Arthurian Cultivation

After my burst of laughter, and calming Bors who thought I’d gone mad, the night finally wrapped up. I debriefed Bors on everything I'd come to understand from Kristoff and the hunters’ actions. He agreed with my assessment that until dawn broke, we'd be safe. The storm was starting to slow even as we spoke.

We left Gring to the stables. But Bors did go over to knock on them and explain that the mares needed to not be so tired as to be unable to pull the wagons tomorrow, and unless he wanted to be hitched up himself he better go easy.

He returned to Alexis to break the news and ask her thoughts as well as her opinions on the bags. I tried to sleep but the events of the day haunted me. I looked over to the blood stain on the rush matting of my tend. I'd asked him to move the body far away from me and he'd agreed without a word.

I instead turned my mind to the task of tomorrow. We had to make this look good.

The next day required some finesse to get our guests to work with us. The guard captain a man named Baste helped immensely in explaining the situation to the group and explaining the absence of Kirstoff. I agreed to not mention his bribe in return for his staunch support, an offer which earned an eternal ally based on the grovelling that followed.

We could've just bluntly told them and ordered them on, but I preferred it this way. I still remember my time as a mortal where cultivators felt like a natural disaster looming over you. While they would've nodded at us saying that Kristoff betrayed them, there was no telling if they'd believe it.

With Baste explaining what he'd seen, and apologising to all of them for his oversight, the whole thing went far smoother. Alexis also helped, she was furious. At least partially at me, angry I'd robbed her of a chance to take a crack at Kristoff herself.

Alexis had explained to them all that she'd identified the bags as a monster lure and a monster training aid. Her hypothesis was the lure kept it close, while the other bag was like a ‘do not attack’ smell. That got everyone muttering, Kristoff had stuck all the girls in that wagon. Clearly not thinking anything of endangering them.

Privately Alexis let us know Kristoff had accidentally helped her by hanging it there. Bors had growled like an avalanche as she explained that only keeping close to the training bag had likely guarded her from the Lynx.

As they got ready in the pre-dawn light. Bors and I staged the scene of the ‘battle’. I directed him to make it look like he'd fought the Lynx here. Gring in a rare moment of obedience was scouting from the skies. The hunters would be stumbling into an ambush.

Bors was putting the final touches to his ‘tomb’. We were going to leave the lynx's corpse looking trapped, like they'd both fallen in battle in a spire of rock. As more spikes popped up I broke the silence that'd only been interrupted by our professional discussions.

“Bors, can I ask about your control? Was that part of the deception? Cause if it was your better than you give yourself credit for.” I also

“No, I wasn’t, considering I pushed my nose into your secrets it's fair to share a bit of mine. My control on earth is good. Not as good as your smoke. What I was using to attack was actually my other gift. Crystal.”

“But you were attacking me with the earth?”

“it only looks that way, I was actually manipulating the crystals in the rock. Look, crystals are everywhere, they're in ice, and they even turn up in honey if you leave it too long. That's what I'm struggling with and you did help, I've been trying to refine my control without relying on earth but it's difficult cause they're so similar.”

“Thanks for explaining. I think we're done here.” I looked over our handiwork, the tomb of earthen spikes and the corpse tangled within. We'd even made use of Kristoff.

“You sure you don't want help?”

“You sure you want to be more than a bard? That's where helping me kill them leads?”

“You're right, I just wish I could be more use..” Bors, or Gad rather, came over and clapped me on the shoulder.

“You're plenty helpful, you caught the bastard. Worked out the threat and formed a plan. If it was me I'd probably be waving them goodbye and just going to be tucking into my lunch when they came for me. I agree with your take on it. They don't have a Knight or if they do they're weak, they'd not be messing about like this otherwise. I bet it's a bunch of Squires hoping to strike it big. I can handle that. Especially now I know they're coming. Besides.”

He looked over to the caravan which was all but ready to leave. He gave a small wave to Alexia who with Baste had taken up command. “It's my fault they are in danger. It stains my honour to see them hurt, plus it's just right isn't to want them to get to Fosguard without any issues? Keeping them safe is important work.”

“I'm sure you'd have worked something out.”

