Demon King's Gardener

After the midday meal, Braelin, Huo’a, and Milve went to the library to review and compare notes – as Denos had moved them from the Gardening Office for more workspace. Forvi intended to help his sibling settle in while unpacking his own belongings fae had brought, while Feyl had his regular valet duties to attend to. Gaele, Exkla, and Sculos were back off to gardening work, though still wrapping up a conversation.

“I know this may be a bit forward, your highness,” Isholog said, watching his husband head off with the other two, “But I would like to request a duel. I heard you fought a demon with spell knight training in your Royal Trials, and I’m curious how I match up.”

“I do not mind,” Jurao said, leading the way toward the training fields, “And I did – Exmarre, of Noskanar. He used fire magic.”

He noticed Snip trotted at his left side and reached down to pat her head. Snap joined her when Milli – discussing a commission for a statue of Sciekles with Nevve – didn’t call Snip back.

“No earth or plant?” Isholog asked, following a respectful step behind on the King’s right, “I heard Noskanar has a good-sized population of wood elves itself.”

“You heard correctly,” Jurao nodded, “But no – he used only fire magic during our match.”

“A strong affinity then, most likely,” Isholog hummed.

“Strong affinity,” Jurao asked, having wondered since Meir’ril mentioned it.

“Yes,” Isholog nodded.

From behind them, Meir’ril cleared his throat before saying, “Are you asking what a strong affinity is?”

“I am, yes,” Jurao agreed.

Meir’ril caught up with Isholog before explaining, “A strong affinity is one where the magic user can use only the magic they have an affinity for – but their baseline magic is more powerful than those with an average affinity level, and can even unlock spells that normally wouldn’t be possible with their affinity.”

“I did think it was odd he could heal injuries with fire magic,” Jurao considered.

“Definitely a strong affinity,” Isholog sighed, “Must have been a pain living in a giant tree…”

“Indeed,” Jurao nodded.

“Giant… tree?” Meir’ril asked.

“The city of Noskanar is built into a gargantuan tree,” Jurao explained, “Many believe a seed from the Beastkin Realm washed downstream and then was somehow carried by an animal to the plateau where it now sits.”

“I’m sure my husband will run off there someday,” Isholog chuckled, “After collecting samples from the Beastkin Realm to try and confirm that origin story.”

Meir’ril laughed, “I’m sure Braelin would love to join in on that trip!”

“What affinity do you have, Sir Isholog,” Jurao asked, “If I may ask.”

“You’d be able to surmise when we started fighting anyway,” Isholog snorted, “I have a dual affinity for water and wind magic.”

“Ah,” Jurao nodded, “I can see how an eku would work well with those.”

“You’re familiar with my weapon, your highness?” Isholog smiled, taking the oar-shaped staff off his back and giving it a few gentle swings.

Jurao smiled as well, “My vaokis was a weapon fanatic – my aunt made all the ones she ever used. From her stories, I am familiar with the weapons of many cultures.”

It also helped that the ‘present’ Nevve would give Feyl on his decade day was usually a new weapon-making technique, and the eku had been the one he learned only twenty years ago. Of course, they had made one of metal rather than wood like Isholog’s personal weapon.

When they arrived at the training fields, it appeared the cavalry unit had returned from their ride – and the King was not surprised to see Malson and Ayelma soon headed their way.

“IS THAT LOGE!?” Malson yelled partway across the field.

“Has he gotten louder, or did I just forget how loud he is?” Isholog asked Meir’ril.

“Good question,” the young elf-human chuckled sheepishly, “He has been a pirate for fifteen years, so he probably did get louder…”

“It is!” Malson declared when he reached them, lightly panting. He was wearing shorter riding pants, which revealed his siren prosthetic leg. He looked around and asked, “Where’s Huo’a!?”

“With your brother, of course,” Isholog snorted, “Good afternoon, Ayelma.”

“Loge!” she declared, grinning as she held out a hand, “Did you really get Huo’a a leash?”

Isholog shook as he wryly replied, “I did, though I think it actually made him less attentive than usual.”

“A leash!?” Malson demanded.

“A harness,” Isholog clarified, “So he wouldn’t go running off into the dangerous wilderness when I wasn’t paying attention.”

“Yeah, that makes sense!” Malson nodded, crossing his arms, “He gets into plenty of trouble when the plants aren’t actively trying to kill him!”

“That he does,” Isholog chuckled, “I challenged the King to a duel first, but I wouldn’t mind facing you as a warm-up, Malson.”

“You’d do better to face Jurao first!” Malson scoffed, “It’ll be harder for you if he sees your fighting style!”

“Not even pretend offense?” Isholog’s brows rose, “I suppose your monikers must do you justice, your highness.”

“I suppose,” Jurao hummed, finding supplies to wrap his blades with, “I do not think ‘beast’ is a good descriptor, but it does not bother me, either. Snip, Snap, sit – stay.”

The waste hounds did both – Snip giving a little bark and Snap laying down with a yawn.

“Have you faced many magic-using opponents?” Isholog asked, stepping out to do some regular warm-ups.

“No, but all of my most powerful opponents were magic users,” the King said.

“He never lost to any of the Empire’s Champions!” Malson added, “And that was before becoming Demon King!”

“Are they really that strong?” Ayelma asked, tilting her head.

“They are,” Isholog said, “Otsi’i was friends with a Champion from four hundred years ago – Laurent Barrilleaux.”

