Arthurian Cultivation

She watched the useless Squires as they patrolled the paths below, they had stern expressions, hacking at any of the fae-touched wilderness that got too close to them. She counted five different Squires, but couldn't spot their Knight. She didn't know if that was because he was smart and stayed hidden or lazy and was back at their camp ‘leading them in spirit’.

The Cultivators looked unhappy with their lot. It was just another mark of their strangeness, as most cultivators dreamed of being sent to a fae-touched realm. The sky was made of distorted rainbows, a deformed tent of ethereal fabric propped up by impossibly vast trees. The glamour was so thick you barely had to think about cultivating. That and the place was littered with natural treasures.

From her vantage point high on a natural shelf of branches formed in the looming trees she watched them through the leaves below. They were an annoying wrinkle in the plan. If they were able to raise a warning too soon then there could be a problem. She heard some fresh curses and grinned.

The Fae realm was a dream for cultivators, but like any dream could rapidly turn into a nightmare. She watched a fae beast, a Quillhog come upon them, and charge. The screams that followed told her two things. These Squires were the chaff and had a good reason to have looked less than pleased to be on the front lines without a Knight to lead them. The fae beasts matched the Iron ranked power of the realm and took poorly to the cultivators disturbing them.

Of the five only two made it out alive, the Quillhog feasting on their fallen brethren. It was far less cute than its mundane Hedgehog cousin. Something that tended to happen when you scaled anything up to the size of an ox and gave it spines longer than most swords that all radiated metal glamour.

“Percy, are we good to go?” Gawain was right beside her, splitting his attention between the retreating group, and fussing his bird. Archimedes was not taking being cooped up in the Fae Realm well. He was not used to the average bird being bigger than him.

“We're good, those bastards are a good distraction if nothing else.” Percy reached out and was just able to reach high enough to stroke under Archimedes' chin. The soft feathers were tickling the back of her hand as the giant bird preened at the attention.

“Alright, then you know the plan?”

“Do you think me a simpleton? I made the plan Gawain! Get going before the lot of them work out how to stop squealing like stuck pigs.” Percy ignored her fussy comrade, he was the eldest and so tended to assume he needed to check things like a worried parent.

“Alright. Here's to hoping Bors hasn't made any fresh enemies.” Gawain muttered as he prepared his travelling gear.

“Don't hold out false hope cousin. We must instead have hope that any enemies he made were swiftly buried and were without friends.” Art came over and clasped Gawain in a hug their armour clanging like a smithy.

“Too right. Now remember you must then go to Fosburg and request Captain Ban, he's the only Fos worth a damn apart from their Patriarch who has been Questing in the Fae realms. With the Chox aligning themselves with our fight they should be keen to help especially if you hold the location of this realm over their heads.” The Chox's sudden shift had shaken her, and while she had opinions about the treachery involved it gave them at least a chance of success.

“Ah, it is indeed annoying to be reminded of the plan that we've laboured these last days over.” Gawain chuckled as he mounted the golden feathered mount. The height of his giant hawk saved him from Percy's raised fist.

“We'll begin the distraction, swift winds, and fair weather my noble ally.” Art waved off Gawain, as Percy merely shook her fist at the knight. Their lives depended on this, he'd better return.

“So we begin the assault now?” Art turned to her, she swore he must be doing something to keep looking like he'd just spent time at a salon, while she felt like she had been dragged backwards through a bush. It was the glowing blond hair, that framed his blue eyes and regal brow that irritated her most.

They'd both seen their hair change as part of their rise to Iron, matching her Blood Gift her hair had turned a matching dark red. Not a terrible change and added to her image. That still paled in comparison to his transformation. His hair became as spun gold, literal gold! Even worse hers still always looked dirtier despite the darker colouring. He was hiding some soap somewhere she just knew it.

What she would do for a bath, and a proper hot bath. That plus a change of clothes, and ideally a spritz of some of her sadly dwindling supply of perfume was what she needed to feel more like her old self. She cast aside the thought. They'd been stuck on this mission for too long, accidentally following the inquisitors they were targeting to a Fae Realm had at first seemed a blessing worthy of a greater Fae. Now they'd been trapped here for two weeks by the group who'd followed them it had become a curse.

The Divine Cultivators were getting regular reinforcements which kept them trapped inside, and worse meant even if they did escape they would be hunted down on the outside.

“Let me just grab some ammunition.” She smiled as Arthur's face creased in distaste. He wasn't a fan of her second gift, not that she could blame him, it was a reminder of some of the vilest cultivators he knew. He'd held a low opinion of the Harkleys even before she told him of the secrets she'd learned. Not her fault that her gift had overlapped with theirs.

She slid down the tree, and the Quillhog grunted at her, but didn't stop her from gathering the spilt blood on the ground, the beast was quite full and wasn't much of a climber, so long as she posed no threat it wouldn't care. What was she going to do, jump on it?

