B2 – Chapter 46: A new regimen

Tristan facilitated the new arrivals of non-Fey creatures in their vote, and they ultimately decided that Dorothy, the Sheepkin Tailor and one of the elders of those present, would be their advocate on the court.

Then he set to work. He already had a routine mapped out, and thanks to being able to reverse spin his essence crucible, he could eliminate his need for sleep whilst in the Fey Realm. As it was midday, he headed to the training field. The space was still set up with the exercise equipment – the large, wooden weights awaiting his use. Some of the new citizenry had begun to use the space, and a few acknowledged his arrival.

Tristan had already taken off his armor and begun to lift weights when Thallia came over to the clearing. She had, thankfully, put on some strandvine pants and a jerkin. “Well, our lord of the Realm is well endowed.”

Tristan set down the weights and glanced over at her. “I was trained to kill dragons. You don’t do that when you are weak.” Heading over to another, slightly heavier set of weights, he set to lifting them up with his legs, feeling the muscles taught as he hoisted the load up above his head and began walking the trod-down grass ring along the exterior of the space.

Thallia walked next to him, “Have you slain many dragons?”

“Two,” he replied, grunting slightly as he spoke from the exertion of his activity. “Fire dragon here, demon dragon in the Mortal Realm.”

“Intriguing. Do you kill them for fun?”

“No,” Tristan replied. “I get their power. If I drink their blood, I get resistance to spell types.”

“I have never heard of such an Elf bloodline existing! Mighty magics must have been involved.” Her voice was soothing, calming, but also laced with a sincere sense of curiosity.

Tristan set the weights down halfway around the track to take some deep recovery breaths. “Well…my grandfather made…the bloodline.” He hiked his thumb at himself, “I’m…I was born…human dad…Winterbloom mother.”

Thallia nodded and that charming expression darkened quickly, “So you are a half-breed Elf?”

Tristan shook his head, “I…I’m full Elf…now.”

“Ah. The Fey Realm’s ambient essence sorted that out.” Her expression lightened once more and became charming and cheery, but that rapid shift of her demeanor echoed the warnings of The Matriarch from before. “So now for all intents and purposes, you are a Winterbloom…and I heard the last one?”

“That’s right,” Tristan replied as he hefted his load once more and continued his pacing around the field. “Winterbloom and other prominent bloodlines are being hunted down. Still trying to figure out why. Got a diviner who is working on it.”

“That means we must get you into bed with an Elf immediately!”

Tristan looked at her with a dour expression, “Sorry?”

“If you were to perish then the bloodline would be gone forever. And if that happens…well, I mean…” she trailed off for a moment then shook her head, “It’s just never happened before.”

“The Fey Realm was getting along just fine without me,” Tristan replied. They reached the starting point and Tristan set the weights down, sucking in air once more as he sat on a wood bench. Thallia sat next to him. “When I got here…it was…fine.”

“I suppose we do not need a Winterbloom, but you are the only one that can make new Fey species.”

“Come…again?”

She giggled, “I’m surprised The Matriarch did not tell you. Then let me.” She crossed her legs and pointed at a few fairy dragons flying by, “Zeltana was the first Elf, a Winterbloom. She made fairy dragons. Then, she made the other Elves. Each courtier, each representative of the other Elven races were allowed to have the say over one new species. The Nymphs were designed by the Summerbalm, and made by Zeltana’s mastery over this Realm. The same goes for the other species.”

“I can…make life?”

“Not quite. Zeltana described it as “weaving a tapestry of what already exists.” Her exact words.” Thallia leaned back, placing her hands behind her as she stared up at the sky, also showing off her torso which Tristan rapidly looked away from once he realized what she was subtly trying to do. “The other species such as Gnomes were then designed by the council to fill certain roles. They are craftsmen of renown. Nymphs were the entertainment, fairy dragons were the servants, Unicorns the transport service, Spriggan the farmers…and more.”

“Maybe we can look at making more species of Fey Realm creatures once I have unsealed the existing ones,” Tristan replied. He stood up as The Matriarch came over dressed in training equipment. Behind her, a small troop of fairy dragons carried Tristan’s gear.

Thallia stood up, “Ah, Big M. I was just informing Lord Tristan about his capacity to make new species.”

The Matriarch raised a quizzical eyebrow, “I was intentionally slowly informing him of his various capabilities as to not overburden him. But…yes, that is something you could do, Lord Tristan.” She gestured to the equipment carried by her children, “Are you ready to spar?”

Tristan turned to Thallia and dipped his head, “Thank you for informing me.” He headed over to the fairy dragons and began armoring up. By the time he was done Thallia had left, and The Matriarch cleared her throat to get his attention.

“Ready for our session?”

Tristan hefted the Adamant Wood practice maul, “Ready.”

