The Ogre Strength Fairy and the Eldest 'Son'-Chapter 458 - The Star That Draws Attention Finally Gets Seen
Six figures moved almost as one, rushing to intervene as the black blade slid from the cut along the former Yecine’s ribs. Red welled against the quite sliced to ribbons training fabric, a decisive win... by the stated rules. Both combatants stood with their weapons extended, but only one of them had decided to freeze in their follow-through.
Dark eyes looked to the side and the approaching referees - not in triumph, but because glancing at the reality that transcended such clean rules was unnecessary. After all, Corde had already experienced this once back in the duel at the competition grounds a bit over a year ago. The *threat* of a continued battle and the slight shame of technicalities to avoid fatalities.
This time, a razor edged heavy blade point positioned so close to her throat that the movement of her neck muscles put her skin right against it. And this time, a fierce net of inescapable Gravity at her back would have kept her from retreat if the young swordswoman before her had felt the need to dispose of an annoying ’old’ woman for any reason.
"I need a break from training. To master the changes in my Physique."
A low voice spoke just as Zonnel arrived, when she pulled her weapon away from the dark haired woman and allowed the healer to treat the wound. Blonde hair was disheveled, sweaty, and sacrificed just like her clothing. Sections of its trailing length had been chopped once her opponent finally was able to find the space to draw her blade... and the edges of her bangs had seen better days while thinly dodging Corde’s improvements towards the end.
However, her statement carried no bitterness to it. Just an acknowledgement of what needed to come next for her. Similarly, the veteran of four Descents answered... unbitter and certain even with her realizations still solidifying in her mind. Over what had actually occurred amid that flurry of blows that put her on the back foot, at first.
"Agreed. I have matters elsewhere that now require my attention."
Reactions in the crowd were mixed. Some, especially those who had bet on the more experienced woman, celebrated the victory. Those who had went in the other direction were frustrated, but none more than those who recognized - or heard cultivators mention - what the next seconds of a continued fight would have entailed. The climactic ending left the two women walking away from each other... and few were so bloodthirsty that they could not appreciate that being an overall good thing.
Looking at the few flecks of red that were on her Frost, Corde recalled herself adapting - moment to moment - as her student became relentless. While she prided herself on her observational skills, she could definitively say she had never absorbed the underlying principles of new motions so... quickly. It would be easy to blame it on collected observations in her time spent in training with the girl she thought then had been a boy.
But the tingle at the edge of her Astralism’s awareness was the answer, she knew. A tug at her spirit that her Shield did not exactly block. If anything, it lent itself freely to the ’manipulation’ of paying extreme attention to the Cynosure holder... in a way that was not a Taunt so much as it was a Teach. Pulling observers of the other swordswoman - people that were more closely considered ’allies’ than *enemies* - into being ’inspired’ and ’engaged’.
’What sort of luck does she have, to become a leader so recently and then develop a skill like that. Still... as much as she could hate me, that last attack held no bloodlust.’
The same was not true of so many she passed on the way to her quarters. Especially the curved-blade wielder that had sat in on only one of their lessons. She had expected another duel to start immediately. Now, while sitting down on the floor and discarding the skin of rime covering her weapon, Corde sighed quite audibly.
It had grown clear to her that no matter what she thought of the heiress she had met only a few times, or what she thought of the outside influence she brought to matters... Qatrand was quite *possibly* someone who did not need saving. Or so she reluctantly judged as memories surfaced from her own past.
Of decisions she thought her own but had been guided so subtly. That feeling of isolation after it was all revealed, realizing that no one had noticed - or if they did, no one intervened. She had wanted to be that, to someone.
An observant party who could see the signs and pull someone out of their mistaken ’certainties’, before the wool burned away from across their eyes with a mad cackle from the Illusionist that seemed like they couldn’t wait to come clean as a way to hurt her. But so many parts of the situation were not the same as for that child she was... and her fixation was blinding her. The duel - or possibly the Cynosure effect itself - had forced that realization.
’Because I actually looked at her.’
"I need to go look at other things, too."
She had not been back to the location that had stressed and molded three quarters of her life. To the place the manipulation of her had occurred, before choosing to cross over the sea and into this land. Building a different life entirely through grit and chance meetings while fighting Voidlings and perceived shadows of her past weakness. Becoming a hero and an icon... who couldn’t see far enough past her own ghosts to really appreciate people at all.