The glamour flowed around her and resonated with both her gifts. Her dual gifts of metal and blood had taught her that the red liquid was full of iron. She gathered it in a pair of pouches at her sides, leaving her preferred flask untouched. Frustratingly she needed ‘living’ blood for it to be at full power, and putting anything alive into her spatial ring killed it, so regularly gathering blood was essential before a fight. During a fight, blood tended to take care of itself.

“Ready, let's go knock some heads together!” She moved to the other side of the tree and was met by Arthur, leaning casually against a root taller than himself.

“You know I think Bors has had an effect on you.” Art chuckled.

“I take that as a compliment. I still think we could've brought him.” The decision to leave him at the bridge had been a long sticking point. They wouldn't have been trapped here if he'd come along.

“He needs to learn to be calm. The bridge will be good for him.”

“You abuse his trust too much. Let's move on,” Percy pushed down the urge to argue, she had to be focused, the arrogance of royalty meant he never seemed to sense when to drop something. “Look we need to do this now, they're opening the door again today.”

She didn't give him the option to continue the conversation. They ran to the nearby cave they'd discovered last week. She could hear the snoring before even stepping inside, it was impossible to miss, same as the way the gravel outside vibrated with each thunderous snore.

“I still feel this is a bit underhanded.”

“Art, the time to have second thoughts is before your cousin's life depends on our actions here.” She cursed her oldest friend's sense of honour for the thousandth time. He was a lethal combatant but was completely useless at anything outside it. He was a very kind meathead.

“It still feels like trickery.” he picked at it like a dog with a bone.

“It is tactics Art! Strategy is not dishonourable, especially if when we are tricking a monstrous bear, that may well still kill us if we get unlucky.” Percy hissed at him, mercifully a snore loud enough to shake the branches off of the trees cut off their conversation.

“Alright then, at least allow me to be down here to be the one to wake it.” Percy sighed, she'd expected this, in fact, the plan wouldn't have worked without it. She found it frustrating that she could so keenly rely on him to put his hand up for the most dangerous task, it was why she tolerated his constant hemming and hawing.

“You do remember it requires being drenched in blood?”

“I do.”

“And fighting it rather than fleeing will get both you and your cousin killed, and probably me killed as well when I'm forced to interrupt.”

“You were never this contrarian when I was a Prince. But yes, I won't make a mess of your plan.”

“In that case, close your eyes.” Percy felt her anger rise up, why bother mentioning the past. Her glamour gripped the specially prepared bottle at her side.

“Wait!” She did not wait. A moment later the blonde knight was dripping, spluttering and cursing.

“Hmm such foul language, nothing I'd have expected to hear from you when you were a prince, your highness. I will go ahead and start laying the trail. Remember to get to the river and try not to die.” She didn't wait around for whatever ‘the prince’ wanted to say. He'd probably say something entirely too well-meaning and kind that would make her feel stupid for soaking him. She didn't need that right now.

Percy threw herself through the forest, her Levity skill involved pulling her armour and blood around like a single unit, seeing herself as a piece of living metal flowing from one place to another. She used her glamour to begin firing darts of blood. This wasn't the extra blood she'd just gathered, this was far more precious.

The blood in the flask at her side came from the Knight Commander of the forces on the other side of the gate, collected during their last failed escape attempt. The Fae Realm couldn't handle anyone above Iron, which protected them from being chased by any Steel-ranked assets the Divine Cultivators had. It didn't stop the bastard from waiting just the other side of the gate for them.

That escape was nearly a disaster but despite their different ranks Art had managed to hold him off long enough for them to all retreat back. The former prince could be an idiot, but his combat skills reflected his family's legacy.

That failure though marked the seed of their success. With her gift, she'd used her glamour to multiply his blood, and with it traces of his essence, enough to lead the bear on a wild goose chase. The bear was also Steel rank and shouldn't be present in the realm, Gawain who made a habit of researching beasts explained that is why it was slumbering, it had grown too big for the realm and would only wake rarely. Unless forced.

The roar that echoed through the forest slapped Percy like a physical weight. It was like the Evil Eye of a witch in auditory form. She doubled down on her sprint, it was miles to the Divine Cultivator camp and she needed to mark the whole route so the bear could exact its ‘revenge’ on the foolish cultivator that had roused it.

In the silence that followed in the wake of the roar Percy heard what she hoped was the splash of Art jumping in the endlessly looping river that roamed the realm. It seemed the fool had done what she asked. That faint reassurance was lost though as she heard the sound of stone being torn apart, looking behind she could see chunks of stone sailing across the chaotic sky.

Percy swallowed, okay maybe she'd miscalculated just how big the bear was. At least it'd make a great distraction. Then Gawain could get Bors, and between the two of them, they could get help. Because if they didn't need help before they certainly needed it now they'd unleash that bear on the world.