Chapter 318 - Old Servant
Elsewhere in the estate, Cecil found himself at the top of a set of old stone stairs. Through the bamboo behind him the north east corner of one of the smaller complex side buildings could just barely be made out.
A stone gate with a two-tiered ornamental roof formed a doorless entry to the stairs, decorated with numerous chimes that rang softly in the breeze. Beyond the gate the stairs were shaded by tall bamboo, dappled sunlight falling gently on the path.
“This is it?” He asked.
Beside him, a youth with spiky black hair nodded, his head slightly bowed in respect, “Yes, Cecil-joon.”
Joon. A term of respect in the Byran tongue, reserved for those with not just high status, but a connection to the mystical. Cecil had only just met the youth, but the young man no older than eighteen years of age apparently knew of him— or rather, of his affiliation to the Kismet Order.
The youth’s name was Cheen. He had a sharp face with a severe expression that gave Cecil the impression that the boy rarely smiled. He wore the grey, starched uniform of the city watch— a disguise to enter the city most likely. Underneath the cuffs of the sleeves Cecil caught glimpse of the intricate lines of black tattoos typical of Byranese people.
Hanging off his left hip were two sheathed short swords the length of his forearm.
Oji are always so young, yet they’re always so serious. The guru-chi really are slave drivers… Cecil lamented inwardly as he regarded Cheen with a quiet gaze. He had met with guru-chi and their oji on a few occasions— chance encounters during his time in Byran. At least, that’s what he told the Order when they admonished him for making contact with the Fated.
Shortly after Char Char left Cecil at the fork in the path, Cheen arrived, coming from the direction of these stairs. After a brief conversation Cheen led him here.
“Before we go down, ring the chimes three times.” Cheen said, “Otherwise the servants will know we are coming. There are sentries at the bottom of the stairs. Together we should be able to take them without raising an alarm.”
Cecil raised an eyebrow. Such detailed information was clearly from another source, but they were the only ones around. “Your guru-chi is quite knowledgeable. Is he close by?”
The edge of Cheen’s lips tensed at Cecil’s comment, betraying the uncertainty and nervousness behind the youth’s serious guise.
“No. The guru-chi are forbidden from participating directly in the Trial.” Cheen said after a moment, “Only us oji are here.”
“Us? How many of you are there?”
“We think there are two others.” Cheen looked impatient, “Ninth brother and eleventh sister. They may already be further in the trial.”
“You’re not working together?”
Cheen shook his head.
They’re all competing for the same ‘prize’, after all… So, he’s aware of the danger below and needed a partner to help him with the Trial. Is this why he came to find me? Cecil wondered.
The serious youth bristled slightly as he said, “We should go down now, Cecil-joon.”
Cecil grinned, seeing that his attempts to stall were seen through. He cast a quick glance to the south.
Looks like fate has pulled us apart for now, Char Char. Perhaps we’ll meet up down below.
They pulled on the chimes, then descended the stairs. After four flights that twisted down the side of the hill the bottom of the staircase came into sight at the bottom of the fifth.
The pair paused, carefully surveying the bottom of the staircase. Even after several moments they didn’t see any signs of the sentries that Cheen had mentioned. All was at peace.
Cecil glanced at Cheen, who returned it with a look of mild uncertainty. Cecil took that as a cue for him to take the lead, motioning for Cheen to prepare to fight. Cecil flexed his fingers, preparing himself mentally to activate his spells as the situation required.
Cecil led the way, walking confidently down the steps with Cheen following behind.
On the third step from the bottom, the edge of a thin silver line shimmered in Cecil’s vision. It was a thin strand of silver wire stretched taught in the nook of the step and running out into the bamboo. If Cecil hadn’t been specifically looking out for it he wouldn’t have noticed it.
Unlike the other lines in the estate that had been embedded into the architecture and terrain this one had been placed more recently. A trap for an unsuspecting intruder.
The corner of Cecil’s lip tilted upward as he stepped over the line without any hesitation.
Tick.
The colours in the world around Cecil and Cheen briefly flashed as a wave of saturated hues of reds and blues washed over them. The world changed in an instant, growing more vibrant and energetic. Cecil was familiar enough with the sensation to know that they had been forcefully thrust into the spirit plane.
A sudden gust of wind and loose bamboo leaves blasted his golden locks back, his half cape fluttering wildly behind him.
An explosion of sound and dust erupted from a force field that instantly materialized in front of Cecil. The two steel spears that had smashed into it snapped in two.
A gust of wind accompanied Cheen’s agile form as he leapt past the mage’s shoulders from the stairs above. Bright polished metal shimmered in the dappled sunlight as the oji withdrew his dual blades and slashed forward.
