Axiom Page 20

  The aged academic was having a delightful time of it. Answers that had eluded him rushed forth in the form of someone else’s memories. The information started with the creation process of a basic spiral and was completed with the feel and methodology for actively cultivating. All crucial information that Artorian did not previously have. The basic functions, now that he grasped them, were all so simple. When the rock came down, his other hand went up.

  *Slap*!

  His open palm whacked against his eyes and forehead as a soft laugh eschewed from his throat. “That was it? That’s all? Actively cultivating is the willful effort to pull while you’re present in your Center and visualizing drawing from that which is around you? I’m truly a blind, old fool.”

  Artorian used a towel to wipe his face, preventing himself from getting teary at all the wonderful things he’d just learned. Answers to issues he had not even considered to be a question… he found solutions for. He was burning to set them into motion. “There is such risk to cultivating! I wasn’t aware that you needed to sacrifice awareness of the world around you to such a degree while you focus your efforts inwards.”

  Jiivra didn’t share his epiphany nor his joyful manner. This was all basic information she’d had for years. Instead, she was torn at the oddly thoughtful gift she’d just been given. Not just considerations that the word ‘fate’ shrouded the wishes of others but that her own desires had become solidly codified in book format. Something Jiivra had never thought of before; words were stronger when written.

  They felt real rather than ephemeral. Jiivra still felt off-balance but less from the weight that had eaten at her for years. For the first time, she had an alternative literally in her hands. She still believed she would walk the path of the Paladin, however, the reason as to why was beginning to change. Jiivra was going to be a Paladin because she wanted to be, not because some high-strung Vicars had told her she needed to be one.

  The difference in how it sounded was minor, but the difference in how she felt about it was profound. Her shoulders jerked when she realized Artorian was carefully observing her instead of being enamored with his own thoughts. “May I ask a cultivation question?”

  Jiivra was more than happy to leave the prior topic behind and jumped on the new one with the same speed that she mounted her Diretusk Boar. “Certainly.”

  She didn’t see a reason not to go along with this talk. There were things she wanted to attend to, but the twinkly-eyed scholar and his varied interests constantly made her curiosity flare up. Artorian thanked her and launched right in, “What can you do with Essence other than just keep it within you and refine it for your well-being?”

  Jiivra’s face flattened; that was a far-reaching topic he’d set up. “Difficult question. The basics are generally core cultivation, followed by Essence sight. Which, by the way, is done by cycling Essence to your eyes. There is basic healing, which celestial Essence excels at… *hmm*. Incantations, which are powerful, single-use, large-scale effects, but you lose all of the Essence you invested into them. Basic enhancement, which is what I’m currently working on… though my technique isn’t without flaw. Then techniques, which… cover a lot of things.”

  *Ergh*. Fumbling her words, she found that she really couldn’t continue that line of questions further without something more specific to discuss. “There are a few more options, but those will be of no use to you unless you’re capable of the ones I just spoke on. To reach D-rank one, I needed to turn my Chi spiral into a Chi fractal. It’s an enhanced level of the current cultivation technique you just learned. Almost everyone starts with a spiral and goes up from there. Only Royals have access to other methods, and they are kept secret.”

  Artorian shared Jiivra’s expression; both were visibly confused. “I don’t know the differences between ranks. Is there a reason I never hear E-rank? I’ve heard F and D while talking with the other Initiates.”

  Jiivra sank back in her chair ever so minutely. She’d explain that at least, his first easy question. “F-rank is where your average adult human begins even if they do not cultivate. E-rank is a… special rank. It means ‘Echo’. Someone in the ‘Echo’ ranks has had someone else’s cultivation technique ‘echoed’ into them, allowing them a quicker rise through the ranks. This is usually because a gifted technique is better than what someone can cobble together themselves.”

  “Anyone of D-rank or higher can do this, but the process is incredibly costly and dangerous, as it requires a direct connection to another person’s Center. Such techniques have many dangers. If something goes wrong, it ends poorly for both participants. I, as example, could Echo my fractal on to someone else. However, the Essence it would require would leave me so dry and drained, that I am nearly guaranteed to die.”

