Sharmila (swinging the door open and jumping on the carriage): Oh come on, Mom. Hurry up. I don't want to miss Brother Sharron's match. If only I get to skip my piano lessons, then I would have caught the entire match. Well, hopefully I can still see the end of it by the time we get there.
Caren (closing her parasol and steadily climbing on the folding step) : Calm down, young lady. First of all, you need to take your music lessons more seriously. You cannot be a proper damsel if you are fooling around with magic every other day. You need to learn the right way to handle social situations. (turning a serious face, slightly annoyed) Hey, no fawning and no buts.
Besides, you have seen how much your brother Sharron has practiced in the past few months. It is true that his opponent is Lady Silverstone, and he did not have a good record against her. However, Sharfenn did say he is improving, so I think your brother has a good chance. (signals the coachman to make haste)
Sharmila: But Brother Sharron has never won a single match with her, even sparring practices. Hnng, it took him a lot of hard work to get into the quarterfinals, but he ended up facing with that stupid Catherine Ahnmes. (resting her elbows on her knees and her chins between her hands) Erhh, that is frustrating.
Caren: Hey hey, Lala, give her some respect. Lady Silverstone comes from a prestigious history of military service. She is in line to become the next head of the House Ahnmes once Master Claudio retires. Of course she is strong, but this much responsibility and expectation for someone so young...
Sharmila: Oh mom, you can't be seriously sympathizing with the enemy now.
Caren: Okay Lala, Cathy is not an enemy just because the House Ahnmes and the House Miles do not see all the politics eye-to-eye. You met her during the New Year's Ball, and she is a respectable and refined young lady. It is true that Sharron and her did not have a great history in the academy, but their interactions were reasonable and acceptable within such a competitive environment. Furthermore, ... (going into Lecture MODE)
Sharmila: Alright alright, I get it. It is all because of the unfortunate circumstances as you always say. Let's just get there and watch the match and cheer for Brother Sharron.
Caren: Good, I am glad you can understand. Now how is Cassandra doing? Is she getting better?
(Small talks went on for about ten minutes, mostly about Cassandra Ahnmes, Lady Silvertree, and how she is recovering from an accident during the horse riding lesson she and Sharmila were taking together. The street was not very busy, so the carriage quickly arrived at the Military Academy. Sharmila walked briskly to her brother booth off the lift, which caused her mother some dismay that Sharmila would care little of at this point.)
Sharfenn: Oh Lala dear sister. How were your piano lessons?
Sharmila (while sitting down): Oh nevermind the piano lessons. Ah, hello there, Mr. Rimond. I hope you are having a pleasant day with my brother.
Epillion: Indeed, I am. Miss Miles. I assume you are here for your brother's match.
Sharmila: Yes Yes. So when will it start?
(Sharfenn and Epillion exchanged a look.)
Epillion (slowly): Well, unfortunately, it was already over. You have barely missed it. You brother put up a brilliant fight and it was rather close. However, Lady Silverstone won with superior techniques.
Sharmila (instantly turning dark): But but, so nothing worked? How?
Epillion (slightly confused): I would not say that, the disarming move was rather fluid, and ...
Sharfenn (pressing his hand on Epillion's forearm and interrupted): He didn't use any of them. He fought fair and square. Lala, I think you should be proud of your brother. There were no tricks and no gadgets.
Sharmila: Alright alright, if you say so, Brother Sharfenn.
Epillion: Now I am curious, what were those tricks and gadgets you were speaking of?
Sharfenn: Surprised attacks that got him this far into the tournament. I am not sure if Kaen had a hand in this, but Sharron's modified weapons were accepted under the clause "any nonlethal weapons of choice if previously examined by three proctors." There were a quiver with a trap net, a five-sectioned staff, a dire flail with a build-in flash flint, a pair of tonfa with blade locks, a heavy hammer that sticks, a destructible shield with sleep gas, gauntlets with projectile roped hooks, and what else... oh right, knuckle gloves enchanted with paralysis magic. I am sure he had more in the stock and made an effort to master them. People would call him playing dirty, but they were really just underestimating their opponent.
Epillion: Fascinating...