Jurao hummed, “Ah, I remember – he was the first Champion I faced as General. I did not learn his name, but I do recall another petal elf resembling Huo’a being in his party.”

“Oh,” Isholog smiled, “Would you mind if I went all out then? I rarely get the opportunity.”

“Feel free,” Jurao replied.

Ayelma squealed, bouncing in place and grabbing her twin’s arm, “Meir! Holy shit! A spell knight going all out!”

“I know,” Meir’ril agreed, eyes shining, “We’ve never even gotten to see Mom go all out…”

Malson hopped up to sit on the fence, “It’ll definitely be interesting!”

“Would you give the count, Malson,” Jurao asked, settling into his stance, “If you’re ready.”

Isholog settled into a stance of his own, “Ready.”

“Hold on!” Malson said, then took a deep breath to yell, “THE KING IS GOING TO FIGHT A POWERFUL MAGIC USER, CLEAR THE FIELD IF YOU DON’T WANT TO GET HURT!!”

“Do you use wide-range spells,” Jurao asked, as soldiers did clear off – though most gathered around the Ealdwine siblings.

“I do when I go all out,” Isholog chuckled, “It was a good judgment call on Malson’s part.”

“I’ve seen storm mages at work on the sea!” Malson replied, “I know how much collateral magic users of your level can cause!”

It took a few minutes for the field to properly clear – Jurao returned a wave from Kaenaz as he joined the crowd from the stables.

Once everyone was settled, Malson raised a hand, “On my mark!” he held for a moment before chopping the air, “Begin!”

Jurao surged forward – one of the best defenses against magic was to stop it from being cast, after all.

Isholog swept his eku, sending out a roaring burst of wind.

It hit the King with enough force to make him dig his toe claws into the ground for purchase, crossing his swords in front of him as a defensive measure.

Isholog continued his wind-fueled assault, spinning his eku through the air like the oar it was based off of – but they both knew he could not win with such a technique.

Jurao dug his feet in further before shifting his grip on his swords and slamming them into the ground, cracks extending from his strikes all the way to his opponent.

Isholog was forced to jump back – then brought his staff up to defend as the King closed the distance in an explosive leap.

The elf had clearly coated his weapon with a barrier of wind – Jurao could feel the way his swords weren’t connecting with the wood, especially with the lack of sound. His technique was practiced and solid, even if all he could do at the moment was block and parry.

Jurao pressed his opponent – enduring more wind-fueled strikes to keep the distance between them closed. Most mages excelled at long-range combat, but there were those – like the famed spell knights Isholog belonged to – that studied mid- and close-ranged techniques as well. Still, with his wind affinity, the long-range would give him the best advantage.

Isholog kept his composure through the attack, conscious of the divots made by Jurao’s swords even as the King attempted to push the man towards them.

The King heard a rumbling just before he leapt back – avoiding a strike of lightning before it began down pouring.

Isholog chuckled, weaving his eku through the air again – but now he sent blades of water striking from every direction, using the rain he’d summoned.

Impressive, Jurao thought, blocking, parrying, and dodging the blades and occasional lightning strikes. Storm summoning took time – Isholog must have started that spell at the very beginning of the match, which explained his stalling.

I can put in more effort, then, the King thought – and rushed his opponent at full speed while handling water blades.

Isholog’s eyes widened as he brought his eku up to block again.

Jurao tossed one sword in the air to draw the lightning strike as he gripped the other in two hands and swung, shifting into a slide through the mud to strike from below and breaking through the weapon’s wind barrier – snapping it.

“Ah,” the King said, rolling to his feet and letting his other sword hit the ground, “Apologies.”

Isholog snorted, holding the two pieces of his staff, “I wouldn’t expect you to hold back after I asked to go all out – though I do concede.”

“Were we to fight near a large body of water, I believe you would have lasted longer,” Jurao said, retrieving his second sword.

“But not won?” Isholog asked, creating a barrier to stop the rain over himself.

“That I do not know,” Jurao replied, “I only know for certain you would have had a greater advantage.”

The elf chuckled again, “Of course, if you’d fought seriously, I wouldn’t have had time to summon a storm.”

“Unlikely,” Jurao agreed, looking up as the magic storm dissipated – as they usually did once the caster released the spell.

“Huh,” Isholog said, looking up as well, “I suppose it makes sense that magicka disperses faster here… my husband mentioned it, but I hadn’t used much myself since we arrived.”

“Yes,” the King agreed and held out a hand, “Thank you for the match – it was invigorating.”

“May we never meet on the field of battle,” Isholog replied, shaking, “You’re enough trouble in a spar.”

“Did you have to summon a storm!?” Malson called out, reminding them both of their audience.

Jurao heard various complaints about the muddy training field and spectators being wet, but there were also plenty who excitedly recounted the match without seeming to care about either of those things.

“Was the storm,” Meir’ril approached them quickly, boots sinking into the mud with each step and nearly tripping once on his way in his excitement, “Was the storm just water magic, or a combination of your affinities? Do you think I could learn it when it’s that localized, or, or is it too high level?”

Isholog chuckled, “It was a combination, so you might be able to pull it off – if you can find someone to teach you lightning magic on its own.”

Jurao felt as though he would get a lecture from Feyl or Minaz later, but for the moment, he felt content as he listened to Meir’ril – and soon Ayelma also – ply Isholog with questions about his magic.