Misbegotten Memories
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Chapter 64
🕑 Added 2025-02-04 11:57:01 +0000 UTCAs Volithur cultivated in the barracks dining hall, struggling to restore some cosmic energy to his emptied soul space, Cook’s Assistant Ava arrived for the dinner delivery. Caught up in his aura movements, Volithur barely noticed her appearance or when she set out the meal. It was only when she sat down across from him at his table that he came back to himself.
The girl wore sadness like a glove. “Everyone at the palace is talking about you.”
Volithur sighed. “I’m not surprised.”
“Marrying a noble. That’s… good for you, Ward Harridan.”
“I’ve been asked not to speak about it,” he said awkwardly.
“But you did ask? She did accept?”
He nodded.
“You lead a charmed life, Ward Harridan. I hope it all works out in your favor.” Before he could respond, Ava abruptly stood and left the room.
Though the encounter introduced a worm of guilt to his heart, that was nothing compared to the sea of relief brought by knowing Ava’s pursuit of him would end. He ate dinner with the soldiers, then showered and cultivated in his hammock until sleep came.
The next several days played out similarly. Volithur did morning mobility training, followed by a gauntlet sparring session, a one-on-one session with Instructor Lisbet, a quick lunch, afternoon conditioning, a short domain training session, cultivation, dinner, evening cultivation, and sleep. Any ‘free time’ became ‘cultivation time’ by default.
His efforts at taming the frayed appendages of his domain saw some small results, but that only upgraded his inefficiencies from ‘absolutely atrocious’ to ‘very bad’. More promising, not only had his accuracy in aiming his energy appendages improved further, he had even begun to develop what the Xian called ‘extended touch sense’. Basically, the feedback from his spherical domain let him detect things around him.
The Sergeant, when not insulting his energy leaks, became almost excited about his progress. Volithur simultaneously resented the misuse of his cosmic energy reserves and thrilled at the discovery of a legitimate use of his sensory talent. He had always thought his singular gift in the Xian arts to be an ironic joke, but it seemed there was some utility to it after all.
Not that precision control of an inefficient domain could be used to lift a transport vessel. He bled energy even when the glowing cables he formed weren’t actively moving items. The second he picked up a rock, the leaks intensified many times over.
But what his domain could do was guide him. The Sergeant took him on a couple of blindfolded walks, having him use his domain to sense his way around and through various obstacles, which Volithur did well enough that at one point the Sergeant couldn’t hold back from exclaiming that Volithur was better than him at it. Apparently, Khana had not been giving him false praise when she complimented his sensory abilities.
As the days passed with him restricted to the barracks, Volithur began to feel a deep ache that had nothing to do with his sore muscles. Without their lessons in the library, he no longer interacted with Khana. Unable to attend class, he didn’t even get to see her anymore. The girl he had fallen for no longer had a daily presence in his life.
That absence brought other concerns. What if the family would not let them marry? They could send Khana away to the Evergreen Institute immediately to keep them apart. He might have already seen her for the last time. Or what if they convinced her not to follow through with their hasty plan? Such an outcome might be for the best, ultimately, but he found it less appealing the more he considered that course of events.
Fortunately, a distraction came along before more than half his week of punishment had passed. The third daughter had returned to the estate, accompanied this time by her son, Master Corey. The soldiers learned of the fact at breakfast, where they were informed that the young noble would be joining them for sparring practice. The usual lecture was given on how to properly lose to the noble while going all-out against other opponents to make it look like they were dangerous savages who just happened to be inferior to their visiting master.
The soldiers took the news as well as they could, though that likely had more to do with the Sergeant’s stern presence than their own stoic resolve. They got into formation in preparation for whatever direction the morning activities would take. Quite often the normal schedule of events would be overturned by the whims of important guests.
Master Corey arrived in the company of the Marshal. He was a short, handsome man several years Volithur’s senior who had an easy smile. Volithur didn’t let down his guard at the sign of good humor, cautious that the carefree attitude might be a prelude to throwing his authority around.
But then the unthinkable happened. Master Corey bowed to the Sergeant and asked to join the class. For a moment, the Sergeant seemed caught off guard. He bowed back, making an effort to exceed the steepness of the noble’s deep bow, and stated that he would be honored.
And so morning mobility class went on as normal. Master Corey followed along with everything they did as if he were just another soldier. He didn’t complain, he didn’t try to slack off, he didn’t even joke around with his neighbors.
