Chương 37

Clara at least convinced her two fellow patrollers to drag their quarrel a bit away from the hold before they devolved into fighting. The whole time, she could feel the waves of tension radiating off them both. She was used to that attitude from Rufus, but it was strange for Kirk to be so annoyed. Then again, he had been pretty direct about what he wanted: to be called Kirk.

But Rufus couldn't see the point, because he was so annoyed by the fact that the other 18-year-old was the youngest scion of the Albion Family. Even now, when Clara glanced at Kirk, she felt a thrill. He was handsome. She could easily admit that. With golden hair and direct, dark eyes. He was honest and a hard worker. And the son of one of the most powerful families in the kingdom. That direct, honest man called me pretty, Clara's traitorous mind reminded her. She tried not to linger on that too much.

The two boys only maintained their civility for twenty minutes. They found a clearing. She moved to the side and began to pick flowers. Kirk drew his Larian Saber. Rufus wielded a polished short sword. Both their eyes burned-- the spar began at her half-hearted wave. Both rushed forward. For a few moments, they grunted and shifted, jostling for position. Their feet marched forward or scrambled back. But soon, as Kirk found his rhythm, his larger weapon and superior agility gave him an advantage.

Which he leveraged into targeted strikes that forced Rufus back until he tripped and ended up on his butt. Clara genuinely couldn't believe how shocked Rufus was when he was quickly defeated. One is Tier I, the other is Tier 0. What did you think was going to happen?

"Recover for a bit," Kirk grinned down at his fallen competitor.

"When you finish pouting, we can go again."

"I'll-" Rufus had to pause as he panted on the ground.

"Save your breath." Kirk waved a hand. Then he walked over to her.

"Oh, you found some blooming chrysanthemums?" Clara looked down at the few stems in her hand.

"These actually aren't chrysanthemums, but-""Oh, of course, the sun lilies. Your favorite," Kirk nodded. For a second, Clara's smile faltered.

"Wait, you remembered that?" Kirk gave her a strange look.

"You told me a week ago. How could I forget?" He called you pretty, her mind piped up. The two stared at one another. Clara's heart raced. Her skin felt hot and flushed.

"Alright, alright, get back over here!" Rufus staggered to his feet.

"I want another shot." Sighing, Kirk turned away and walked toward Rufus. Clara toyed with the stems.

After their patrol, Kirk looked at Clara.

"Can you come with me? I have an idea." Rufus would normally have taken this opportunity to snap at Kirk, but he was too exhausted and bruised to do more than groan. Kirk patted his shoulder, oddly satisfied.

"I'm sure you are almost there. Now, he's going to be rude, but allow Healer Michaels to take your energy." Clara stared at the ground and said nothing, leaving Rufus to groan and stagger away. Kirk almost felt pity for how thoroughly he had leveraged Bestial Senses I and Bestial Strength I to overwhelm Rufus, over and over again, but in some ways, the kid had asked for it. As Kirk and Clara headed for the Peakhold and the tent village within the walls, he glanced sideways.

Across the ridge, a single tent of the Imperial Sanctum remained in place. No guards could be seen, but the pennants flapped in the wind. They passed through the gates of the hold and continued. It was only right outside of Kirk's tent that Clara finally froze up.

"R-right now? You want to just- go into your tent?" Kirk looked at Clara. Her cheeks were red.

"Did you have something else to do first?"

"M-maybe dinner?" She squeaked.

"Ah, you're hungry?"

"... I probably couldn't eat a thing right now," Clara pressed a hand to her middle.

"My stomach would mutiny." Kirk pursed his lips, not quite following.

"If you aren't hungry now, we can always eat later. Besides, I think you'll be excited by this."

"Excited- well, it's not like I haven't… D-don't you have a fiancé?" Clara drifted after him, pale as a ghost. Kirk nodded.

"It's strange, isn't it? Or at least it feels strange. I feel like I don't even know her."

"Even so, she- I can't do this, Kirk. I- you are- but-" Clara hovered by the entrance. Kirk raised an eyebrow.

"Well, let me at least show you what I wanted to give you."" Show me?" Clara gaped.

"You are going to bare-" Kirk crouched next to his scroll pile, rummaged through it, and pulled out a scrap of paper. He offered the paper to Clara. Her first response was to flinch, but then she extended an arm and took the paper with the tips of her fingers.

"Its a method for cultivating energy," Kirk said.

"What?" Clara whispered. Kirk nodded.

"It seems like there was a misunderstanding, but this is what I wanted to show you. What did you think I was talking about?"

