Ecdysis

Chapter 34. Less Than Excessive Flexing

Anaise Kiymetl Hilal

She stared at the cougar in front of her and the gloves and gauntlets that were floating nearby. This wasn’t a simple manipulation — Anaise could see that Irje was subtly moving multiple parts of the whole rather than controlling it as one thing.

“What do you think?” Irje asked, grinning.

“Very impressive. Did Erf manage to teach you that?”

“Nope! This was all me!” The cougar scratched her ear and chuckled. “Erf tries, but I don’t always get his lessons. All those spheres and surfaces only make my head hurt.”

A sly smirk came back. “Well, Yeva did ‘help’ but I got back at her for that.”

Anaise rolled her eyes. “Spare me your tales of conquest. The servants are already whispering horror stories about what happened in that room. And you need to pay attention to the lessons, Irje. I know they might be quite tedious but you don’t even realise how valuable they can be. Wermages would beg and plead just to have this opportunity. Or stab and kill.”

“I know that. But I didn’t have teachers throughout my childhood like you did, nor do I have the smart worms that Yeva has. I can read and write — something that not many slaves can do. I can even count without using my fingers. But his math is completely different! I still forget his numbers sometimes!”

Anaise sighed and put her werbow aside. While it was a gift from her second father, it might be time for her to lay down the bow and pick up the Flow oar. Her control grew by leaps and bounds and Anaise expected, with some reason, to step into the ranks of war mages rather than archers.

“You are not a slave, Irje,” she calmly refuted her outburst. “Despite your necklace. It is merely a matter of when, not if, the Emanai recognise your freedom. And you will not be measured as a slave then — not even as a mere freedwer — due to the status of your sadaq. Unless you want them to look at you and see nothing more than a past slave.

“Your magic is even more pronounced. I will not lie when I say that your growth is exceptional. There are wermages in Emanai weaker than the current you, born into mediocrity with a paltry grasp on Flow around them. All they will ever do in their lives is grab an occasional fruit across the room or feed the runes within their Manor. But you are better than them. I believe you are and that is why I push you further.”

“Surely you jest,” Irje sputtered, likely not expecting such praise. “I am proud of my skill, but the wermages around me are still leagues ahead.”

Anaise scoffed. “The ‘wermages around you’ belong to the Pillar Houses; it would be weird if we weren’t the strongest. I also did not say most or all, just some wermages — the weakest and laziest. To best them would be a grand, if not impossible, feat for any wer… or a mere expectation for an average wermage. Is this all that you strive for, Irje?”

“Fuck, no.” The cougar harrumphed, crossing her arms. The two armoured gloves mimicked her movements nearby. “I understand what you are trying to tell me, I agree, and I appreciate you for it. Believe me when I say I am trying to use his lessons since I know they help with Flow. But I don’t see Flow like you do which makes it twice as hard.”

“How do you do that, by the way?” Anaise probed. “Your level of control is phenomenal considering how quickly you progressed. They almost look like arusak-at rather than pieces of metal with basic runes on them.”

Irje thought for a second and nodded. “I think that I do use his ideas. You remember how I mentioned using shame and he went on to talk about wells that pull everything in?”

Anaise cautiously nodded: that part was still confusing to her as well. Erf did briefly mention some insanity about weight warping distances like a rock bending a stick but all that still sounded like fey-talk to her. “Like that orange lying on a bed sheet?”

“Yeah, that one!” The glove pointed at her and Irje grinned. “So I thought, what if it wasn’t an orange pressing down but something else? Like my hand!”

Anaise blinked.

“May I?” She picked up a leather glove and tried to recreate what Irje spoke of. To her surprise, it didn’t come as naturally as other spells. It took her quite a few attempts and many of them were ruined just because Anaise would slip and try to move the glove as she would usually pull on it. She was about to blame Irje for her incomplete explanation when the glove finally jerked upward.

“Something is off.” Irje frowned.

