Chapter 140: Book 3-02.3: A Hunt Begins

Ashley Sommer Gin hummed as she strode down the dirt path between fields. Large, wide steps, with her legs stretched out as far as they would go. Her back was heavy with her family’s supply pack. Planting day was still several weeks away, but the fields had to be tended and made ready, especially after the beating it took during the Wyldling Wave.

“Da-da-ta-ta-tan! Da-tan, da-tan!” the melody was from a music box her mum had bought from down south, beyond their nearest neighbour Haveena, Ashley thought. It was a relatively new thing: a lacquered box half a dozen inches across and when she opened it, a glass figurine of a dancer wearing flowing robes and holding a rose, spun in a circle while the tune played.

The whole bunch of her siblings and cousins had crowded around the music and goggled. Ashley giggled when she recalled it. Their youngest, Garran, was barely tall enough to reach her waist then and he had almost cried when the music started, clapped delightedly, then when the music stopped, started wailing.

“Careful here,” she muttered to herself.

The path suddenly dipped and the wooden slats that were in place in lieu of actual stone steps hadn’t been replaced.

“Eh, hup!”

She leapt down the last couple of steps and continued on the path. It would go around some hills, past a couple of fruit trees, where it led to a sheltered nook that her cousins used to take their midday rest. It was early for that yet but it didn’t mean she couldn’t come in early to drop off their lunches.

As she expected, the wooden shed--well, it was really nothing more than four wooden posts and a roof made out of eaves, a couple of long wooden benches, and a slatted table--was empty. There were some bags hanging off the hooks on the posts, and she recognised cousin Wodrow’s backpack.

“Alright!”

Ashley plopped her bag on the table, opened it, and took out several containers wrapped in cloth and knotted shut at the top. She hung up three such packs on the hooks before closing her bag and returned it on her back.

“Next stop’s about a longstride away.” She huffed.

“Da-da-ta-tan!”

She marched to the beat, finding herself empowered by it as much as it entertained her. Her Heritage had been of the Gin lineage, hence, not directly combat-oriented though it was quite useful if she developed the right Facet. The one she had now mostly had to do with her humming. If she looked at a mirror, or at a puddle for that matter, she would see her own eyes glowing red. It didn’t do much in one go but as long as she hummed around the fields before the planting, and perhaps during the growing seasons, their harvest would be more bountiful. Five members of her extended family had a similar Facet as hers and their daily task was to sing to the fields every day.

Simple and satisfying work, Ashley thought, but she sometimes dreamt of visiting the other noteworthy places in Rumiga. Why, her elder cousin spoke of the village of Horswick that had more sheep and goats than there were people! That would be a nice place to visit.

The family’s plots of land were separated into several similarly sized areas, but they were spread out between the east and west side of Faron’s Crossing. The western side, though much more dangerous due to the Tidelands, routinely outperformed the east when it came to yield, though that’s only if no Wyldlings trampled or tainted the crops. She was on the west side now, hence why there was a collapsible spear hanging off her belt. But it was just after the Wyldling Wave, and there shouldn’t be any danger right now. Still, mum insisted that she should always be armed, so here she was. Despite the fact that the spear was really too large for her or that she often hit her side with it when she moved awkwardly.

The path went around a low hill on her way to the next resting shed. She was just about to go past the lavan berry bushes when she saw something. Or, rather, someone.

“Eh? Who’s there?”

Ashley would have recognized any of the other farmers who owned the surrounding fields, and she knew of no one who would wear a greatsword, of all things.

“Huh?”

The figure looked familiar if not for the shadows.

“Oh! Yuriko!”

What had come over her? She should have recognized her classmate anywhere, even if they were in a dark room. Yuriko’s presence was just that striking. Well, the feel of her was off, for some reason, and--

“What are you doing back here? I thought you went to the City.”

“The City?”

It was then that Ashley’s heart froze and the hair at the back of her neck rose. The voice was similar but ultimately different. Where Yuriko’s was high and quite pleasant to listen to, this one was sultry and, if Ashley was being honest with herself, scary.

Not-Yuriko stepped out of the shadows, and Ashley grew even more confused. From the pale, milky skin, the golden hair, to the slender, graceful fingers, this one was identical to the original, but Ashley knew she wasn’t. She took a nerveless step back, her hands clenched on the straps of her backpack. It wasn’t until the collapsible spear knocked against her knee did she remember that she was armed.

Not-Yuriko took several steps forward, but what must have been near a dozen paces was covered in less than three steps. The girl stood looking down on Ashley the next moment later, and it was then that she saw another difference. Where Yuriko’s blue eyes were the perfect shade and tone to lose her gaze in, Not-Yuriko’s eyes were crimson. And her teeth were sharp, how could she have missed that when the other spoke?

“Who…who are you?”

Those perfectly sharp teeth were framed beautifully with those plump luscious red lips. “I am the Seeker of Delights. And who are you, girl?”

“Ashley Sommer Gin,” she answered slowly. Such gorgeous red eyes. Yuriko’s features were perfect, and on the Seeker of Delight’s face, they were even better. If there was a superlative term above perfect, Ashley didn’t know it, but she knew she was standing in front of such a specimen.

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“Well, Ashley, fancy accompanying me?”

Why not? She didn’t have anything better to do. Ashley was grinning, she realised, in a silly manner from how her cheeks pulled at her lips. Seeker stepped closer until there was less than an inch’s distance between them.