  The Battle Leader was giving a lecture and started to ease back into a place she was comfortable with. Teaching others was something that she liked. “After D, come the C-ranks. These people are truly powerhouses. The general comparison is that a D-rank could take on ten F-ranks in a fight, and one C-rank could take ten D-ranks. A C-rank cultivator can be recognized fairly easily. Usually, their bodies have been imbued with Essence, and they generally have a very powerful Aura—so much so that non-cultivators can be suppressed just being near them. I have only met a handful but standing next to one always felt like I was standing next to pure danger.”

  “To become a Paladin, I am required to achieve C-rank one. I’m told to take my time, as entering the C-ranks will take whatever cultivation technique I have and make it ‘solid’. What was meant by that I’m not sure. After the C-ranks, there are Mages. These are the B and A-ranks and are so complicated and secretive that I know next to nothing about them… except to never make someone in that rank mad.”

  Jiivra ended the quick rundown, but it seemed Artorian didn’t have any issues with her explanation, a joy to her after needing to deal with recruits all the time. Artorian’s soft words prodded at another sensitive topic. “Could we go over techniques in more detail?”

  The new Head Cleric didn’t want to go through the entire gamut of explanations, but now that she’d gotten herself into it, she tried to cobble something together. “It’s a term for an Essence effect that has a… foundation? It doesn’t crumble right away like an incantation does, and the cost varies depending on how good that ‘foundation’ is? I know of a few superiors who can use their Essence in the form of an attack, and that’s also called a technique. That’s… still not it. It’s hard to explain.”

  Tapping her lips, she disregarded Choir-lore and explained it the way she thought of it. Practical applications were easier to explain and implement than their lofty ideal counterparts. “A technique is a specific method and manner in which very precise amounts of Essence are moved in order to achieve some kind of effect. As an example, when I move one ‘unit’ of celestial Essence to a muscle in my arm, I gain temporary strength and speed before my muscle burns through that Essence, expending the unit of Essence.”

  “Unlike cycling Essence to your eyes, which keeps the Essence in you without great loss, a technique is a stable method for expending Essence in trade for temporary power. Flashier and larger effect techniques require greater amounts of Essence, with additional costs for everything else you want it to do. Don’t let anyone ever tell you they’re ‘free’ or ‘you always get the Essence back’. That’s only if you’re compatible with the technique and can perform it perfectly. Which, as you can guess, is almost never the case.”

  Jiivra’s voice betrayed some irritation at past failures, but she didn’t elaborate and instead marched on, “I can heal someone by concentrating my celestial Essence on their wounds, and that is draining. However, I could also do that from a distance. The problem is every bit of space my Essence has to cross to reach that person vastly increases the Essence cost to the point that it is prohibitive and thus never done. You run the risk of draining yourself dry from attempting a technique you’re not suited for or that is vastly too flashy.”
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  “To most people, the useful thing about proper techniques is that they allow you to burn off miniscule amounts of corruption with each use. The effects of the techniques undergo drastic changes when corruption is added. Why that is the case is something we didn’t really know, but with this writing you’ve provided, I have a few thoughts. A technique always starts from your Center, where you keep all of your Essence. I take mine from the Essence stored in my meridians, and I hear stronger cultivators can apply a technique from their Aura. I don’t know how that works, but my guess is since an Aura is always around you at any given time, you can move Essence swiftly.”

  “For myself, I begin at my Center, take the appropriate ‘units’ of Essence, and order it to the place I need them to be. When the celestial Essence is in my arm, I push the energy in and think of striking harder with my spear. My arm then consumes the Essence, and for that one strike, my power is significantly enhanced. More units of Essence means a better result, but there’s a limit.”