A shrill ringing filled the air as the blades instantly extended, whipping in a wide arc through the bamboo at the bottom of the staircase. Dozens of severed stalks collapsed to the ground as deep gashes were gouged in the stone paving behind them.
Red blood splattered against the floor. A bald, old man in servant’s robes was revealed from his hiding spot behind the bamboo. His teeth were gritted in pain as he trembled from the blow. His forearms were up in a guard to protect his neck, the flesh sliced down to white bone.
Cheen landed on the pavement in front of the servant, eyes unblinkingly locked onto his opponent. He slashed upward, the blade streaking against the ground as it extended in length like a ribbon.
The old man was not nimble— He didn’t even seem quick enough to register the attack. A bright red line appeared vertically on his body. He stumbled backward with a cry of pain, but remained standing from sheer grit.
A bewildered look filled his eyes, full of pain, fear and hatred.
“Nephel take you!” The servant screamed, spitting blood from his mouth. He thrust his clasped hands into the air, bowing his head as if praying.
Cecil’s attention was drawn to a shining metal disc in the old man’s hands. Cheen loaded his weight to dash forward and strike again.
“No, don’t—!” Cecil called to the oji as he felt a tremor in his spiritual intuition.
Cheen either didn’t hear him or ignored him as he flew forward in a burst of speed.
The servant opened his palms to the sky, revealing the object in his hand that begun to shimmer with strange black pulses. The colour in the servant’s body and his surroundings suddenly inverted in a metallic blend of silvers and blacks.
Tock.
A percussive sound like the rhythm of a clock pendulum reverberated from the ground beneath the servant. An oppressive aura filled the area as the sound of whirring gears locked into place. Blackened copper-coloured runes materialized on the paving stones below his feet, resembling the circular dial of a clock face, filled with complicated script.
Cheen had no time to react as a giant clock hand struck out from a spot directly in front of him. The metallic spear reflected across Cheen’s eyes the moment before he was beheaded—
The clock hand shattered against a golden barrier that appeared between them at the last instant. Cheen hit the barrier on the other side, bouncing off it to the ground unharmed.
A marble ring on Cecil’s left hand crumbled to dust. His hands were a blur of motion, light streaking from his fingers in a three dimensional rune as he muttered a spell beneath his breath.
Golden chains made of light coalesced around the old man’s limbs, thrusting him to the floor. The chains pulled his arms in opposite directions, the servant screamed pitifully as he resisted, maintaining a death grip on the disc in his hand.
Just as Cecil was about to succeed his spiritual intuition rang out in alarm. He cut the spell, dodging backward as a new spear struck the space where he had just been. The air around the spear shimmered, warping the colours around it in inverted metallic colours.
My barrier is still up— It passed through so easily? Cecil gasped. The spear hadn’t damaged his barrier, it had simply passed through unaffected.
The feeling of danger vanished as the saturated colours in the world suddenly dispersed. The black runes disappeared along with its oppressive aura.
The head of the old servant rolled across the ground, severed by Cheen’s blade.
The young man’s chest heaved from heavy breaths as he stared down at the servant’s body, his stern expression serious but tinged with relief. Confirming that their adversary was dead he looked up at Cecil and they shared a shocked look between each other.
Cecil recovered first, footsteps light as he strode to the fallen servant and pried the metallic disc from the man’s fingers. Even in death they maintained a grip that was difficult to open.
Cheen sided up next to Cecil to look at the object— A copper clock, slightly too large to be a pocket watch. The polished glass was marred with a deep crack. Complicated runes were delicately etched in silver on the clock’s copper face, the same symbols that had appeared on the ground around the servant at the end of the fight. The clock had four clock hands that were twisted or shattered. Cecil recognized their shape to be the same as the spears that they had defended against.
The clock had a weak spiritual aura that quickly faded to nothing, expended by the battle.
Cecil tucked it into his pocket without comment, nodding to Cheen in an unspoken message. Though it had taken place in the spiritual plane, the battle most definitely had not gone unnoticed, they needed to move on.
They picked up the pace, running down the path toward the servant’s quarters.
That was a Disciple’s level of power. They weren’t supposed to have anything higher than Apprentice outside of the head priest! Cecil had a dark expression on his face as he ruminated on the unexpected strength of the enemy. The Order was definitely going to get an earful when he was done here.
The sentry was just an old man who didn’t seem to have any type of battle experience. How many more such guards did they have under them? How powerful was their leader?
This Trial of Succession… Cecil’s eyes shone as his lips curled up in repressed excitement, is truly worthy of the Sun God’s inheritance!