Ashley was a slight girl. Slender. But so was Yuriko, for that matter. She felt the tips of the other girl’s breast touch her collarbone. Those crimson eyes stared down at hers. She could smell the Seeker’s breath, an intoxicating scent. She’d do anything to keep that scent with her.

“Whe…where are we going?”

Some part of her mind, her Anima, screamed at her, but it was a voice that was rapidly drowned by her own thunderous heartbeat. The Seeker opened her mouth and leaned down. The distance between their lips shrinking rapidly.

“We're going on a journey,” the Seeker whispered, “and you’re going to help me make it.”

Ashley closed her eyes and smiled. She felt the tiniest pinprick of pain, followed by the rush of her Animus draining away. Then, darkness claimed her, but the last thing she felt wasn’t terror or pain. It was bliss.

___

Lukas Maeda Nadir stood in the dark room, more a cavern than anything else, with half a dozen kids near his age. Each of them held a small weapon, a combat knife, and a collapsible spear in hand. In front of them stood a middle-aged woman with her hair in a bun, wearing a thick vest and voluminous clothing.

He and the other children wore a hooded sweater that covered their heads and left their eyes shadowed. The woman, their instructor, wore a mask that obscured half of her face, revealing only her eyes. She held a spear in front of her and in the next moment, it was enveloped by a harsh blue light.

“Empowered Strike,” she intoned.“One of the most basic Animus techniques taught by the Empire. You haven’t been given this privilege, or if you were, instruction had been so rudimentary that you can barely form an edge. In a battle between men, he whose Animus is stronger, more focused, and denser than the other will win.”

Lukas listened avidly, his curiosity piqued. It had been a few weeks since his induction into the Council, and they had done their best to strengthen him and uplift his and his sister’s living situation.

Mr. Mazer had called him into his office one afternoon, offered him a glass of brandy and produced a set of papers for Lukas to examine. A single look was more than enough to tell him that this was the lending agreement between Lukas’ parents and Mazer.

“Lukas, lad, I’ve fulfilled a part of my promise to your father, and you…you will have to fulfil his part. This contract is something to be used only if the Threads of Fate had indicated otherwise, but now that you have…committed yourself to us, this is no longer needed.”

“You mean?” Lukas gulped, his hands shaking. This meant that a greater part of his earnings wouldn’t go into paying interest. It would go instead to preparing for Kiruna’s Atavism Ritual!

“Yes, but it means you’ll have to step up in your other duties. You have quite the potential and your Heritage has more to offer than you think.” Mazer smirked. “But you have to grow far stronger before that can happen.” He picked up the contract and tossed it into a marble bowl. He struck a match and held it over the papers. “There truly is no going back after this.”

Lukas didn’t hesitate. “Thank you, sir.”

The match fell from Mazer’s thick fingers and fire ate one of the chains that held Lukas down.

Lukas blinked away his recollections. The instructor continued her explanation.

“The key to Animus-clad combat is the strength of your Intent, the clarity of your image, the purity of your Animus, and, of course, the amount of Animus invested. Animus consumes Animus and weak control means wasted lumens. You run out of it in a battle and you’re done. Not only will you grow dizzy from the lack but should you drain yourself completely, you’ll faint. Empowered Strike requires a specific image, a specific Intent, but this varies from person to person. Find it in yourself what kind of Intent you want to put in your weapon…”

Lukas had attended one lecture after his Atavism Ritual, the only one that gave him and others like him the basics so that they would know how to use their own Animus beyond their Facets. For the lucky few, their Facets taught them everything they needed, while for those like him, it gave little. Still, he remembered the importance of control, especially for one with little in their reserves.

He absently listened as he mused. He still had little in his reserve, having started out with thirty lumens, ten of which had been consumed permanently to inlay his Facet. Twenty lumens. Twenty one now and perhaps in a few days, twenty-two. Every single lumen was precious, giving him a single copper penny at the Cartridge Power Hub. Well, now he didn’t have to scrimp and save every last lumen.

What kind of Intent did he want? He weighed and measured everything he did and this should be no different. Careless application would leave him empty and vulnerable. For that matter, what were they expected to fight? It wasn’t something that he had thought about before but the next moment, he shook his head. He’d rather not return to his hardscrabble life and he doubted he would be allowed to anyway.

One truth remained for him. Grow stronger and he would earn more. If he earned more, his little sister would have what she needed to live a life of ease. And to grow stronger, he needed to learn.

A single lumen was pulled from his core, cradled carefully in his mental hands as he directed it towards his dagger. The precise amount needed for the precise results wanted. The blade started to glow with orange light, pulsating in time with Lukas’ heartbeat. It only took a single lumen to empower a blade, a single lumen to cover all of that steel.

It was definitely weaker than what most people would invest into their Empowered Strike, hence it was impossible for him to cut through the enemy’s technique. But there was no reason to do so. Where one’s Animus was focused into the weapon, it would not protect the other areas. All he had to do was avoid the Empowered weapon and strike where no Animus existed to protect.

That was the best use of his limited resources.

Lukas blinked, as a change in the instructor’s tone meant that she was done explaining and practice was in order. He was squared off against the person beside him and they used wooden training weapons. And then they started prodding each other until their Animus just about ran out.

Lukas staggered home with wobbly knees. His lot in life was much better now, but he couldn’t help but wonder if what he traded away was worth it.

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