Daji’s dark eyes flared. It looked like he was trying to stab Kiro through the chest with his glare. Kiro’s heart ached, but before he could say anything, Daji had already stormed out the door.
“…he’s trying his hardest,” Kiro protested, once his brother had left.
Dakata grunted, returning to the map. “You were worried about the Sage. In my grandfather’s day, Akura Charity pitted our kingdom against the Winter’s Blade sect. While blood was spilled, she only intervened when they started to kill our children. She accepts a measure of bloodshed as the cost of competition, but we can’t weaken the Blackflame Empire too much. That, she would see as an affront to the Akura clan’s authority.”
Kiro knew his father was more intelligent than his appearance would suggest. He only looked like a bear, he didn’t think like one. But he was still somewhat surprised that his father knew so much about a Sage.
If he questioned the king too much, he risked punishment, but he dared to push a little harder. “There’s still our political relationship with the Empire to think of.”
King Dakata drove a spike of Forged madra through the corner of the map, pinning it to the table. “We have roughly two months remaining before the first day of summer. If we hold the Valley ourselves during that time, we can raise enough Underlords that our ‘political relationships’ will lose all meaning. You can forget about punishment. The Akura clan might even give the Empire to us.”
He surveyed the map proudly, as though looking down on his own newborn child.
Kiro pushed one more time. “This is still a gamble,” he said.
Dakata raised his head, and Kiro knew he’d pushed his father too far. “Even you won’t listen to my commands?” he asked quietly. “Even you? If my First Prince does not trust me to lead, how can anyone else?”
Kiro backed away, but his father had risen, his armor adding to his bulk. Kiro considered summoning his from the Divine Treasure in his soulspace, but that would only set his father off even further.
“Forgive me, father, of course I will follow your orders.”
He bumped against the back of a chair, his father looming uncomfortably close. Kiro may have been an Underlord, but his hands shook and his chest tightened.
In the Seishen Kingdom, they entered a period of intense personal meditation when attempting to advance to Underlord. It wasn’t clear what specific change triggered advancement, but the process could last weeks.
On Kiro’s successful attempt, he had spent most of the time terrified of his father’s reaction to failure. Kiro privately believed that it was fear of his father that had pushed his soul forward.
Dakata gripped Kiro’s shoulder painfully tight. “You are the only one I can trust,” he said, his voice low. “You are the face of the Kingdom. My words must come from your mouth.”
“Yes, father,” Kiro said, struggling to maintain eye contact.
Dakata cut off, his eyes sliding to the side. “Tell your gardener that everything is all right,” he said.
Meira stood behind the King. She held a long shaft of wood in her hands, and a scythe-blade of green flame extended from the end.
The blade curled into the King’s throat, stopping an inch away.
The Underlady’s eyes were icy. As always, she wore drab clothes that made her look like she had walked in from the garden only moments before, and the pink-flower Goldsigns shone brightly in her gray hair.
Meira may have been one stage of advancement lower than King Dakata, but from this position, she could at least damage his lifeline, slicing away at his life itself. He would kill her, but she’d take a piece of his lifespan with her. She might even manage to trade her life for his.
And she was ready to try.
Kiro pushed forward, separating them, terrified for both of them. He couldn’t allow Meira to die, but King Dakata was still his father. Not to mention the ruler of the Seishen Kingdom; losing him to an apparent coup might cause the Kingdom to collapse.
He bowed deeply at the waist. “I apologize, father, and take full responsibility. Please punish me in her stead.”
Meira hadn’t withdrawn her spirit. Now that she had been separated, his father could kill her with little effort, but she was still prepared to throw herself at him given the slightest opportunity.
The King stood with his spirit still veiled, but he could erupt into violence at any second. For a long moment, the room was frozen with tension.
“You live,” King Dakata said at last, “only because of your loyalty to my son.”
Meira nodded, lowering the scythe. Her madra retracted.
Kiro breathed again. His father knew Meira well enough to know that she had restrained herself. She would not have held back against anyone else that had threatened Kiro.
But he also knew that if anything happened to him, his father would have her executed within the day.
“The attack moves forward,” Dakata said, returning to the map. “Come here, gardener, this concerns you too.” He tapped a section of the map. “While the rest of us push forward, the two of you will be headed here.
“It’s where our scouts have seen the Blackflame boy.”
~~~
Lindon sat cross-legged in the center of the Night Wheel Valley forest, extending his spiritual sense to the vital aura around him. He couldn't open his Copper sight, but he could feel the power of the world pressing against him, and with his senses he could trace each aspect of aura back to its source.
[Follow the unity of aura,] Dross recited. This was a mantra that he had repeated constantly for weeks now. [Each aspect links to the next. Vital aura has no beginning and no end. It is all one. Follow the unity of aura.]
It had been a month since Orthos left.
In the Night Wheel Valley, they had settled into a routine. They patrolled for the Skysworn for most of the day, defending the border of the Blackflame Empire's territory within the Valley. Even at the border, they had only caught glimpses of the Seishen Kingdom's sacred artists. They hadn't clashed with any enemies except the occasional wild Remnant.
When they finished their shift, they followed Eithan or Mercy to unclaimed natural treasure deposits. Then, at night and in the morning, they practiced sensing the unity of aura and burning treasures for soulfire, progressing through the second stage of Underlord advancement.
They had repeated this every day for a month.
Under Dross' chant, Lindon finally felt connected to the whole world around him, from the cold wind to the decaying leaves on which he sat. It was a strange sensation, like he had stretched himself out for five feet in any direction.
It sometimes took him half an hour or more to sense the unity of aura, even when he was fresh—when he was tired, it could take him much longer. Now that he had, he quickly felt the power of the natural treasures lying on the ground around him.
A burning acorn carried the power of fire on his left side, balanced by a bead of spinning water on the right.
A death skull waited in front of him, and a blooming flower teeming with life behind.
In one quick inhalation, he pulled on the vital aura link between him and the treasures, reducing them all to ash.
And leaving behind a wisp of colorless flame that drifted into his soulspace.
Dross' mantra changed accordingly. [Soulfire is vital aura distilled. It is the power of the world condensed.] Lindon had never asked where Dross found this chant, but the spirit obviously hadn't made it up. It flowed too naturally and made too much sense.
[Feel how it resonates with everything around you, drawing you closer to nature. Now, follow that sensation back into yourself, deep into your soul. Into your mind. Now, tell me why....why do you practice the sacred arts?]
“To protect people,” Lindon and Yerin said at the same time.
Lindon braced himself, straining to detect any change in the soulfire inside him or the aura outside.