptionally difficult, or they might cancel out and it's impossible. In which case I'd have to revise my goal to having 6 different sources.
Furious Scribe
You'll find out soon, in chapter 35!
iridium248
Good money is on Esmi winning, unless she deliberately throws the match.