“I know that!” Anaise huffed, glaring at the stretched glove in front of her. She could move the fingers but instead of looking like a flying hand, it floated without substance. Flat and slowly stretching apart. “Why is it doing this!?”

“I don’t know! Imagine it clenching into a fist!”

Anaise thought of a fist punching a pillow. The glove squeezed into a ball and started to turn inside-out.

“What are you doing!” Irje gasped. “Here, let me…”

Anaise felt Flow envelop her spell and pour within, like a thousand little streams. Or worms. She let go with a shriek and the glove ripped itself into tiny shreds.

“What did you do!?” she accused the cougar while rubbing her hand. Whatever it was — it felt extremely invasive.

“I tried to hold it myself like I usually do!” Irje pouted. “That was a nice glove too…”

“Well, you shouldn’t do that when someone else controls the magic,” Anaise grumbled. “Anything could have happened. And I will get you a new pair.”

“That was just so weird…how did you do that?”

“Probably because I was too strong for that spell.” Anaise didn’t know. “How hard do I need to press on that fabric to control it?”

“Well…”

She narrowed her eyes. “Well, what?”

“Erf did say that it was just an example, like a map of a room rather than the room itself. So I thought that the sheet should be like that too…”

Anaise blinked. “Like what? The cloth like a room? Did you suck so much of his seed that it finally filled your entire head?”

Irje giggled. “Maybe. But I just stopped trying to understand it and simply tried to imagine something like that, you know? I don’t see Flow in my heart but I think I could feel something else… perhaps its movement? Maybe its absence? I just tried to ‘push’ a hand into the ‘fabric’ of the room and have Flow…flow in?”

The werfox groaned and palmed her face. Irje was a lost cause, only Gods knew what was brewing inside her head. At least Erf could explain his words with lines and numbers. Even if it took him days to do so. Irje took his feverish ideas, ran with them without care, and, through some twist of fate, managed to get them working anyway.

“I don’t think I can help you with that kind of Flow, maybe in the future…” Anaise sighed. “We should still train with werbows so you can work on your speed but your new spell looks too promising to put it aside… Can you show me its strength?”

Irje stretched her hand out and the gauntlet quickly jumped on top of it. She clenched it into a fist and swung at the nearby tree. With a loud crack, the impact gouged a huge chunk out of the trunk, showering Anaise in wood chips.

“Sorry.” The cougar chuckled.

“It is indeed powerful.” Anaise glowered at Irje as she brushed the pieces off. “But it might be better if you speak to master Siamak about it. Obviously without telling him how you managed to learn it in the first place. If anyone could come up with the best use for gauntlets on the battlefield it would be him.

“Perhaps I should use the favour from the Kishava House and ask for their guidance.”

“Why them?” Irje frowned, her ears flat.

“These gauntlets act very similar to Kishava’s arusak-at. Their golems, that they control with Flow. Do you have concerns about them?”

“Every slave has concerns about them, Anaise,” Irje grumbled, all her previous mirth gone. “I might have been born in Emanai, but my mother and grandmother weren’t. The new slaves aren’t simply sold, they are broken in first. Especially wer — they are strong enough to rebel but precious enough to keep and sell.”

She yanked the gauntlet, threw it on the ground and sat where she stood. “And here I thought that I discovered my own magic, only to find out that I have it because one of their wermages found my mother pleasing to the eye.”

Anaise tried to say some words of encouragement but couldn’t think of anything. While she knew that Kishava had a monopoly on the slave trade, she was not familiar with how that trade was actually done. Up until Erf had walked into her life, slaves for her were just that — slaves. They were a part of the household and worked for the good of the Manor. In turn, the Manor provided them with food and shelter. A fair price if you asked anyone.

Nor would she defend another Manor. Irje deserved that much from her at the very least.

“Don’t give them what isn’t theirs.” A new voice entered their conversation.

Anaise turned around and saw Erf approaching. The lack of Spark and silent steps made him rather hard to notice.

“What do you mean?” Irje leaned into him with a pout.