The next several hours passed with practice bouts. They were high intensity, with Tristan focusing in one, short, three-minute burst on simply trying to survive The Matriarch’s immense combat prowess. He did not want her to hold back, and was quite pleased to find that even with her fighting without reservation, he was able to keep up. Defensively only, though, as he was not strong enough to counterattack with the maul fast enough in between parries and deflections.

Switching to the sword he practiced spellweaving – blending essence-weaving with swordplay. He could not do that with the maul, and came to the rapid determination that he would need to rely on items of artifice to spellweave mid-combat if he was using the maul. The sword, however, being longer, lighter, and only requiring one hand meant that he could perform most spells mid-combat without losing efficacy.

He did not actually release the spells at The Matriarch – instead he vented the essence out and reverse-spun the crucible to recapture a portion of the spent energy. And so he was able to train not only his body, but also gradually cultivate further growth of his essence crucible. His practice over the past days with Obadai in how to rapidly speak in Dragon’s Tongue had helped immensely, and he was able to quickly recite spell phrases.

With the sword, that was his primary focus – not his prowess with the blade itself, but using spells amidst the fray and frenzy of combat.

Once the sun began to set they stopped their training. The Matriarch went about her duties, and Tristan headed up to the top boughs to meditate and enter his inner world. There, he focused on smoothing out any bumps, and then practiced against constructs created in that space. His primary endeavors were on group combat; fighting multiple opponents at once, and his main takeaway was that he should use broad, sweeping strikes to keep them at bay, whilst using his spellweaving to dispatch foes in short bursts when he spotted openings.

One of the best discoveries that he had already learned of but solidified his understanding of was that he could split up the spell phrase and gesture in between strikes. It did not have to be done all-in-one-go. That alone caused him to reevaluate using the maul with spellweaving, instead of just planning on more artificed items. He had deduced correctly that the downside to relying on artificed items was that one was limited to only those stored spells.

But, he thought as he smoothed the walls of the crucible between phantasmal combat encounters, I should look into something well crafted and lightweight. Perhaps some type of shirt, with sewn-in goldwood plates? It would give me a modicum of defense, and I could have a ton of stored spells. I’ll bring it up with Beatrice later.

As night drew onward, Felicity came by to tap him on the head until he came out of his meditative inner world. He thanked her, headed down to find Beatrice, and told her of his plan. “Well,” she said, “I can get you some plates like that, and work with Dorothy to make a jerkin like you describe. I don’t know if the plates will be fancy enough to count for what you need them to do.”

“We won’t know unless we try,” Tristan replied. “Thank you.” He headed towards the market and crafting area near the base of the Queen’s Wood, waved at a few Nymphs who were lounging in their new pool in front of the enormous tree – surrounded by fairy dragons who were chatting with them – and he began going over the catalogued items for trade.

You could be reading stolen content. Head to the original site for the genuine story.

Felicity hung by her tail like a bat from the tree-lattice overhead. “What’s the plan?”

“Just checking to see what’s been made,” Tristan muttered in response. He began moving several of the items into the box designated to teleport items across Realms to Admiral Yokain’s ship, when a thought hit him. “I am an idiot,” he muttered.

“Not going to argue with that!” Felicity quipped with a giggle. “But why exactly in this instance?”

“I only need one of these pairs of boxes from the Mortal Realm to the Fey Realm. We can make another series of boxes that work on the Mortal Realm with Obadai’s help. Then Admiral Yokain can distribute goods as necessary across the network of transport vessels.”

“Oh, yeah. That would have been smart to come up with a while back. Too bad the other ship took off.”

“I’ll just contact them tomorrow morning. We’ll have them dock at Yustat and wait for us – then we can hand off boxes like that.” He slipped on the Gloves of the Growth Shaper and went over to an Adamant Wood tree, using the stored Plant Shaping spell to gently remove pieces that he then molded like clay into decent boxes. Not perfect, but serviceable and stable. Ten of them. “Since we aren’t transporting items across Realms, Obadai should be able to artifice in two-way teleportation.”

He loaded the big box up with various trade goods, placed the smaller boxes on top of the bigger box, and then turned to Felicity, “Storage thing, please.”

She waved her paw-claw, the space next to her opened, and Tristan loaded in the goods while at the same time pulling out his grandfather’s dragonslaying manual. “You can also have the Nymphs transport items from ship to ship if they’re going to be out on the Mortal Realm working for you.”

“True,” Tristan replied. He held up the book, “But first, new spells. Tonight, Second Order dragonbane spells.”

“So…boring reading?” Tristan nodded, and Felicity sighed, “Of course. What then?”

“At dawn I would do some artificing, but I think we will head out of the Fey Realm here early with whichever Nymphs want to come along. We’ll introduce them to Admiral Yokain, get everyone on the same page, artifice the new boxes with Obadai…but while I’m doing that, you have been very patient and well behaved; so you can go out and cause hijinks.”