Arthurian Cultivation

“Calm down Gaz, he's not a Death Knight.” Lance tried to soothe the situation.

“He just absorbed Rolston's soul.” The voice cut me down, the notes of utter disgust and ramped up with finally knowing the name of my victim made me feel sick.

“I did no such thing, and I'm not a Death Knight, nor a Death Squire either for that matter. I do now pity the poor soul who manifests the death gift first and ends up a Death Page.” I shivered, I'd never have been able to leave the Harkleys if that had happened.

“What nonsense are you talking about? You just cultivated the dead, why do that?” He asked, looking down his nose at me. Rage built up within like a kettle that was about to scream, how dare he judge me on this moment alone?

“Because my hearth is dangerously unbalanced, because I have spent my entire time at Bronze terrified I'd accidentally consume death glamour and become some kind of crazed lunatic. Because these damn fools chased us for miles and exhausted every scrap of glamour I had at my disposal. Do you think I wanted to start whistling to myself in the middle of a fight!” I was shouting by the end, I was tired, covered in blood, and hurting. I was in no mood to justify myself to someone who'd already decided I was some irredeemable villain.

“Gaz he's trustworthy, he warned us about this.” Lance then held out a blood-soaked pendant. Still watching me Blue-hair went over and then began cursing up a storm. “I took this off of Barclay, my parents know, and we worry that there will be some form of trouble tomorrow. It was why we were sent out.”

“So it stretches to the top then.”

“You knew?” Lance snapped, her eyes focusing on him.

“Not before tonight I didn't. Well Knight Lord Hengest suspected something I'm sure, that's why I'm out here. I just found one on Tibault when I was checking he was dead. I wanted to put it down to the man being a rogue element.” Blue-hair put away his sword and held up his own pendant. He also pulled up the magical torch, igniting it so we had a decent light source.

In the light the trial of the battle was clear. Lance was stained with blood her once shining armour lashed with red rivers. I fared better but only because my black and red motif did wonders to hide the gore. I could still feel my arm throbbing from the wounds.

“Was he the one with anger problems,” I asked, assuming Tibault was Frothy’s real name.

“How did you know?” Lance asked me, well aware I had no idea who most of these people were.

“There are the seven points, or ‘Rays’ of the Guiding Star. They call them Bonds, Protection, Labour, Health, Sacrifice, Truth, and Mercy. They pervert those virtues, one example is that those of the Sacrifice Ray, that's the Ray tipped with Blue, most often cultivate the Berserker gift and are most willing to die for their faith, they also are often charged with ‘sacrificing’ the innocent. The stars will let us know if I’m right. The longer point of his star should end in that colour.” I said, ignoring the look I got from Bluehair. He checked the star and nodded, his frown only deepening. Not my fault he shared a hair colour with a bunch of nutters.

“He's right. Barclay's has an Orange-tip, which one is that.” Lance asked.

“That'd be Protection, they don't have a specific cultivation type, which is actually good news as those two factions are likely the ones present in Fos and they're some of the least dangerous.”

“How do-”

“Shut up Gaz, I've told you Taliesin is trusted. Do you really think he can go around calling the old witch ‘Miss Peaches’ if he's some Divine Death Knight? Please continue, why is it good that we've found these are there not more of these factions involved then?”

“I've never heard of more than three rays working together on one operation, they don't all get along too well. The Protection ray are thugs, mercenary types, and the Sacrifice ray, well you saw what they're like. Dangerous against the undisciplined and unaware, but as the Captain knows they're coming he should be fine. That being said the Sacrifice Ray holds one hell of a grudge so we should get moving to see Bors.” I stood up, my body aching.

“Agreed.” Lancel stood bracing herself against a tree and then started to hobble towards the hill.

“Lance are you alright. Let me get you a healing brew.” I moved up to support her but Blue-hair jumped in before me, grabbing her under one arm to become a living crutch. To my shock, she didn't argue which told me just how bad the wound was.

“I already took one, Piers got me in the leg before he went down, it's going to take a while to heal,” Lance said. "You should take one as well you're arms a mess."