“Esca was claiming glass as theirs, and me as one of their runaway artisans. I was neither. I simply possessed that knowledge. Flow is very much the same. The reason I think so is the Emanai laws, no — the religion itself — that forbids spying on magic practices or forcing wermages to part with their skills. Even the Matriarch of Kiymetl can not demand such knowledge from Aikerim, her own daughter. If spells were blood-specific you wouldn’t see wermages intermarrying between Manors, lest the skills would jump over with blood.”

“So how did I learn it then?” Irje asked. “And why does Anaise have so much trouble repeating it?”

Anaise silently pouted, she didn't have to say it out loud like that.

“And how many nights did you spend awake trying to move that toy? You didn’t learn it a single day either. The runes that I carved into the gauntlets are similar to these on your dildoes, and you had plenty of practice with those.”

“More than plenty.” Anaise nodded in agreement. “I could say that she sleeps with them, but she actually does. I wouldn’t be surprised if there is one with her right now.”

She smirked seeing her look of outrage. Revenge was swift and appropriate.

“What matters is,” Erf completely ignored the byplay, “that this is your talent. You found it, you earned it, and no one can take it away from you but yourself. They might’ve taken the freedom of your ancestors, but will you let them take your magic as well? Or even worse — your dildoes?”

“How dare they,” Irje mumbled but she did it with a hint of a smile on her lips.

She looked down and sighed. With a slight rustle, the gauntlet floated over to Irje’s face and clenched itself into a fist.

Anaise couldn’t help but shake her head: the view was somewhat humbling. She was just considering the Flow oar and their cougar was doing something outrageous and yet made it look as simple as breathing. But she wasn’t jealous — Irje’s growth was one of her plans, after all — or Anaise wouldn’t be so insistent on her magical training.

She shook off her previous thoughts. “How was the meeting with my grandmother, Erf?”

“Win some and lose some.” He shrugged. “Nanaya Ayda agreed to reign in her first daughter but now she wants my babies.”

An uncomfortable chill ran down her spine, making the hair on her tail stand up in response. Anaise had expected something like this for quite some time now, but it still felt way too sudden.

“And what did you tell her?” she asked, walking closer.

“That such decisions will be made by our entire sadaq, not just me.” Erf reached out and combed her hair. “Yourself included, of course. And even if we agree on it, they will be conceived after the children born within the sadaq.”

“Good.” She breathed with relief. “We are blessed with a loyal man, Irje.”

Her tail wrapped around the pair and squeezed them tightly.

“I’ve spent years appraising newcomers in this Manor. I knew he was of great quality as soon as I laid my eyes on him.” Irje chuckled in turn

Erf huffed. “Like I was going to ditch you all for some random wer or wermages that Matriarch would choose to further her agenda. And don’t brag Irje — you thought I was a girl until you saw me naked for the first time.”

The cougar shrugged without any shame. “I don’t think that would’ve changed my decisions about you.”

“And how did Matriarch respond to that?” Anaise pushed the conversation back on track.

“I don’t know. I left.”

Irje choked.

“You… left?” Anaise blinked at him.

Erf grimaced. “I don’t like to listen to someone speaking about my future children like some trade goods. I have a thick skin for myself and can shrug off most insults with ease simply because I do not care what some wermage thinks about me. It is much different when they speak or act like that about those that are close to me. My family, my sadaq, and my future children.”

“And she let you go?”

He shrugged. “Yes? I am here, aren’t I?”

She palmed her face. “Erf. Matriarch’s guests don’t simply storm off — they are dismissed. Nanaya Ayda isn’t someone you can simply walk away from without the explicit permission to do so.”

“Well, I did. Aikerim wasn’t too concerned either when I spoke with her afterwards.”

“He did…” Anaise ruffled Irje’s hair, making the cougar look up at her. “You hear this. This is the ‘daimon of Kiymetl’ that we managed to snare into our sadaq. The one who has the tits big enough to walk away from the Matriarch of a Pillar House. And survive it.”

“Yep,” Irje sighed.

Erf pouted.

“And still, I will not reconsider our union.” Anaise hugged him harder. “We won’t let you go.”

