Sanguine Prince | Chapter 31: A Lesson in Basics (Second Draft)

Arcturus’ only reply to the incessant taunting of his inner subconscious was a low snarl as he stepped into the training room and looked around for Tylariel. His efforts were frustrated, however, by his own abrupt realization that he’d just stepped into what appeared to be a mix between a dojo—albeit a decidedly more ‘western’ one—and what he suspected was some sort of holographic training chamber. The former he could see from the weapons racked along the wall to his right, and the plethora of mats, towels, and other training paraphernalia organized below the weapons within open shelves. 

The latter he postulated based on the fact that there were large, glowing blue crystals at each cardinal point of the compass around the rectangular room—and from the massive, for lack of a better description, laser-beam looking crystalline construct pointing down and around at the room from the ceiling. While associating holographic technology with a world of swords and sorcery might have seemed crazy at first glance, the fact that Terran technology very much leaned into the realm of highly advanced, thanks to their harnessing of Aether, made the assertion more realistic in his own mind.

While those alone may not have been enough to tell him what the room was for certain, the fact that his Mentor was casually sparring against what he assumed was a simulacrum of herself, one which was bleeding pixel-like motes of Aether, seemed to support his deduction.

With the room looking to be about one hundred meters long and twenty-five meters wide at a casual eyeballing, Arcturus didn’t bother calling out to Tylariel. Instead, he made his way towards the edge of the slightly elevated platform that dominated the center of the room and waited by the closest set of three steps; the ones facing the East, from where he’d just entered.

As if sensing his arrival, Tylariel stepped back and spoke a command he was too far away to catch, which froze the simulated version of herself in its tracks. Another command, and the ‘other Tylariel’ turned into blue light and disintegrated into motes of Aether, drifting away into nothingness.

“Hello, Mentor,” Arcturus said respectfully as she approached him at last. “I apologize for keeping you waiting.”

Tylariel waved a gloved hand dismissively as she came towards him, her pale cheeks flushed with color from the exertion of fighting her clone.

Where Arcturus had gone for armor, Tylariel had changed into a form-fitting green blouse, leggings, and knee-high tan boots. Her waist-length red hair was tied up into a messy bun and pinned with two golden needles. Other than the gilded arming belt cinched around her waist, she wore no other adornments and held only her now-inactive Aetherblade in her right hand.

Arcturus waited patiently as Tylariel appraised him, her striking topaz eyes roving from his face to his sabatons as she inspected his attire. He knew better, by now, than to interrupt her ruminations and contented himself to wait for her inspection to be complete. Thankfully, it wasn’t an overly long process.

“Acceptable,” she judged finally with a nod. “We’ll need to look at outfitting you more fully in more… traditional… Imperial plate and chainmail once you grow stronger. That barely covers your essential areas, and you’ll need those protected if you’re to properly cross blades with Archons in the future.”

“You mentioned elemental armor, Mentor. Is that some sort of ability I could learn?’

Tylariel arched an eyebrow as she motioned him to join her and turned to head back to the middle of the training platform. Her response came only after they settled into the middle of it, her left hand resting idly on her hip as she gestured at him with her Aetherblade hilt. “Did you discover an elemental affinity between now and our arrival?”

“Well, no, but—”

“I don’t say this to be harsh, Arcturus,” Tylariel interjected coolly. “But attempting to plan for a maybe in even the most remote capacity will only hinder you. I want you to understand this so that when I do explain elemental armor to you, and the ways in which you can defeat it, you will not have some small part of your brain that believes it will miraculously manifest at some point.”

Arcturus opened his mouth to protest, and she shook her head at him.

“I’m not accusing you of being an idiot, I’m simply speaking from experience. If you have even the slightest belief that something might happen, you will inevitably fantasize about what would change if or when it did happen. In that spiral lies subconscious self-sabotage. I will explain elemental armor to you, but be very clear on this: you must approach it solely from the perspective of fighting it, not from one of attaining it. Do you understand?”