I grunted in agreement and knocked one back, taking it from my storage ring. The taste was warm and herby like I'd eaten a bush worth of Thyme, the effect spread through me like pins and needles finding wounds all across me. There they went from a faint irritant to a stabbing sensation worthy of true stitches. I grunted through the pain which subsided over a minute, the healing wasn't instant but my wounds eased greatly and I felt some of my strength return. As I healed I could sense the sound from the pair of them cease but their lips still moved, must be Blue-hair's gift in play.

“You won't be getting any distance like that.”

“We need to at least leave here, these corpses will attract monsters,” Lance muttered. “First step get down this hill.”

I looked over the steep slope, now churned up from the fight, it was a muddy treacherous climb slick with blood and the water used by the cultivators. “How are we going to get down there?”

That's when I heard a whinny and snort. Gaz and Lance’s faces darted to the road, hunting up and down it, looking for the mystery horse. I however recognized that whinny, and looked up. There flying above us was a white pegasus. I could swear he was grinning.

“Alright neither of you panic, but it seems we have help. Gring can you please help us get Lance down, we’ve been attacked by Divine Cultivators and need to warn Bors.” The two of them looked at me like I’d gone mad and then stared up as Gring started to descend. I got to see Gaz’s stern glare crumble into shock as Gring landed in a clearing blasted open by our recent battle.

“Please allow me to introduce Gring, Sir Bors’ noble steed. Noble Pegasi Gring meets Squire Lancelot and Squire Gareth.” I was exhausted but I still felt it best to put on some pageantry for the vain creature, it was more likely to help that way. The pegasus landed and pranced about, shaking his mane and rustling his wings, milking their stares for all he was worth.

“You didn’t mention Sir Bors had a pegasus bound to him! And what a handsome steed he is.” Lance hobbled forward, before catching herself and remembering this was a pacted fae beast with its own intelligence. “Gring I wish to approach you is that acceptable.”

Lance staggered as she stopped due to her wounds, so Gring answered her request by surging up close to her and allowing him to support her weight. Sometimes I cursed my luck to be the Bard rather than the knight in shining armour, even battered and stained from the battle the pair of them looked like a story come to life, the radiant white coat of Gring, with the kind but blood-spattered visage of Lancelot was fit for legends.

“Gring, does Bors know about this? Is he coming to us?” Gring shook his head.

“He understands you?” Blue-hair whispered to me, for the first time since the reveal not sounding totally hostile.

“I know he can tie knots, so I’m assuming he’s intelligent enough. Gring I beseech you can you help us get Lance back to Bors we may have trouble soon.” Gring ignored me to enjoy the attention from the star-struck Lance. I would not let the fae beast’s vanity stop us. “Show him the pendants.” I nudged the pair of Squires who were still in awe of Gring, who was loving the attention. That snapped them all out of it, and upon seeing them Gring’s eyes narrowed. An odd look for any equine. He nodded and nickered at Lance, offering his back.

“Seriously you’ll allow me to ride you?” Lance sounded utterly entranced even despite her wounds, when Gring nodded I heard a lady-like squeak of excitement that I’d never expected from Lance. She carefully patted his back and with some assistance from Gaz, who I should probably stop calling Blue-hair as it seemed he wasn't going to disappear anytime soon.

“Alright now Gring if you’d…” Gring launched himself skyward straight towards Bors’ camp. In a span of breaths, he was lost in the night sky. I cursed the sky, “Fucking horse!”

“If you’re going to hurt her in any…” Gaz's sword was back out.

“Oh do shut up! If I had any control over that narcissistic arse do you really think I'd have run myself ragged? Let’s get walking, Gring just wants to show off, and it’s not like he’s my sodding mount, she’ll be safe you saw how he reacted to those pendants. Besides what does threatening me get you?”

“If she is hurt your life is forfeit. On my honour.” He looked at me as if waiting for something.