“I'd have to send Gring to watch them, and I really don't want to be remembered as the cultivator with the randy horse.”

“No worries, I'm going to sing them songs about you, really play up your height.”

“See if you can get rid of 'Bors the Beast', hate the name. Do that and you can write any song you damn well, please. Oh, also I have, something for you to apologise for last night.” Even wrapped in the leather pouch I could sense it was the Lynx core, before I could respond he spun me around and then pushed me on a wave of earth towards the caravan. “You gotta get going, remember to light that smoke signal.”

I said some thanks but then joined Baste on the lead caravan. The signal was the last part of our plan, we were going to make it appear as if everything had gone the way they wanted. Bors waved them all goodbye and gave Alexis a parting kiss. Then settled into wait.

We moved quietly for the first couple of hours. The caravan wasn't pleased to be involved in 'cultivator business' but was pleased to have the additional protection. They let me step off and light the signal, an alchemical smoke stick, that I found deeply interesting as the glamour it gave off was rich and ripe for us. I also took the opportunity to eat my present from Bors.

The core of a foundation-level beast was so much more potent than a condensation one. I had to spend the rest of the day circling it through me, not only to push the benefits into my hearth but also to spread the impurities throughout me. Normally I just let them settle throughout my pathways, the spread was always equal. Now though, I pushed the dark mass towards the pathways that felt closer to my death gift.

I didn't want the temptation like I'd felt with Kristoff, and it made sense to somewhat choke off this access point. It would hopefully also stop my damn cultivation method from outing me. I'd have to find a new one.

It was a kind gift from Bors, the cores were worth a lot. It was also a sign of trust. I didn't blame him for his worries or precautions, yet I was pleased that he truly had seemed to believe in my good nature. If the Lady wanted to shuffle me about, I could think of worse fates than his company.

Sitting on the caravan, letting a gentle tune work itself from my fingertips, I felt I was making remarkable progress in getting back to my impure state. With just those two monster cores, I was halfway to getting where I needed. While only bunging up around a fifth of my cultivation.

I didn't need to be completely clogged, I'd only done that to stop my progress. I wondered if going over the target was what had allowed me to grow in power, boosting my cultivation with my rebirth. I should make some plans.

I frowned, now it was all less of a race I should be more careful. I could push my cultivation forward far further while gaining impurities from brews. It was something I'd considered before. But estimating impurities with the Harkley’s alchemists was pointless, if you listened to them every brew had no impurities whatsoever. A miracle in every potion. Hang on, I had a spare alchemist who liked me, or at least liked the man I was associated with.

“Alexis, how goes your day.” I jumped between the caravans to get to her. I'd made a bit of a show of it. Flipping and turning as I did, it delighted the children, and should brigands be watching nicely advertised my cultivation. I’d also dropped my viel, if wanna-be rogues did approach if any had a bit of cultivation, I hoped my mere presence would dissuade them.

“Tis a fine day out under the sun Taliesin. Now I don’t have the old man harping on.” Alexis grinned basking in the warm sun, her red hair caught the sun wonderfully as did the smattering of freckles on her cheeks. It is a pity Bors didn't get a chance to appreciate her in such light.

“I apologize again for being so dastardly as to smite him and rob you of a chance to deal out your justice.” As I spoke I lit a small pipe. The herbs within were an import from a distant realm, and only really popular with low-level cultivators and mortals. I traded for some silver with Trent and his moustache after he began to puff on one last night. It was an affectation I’d taken up in my past life. Always helpful to have a cultivation source nearby.

“It’s fine, now it’s done I’m glad I didn’t have to. I can imagine he snivelled at the end, I wouldn’t want the nightmares. Besides my mistress says killing others is bad for the soul.”

“Speaking of your mistress, I was wondering if I could bandy some words about alchemy with you. I have a passing knowledge of it.” Passing almost caught my fae curse, but it was true! I had a passing knowledge, as well as a staying kind of knowledge that you only got from hiding in libraries.

“No sales, no refunds, no grumbling.” Her voice lashed at me, and I placed a hand in mock pain over my heart.

“You sure you're not a trading cultivator! Those words are keen as any blade.”