Sharmila: Awh, I wanted to see Kathy's sour face after Brother Sharron beat her in the round.
Epillion: You didn't miss old man Claudio's sour face though. I am sure he was not so pleased with a victory not so completely one-sided.
Sharfenn (standing up): Either way, I rather not think about the politics concerning House Miles and House Ahnmes at this point. Let's go for some refreshment. I wanted to greet my mother and help out my little sister.
Sharmila (as if just remembering something important): Oh wait, I ditched her. Ahhhhh, I am going to be in so much trouble.
Sunday, December 22, 2013
Mind Game, Part II
In the gleaming twilight dyed in red, the cloudless sky extended far until it meets the stretching horizon, a thin dash of silver. I stood atop the octagon hill, a small protrusion out of this flat and featureless world. Maybe the word "hill" was not quite accurate; the crafted structure made of a marble-like material could be a part of some ancient religion's praying ground, emanating an austere aura . Around twenty wide steps extended from the center to all sides of a perfect octagon, elevating my position slightly above the barren ground.
"Are you expecting something more?" She spoke, with a slightly condescending tone.
I shrugged. For a moment, I felt like I just lost a hand on all-in. But maybe the pure emptiness was so contradictory to my expectation that I felt a vague idea of more up her sleeves.
"This is your capability so far, just this octagon hill. Of course, comparing to quite a number of contracts I have made in the past, projecting an area that can fit about one hundred people is actually quite good on your first try."
"You have talent." I ignored her smirk. The complement was far from genuine.
"Nah, just kidding. I am just being nice." Nice was still an exaggeration. She was just saying that so I would not give up my effort immediately.
"That said, the quality of your projection is above average. For example, the ground we are standing on right now is a perfect octagon."
"Well, with a margin of error of 1%. So not too great." Yeah, always with a bite in the end.
"Anyways, since it is your first time. I guess I will help you out a little bit."
"Don't get me wrong. It is not like I feel compelled or anything." Right, you did not, and I was not expecting the dere side any time soon.
"We are going to make a contract, so I kind of obligated to do that."
"And you are just...just pathetic." 100% Honesty.
"Here, you have the privilege of holding my hand."
"I want to clear your mind. For example, think of a world of pure white with nothing in there, not even yourself. Once you have completely removed yourself from the picture, your world be imprinted to the outside and manifest in the project that will shape this ground."
"Now, Mashiro."
My mind went blank. For a moment, my vision was filled with intense rays that I could not block with the darkness of my closed eyelids. Even the surest path to obtain darkness had been tainted to a state of gray. Rather than projecting my mind onto my surroundings, the brightness eroded away my consciousness and transformed it to something foreign.
"Not half bad. I have seen better, but this will do for now."
And I opened my eyes.
Replacing the barren grounds were boundless acres of solid ice, polished to an almost mirror finish. More precisely, my logical description of the pure white world was a giant frozen block, while my intuition seemed to be different slightly. The ground felt harder and heavier. Even if I swung a hammer with all my strength, there was probably a good chance that I would chip the hammer, rather than a dent in the ground.
She let me take in the moment and said slowly,
"Now, let them rise."
-What do you mean, Viola?
"No need to hold it back, and hold your own reality close. If the world rejects your vision, modify it such that it is strong enough to withstand the erosion and reconstitute so the principles align." Words, no meanings.
-I still not quite understand.
"Alright, you are truly pathetic." She took a deep sigh, "Repeat after me."
"Oh mighty wind, bring forth thy tempest."
I tried to open my mouth, but instead I didn't speak a single word. Somewhere, a trigger clicked and hot streams rushed through my body. A fierce sandstorm appeared out of nowhere, a huge cyclone encircling the octagon hill.
However, I could see perfectly through the storm. Carved markings began to appear out of dusts while stone pedestals precipitated out of those same small dust particles. When the wind calmed, roads branched from the octagon hill in all directions, lined with pedestals on both sides and connected by paths radially spaced.
"Good, keep going."
-and thousands of blades sharpened with thy fury.
A hail storm approached. Gleaming twilight washed away the perfectly spotless white ceiling, and the air itself felt now harder and heavier.