“Sure, that’s fine she’s safer than we are right now! Look, we need to leave before monsters start coming or the bodies. I assume you’ve taken anything of worth off of them? ”

“Indeed, though I lack the wealth to have a storage ring, I have piled most of it over there. I intended to let Squire Lancelot take it in hers.” The accusation was clear, he didn’t trust me.

“As I’ve said this ring is on loan from Sir Bors. How about I take all of this now and I let Bors and Lancelot dole out the spoils as they see fit.”

“That would be acceptable. But no funny business.”

“I am a bard, being funny is my business, though I will briefly focus my attentions elsewhere as my audience seems to have a scabbard lodged up their backside which I can only hope he uses to put away the sword he's still pointing at me.” I snapped, I didn’t mean to provoke a fight, but hearing this Squire talk was like a perpetually off-key lute, it irritated my soul. He didn’t rise to the bait, which made me feel all the worse. I absorbed the pile of armour weapons and gear, and then we started down the road. He did put away the sword.

We walked in silence for a while. It wasn’t a comfortable one, but it was better than bickering. I was exhausted and the only conversation we had was on a couple of occasions I asked to stop and cultivate. The death glamour I’d gathered, that I’d so carefully introduced into my hearth was rich, but I wasn’t used to it, it felt different to the ambient death glamour I was used to collecting.

The second time we stopped I was surprised when Gaz began to speak after we moved on. “Can you tell me how you know so much of these foul cultivators? I’ve never heard so much about them from anyone else.”

“That depends are you willing to accept I’m not actually some battle maniac who thrives off death.”

“I do not trust the death gift. I have seen what those who wield it can do, what they can become, almost skeletal wraiths who are more monster than man.” He stared into the distance, and his hand tightened on the hilt of his sword. Some memory haunting him no doubt. I struggled to have sympathy.

“That can’t be the only path for this gift,” I muttered. It was a thought I’d often had. I’d tried to not dwell on the stories I knew of death knights, those who went mad with their power becoming abominations that could command the bodies of the dead. I'd managed to avoid talking about it, or even thinking on it much, especially as I'd seen such horrors up close. The Ray of Mercy was led by death cultivators and one the Harkleys were closely allied to.

Despite the long shadow cast by the Death Knights. I knew that gifts were just that, a gift not a curse. Even if I didn't have Miss Peaches' book I knew there had to be a different path, one that wasn’t full of death and madness. It was not my damn fault that those who fell down that path distorted everyone’s view of the gift.

“You say that with confidence.” I was having a hard time reading Gaz, he had seemed smart before and now the battle was over and he’d calmed down he wasn’t looking at me with such open hostility. Still, we walked on opposite sides of the road so he was far from relaxed in my company.

“Otherwise what’s the point? Do you really think I’ll just push forward if all I think I have to look forward to is turning into some living skeleton who hunts down battlefields? And even if that was my fate, what is to stop me from doing everything I can with the time I have left to be the best person I can be.”

“Do you not seek power? Seek battle and fights.”

“No! I really do not get this whole ‘I must be the pinnacle, I must match the Fae and duel my wit and body against their might,’ to me it sounds like a quick way to get fucking killed. The two times we have met, I’ve either been seeking to talk my way out of fight, or running from one. I’m trying to enjoy being a Bard not suck up souls.”

“You’re a coward then, that is not a proper way for a Knight to behave.”

“What part of ‘I’m a fucking Bard’ do you people not get! I’m not a Knight, and you know what I am no coward, and that’s easy to prove Gaz, how do you think we knew that we had to run from the Divine Cultivators, that they’d infiltrated Barclay Fos’ branch of the family, what changed that made that sudden knowledge?” I ranted as I slogged down the road. Gaz to his credit paused and mused things out.

“From the fact this response is sudden and my master appears unaware of it, which he would not be if there was an organized resistance that I expect from Captain Ban, they must’ve learned recently. As you're the only recent change, and have considerable knowledge of these opponents, it stands to reason you helped expose the plot.”

“You remember just before I began singing and dropped Miss Peaches name, I probed Barclay and spotted evidence of corruption. I realized we were in trouble when after menitioning Miss Peaches, he began cycling his glamour, which allowed him to hide what I sensed. I think he was sent out here under the guise of taking my storage ring to ensure I was silenced if I had in fact sensed something.”

