Arthurian Cultivation

I stood in the ruins of the original camp. Ursul had swept aside most of it, but there were still signs of the former occupants. There were burnt rings of campfires, ruined tent poles standing alone, and all sorts of random gear pressed into the earth. Gawain was talking to Ursul, trying to understand what we were likely to expect on the other side.

Bors, Lance, and Gring were off to one side, talking about something. From the intensity of the discussion, it seemed of great importance. Even Gring had his serious face on.

Gaz was looking through the wreckage for any kind of evidence or information he could find. I would’ve joined him, but I had something I needed to do first.

I had to cultivate. The oppressive weight of death was pressing down on me.

I’d never been on a battlefield before. There was a smell in the air, of blood and the slowly growing stench of the many dead. The deaths in this camp included powerful souls, and that was ignoring the recent death of the Cardinal. The glamour there threatened to smother me. My hearth demanded that power, told me to cultivate, to breathe in, to absorb that power directly.

I fought it down.

The pipes hissed and wheezed. I was nowhere near as talented with the pipes as I was with the lute, but something about the situation demanded the pipes. I felt the tune out in my head. It was a tune from the Lands of Woad, a funeral song about going home. While I didn’t have the most respect for the dead here, I still felt that settling their souls was important, if for nothing else, to stop it from tainting the gateway to the fae realm.

“Gaz, could you protect the others from the song?” I called out, getting a nod in return.

My power swirled. I let my fingers move. My cheeks puffed out as I controlled the flow of air. The sound rang out across the snow. I could hear the echoes of it coming back off the mountain.

The swirling death glamour in the air was coaxed under my control. As I played, I felt the power swirl around me. The souls were a mix. I felt many who were possessed by frenzied belief and arrogance, while others felt lost, scared, and worried. Such feelings were attached to the weaker glamour, those Wood and Bronze cultivators dragged into this cult.

The worst was the Cardinal. It was the first time I’d encountered a dead Steel rank. His will was unbreakable. While the rest swirled about me, taking up the restful promise of being sent home that I pressed into the song, the Cardinal’s power stalked about me. The will was one of supreme arrogance and paranoia. It had no need to go anywhere. It followed no orders, took no suggestions, and trusted no offers. I had gathered as much power as I dared, and still, the Cardinal’s power refused.

Just as I was floundering about what to do, a great paw came down, scattering the Cardinal's power.

I blinked. My pipes felt full to bursting with power, and beside me stood Ursul in his big, rather than giant, form. The threat was handled.

“That song was notably better than your first. You were still foolish to try and handle such power. You must grow stronger. Absorb that power, then we shall talk.”

“Thank you, Lord Ursul.” I bowed to him, my heart near pounding out of my chest. It took a long time to settle myself, and I had to slowly pull the now stilled power into my hearth, sating the gnawing hunger I felt. Looking over, I could see the others stood together. There were a couple of tents that had only been knocked over and had been salvaged to make a camp. I took a minute or two to guide the power in. All the while, the bear watched me.

“That is an interesting form of cultivation, Bard. I would suggest you refrain from cultivating near the souls of Steel ranks till you can easily subdue the will of Iron ranks,” Ursul rumbled at me.

“I will definitely try. I appreciate your intervention. This is still new to me.”

“It is of no concern. Now, Taliesin, earlier you seemed surprised when I knew the Lady had granted you power. I shall tell you how I noticed. When Lancelot introduced you, I could tell you owned your name. I can think of few Fae powerful enough to bestow a name to one such as yourself.”

“I own my name? What do you mean?” I remembered the Lady had 'given' me my name, but I didn't realise it had such meaning.

“To be Steel ranked requires one to take ownership of our name. It is one of the hidden parts of cultivation and requires dealing with the Fae. That deal might be a bargain, a quest, a battle, or a demonstration of knowledge. It is most often done at the peak of Iron. To do it before is rare. When you, a mere Bronze, were introduced with a name, I knew something strange was afoot.”

“This is something that any Steel might notice? Anything else I should know? None of this was explained to me,” I asked as my mind churned. At first, it seemed to be just another oddity, a fresh threat to counter, but then again, I decided it did come with some benefits, even if that was just skipping some trial down the road.

“Those with their own names will notice, but only if you, or someone you’ve given your name to, shares that name. We do not have time to discuss things in depth, but in the future, I suggest you find nicknames or just go by ‘the Bard’ or some other such title. I was called Urs by most who did not know me well. Names have power, young Bard. The more often they are spoken, who speaks them, and the emotions behind them all can have an impact on cultivators.” The bear paused, looking at me carefully. He must've seen my look of worry.

“As for other things to know, it is not all bad. Owning your name protects you against many fae influences. You can introduce yourself to the Fae, and they won’t be able to take your name from you. Though, at your strength, it’s still a poor idea to spread your name about. Those tricksters like to covet what they cannot have. The only other threat is that it imparts some form of fae influence upon you. How this manifests is different for everyone, and I'd be surprised if you did not already know how it has influenced you. I advise you not to speak of it. Some call it the 'Fae Curse', as knowing exactly what manner of influence it places upon you can guide your enemy's hands and reveal your strengths,” Ursul’s voice continued. I knew the influence must be my inability to lie and my ear for the truth.