“Sorry, it’s what Miss Peaches says. She’ll say it to your face cultivator or not. Though I might as well get it out the way.” Miss Peaches was her teacher, she'd promised us that she'd be very interested in this mess and would with any luck show her gratitude.

“You mistake me as a rank cur looking to shave off some copper. That is not I, I just want to talk about alchemy and impurities.”

“Oh don’t talk to me about impurities,” Alexis replied, before launching into an hour-long rant on the very subject.

Much of the second half of my day passed talking to Alexis about alchemy. As an Apprentice, she was actually more helpful than a full alchemist, as she was still very much in the stage where impurity reduction was the bane of her existence.

She ranted at the tradeoff, and the fact that brews would often be completed, looking whole and complete, only for a test to confirm the impurities were far above the acceptable amount. These brews were generally sold to desperate souls for knockdown prices. To her mind only idiots brought them.

Well, those idiots would soon find another among their number! That sounded perfect to me.

I asked after her mentor, and she promised to introduce me to the Hedge Witch, which was a witch without a coven witch, similar to Bors being a Knight Errant.

I was intrigued by this. The cultivators of Euross split themselves up to focus on their arts. This was another difference to the Mystic East, where apparently all cultivators gathered in ‘sects’ or ‘clans’. The Houses of Renown, like the Harkley and Chox, were the same as the clans, however, the sects never formed into monolithic groups, the cultivation practices too different.

You had the Orders, who were closest to sects, they had Knights and focused on martial prowess. They also encouraged their members to try and explore other pursuits but it was rare to find a master alchemist in an Order. That was unless that Order had a strong relationship with a Coven. Witches marked the second greatest group of cultivators. They were the inverse of the Orders, focusing on alchemy, rune spells, and enchantments. They encourage combat, but as a method to dissuade attacks upon them, they mostly focused on economic alliances and also curses. Lots of curses.

Third was the Artisan Guilds, who were entirely owned and supported by a House of Renown or the Orders, and often found themselves connected to several. They provided similar things to the witches but without the cursing or fighting. Last but far from least were the various druidic groups. They did their own thing and generally didn’t come out of their territories. For which we were thankful. Any groups who could live in the deep wilds and survive were welcome to stay there.

All of these groups had their own wandering variants. Some like the witches seemed more accepting of the practice than others. A wandering artisan, was known as an ‘unlicensed’ artisan, and tended to gather attention.

“Oh yeah, you can leave covens easy enough but you have to take on a curse to do so. You will not be able to remember the secrets of the coven, and it can even lock away parts of your cultivation. It sounds tough but as I understand many witches use it to challenge themselves to come up with new ideas. That is what my Miss Peaches is doing, she intends to go back relatively soon I think.”

“So you’ll go with her?”

“That’s the plan.”

“Well, I shall drop in on your coven in the future if I’m able. Maybe drag Bors along with me if I’m able.”

“I won’t say no to that, I do so like tall men.” She laughed pleasantly, it seemed junior witches were not forced to cackle. “So you think you’ll continue to follow him about. I’m still not sure what a bardic cultivator does.”

“I’m still working that one out too. But I’ll stick with him for a while yet, I can feel he’s got some more stories in him.”

“I shall listen out for these songs of yours about my titanic paramour.” She grinned at the double entendre but was startled when I slapped my thigh.

“That’s it, Titan! Bors the Giant just feels so low effort. Well that works, hmm I can make that.” I sang a few lines much to Alexis’ confusion. “Well who am I to keep a lady waiting, allow me to whet your appetite.”

I stood and let my voice cry out. Strumming on my lute.

“Deep within the winter's hold, where frosted boughs and branches cold,

A caravan with treasures bold, crawls on, a tale yet to unfold.

From shadowed pines, a glint of steel, a hidden danger, all too real.

With wicked blades and savage cries, bandits descend under frosted skies.

But then the earth begins to quake, a giant wakes for justice sake.

Bors the Titan, eyes ablaze, protector worthy of ancient days!”

As I sang a grin formed, and not just due to the nodding heads of my fellow travellers. I was only a day into my fae curse and had found a loophole. I’d not noticed in the writing, but the line about being deep in winter's hold was a total lie. But something about it being a song loosened my throat. Today was shaping up to be far better than the one before.