That was what it felt like, but what fell were not chucks of ice. Instead, swords, cold steel fell in synchronicity. At each pedestal, a piece of weapon slid perfectly into the hard stone, giving off a faint noise. In a blink of an eye, the sound of raindrops stopped. All the swords were of one familiar shape: slightly curve edge of a sabre, the simple basket-hilt covers from the crossguard to the sharp pommel, and the crest--the raven resting on two branches of cedar.
"Now, that is more like it." She smiled.
And that was genuine.
"Are you expecting something more?" She spoke, with a slightly condescending tone.
I shrugged. For a moment, I felt like I just lost a hand on all-in. But maybe the pure emptiness was so contradictory to my expectation that I felt a vague idea of more up her sleeves.
"This is your capability so far, just this octagon hill. Of course, comparing to quite a number of contracts I have made in the past, projecting an area that can fit about one hundred people is actually quite good on your first try."
"You have talent." I ignored her smirk. The complement was far from genuine.
"Nah, just kidding. I am just being nice." Nice was still an exaggeration. She was just saying that so I would not give up my effort immediately.
"That said, the quality of your projection is above average. For example, the ground we are standing on right now is a perfect octagon."
"Well, with a margin of error of 1%. So not too great." Yeah, always with a bite in the end.
"Anyways, since it is your first time. I guess I will help you out a little bit."
"Don't get me wrong. It is not like I feel compelled or anything." Right, you did not, and I was not expecting the dere side any time soon.
"We are going to make a contract, so I kind of obligated to do that."
"And you are just...just pathetic." 100% Honesty.
"Here, you have the privilege of holding my hand."
"I want to clear your mind. For example, think of a world of pure white with nothing in there, not even yourself. Once you have completely removed yourself from the picture, your world be imprinted to the outside and manifest in the project that will shape this ground."
"Now, Mashiro."
My mind went blank. For a moment, my vision was filled with intense rays that I could not block with the darkness of my closed eyelids. Even the surest path to obtain darkness had been tainted to a state of gray. Rather than projecting my mind onto my surroundings, the brightness eroded away my consciousness and transformed it to something foreign.
"Not half bad. I have seen better, but this will do for now."
And I opened my eyes.
Replacing the barren grounds were boundless acres of solid ice, polished to an almost mirror finish. More precisely, my logical description of the pure white world was a giant frozen block, while my intuition seemed to be different slightly. The ground felt harder and heavier. Even if I swung a hammer with all my strength, there was probably a good chance that I would chip the hammer, rather than a dent in the ground.
She let me take in the moment and said slowly,
"Now, let them rise."
-What do you mean, Viola?
"No need to hold it back, and hold your own reality close. If the world rejects your vision, modify it such that it is strong enough to withstand the erosion and reconstitute so the principles align." Words, no meanings.
-I still not quite understand.
"Alright, you are truly pathetic." She took a deep sigh, "Repeat after me."
"Oh mighty wind, bring forth thy tempest."
I tried to open my mouth, but instead I didn't speak a single word. Somewhere, a trigger clicked and hot streams rushed through my body. A fierce sandstorm appeared out of nowhere, a huge cyclone encircling the octagon hill.
However, I could see perfectly through the storm. Carved markings began to appear out of dusts while stone pedestals precipitated out of those same small dust particles. When the wind calmed, roads branched from the octagon hill in all directions, lined with pedestals on both sides and connected by paths radially spaced.
"Good, keep going."
-and thousands of blades sharpened with thy fury.
A hail storm approached. Gleaming twilight washed away the perfectly spotless white ceiling, and the air itself felt now harder and heavier.
That was what it felt like, but what fell were not chucks of ice. Instead, swords, cold steel fell in synchronicity. At each pedestal, a piece of weapon slid perfectly into the hard stone, giving off a faint noise. In a blink of an eye, the sound of raindrops stopped. All the swords were of one familiar shape: slightly curve edge of a sabre, the simple basket-hilt covers from the crossguard to the sharp pommel, and the crest--the raven resting on two branches of cedar.
"Now, that is more like it." She smiled.
And that was genuine.
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