“Nope,” the cougar agreed.

“And that is why I want us to continue training, Irje. This isn’t just about getting stronger, but keeping our ‘daimon’ in check.”

“Hey!” the ‘daimon’ weakly protested.

“Damn right!” Irje laughed and got up. “What about you, Erf? Were you just passing by?”

“No. Apart from seeing you both and mentioning the news, I wanted to test a few things myself.”

XXX

“So you want me to simply shoot at the target?” Anaise asked, adjusting her quiver.

She looked rather striking with a huge bow in her hands. Emanai archers had their arrows on the hip facing forward; judging by how quickly she pulled the arrow out — for a good reason.

I nodded. “Yeah. I’ve never seen it in action.”

Things were moving fast and I was starting to make blunders once again. Luckily enough, Nanaya saw me as of sufficient enough status not to get offended at my leave. Or it could’ve been the opposite — my leave made her think that I see myself deserving of such status. Both could be equally true — historically daimonas did enjoy special treatment, but my Spark-less body kept everything too ambiguous.

This is why I was here right now watching Anaise wield a humongous bow taller than her.

I was planning to make yet another mistake.

I had a lot of concerns about introducing gunpowder to Emanai. In fact, I had so many concerns that I was previously adamant on avoiding it for as long as possible — the technology could bring just as much devastation as it could bring good. Especially with how easy Emanai could pick it up and run with it.

Black powder was extremely easy to produce and there was no shortage of ingredients within Emanai. Likewise, there was no shortage of reinforcing runes that could turn any wooden tube into a sturdy barrel. I could grow bamboo, cut it into pieces, draw runes on the outside and call it a hand cannon.

In the hands of a wermage, it would become a better hand cannon than anything I could craft for the foreseeable future. And, with the knowledge of gunpowder, Emanai would quickly outproduce anything that Wrena, Isra, and I could cobble up in our workshops.

And then the pandemonium would begin. Emanai didn’t just have seven Houses. It had hundreds. There were plenty of Minor Manors that maintained individual cities in the countryside or held specific plots of farmland. Many of these didn’t even split into multiple Manors simply because there was too little wealth to split it up. Yet many of them had plenty of wermages.

It didn’t matter if they were weak because they lacked proper training or their genes weren’t concentrated enough. Just as guns were once called equalisers, runic cannons would equalise all wermages across the country. And there would be some who would dare to challenge the status quo.

I didn’t want to experience wermage civil war and especially didn’t want to be the main cause of it.

That meant black powder was not an option. I would need to take the next step and start with nitrocellulose and nitroglycerine. Obviously, the production speed would be much slower but I was not trying to equip an entire army.

Yet.

The bowstring lit up in Anaise’s hands and the glow quickly spread to the wood of the bow as well as the arrow itself. A loud crack of the string and the arrow slammed into the target, sending pieces of wood in all directions.

That… was no mere bow at all. Nor was that a mere arrow. I didn’t pay attention before but werbow ammunition was thicker and resembled arbalest bolts rather than longbow arrows. Upon further inspection, I noticed that the bolt had similar strengthening runes as the werbow itself which explained the glow that I saw before.

“And how often can you shoot one of these?” I cautiously asked.

She shrugged and pulled a handful of bolts at once. And then quickly sent them one by one into the battered target in a span of two to three seconds, marking each shot with two cracks. One from the bowstring and another when the bolt hit. “I can hold a few in the air, at least until I run out of arrows, but I only studied archery for ten years. There are better archers out there, including my second father.”

I sat there in silence, thinking. Trying to gauge how much of my previous plan was no longer relevant just from this display of strength alone. There was an expected limit on the projectile speed unless Emanai had some special runes that allowed them to shoot supersonic bolts. Runes of strengthening weren’t enough to achieve that.

The current design still created a bow with a draw weight of a siege arbalest if not even a siege ballista and a reload speed of a normal longbow.

In terms of large-scale warfare, that was massive.