When they reached the point where they broke into groups, the Sergeant hesitated. “Master Corey, we normally spar at this time.”
“Please do everything as normal, Sergeant. Forget I am even here.”
“Of course, Master Corey,” the Sergeant sputtered, apparently at a loss for how to respond to a request for a noble to be forgotten. “We split into three skill levels for sparring. Which would you prefer to join?”
“I would like to work with Ward Harridan, if that is possible,” Master Corey said.
“Please join Ward Harridan in the intermediate group then, Master Corey.”
Volithur held in his groan as they separated into their normal places. Instructor Lisbet collected Master Corey and brought him over. The whole time, Volithur wondered how he had been dragged into this latest mess. Had all the talk in the palace about his marriage attempt encouraged this man to attempt to mete out some justice? Or, even worse, had Master Dorian related tales of beating up a useless ward to one of his friends?
“This here is Ward Harridan,” Instructor Lisbet said.
Master Corey clasped hands with him. “It’s good to meet you, Ward Harridan.”
“The pleasure is all mine, Master Corey.”
Instructor Lisbet told them to begin their sparring, and Volithur lowered into a stable stance. Master Corey threw a few punches, then ducked a return blow, raked his knuckles across Volithur’s middle in a simulation of a hook to the body, pivoted to gain a superior angle, seized a rear body lock, and stepped in to perform a hip throw. Master Corey caught him before he hit the ground and returned him to his feet before stepping back into his stance.
It was perhaps the most graceful defeat Volithur had ever suffered. It had been all technique and care had been taken to avoid injuring him. Over the year and a half that Volithur had been living in the barracks, he had learned to read people through their approach to sparring. Some men fought dirty by default, showing their lack of restraint when pursuing a goal. Others strictly followed a rule of balance, giving back the same level of intensity they received from their partner. What he sensed from Master Corey was fairly rare in this environment. The noble appeared to be a genuinely nice person. His earlier humility did not appear to be an act.
As they continued their spar, Master Corey continued to catch Volithur off guard. The highly technical experience proved helpful to Volithur. More so than the usual slug fests he engaged in. Caught up in their competition, he complimented Master Corey on his skill.
“I was never given much choice on whether I would become good at fighting,” Master Corey laughed. “You seem to have potential yourself.”
“You are too kind, Master Corey.”
“I wonder, Ward Harridan, if I could ask you some questions?”
The wide smile on Volithur’s face grew strained. “Of course.”
“I understand you were given an education in the palace. Did you have much interaction with Rolanda? And if so, could I have your honest opinion of her?”
Volithur blinked. Rolanda? The first thing to come to mind was the fact that she was ridiculously beautiful. But saying that aloud seemed like it might be disloyal to Khana and just generally inappropriate given his standing. Besides, the question obviously wasn’t about something as obvious as appearance. “I never interacted much with Master Rolanda.”
The young man’s excitement deflated a bit, prompting Volithur to throw out something. “However, Khana has told me a bit about her. Rolanda is a kind and gentle person.”
“Is that in line with your experience of her? Is she kind and gentle?”
Volithur remembered the time Master Dorian had beaten him as he fled the class. Rolanda had appeared on the verge of rushing to his aid, despite her weak cultivation level. “I would say that the assessment is accurate.”
A bright smile bloomed on Master Corey’s face. “That is good to hear. Many noble women tend to abuse their position. It’s quite off-putting in a potential match. Say, Ward Harridan, as one who has recently become engaged, do you have any words of advice on courting a woman?”
Volithur had to choke back a laugh at the thought of a noble man asking him of all people for advice on talking to girls. “I think you should just be yourself, Master Corey. I probably should not repeat this… but Rolanda has said that she could never marry a cruel man. Once she sees how well you treat people beneath you, I think you will have an easy time courting her.”
Master Corey reached out to clasp hands with him. “You have no idea how helpful this has been, Ward Harridan. I hope to have as much fortune in love as you.”
“Hopefully more,” Volithur said.
“Come now, my friend. You have a beautiful woman promised to be your bride.”
“It hasn’t been decided if our marriage will be permitted yet.”
The young man grew outraged. “What? They’re delaying approval of such a simple matter? Why kick up a fuss if a disinherited girl wishes to marry a commoner? These kinds of attitudes are ridiculous, especially in an auxiliary household. I mean no offense by that.” Master Corey squeezed his hand hard. “You will have your approval by tomorrow, Ward Harridan.”