"Uh-" Clara's clicked her teeth shut. If anything, her face reddened further.

"Nothing. Don't worry about it. I- this is so kind. I just need some air." Clara, her golden curls bouncing, left the tent and fled. Kirk scratched his cheek. When I collapsed in the Rift, you carried me out. Whatever help you need, I'll give it to you. With an attempt made to pay one debt, Kirk busied himself with preparations. The Rift was extremely dangerous right now, but he was beginning to learn that a part of him didn't care. He wanted to improve, to hone his abilities.

He could do that, in a fashion, out here. But all of the important lessons he had learned thus far, he learned in the Rift. That thought made him pause. Was I reckless before I lost my memories? Or- Love this novel? Read it on Royal Road to ensure the author gets credit. Kirk felt the humming power of his Ancient Bladed Beast Archetype. He could almost feel it growling, eager to be back on the hunt. Did the person determine what Archetypes they would get, or did the Archetypes influence the person?

In the end, Kirk shrugged. He liked who he was. A part of him might be curious about why, but so long as he liked himself, he couldn't really find it in him to care about the origin of his impulses. While Kirk picked up food from the market, a voice called out to him.

"Ho, Young Master Albion." Kirk looked up and nodded.

"Merchant Wheedle." The portly man ambled over. He, too, had several packed bags over his shoulder. His expression, and the bags under his eyes, gave Kirk the impression of melted wax.

"I am heading out. Certain business relationships require my presence, immediately."

"You are leaving?" Kirk frowned. The merchant looked up at the sky. His cheeks were pale.

"It is unavoidable. Besides, suspicions grow. Merchant interests- the Troops don't like them, not when there is a truly valuable prize." Kirk clicked his tongue.

"They are afraid you'll steal the treasure?"

"Many merchants have done exactly that," Wheedle shrugged.

"Plus, Peakhold is small. The Rift, and therefore the Conduits here to harvest it, are weak. Only a few have reached Silver. Considering the treasure is expected to be valuable enough for Silvers…" The merchant shrugged. Kirk stared at Wheedle.

"What about your wife?"

"She has made clear that I don't have any place in her decisions, so I have concerned myself with my own matters," Wheedle replied, his face stiff. In Kirk's chest, even the Ancient Bladed Beast released a snort of disbelief. He said, "Really?"

"Would I lie?" Wheedle sniffed. Kirk remained silent. Although he wanted the answer to be no, his experiences thus far showed him that humans lied quite easily. Even when doing so only seemed to harm themselves. The merchant offered a handshake. Kirk took it. Afterward, the merchant wandered away, seemingly unable to stay still but without a clear direction. Yet the day's distractions had only just begun.

"Why did you bring me a chair?" Kirk had been hovering around the edge of the merchant's quarter, interested in how the changes in the Rift affected Peakhold. The auburn-haired woman inserted herself in front of Kirk, blocking his view of an argument between two red-faced Troop leaders. Several surrounding Conduits and merchants looked up from their deals; the woman's voice was high and forced. Blinking, Kirk reassured her.

"I don't want it back. I brought you a chair because they were making you stand." She narrowed her eyes and examined him closely. Kirk had a strange realization; just like he had doubted Wheedle, this woman doubted him. Even as he felt somewhat bitter to be judged by others' foolishness, she said, "Fine then. I suppose I owe you. My name is Margery Wryton. If you need catalytics, my family will assist." Without waiting for an answer, she pivoted on her heel and left. Kirk scratched the back of his head.

Bestial Senses I nudged him. A dozen or so Conduits with bronze armbands milled around, peering at Kirk out of the corner of his eye. A resigned part of his heart realized that the whole of the hold would be talking about this incident by the end of the day. Is it growth? Kirk wondered as he turned and headed away from the merchant's quarter. If I'm starting to grow numb to the attention.

"Kirk!" Again, a stiff figure swerved to block Kirk's path. Another one he recognized: this was the young healer's aide that had swept him up in those first moments of consciousness. The young man's sweated, even on the breezy day. He spoke with the rough texture of an uncleared throat.

"Have you visited the healer yet today?"

"No."

"Ah. Then he had a message he wanted to pass along." The healer's aide leaned forward, suddenly flushed.

"You mentioned- donations, yes? To help the healer's quarter?" When Kirk nodded, words spilled out of the other man's mouth.

"I'm here to collect that. Uh- He would have come himself, but-""But Healer Michaels only respects his own sense of time," Kirk sighed.

"I understand. Let's go then." The healer's aide froze.