  “Pump too much Essence, and my arm flares with pain. I get the natural effect of celestial Essence instead of the effect I wanted, but the celestial Essence heals the damage I’ve done to myself. If I can’t focus on what I want the technique to do, it all falls apart. The real nasty kicker is when someone tries it with an Essence that isn't celestial.” Her expression turned gruesome as she held her upper arms while shaking her head to get the image out. Failing body-empowerment was a terrible way to die.

  “It’s all very visual and mental, horribly difficult to do. I keep to the quantifiable and just focus on appropriate units. As a reference, I would say my arm can take one-hundred units. A unit of Essence is different for everyone, but I’ve found my method to yield good results. I’m not very imaginative, but I’m excellent with numbers. If you want to see someone truly skilled at precision Essence use, consult Keeper Irene. She was a beast before she accepted the position as Keeper. Irene measures her Essence capacities by the individual muscle.”

  Artorian was still making mental notes as Jiivra stopped and looked at the window; she really needed to go. “Don’t let me keep you, my dear. You’ve been a delight.”

  He sunk back into the cot and prepared for more rest. “The pillow can go wherever there’s room for it. As to your new journal, why don’t I send you letters? We can keep in touch, and you can tell me how your dreams are coming along. In the meanwhile, I can sneak you any little bit of insight I gain while I lay here pondering.”

  The Battle Leader stood, pocketbook still clasped in her hand. Jiivra couldn’t deny that his offer wasn’t enticing, so she just asked the worry that was on her mind. “You don’t mind that I’m likely to share your findings with the Church?”

  Artorian reached out, eyes half-lidded. He’d had a long day—for him. “I don’t mind sharing the little I find with you at all.”

  The old man appeared to slow significantly, and his hand slipped and fell from her glove. Jiivra caught it and gently placed it back on his resting chest. It seemed that was all the old fool was able to handle today. She treasured the idea that as far as Artorian was concerned, she already was the beacon she wished to be.

  A Paladin.

  Jiivra parted her new volume and ripped a page from the back, describing how to send letters to a priest in the Choir. She placed the folded page under his water cup and pulled the blanket over him. What a strange, little man. Jiivra kept her hand on the blanket longer than she needed to and didn’t even notice her own smile as it grew in the flicker of the firelight.

  “Stay alive, long beard. I want you to read this book when it’s full.” The cleric closed her eyes and focused inwards, pulling on her celestial Essence to bring it forth. She brought it up through her arm and concentrated energy into her palm, a soft glow seeping through. Essence moved through the cloth as if it wasn’t there and bled into Artorian’s chest. His breathing wheezed a little easier as the clean energy was absorbed by hungry cells, and the aged heartbeat came ever-so-slightly more steadily.

  She heaved the recovered helmet back on to her head and felt the familiar weight of her spear in her hand. New confidence found her; it was time to be a leader.

  Chapter Twenty-Six

  After the expedition team had left, life in the cloister fell into a very predictable daily routine. The clerics who remained behind, while devout in their faith, settled into a more family-oriented pattern. Prayer was still daily, chants were recited and taught, but the work focus shifted over to food production and long-term stability. With so few present, the available workforce was limited to mostly Jin, Tibbins, and Tarrean.

  Irene made everything operate smoothly, though Yvessa filled in when she wasn’t tending to Switch and Artorian. Switch was still unable to speak or interact with the world around her, but Artorian was doing well under their tender ministrations. The apiary had been re-established, the apple grove was healthy, but the salt flats had been abandoned in favor of small fields that grew basic crops.

  Cultivators were vastly more capable than an ordinary person, and progress requiring physical labor was incredibly easy for them. On certain days, they even had time to harvest some salt from the flats; though they all had to be careful to lock down their passive cultivation. They couldn’t afford to take any Essence from the Scar, even if it might be tempting to tap into that huge resource.

  The new trader, Olgier the Northman, came once a month with additional meal options that were bartered for with salt. Luckily for Tarrean, their bedridden, old fox knew all of the values and weights for proper and fair bartering. The trader—to his teeth-gnashing displeasure—was unable to swindle or get overly favorable transactions. Still, he was there every month without fail.