Not sure that anything would change by going to her homeland, she still hoped that it would.
⟠ ⟠ ⟠
"Can I kill her just a little?"
"No. Again."
Qatrand answered the persistent Leysah while holding onto the black ribbon that had once bound her hair. Nicks marred the gift once given by Elua, which meant more to her than the missing bits growing from her head... that the other woman was so up in arms about. Certainly, the teenager understood that women took their hair seriously, but her practical side could only think that it would grow back - or that she could forcefully grow it back if she paid more attention to some of those very *incidental* seeming techniques stored away in the illusory training tool.
’I know she described that Acid accident. And the Fire elementalist Guild... but did she lose her hair so much in the past that learning how to do that was so important?’
The Empath had worried over her for an half hour, unnecessarily changed the gauze twice with lots of calls not to move too much, and then left to supposedly give the Frozen Duskblade a piece of her mind. Which to her leader meant that she was probably going to glare and growl from afar before yipping and running away if looked at at all. As much as Zonnel had grown as a fighter during her time in the Descent, she definitely was not a fighter.
"Did you lose money?"
"...What? No..."
The person who had been grinding their teeth and had not moved more than five feet from her ever since meeting up after the duel was over, suddenly found a reason to distance herself. As much as Leysah had grown as a friend during their time in the Descent, she still definitely was not a good liar. Or a good gambler, which the former Yecine had learned was the whole reason she got roped into the sponsorship with the foreign nobles in the first place.
"How much did you bet?"
"...I might need to take more Guild mission style requests from the Warden Patrician in the coming weeks, if you don’t mind."
"That much, huh."
A call from outside interrupted the banter and introduced that a visitor was there, from a mortal teenager hired as something of a watcher. Official business was supposed to be sat aside today, but there were always exceptions... with either people unwilling to follow that spirit of festive ’holiday’ - or situations which were developing an emergency status. The man who entered her office was ultimately somewhere between the two.
"Qatrand gil Yecine. Sorry to bother you, considering-"
"It’s fine. But I’d rather you save the attempts at good-nature and get to the point. Considering."
Her wound was just a little sore and itchy, which made it so that treating people well that she cared about became easier than dealing with unknowns that put her on edge. All she had to go on was the man’s worn insignia and general outfit, which categorized him as a member of the Whispering Winds. Thin arms and a wind-messed bun suggested he was probably one of their couriers... and reddish-orange eyes implied that his genetics descended from the natives of a region located in a continent south of the world’s equator.
"I’m afraid I can’t comply with that, because as impressive to watch as that bout was... I’m still more terrified of disappointing my wife than of temporarily annoying you. My name is Jerant er Ryleon. Talva sends her regards. And my Guild sends this."
A sealed letter was brought out under the careful watch of the hand-on-weapon Leysah. With it delivered, he backed away and let his cousin by marriage look over the official proposal. The gist of it involved a branch office being built, with lots of detailed terms and agreement that Qat noted would be wise to let heads stronger in numbers than herself look over before accepting.
But the key part she noted was that the man before her was listed as the proposed manager. Looking at him again, she had a hard time imagining him at a desk job, even if it was the first time they’d met. There was just something about him that screamed ’wide open spaces’. Technically, the surrounding plains did fit that bill... but she was not sure it would be enough for someone that was bred to travel.
"And you are happy with this?"
"Believe it or not, I am. Settling down is something I need to get used to. Considering that I’m a father now."
"...Now? Not ’will be’?"
Scratching the back of his head, Jerant nodded at the young woman, who looked more than a bit like his wife... despite his spirit telling him that she was a ’he’. The other woman in the room clicked her tongue at their conversation. She’d heard of some people conceiving during a Descent, but had not imagined it from the muscular fighter whom she had seen progress so far in the pre-war competitions. Let alone a respected member of the Continental Army.
’How does that not violate some sort of rule?’
The truth was it did, for mortals - but cultivators that stayed on with the military organization, instead of going off to one of the many Guilds, tended to have lots of *exceptions*. Including job security, as long as they have not done something truly heinous. Bringing new life into the world that had just lost so many was certainly not classified as contemptible by most, as long as the details weren’t thought too hard about.
As evidenced by the suddenly improved mood, smiles, and dozens of questions from the duel ravaged blonde.