"Uh- but, this morning there was an accident, so we shouldn't-""What?" Kirk frowned. Turning toward the Rift, Kirk bit his lip. Compared to what he could accomplish with his own power, the threats of the looming sky weighed too heavily. Shaking his head, Kirk said to the healer's aide.

"Follow me." For a moment, the aide seemed anchored to the ground. But then he hurried after Kirk to the Bank of the Four. As always, the interior was well lit with rich velvet furniture arranged in small clusters. Privately, Kirk found it incredibly inconvenient, but he supposed he looked nice. The employee of the bank, his oiled beard gleaming, bowed and welcomed Kirk. Kirk looked at the healer's aide.

"How much did he want?"

"Ten gold?" The man replied. Kirk's lips twitched; it seemed like the aide was asking him.

"Just ten gold?" Kirk prodded. When the healer's aide stared at him, Kirk shrugged and requested it. He handed the sack of coins to the aide and walked out of the building. Kirk's nose itched. The smells inside were oddly stifling. When he emerged, his ears twitched and his head swiveled. At the gate of the hold, Kirk could hear shouting. Not just shouting, but-"Actually, considering the costs of bandages…" When the healer's aide emerged, he licked his lips. Kirk waved him away.

"It will have to wait." Because it wasn't just the sounds of shouting-- instantly, the Ancient Bladed Beast's hackles rose. Within the commotion, he heard the unmistakable keen of human pain. As he moved closer, Kirk realized how closely humans resembled water. Streams and rivers could be slender and fast-moving, but when they slowed down into a lake, the crowds became heavy and wide. Kirk had to wade his way through to get a good look at the commotion. Two individuals knelt in the middle of the dirt path.

Opposite were a group of five. At the front was a burly man with a tattoo of a bronze dragon inked across his left arm. Each scale of the sinuous creature had been drawn into the shape of a flower petal. The four behind him wore leather jerkins with that same dragon stitched across them. That burly man spat to the side.

"A levy has no rights. Why? Because you are the wriggling parasites. You ain't strong, you don't matter. Whatever materials you gather are because we are bleedin' down-slope, keeping back the real threats. Did you expect us to just let you steal from us?"

"We didn't steal," One of the kneeling figures straightened. A bun of tied brown hair sat upon the man's head. His expression shifted between defiance and unease.

"We had to squeeze into a crack to hide from a roving group of geos. Lara's lost two toes, because we couldn't make it fast enough! But at the back of the crack-" The tattooed man stepped forward and delivered a kick to the young man's chest. He wheezed and folded forward. Kirk narrowed his eyes, even as other Conduits muttered to one another.

"What, you suffered? Who cares. That's just life, levy." The man snorted. Then he stepped up to the young woman, Lara, who had thrown her body across the pack.

"Now, are ya gonna be smart or stupid?" That's not fair. Kirk pushed his way forward through the crowd. He could feel the energy from the Troop members. His senses were vague, but both the leader and one of the subordinates felt like they had reached Tier II. But still, he wouldn't stand by and watch-"Come off it, Jackrope. When did you become this self-righteous?" A figure sauntered out of the crowd. A tall woman with her dark hair tied up in a ponytail, who pursed her lips in open disdain.

"Besides, you were holding the line downslope? I had no idea you'd lost your aversion to anything south of mustard." Kirk blinked and paused; he knew the woman. It was Wheedle's wife.

"What in the wound would some has-been, retired Conduit know about it?" Jackrope snapped back. The woman stopped next to the two kneeling individuals. She put her fists on her hips and grinned.

"You haven't heard? I'm back. So unless you want everyone to know how thin the scales are of your Bronze Snake Troop-""We are the Bronze Dragons," One of the subordinates growled. Meanwhile, a few of the Conduits in the crowd chuckled. Jackrope spat again to the side, aimed a vengeful glare at the crouching individuals, then chopped through the air with his hand. His subordinates scowled and followed him. The young man with his hair in a bun pushed himself to his feet.

"Thank you-""You should flee," Wheedle interrupted.

"If you aren't strong enough to resist even this, this Rift Wave will be too much for you. And Jackrope will get his revenge, if he finds you. You aren't strong enough." Without a backwards glance, Wheedle walked away. Kirk watched her back, feeling a sense of kinship. She's exactly right. Right now, more than ever, you need to be strong to survive. Kirk turned his own gaze toward the Rift in the distance. When the Rift boils over... self-deception won't shield you.

"So I have to ask." Kirk flexed his hands.

"Am I ready?"