Chapter 318 - Old Servant
Elsewhere in the estate, Cecil found himself at the top of a set of old stone stairs. Through the bamboo behind him the north east corner of one of the smaller complex side buildings could just barely be made out.
A stone gate with a two-tiered ornamental roof formed a doorless entry to the stairs, decorated with numerous chimes that rang softly in the breeze. Beyond the gate the stairs were shaded by tall bamboo, dappled sunlight falling gently on the path.
“This is it?” He asked.
Beside him, a youth with spiky black hair nodded, his head slightly bowed in respect, “Yes, Cecil-joon.”
Joon. A term of respect in the Byran tongue, reserved for those with not just high status, but a connection to the mystical. Cecil had only just met the youth, but the young man no older than eighteen years of age apparently knew of him— or rather, of his affiliation to the Kismet Order.
The youth’s name was Cheen. He had a sharp face with a severe expression that gave Cecil the impression that the boy rarely smiled. He wore the grey, starched uniform of the city watch— a disguise to enter the city most likely. Underneath the cuffs of the sleeves Cecil caught glimpse of the intricate lines of black tattoos typical of Byranese people.
Hanging off his left hip were two sheathed short swords the length of his forearm.
Oji are always so young, yet they’re always so serious. The guru-chi really are slave drivers… Cecil lamented inwardly as he regarded Cheen with a quiet gaze. He had met with guru-chi and their oji on a few occasions— chance encounters during his time in Byran. At least, that’s what he told the Order when they admonished him for making contact with the Fated.
Shortly after Char Char left Cecil at the fork in the path, Cheen arrived, coming from the direction of these stairs. After a brief conversation Cheen led him here.
“Before we go down, ring the chimes three times.” Cheen said, “Otherwise the servants will know we are coming. There are sentries at the bottom of the stairs. Together we should be able to take them without raising an alarm.”
Cecil raised an eyebrow. Such detailed information was clearly from another source, but they were the only ones around. “Your guru-chi is quite knowledgeable. Is he close by?”
The edge of Cheen’s lips tensed at Cecil’s comment, betraying the uncertainty and nervousness behind the youth’s serious guise.
“No. The guru-chi are forbidden from participating directly in the Trial.” Cheen said after a moment, “Only us oji are here.”
“Us? How many of you are there?”
“We think there are two others.” Cheen looked impatient, “Ninth brother and eleventh sister. They may already be further in the trial.”
“You’re not working together?”
Cheen shook his head.
They’re all competing for the same ‘prize’, after all… So, he’s aware of the danger below and needed a partner to help him with the Trial. Is this why he came to find me? Cecil wondered.
The serious youth bristled slightly as he said, “We should go down now, Cecil-joon.”
Cecil grinned, seeing that his attempts to stall were seen through. He cast a quick glance to the south.
Looks like fate has pulled us apart for now, Char Char. Perhaps we’ll meet up down below.
They pulled on the chimes, then descended the stairs. After four flights that twisted down the side of the hill the bottom of the staircase came into sight at the bottom of the fifth.
The pair paused, carefully surveying the bottom of the staircase. Even after several moments they didn’t see any signs of the sentries that Cheen had mentioned. All was at peace.
Cecil glanced at Cheen, who returned it with a look of mild uncertainty. Cecil took that as a cue for him to take the lead, motioning for Cheen to prepare to fight. Cecil flexed his fingers, preparing himself mentally to activate his spells as the situation required.
Cecil led the way, walking confidently down the steps with Cheen following behind.
On the third step from the bottom, the edge of a thin silver line shimmered in Cecil’s vision. It was a thin strand of silver wire stretched taught in the nook of the step and running out into the bamboo. If Cecil hadn’t been specifically looking out for it he wouldn’t have noticed it.
Unlike the other lines in the estate that had been embedded into the architecture and terrain this one had been placed more recently. A trap for an unsuspecting intruder.
The corner of Cecil’s lip tilted upward as he stepped over the line without any hesitation.
Tick.
The colours in the world around Cecil and Cheen briefly flashed as a wave of saturated hues of reds and blues washed over them. The world changed in an instant, growing more vibrant and energetic. Cecil was familiar enough with the sensation to know that they had been forcefully thrust into the spirit plane.
A sudden gust of wind and loose bamboo leaves blasted his golden locks back, his half cape fluttering wildly behind him.
An explosion of sound and dust erupted from a force field that instantly materialized in front of Cecil. The two steel spears that had smashed into it snapped in two.
A gust of wind accompanied Cheen’s agile form as he leapt past the mage’s shoulders from the stairs above. Bright polished metal shimmered in the dappled sunlight as the oji withdrew his dual blades and slashed forward.