“I noticed him start cycling, it is something he often failed to do out of arrogance, claiming he had no need for such protections in his own town. He was just bad at keeping his attention on it though.” Gaz and I both grimaced, in a rare shared moment of agreement as we pondered the utter stupidity of our fallen enemy. “You suspect he was worried you were her agent after that reveal and felt the need to take additional precautions.”

“If I was a coward that sensible thing to do would be either bunker down with Miss Peaches or just run for the hills that night. Why involve myself with this madness if I do not have to? The answer to that is the answer to your first question, how I know what I know. I was a prisoner of them for a long time, I retained my sanity and earned my freedom and I will take any and all opportunity to undermine them that presents itself to me. They are scum, monsters, you do not begin to understand the depths of their depravity. Worse they present themselves as good, pure, and honest folk. They twist our values to suit their own ends, make mockeries of tenets they adopt and yet people tolerate them. It sickens me.” My voice was rising my exhaustion stripping back my control, the compulsion to speak the truth and my fury that the man could be so smart but still so spiteful.

“I am not powerful enough to go on some righteous rampage, and even if I did gather such power I cannot go on some murder spree without turning into a damned monster. I can be a Bard though, spreading knowledge and helping those who stand against them. Dancing around my foes so my allies have time to strike. I’m going to sow discord and bring hope where I can and I will not let the threat of death turn me aside. So do not call me a coward, you’d be dead ten times over if you had to act out the tragedy that has been my life.” The words came tumbling out, I was tired and defensive but as I spoke I felt something shift within me.

I felt my hearth roar, the absorbed death glamour shifting, and something changed in me. I felt my hearth grow, a burst of inspiration took me and I felt my senses connect to the statement. I began to cultivate, great bellows breaths as I felt my breakthrough help me take another step towards Iron.

Gaz stood with me as I cultivated and as I came out of the semi-trance I’d descended into I found him waiting beside me keeping watch. I’d sat cross-legged on the floor at some point and as I took stock of my advancement I felt I was now at high Bronze. A step below peak but still an incredible achievement in the few weeks since my long stagnation at Wood. It felt genuinely good to progress like a normal cultivator this time, with no self-immolation or fae shenanigans accelerating my path. This time I’d connected to some aspect of my intent.

Gaz offered me a hand up. I blinked, somewhat surprised but took it. He cleared his throat and then spoke his voice friendlier if hesitant. “Bard Taliesin, I believe I may have been unfair in your judgement, if you believed those words enough for it to resonate with your very soul it is clear that your goals are just. I will confess I remain, concerned about your gift but I appreciate that you at least have noble goals and I am sorry for calling you a coward.”

Some part of me wanted to hold onto my anger, he still couldn’t fully admit he was wrong but I didn’t have the energy for a fight. Equally, I could feel that talking more would bring out the bile that still stirred. I needed to settle it or I’d just destroy what gains I’d made. “That I appreciate. Now I feel I must start a song up, something to keep us marching.”

I found myself singing a song I’d always enjoyed from the Albion court, one that my family loathed. It was called ‘Flirting with the fae’ and more a cautionary tale of those who failed to keep their heads around fae, thinking themselves superior to them. A key tenet of the Divine Cultivators was that humans were fundamentally more powerful than the fae if led by their ‘Guiding Star’ that is, it wasn’t a welcome tune.

As I finished the nighttime sounds of the forest waited for us, the chirp of insects and rustle of bare branches I turned to see how my compatriot fared and found him crouched with his fingers placed to the ground.

“Something big is getting closer,” Gaz spoke, I had to admire his sound gift, I'd heard rumours it was extremely versatile but now I could see the evidence. I pushed my senses to the limit, my ears catching the edge of a phenomenal grinding sound akin to a tub-sized piece of slate being dragged across the rocky ground.

I couldn’t help but smile. I knew that noise well. “Sir Bors has found us it seems.”