“Thank you for your wisdom,” I replied. We were close to the others now, and while I had countless more questions, I could sense our discussion was over.

“Good. Now, you have comrades to save. Let us get to that.” Ursul and I arrived at the camp, and Gaz passed me a bowl of soup from the pot that had been heating over the fire. “Allies of Fosburg, you have done me a great service. I cannot follow you into the realm, so I must support you in different ways. First, I shall keep watch over the gate for a week before I return to Fosburg. I hope this gives you the time to aid your friends. Second, I have gifts to bestow on you. Gring, Lance, and Bors, have you decided?”

“We have. Your offer is kind, and we’re all in agreement. We wish to accept,” Bors spoke. Behind him, Lance and Gring nodded. I raised an eyebrow. Was this what they were discussing?

“In that case, I shall bestow upon you some amulets and teach you the ritual. With this, the soul bond between Bors and Gring will be annulled, allowing for Lance to take up the pact.”

“What? Is that even possible?” I heard Gawain gasp. I was likewise shocked. I had never heard of such a thing.

“It is, but it requires a beast of my power or greater to begin the process. As a bonded fae being, I can feel the discordant clash of their souls. I would not offer such a thing if they had not already tried to reconcile their differences. Such change only functions, though, with the consent of all parties. It is a challenge and will take some time. Lance must advance to Iron before the ritual can be completed, and it will leave you both weak for a cycle of the moon. Before you leave, I shall give you the spark to begin the process now and provide you with the tools to complete it. It will take time, so do not rush it.”

“Thank you, Lord Ursul.” Bors and Lance said in unison, with Gring bowing low. That done, the bear turned his attention to Gaz.

“Squire Gareth, I am impressed with your command of sound glamour. I have a bounty from the Cardinal that I believe will be of use to you.” Before us, appearing with a burst of glamour as if the bear had just used a storage ring, was a slim wand. A slender white body of polished wood was capped on one end with gold, and two more rings of runed gold were spaced along the tapering body before it came to a blunt tip. There, a thimble-sized cap of gold was studded with small diamonds.

“This is a conductor's baton, a tool with which that ghastly creature would manage the squabbling voices of his choir, amplifying, silencing, and commanding every sound they made. It will be of great use to you, though much of its power shall be locked away until you have reached Knight Rank.”

“Thank you, Lord Ursul.” Gaz bowed, staring in reverence at the artefact. He turned it over in his hands, gently admiring the fine gift.

“Turn their weapons against them, deafening our enemies with the echoes of their own screams.”

“Knight Gawain and Archimedes, rarely have I witnessed a bonded pair as well suited as you both. I grant you an item that I myself used in the past, before my bond with my pact mate grew strong. It is a pleasure to give you this talisman of connection. With it, you will be able to pass your glamour between you, even at a distance.” A long necklace of odd designs appeared in the air before us. Gawain stepped up to accept it, but as he did, it split into two parts, becoming more like a pair of bracelets. Each bracelet was made of carved stone beads, polished and glittering in the flickering campfire.

“Thank you, Lord Ursul.”

“Take it forth and use your combined might to destroy our enemies.”

“Finally, Taliesin the Bard. I gift you this cloak that I took from a Death Knight many years ago. It is a work of art I could not suffer to destroy, but so few of those gifted with death glamour are worthy of it. This cloak will defend you from attacks, fouling your opponent's strike, but it demands death glamour to feed the enchantment.” Appearing from wherever the bear was hiding such things was a grey cloak. It was all but shredded and looked like a collection of rags gathered by a collar. I did not look at the beautiful gifts the others had received with envy. I knew not to judge a book by its cover.

“Thank you, Lord Ursul.”

“Put it on and feed it glamour now.” I did so, and to my surprise, the cloak began to repair itself. It took some time and about a quarter of my available death glamour before it was restored into a fine traveller's cloak. I could feel there was much more it could hold, but I stopped there.

“Its appearance will betray the power left within. I advise you to keep it topped up.”

“Now, I have discussed with Gawain and Lance. Your purpose within is clear. I left a few alive, but there were too many rats for me to cull them all. The gate will push you out at the edge of the realm based on where you enter it. They cannot patrol the whole length, still, you can only leave from one particular place.

“I cannot enter. The realm was already waning when I entered, and in my greed, I consumed too much of its power. Originally, this was a Steel realm, but its power has fallen. That is what forced me into my slumber. Like me, the realm is tired and wishes to rest. It will soon seal itself, but it will remain open till the next full moon at least. That leaves you with ten days.

“To save your friends and yourselves, you must leave before then, or your time there will be measured in decades, as mine was. Do you have any questions?”

There were a few, but most things seemed to have been handled already. I focused on preparing myself. Soon I’d be through. Soon I’d meet Sephy. As a final gift, Ursul distributed the spoils of war to us, giving us healing brews and other helpful concoctions to aid our fight.

Ten minutes later, we stood at the edge of the ring of pines. Bors was in the lead, the rest of us holding hands or talons. It was the best way to ensure we were not separated. With one last wave to Ursul, we began to head forward.

As the glamour swelled and the fronds of greenery whipped my face, I heard Ursul call out.

“Go with my blessing, companions. Retrieve your allies and break what is left of our foes! I await your return!”