Paragon Of Destruction
/ Paragon of Destruction 225 Return to the House of Swords
Arran was not at all pleased with her words. He had not seen much of Brightblade's strength, but what little he had witnessed was already enough to convince him of her power.
Unless he was sorely mistaken, there would be only a handful of people in the Ninth Valley who could match her.
"But can't you teach me anything they can?" he asked. "And better than them, at that?"
"That's what I originally believed," Brightblade replied. "But I was wrong."
"Wrong? How?" Arran frowned, curious to hear just what power the Houses were hiding.
"Wait," she said, casting a glance at the people on the road around them. None paid them any attention, but all the same, she eyed them suspiciously. "Let's find a place where we can speak in private."
Finding such a place proved easier said than done. Despite the early hour, the road leading from the Valley's gates was already filled with people, most of them merchants traveling between the borderlands and the Ninth Valley's capital.
Eventually, Brightblade found a copse of trees in an empty field about a mile from the road. She gave the area a brief inspection, then sat down, resting her back against one of the trees.
Arran sat down on the ground opposite her. "You said you were wrong?"
"Indeed," Brightblade replied. "When we arrived, I believed the Houses were completely separate, offering each other's students only basic training. But the truth is that when the lesser Houses gain talented students, the greater Houses often try to steal them away. And when students are unusually talented, they will go to great lengths to do so."
"Like Snowcloud and the House of Creation," Arran said. "They tried to win her over with access to their resources, right?"
"Not just resources," Brightblade said. "At least, not just the physical kind. They also offer better teachers. In Snowcloud's case, she received instruction from two Elders within the House of Creation, Archmages both of them."
"Archmages?" Arran's eyes widened in surprise, but then, he furrowed his brow. "But you're an Archmage as well, aren't you?"
Brightblade had never explicitly mentioned her rank, but from what he had seen, he could not imagine her being any weaker than that.
"I am," she confirmed. "But having multiple Archmages teach you will certainly benefit you more than having the aid of just one."
"So you want me to draw attention within the House of Seals?" Arran asked, beginning to understand her intentions.
She shook her head. "I want you to catch the eye of the House of Seals, the House of Flames, and the House of Shadows. Awe them with your talent, and as they fight over you, seize everything they have to offer."
She grinned broadly, as if she was already looking forward to the spectacle.
Arran stared at her in amazement. Then, after some moments, he finally said, "I think you're overlooking something…"
"What would that be?" she asked, a curious frown on her forehead.
"I can't awe them with talent I don't have," he said. "You said yourself that my skill in magic is lacking. How will I impress them if I can only barely match an average novice?"
Brightblade looked at him in disbelief. "You've experienced the Patriarch's spellcasting first-hand, you have Essences reserves that other novices would kill for, you have an Archmage for a teacher, and on top of all that, you have a true insight. And you worry about impressing the other Houses?"
Arran's face fell. "But even with all that, my skill at magic is lacking."
"Of course it is, you idiot," she replied sharply. "You've never seriously studied it. But that's going to change. And if you manage to fail despite all those advantages, then you don't deserve to be called a mage."
Arran remained silent. While it was true that he had never seriously trained magic, he had never felt like he had any great talent for it, either. And without talent, all the advantages in the world would not be enough to make him a capable mage.
Seeing his worried expression, Brightblade let out a sigh. "Magic is about understanding. That you gained a true insight is proof enough that you have the talent. Now, it's time to put in the work."
Resisting the urge to point out that he'd had help in gaining the insight, Arran nodded. "I'll do my best."
"Good," Brightblade said. "I expect you to give it your all. And when you train with the other Houses, don't hold back — I want you to show them your full strength."
"My full strength?" Arran frowned in surprise.
Brightblade frowned. "Not your true insight, of course. Nor your Destruction Realm. And certainly not your resistance to magic. In fact…" She reached for one of her void bags, then produced a necklace that she tossed to Arran. "Put this on."
He took a quick look at the necklace. Simple and made out of silver, it held a hanger in the shape of a small silver shield. He put it on, then asked, "What does it do?"
"It's a defensive treasure," she explained. "Strong enough to easily block a skilled novice's attack, or weaken an adept's."
While it sounded valuable — tremendously so — that Brightblade gave it to him now caused Arran some confusion. The magic of novices and adepts wasn't something he had reason to fear anymore. "What do I need it for?"
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Brightblade smiled, then pointed a finger at Arran. A thin Flamestrike instantly shot from her fingertip, reaching him before he had a chance to respond. Yet just before it hit, there was a bright flash of blue light, and the attack dissipated harmlessly.
"Your training with the House of Flames will involve regular magical duels. You will eventually get hit, and when you do, a priceless magical artifact will be easier to explain than your body's resistance to magic."
He touched the necklace's cool silver, and with a wry smile, he said. "I could've used this a few years ago."
Brightblade shrugged. "It belongs — or belonged — to the House of Swords. They were only willing to part with it because I've been instructing their leaders. It's a silly little thing, really — too valuable for those who need it, and too weak to be of use to the strong."
Arran couldn't help but sigh. That seemed to be the way of the world — wealth only came easily for those who already had it.
"But we should get going," Brightblade said. "Once we return to the House of Swords, it will take me a few days to arrange your training. After that, your studies will begin in earnest."
They departed soon after, though not before eating a small meal. Although Arran's strength had already recovered, he still found himself getting hungry more quickly than before — a lingering effect of the year without food.
The journey back to the capital was smooth if somewhat dull.
The dense crowds on the roads made Arran feel ill at ease, but not so much as to cause him worry. Still, when they finally entered the far less crowded lands of the inner Valley, he breathed a sigh of relief. Given the choice between solitude and endless masses, he would easily select the former.
From the capital, it only took them a few hours to reach the House of Swords, this time across roads that held few people.
When they arrived, the gate guards greeted Brightblade with deep bows that showed far more respect than a mere adept warranted. Arran realized that her status within the House of Swords had increased over the past year — and more than a little, from the look of it.
Inside the stronghold's walls, Arran looked around with some interest. The House of Swords was exactly the same as he remembered.
Most of its lands were filled with large practice fields, upon which thousands of students were training and sparring. Some were practicing magic, but as before, the vast majority were engaged in swordplay, trying to master the many sword styles the House held.
"I have some matters to attend," Brightblade said. "You should go see Doran and the others — from what Snowcloud told me, they are quite curious about your progress this past year."
"My progress?"
"She told them you were in secluded training," she explained. "Which isn't all that far from the truth. I imagine they'll be very interested in your new sword style."
As Brightblade set off, Arran headed into the practice fields, observing the groups of students engrossed in their training as he passed them. Even if he had only spent a month training in the House of Swords, watching the House's students train still filled him with a comforting sense of familiarity.
He found Doran and the other adepts training in the same spot as a year earlier, several dozen of them sparring on a large field of grass, with three Masters observing them and supplying instruction where needed.
The moment Doran noticed Arran, he broke away from his sparring match and came running.
"So you've finally emerged from seclusion!" he said, an enthusiastic grin on his face. "Come to share the secrets you've learned this past year?"
"Good to see you, too," Arran replied, unable to keep from smiling at the adept's excited reaction. "Got any new insights into the Thousand Cuts while I was gone?"
"Many," Doran replied happily. Even as he spoke, his hand eagerly shot toward his sword. "Up for a small match?"
Arran laughed, glad to see some things had not changed in his absence. "Let's find out which of us has learned more, this past year."
He unsheathed his sword and they faced each other, both of them eager to test their progress.
Chapter end
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