Arcturus clenched his jaw at the lecture. Tylariel hadn’t mentioned the encounter in Maurice’s shop when he’d somehow compelled her using his Awakened Bloodline’s Aura, but neither had she seemingly forgotten about it. If anything, her stance seemed indicative of a subconscious need to maintain the superior-to-subordinate relationship she had worked to lay the groundwork for. His instinct was to be stubborn.

Unfortunately, his better nature won out.

“Yes, Mentor. I understand,” he said finally. Perhaps the words weren’t as conciliatory or accepting as she’d have liked, and the narrowing of her eyes seemed to indicate such—but she took them in the spirit they were offered, if nothing else.

“You’ll thank me in time,” Tylariel said with utmost surety. “As for elemental armor, the concept is rather simple: every Archon has a core attunement. Fire, Earth, Air, Water. There are advanced attunements like my Nature attunement, or the old Commander of your father’s Gilded Aegis, Cynthia Starblade.”

“A sword made from a singularity,” Arcturus said with a nod. “My father told me about her, but again, I thought they were just stories he made up for me as a child.”

“She was real, and she was terrifying,” Tylariel said matter-of-factly. “Her attunement was a highly advanced, extremely rare Air alteration. Spatial manipulation was almost unheard of. Less than one hundred Archons have manifested it since the Empire’s inception. Mages with the attunement are far more common, but also far less deadly. That is a digression, however.”

Arcturus nodded as he, too, sensed the potential for them to get off-track.

“Do you know how to stretch, Apprentice?”

He nodded.

“Good, then you can start while I talk.”

Arcturus nodded again and placed his helmet down on the wood at his feet—it felt vaguely like bamboo, which would make sense—while sinking into some initial leg and arm stretches as Tylariel continued.

“As I was saying, each Archon has elemental attunements. The two primary ways these are expressed are the Aetherblade and elemental armor. You know what Aetherblades are, but armor is the secondary component: an aura of Aether that coats an Archon like a second skin. It allows us to shrug off blows both magical and mundane that would kill or maim a regular person. Aetheric shields are a close imitation, but they lack the ease of an Archon’s instinctive use, and they are far more mana-intensive.”

“How long can an Archon maintain their elemental armor?” Arcturus asked as he bent to the left, feeling his armor flex with him. So far, so good.

“With proper training? Indefinitely. Elemental armor only drains mana when it absorbs damage. That means that an Archon, with proper tuition, can be protected essentially every hour of every day, including when they’re asleep.”

Arcturus stared at her in surprise. “That seems… really broken.”

“Broken?” She questioned imperiously.

“My apologies. Shard nomenclature,” Arcturus qualified quickly. “It’s a turn of phrase for when something breaks the perceptions of ‘fair play’, or is considered ‘overpowered’. It’s not an honor thing, more so just a statement of how disproportionately powerful something is compared to others.”

Tylariel nodded in consideration after he clarified.

“Yes, then I suppose that term is apt. Elemental armor is, indeed, ‘broken’. It’s a core reason Archons are considered the deciding factor in most conflicts. It takes a tremendous amount of power to break an Archon’s elemental armor. Either a highly skilled spellcaster or a massive investment in ludicrously expensive Aether Cannons will usually do the trick.”

“All of that being predicated on actually hitting the Archon, I’m guessing?”

Tylariel smiled in approval.

“Correct. Our mobility is another key factor in its power. It’s why Archons are sent to deal with Archons: spellcasters, even Battlemages like your Daeva friend, are impeded by their need to target their spells at a fixed location. The alternative is a Spellsword, but even those warriors are pale shadows of what an Archon can do instinctively.”

“The common man’s Archon?”

Tylariel hesitated, then nodded. “Yes, that is a fair comparison. Spellswords are, indeed, a plebeian’s Archon.”

“So I’m guessing Aetherblades counter elemental armor?” Arcturus prompted as he bent to press his hands to the floor between his spread legs.