A shrill ringing filled the air as the blades instantly extended, whipping in a wide arc through the bamboo at the bottom of the staircase. Dozens of severed stalks collapsed to the ground as deep gashes were gouged in the stone paving behind them.
Red blood splattered against the floor. A bald, old man in servant’s robes was revealed from his hiding spot behind the bamboo. His teeth were gritted in pain as he trembled from the blow. His forearms were up in a guard to protect his neck, the flesh sliced down to white bone.
Cheen landed on the pavement in front of the servant, eyes unblinkingly locked onto his opponent. He slashed upward, the blade streaking against the ground as it extended in length like a ribbon.
The old man was not nimble— He didn’t even seem quick enough to register the attack. A bright red line appeared vertically on his body. He stumbled backward with a cry of pain, but remained standing from sheer grit.
A bewildered look filled his eyes, full of pain, fear and hatred.
“Nephel take you!” The servant screamed, spitting blood from his mouth. He thrust his clasped hands into the air, bowing his head as if praying.
Cecil’s attention was drawn to a shining metal disc in the old man’s hands. Cheen loaded his weight to dash forward and strike again.
“No, don’t—!” Cecil called to the oji as he felt a tremor in his spiritual intuition.
Cheen either didn’t hear him or ignored him as he flew forward in a burst of speed.
The servant opened his palms to the sky, revealing the object in his hand that begun to shimmer with strange black pulses. The colour in the servant’s body and his surroundings suddenly inverted in a metallic blend of silvers and blacks.
Tock.
A percussive sound like the rhythm of a clock pendulum reverberated from the ground beneath the servant. An oppressive aura filled the area as the sound of whirring gears locked into place. Blackened copper-coloured runes materialized on the paving stones below his feet, resembling the circular dial of a clock face, filled with complicated script.
Cheen had no time to react as a giant clock hand struck out from a spot directly in front of him. The metallic spear reflected across Cheen’s eyes the moment before he was beheaded—
The clock hand shattered against a golden barrier that appeared between them at the last instant. Cheen hit the barrier on the other side, bouncing off it to the ground unharmed.
A marble ring on Cecil’s left hand crumbled to dust. His hands were a blur of motion, light streaking from his fingers in a three dimensional rune as he muttered a spell beneath his breath.
Golden chains made of light coalesced around the old man’s limbs, thrusting him to the floor. The chains pulled his arms in opposite directions, the servant screamed pitifully as he resisted, maintaining a death grip on the disc in his hand.
Just as Cecil was about to succeed his spiritual intuition rang out in alarm. He cut the spell, dodging backward as a new spear struck the space where he had just been. The air around the spear shimmered, warping the colours around it in inverted metallic colours.
My barrier is still up— It passed through so easily? Cecil gasped. The spear hadn’t damaged his barrier, it had simply passed through unaffected.
The feeling of danger vanished as the saturated colours in the world suddenly dispersed. The black runes disappeared along with its oppressive aura.
The head of the old servant rolled across the ground, severed by Cheen’s blade.
The young man’s chest heaved from heavy breaths as he stared down at the servant’s body, his stern expression serious but tinged with relief. Confirming that their adversary was dead he looked up at Cecil and they shared a shocked look between each other.
Cecil recovered first, footsteps light as he strode to the fallen servant and pried the metallic disc from the man’s fingers. Even in death they maintained a grip that was difficult to open.
Cheen sided up next to Cecil to look at the object— A copper clock, slightly too large to be a pocket watch. The polished glass was marred with a deep crack. Complicated runes were delicately etched in silver on the clock’s copper face, the same symbols that had appeared on the ground around the servant at the end of the fight. The clock had four clock hands that were twisted or shattered. Cecil recognized their shape to be the same as the spears that they had defended against.
The clock had a weak spiritual aura that quickly faded to nothing, expended by the battle.
Cecil tucked it into his pocket without comment, nodding to Cheen in an unspoken message. Though it had taken place in the spiritual plane, the battle most definitely had not gone unnoticed, they needed to move on.
They picked up the pace, running down the path toward the servant’s quarters.
That was a Disciple’s level of power. They weren’t supposed to have anything higher than Apprentice outside of the head priest! Cecil had a dark expression on his face as he ruminated on the unexpected strength of the enemy. The Order was definitely going to get an earful when he was done here.
The sentry was just an old man who didn’t seem to have any type of battle experience. How many more such guards did they have under them? How powerful was their leader?
This Trial of Succession… Cecil’s eyes shone as his lips curled up in repressed excitement, is truly worthy of the Sun God’s inheritance!