I could achieve higher velocities of my projectiles, but I couldn’t compete with their reload speed or even precision at this moment. Or even worse — range: their bolts not only had feathers to stabilise their flight but were heavy enough to be sent quite a distance away in an arch. Perfect for harassing or outright annihilating enemy units from far away.

“And how many archers are there in a single group?”

“In a palm? Depends if there are any wermages that can act as war mages. If there are none — all would field werbows. That means up to thirty archers for each hand, surrounded by infantry fingers.”

I nodded. As I expected, they were quite deadly on the battlefield and recognised as such. But limited due to wermage shortage.

“And war mages? I assume they are even deadlier?”

Anaise waved her tail. “Depends what spells they possess and how willing they are to deplete themselves. They can hit multiple enemies at once. A single arrow can pierce one, two if they aren’t careful, but a large boulder or a ball of fire could rout an entire unit.”

No surprises there: shock and awe. They didn’t need to kill every single opponent if they turned and ran.

I stroked my chin in contemplation. I would need not only the smokeless powder not to foul the reloading mechanism but proper rifling to create a weapon that would trump their current werbows. Cannons would face similar issues. If a werbow could be compared to a magical rifle, war mages were the magical cannons of local battlefields. And feeding and caring for wermages would be much easier than dragging around carts of cannon balls and barrels of gunpowder.

Unfortunate. By the time the quality of weapons outweighed their challenges in logistics, Isra would be able to produce air-tight cylinders to store gasses under pressure. That meant I could grow superconductive filaments in a hydrogen atmosphere.

That meant quench guns and other electromagnetic weaponry that only depended on how much juice I was willing to give it per shot.

“What do you think of my shooting?”

I chuckled. “I was quite cowed and impressed, Anaise. I came here to think of something comparable to a werbow but seeing you in action, especially how quickly you were able to shoot it, made me reconsider. At least for the time being.”

She turned to Irje. “You hear that? Even Erf understands the importance of speed.” Just as quickly Anaise turned back to me. “Don’t worry. By the time you join the military, Isra will have the best armour possible for you and Irje will be strong enough to keep you safe.”

The cougar in question nodded in agreement, a resolute expression on her face.

I smiled. “I appreciate that. I really do, but I am not that fragile.”

The werfox harrumphed. “This isn’t about you being fragile. A stray arrow always finds its unsuspecting target! They could sail across an entire battlefield and pierce you when you least expect it.”

I glanced at the bolts that hit the target and did some calculations in my head. Finding them within my expectations, I got up.

“Anaise? Shoot me.”

“W-what?” she sputtered. “Are you mad!”

“Dead serious.” I glanced around and pulled off the khalat from my shoulders, revealing the skinsuit underneath. “Go on, shoot me.”

“These are Flow-reinforced arrows, Erf.”

“And this is an ablative-reactive armour system, designed to protect me from rocks that fly a hundred times faster than werbow arrows ever could. Your second father failed to pierce it with his magic if you already forgot.” I patted my chest. “I know your aim is true. Try it.”

“What if it pierces through, anyway!?”

“What if it does?” I shrugged at the possibility. Seeing both of them getting frustrated, I decided to add. “Do you remember what that Collector did to me? You were trying to heal my wound — you knew how extensive that damage was.”

Anaise grimaced.

“And I walked away from it unscathed. A single kinetic projectile won’t kill me that easily, Anaise. It might stop me, throw me away, or cause some minor damage that I would need to spend some time to heal. But not kill.”

“What if it flies into your head?”

Without saying anything, I let my skinsuit expand over my head, feeling it wrap around me like the petals of a flower closing for the night. A slight itch around my temples and I opened the skinsuit eyes. Just the front two for now — my task here was to alleviate their concerns, not to freak them out.

“Then it would face the same fate as the bolt that would hit my chest.” I felt my skinsuit speak for me.

Its voice was rather rough but skinsuits weren’t designed for acoustic communication. There were better and faster methods, specifically Harald, and space was empty anyway.

“I swear, if you get hurt I will kill you,” Anaise growled and sent the bolt downrange.