  As an additional bonus, when the huge, red-haired Olgier swung by, he was usually given a few parcels to deliver. One mail parcel always went to a Head Cleric in the Choir. While another was sent far, far forwards to some Academy in the mountains. Olgier didn’t particularly like to play mailman, but an extra bag of salt went a long way toward making him forgive the hassle. Rutsel—his town of origin—was well-known for its hunting grounds, and salt was needed for preservation.

  To Artorian, the quiet days where he merely laid down and basked in sunlight were quite busy, though not that many people knew it. His Lazuli robe hung neatly on his old bow, having remained there after Artorian noticed he got better results when more of him was… exposed. He wore some warm, winter pants and kept his pillows snug all about him to retain warmth. As a minor bonus, the pillow wall blocked just the tiniest bit of extra wind. For the majority of the day, sunlight poured through the open window and washed over the old man.

  The earliest part of the day, where the sun just wasn’t quite in the right place to stream through the opening, was an excellent time to wrestle his way out of bed. He would mosey over to the stream to wash himself and take care of necessities. Artorian adamantly refused to let Yvessa bathe him, even if his clumsy stumbling meant that there were times he desperately needed her help to actually arrive at the stream. Though everyone else only saw the tired, old man rest, eat, and talk to himself, Artorian was fully absorbed and attentive to the activity in his Center for the duration of nearly every day.

  It made time absolutely fly by, and even the interruptions where he was nudged for a meal were swiftly forgotten so he could bolt back into his new favorite play-zone like an impatient toddler. He wasn’t actually muttering to himself during the day; he’d found it was easier to be vocal and bicker with his Essence to keep himself focused. It helped smooth progression, and the breakthroughs he had were phenomenal, even if they came with a cost. Still, after gaining the knowledge from the Memory Stone, things were looking up.

  His control of Essence wasn’t fantastic; it required great practice and patience to get things right. He tended to run out of patience and would pause only to throw ideas at the wall. One of the few times he bothered to snap out of his fantasy was when someone needed a word or when a flash of brilliance struck h
im that had to immediately find its way on to paper. His desk contained a messy pile of notes compiled on cloudy days where cultivation was going to be inadequate.

  Artorian’s contributions to the Academy were in the order he figured things out, rather than a cohesive step-by-step build. Hopefully, those sharp minds sitting on their tall rocks would parse the documents in the correct order. As the sun rose into the correct position, Artorian settled in his bed again for the day. However, he found Yvessa firmly seated in the bedside chair with her arms crossed.

  “Yes, my dear?” he quizzed with the expectation of something being amiss.

  “What are you up to, old man? You’ve been… suspicious. I can ignore all that mumbling to yourself, but I cycled Essence to my eyes yesterday to have a look at you. Frankly, I have no idea what I’m seeing. Your Center was a disgusting mess—it still is—but now it’s this,” she made a floppy, circled hand motion of uncertainty, not knowing how to explain herself, “mess of colored rings? I can tell it’s corruption, but nothing I know of tells me it could possibly behave like that. Did you actually make tubes of Essence? That’s horrifying! To sustain that… the sheer amount of Essence it must suck down is more than I manage to actively cultivate in a whole day!”

  Her gaze sharpened. “Explain.”

  Artorian rolled his eyes. He could pretend to be all innocent and know nothing, but he was more than aware that she read his mail. Yvessa was capable of looking at his Essence flows anytime, so trying to be stealthy while making progress was not happening either. “Shall I explain from the beginning, then?”

  Yvessa leered at him with demanding expectations. “Of course, from the start!”

  “Fifty years ago, I was born. From there– Ow! Rude! Not the beginning then… So, Essence. As discovered, there are two draw methods: passively taking it in or actively taking it in. If I consider a drop of Essence to be a drop of water, then my Center is a bucket, and my body is a well. Both can only hold so much. Corruption comes along with Essence, and for every one drop of Essence, you have roughly two drops of corruption.”