“After a fashion,” Tylariel affirmed. “Aetherblades, having an elemental attunement themselves, work in concert with oppositional force to counter elemental armor. Two Fire Archons, for example, will be evenly matched: their damage to one another’s armor will be proportional to their Aetheric strength, and nothing more. The stronger or more skilled Archon will win by either brute force or defeat in detail.”

“Death by a thousand cuts, I guess, in the second case.”

Tylariel seemed pleased by the analogy. “Quite right, yes. In the case of oppositional elements like Fire and Water, or Air and Earth, the result is more dependent on who strikes whom more and how strong each respective Archon is. It comes down to Aether density more than even the prior example, because those elements are naturally in conflict. If one Archon is notably stronger, then the contest will be over quickly.”

“That seems very simplistic,” Arcturus noted with surprise.

“Oh, there is far more to it than just that when you factor in spellforms, advanced attunements, and so on—but for the sake of this lesson? Yes, those are the basics.”

“So where does that leave me?” Arcturus asked as he straightened and bounced in place to finish loosening his limbs. “I can’t use elemental armor, so what do I do?”

“You’ll learn to use a telekinetic layering, and your armor can be enchanted and infused to grant you the benefits that elemental armor would give anyone else—but more than that, you simply need to achieve two goals to overcome your impediment.”

“Which are?”

“Be faster and be stronger than anyone and everyone you face.”

“That seems… unlikely.”

“With your bloodline and your Secondborn origins? Right now, perhaps, but in terms of potential growth…” Tylariel smiled in a decidedly Machiavellian way, “...you have the potential, Arcturus, to be the most powerful Archon since your namesake.”

“Is that why you agreed to teach me?”

Tylariel laughed. “Other than keeping you safe from yourself? Of course it is. That, and having the future King be my former Apprentice would be magnificent for my House,” she said as she smiled. “Don’t look so sad at that revelation, Apprentice. You have your qualities, and I find your almost childish innocence regarding some matters rather endearing. However, let this be a lesson for you: nobody, and I do mean nobody, does something in this world—especially among the Nobility—without some measure of personal gain. For me, it is having a King as my legacy and the prestige of having trained what may be the strongest Archon in millennia. For you… Well, isn’t it obvious what you gain?”

“Self-determination,” Arcturus answered immediately.

“Well, to a degree,” Tylariel said with an almost empathetic look. “Power can be quite the trap, my young Apprentice.”

Arcturus nodded and locked his jaw to suppress the movie pun he was dying to make.

“Now… Let’s start your training in earnest. You can show me what you’ve got.”

“We’re going to duel?” Arcturus asked with a surge of nervous excitement.

“Heavens, no,” Tylariel said with a laugh. “Even at my weakest, I’d throw you around like a ragdoll. You have a long way to go before you step into the arena with me.”

She waved a hand, and Arcturus detected a burst of Aether from his mentor as she did… something. A faint hum filled the room, and motes of blue Aether coalesced rapidly around him and started to form generic humas, two male and two female—finishing them with ragged clothes and wooden clubs.

“You’ll fight the lowest form of enemy we have, and we’ll go from there.”

“But I have armor, and an Aetherblade!” Arcturus protested in bewilderment.

“Yes,” Tylariel agreed. “But the chamber has my combat records, and these minions are programmed as if they were fighting me.”

She grinned at him as she strolled away.

“You have thirty seconds to ready yourself, Arcturus, starting now!”

Arcturus cursed and grabbed his helmet, slotting it on over his head and pulling Perdition from his arming belt. A surge of magic lanced through his body, and he felt the weapon ignite; the four-foot blade projecting out as it had done in Luthaire’s store.

To be certain what he was working with, he glanced at his Health and Mana bars—and then did a double-take. His Mana, much to his shock, did not show the 133 value he was used to. Instead, it showed 133 (63) with 70 points of his bar greyed out. A quick search through his combat log showed him the culprit.

Aetherblade activated. 70 Mana reserved.

“Fuck me,” he said as he faced down the four projected enemies, and the timer that had started in his HUD at Tylariel’s words.

This was going to be harder than he thought.

As if anything in your life is ever easy.