I felt my body jerk as the bolt hit me in my left arm. Just as I expected, the impact only managed to crack one of the outer scales while the rest of the skinsuit absorbed the reminder instantly spreading it across my body and into the ground.

“You missed,” I goaded her on. “Try again.”

She mumbled a few choice words about my sanity but readjusted her werbow. Another loud crack and I felt the warmth of my armour as it absorbed the impact head-on. This time I didn’t even turn as the bolt hit me close to the centre of mass.

Irje whistled in surprise.

“Again. Faster!” I shouted as the bolt fell to the ground along with a shattered scale. The skinsuit didn’t waste time growing another one in its place.

Anaise shot again and again. Her initial worry was quickly replaced by incredulous curiosity as she constantly failed to bypass my protection. Her shots hit true and hit hard, yet all they managed to do was make me take a few steps back. Some managed to land where scales were already shattered but that too proved to be insufficient

They were heavy and fast, but not fast enough. They were magical and certainly punched above their technological level, but I wasn’t wearing a plate cuirass or a Kevlar vest.

“Are you satisfied by my protection, now?” I asked with my own voice once Anaise ran out of bolts to shoot with, my skinsuit receding just as quickly as it enveloped me a minute ago.

“Ah?…Yeah…” She slowly shifted her gaze between me putting back my khalat, bolts lying in the grass around me, and the werbow in her hands. Anaise caught herself and immediately crossed her arms and frowned. “Tell me, then: what in the ten hells made you waste so much time designing that ‘brigandine’ with Isra?”

“Because others can wear it too. Especially Irje. My skinsuit isn’t unbreakable either — a hail of hits would immobilise me as the suit would become too hard to move. Too many powerful hits and it would start to run hot with all that absorbed energy. Having an additional yet flexible layer would allow me to avoid these issues almost entirely.”

Anaise narrowed her eyes. “And you would also hide your real armour behind it.”

“Trust me, Anaise, I am not trying to hide in obscurity — quite the opposite. A brigandine would be obvious to a passing warrior from a glance. It would be bright and striking like a luxurious outer garment. And, if I somehow survive blows that I shouldn’t, it would encourage others to seek answers elsewhere. Besides, weren’t you the one who said that I need all the protection I can get?”

She harrumphed and looked away. “I was worried about you, you dunce.”

“I know, dear.” Her tail twitched as a hint of red appeared on her cheek. “And I also worry in my own way. I am not trying to avoid every altercation — I am making sure that, when the time comes, my victory and safety are assured. Even if it means being excessive in preparation.”

“You are planning to put an entire set of armour on top of that, Erf.” Irje shook her head. “And you are only calling it excessive. It makes me rather curious what you were planning to be comparable to a werbow.”

“Sorry, Irje.” I grinned. “That plan is postponed for now — not excessive enough. In the meantime, I will make do with melee. I guess.”

“You guess?” Anaise glanced over. “So it is not excessive enough for you, yet?”

“Well, I have one project growing. But it will take some time until it fully matures. I do have another thing on my mind, however — can I have a sword?”

A few seconds later, a sword was floating in front of me. I let it settle into my palm and inspected the blade. This was a normal short sword for the infantry designed for stabbing and an occasional cut. I nodded to myself — exactly what I wanted.

“There is one trick I have.” I dragged my fingers across the edge, allowing nanites to do their job. “Although I mostly use it for cosmetic needs of my lovable werfox. But it works with any blade, and it can be used for more than shaving.”

I walked to a nearby tree and slashed the sword across, neatly slicing an entire trunk with one swing. “A blade that can cut a wermage hair with ease, can cut everything else just as easily. You don’t need to worry about me, girls. At least not when it comes to basic offence and defence. I am neither weak nor fragile.”

The tree slowly slid sideways and fell over, leaving the trunk with a smooth diagonal cut.

Anaise looked me in the eyes. “Then you should start acting more like it. There is no way back anymore. Not after you walked away from Matriarch’s chambers.”