Chương 93: B2 Chapter 35: Gathering Clouds

"Five days. Five days so far of putting up with this nonsense." Jamar Tostral, fourth scion of her house, growled to herself as she slashed both of her swords at once, venting her annoyance on the vegetation in front of her. She swung twice more, and the wall of greenery in her way finally collapsed, clearing an opening for her to advance a few more steps before another tangle of vines and brambles drew her ire for inconveniencing her.

"Your palanquin is available whenever you wish, La- Scion Jamar." The soldier at her heels hastily corrected himself when Jamar started to turn and growl at the use of the honorific that that damnable princess had humiliated her over. She grudgingly accepted the correction and took out her anger on a bush that was in easy reach, though not actually in her path.

"Yes, yes, and the underlings are perfectly capable of clearing the path without me. Do you think I'm stupid? I know that already. My palanquin doesn't have a sparring arena, doesn't have a bathing chamber, isn't connected to anywhere important, and you muscle-bound idiots can't even carry it smoothly!" Jamar ground her teeth and tried to cut the next branch in her way into pieces as it fell, only to be foiled by the detached branch starting to move with her sword half-way through the second cut.

She violently shook the stick loose and inspected the spot on the blade where it had been.

"And now I'm starting to wonder if the sharpness and hardness enchantments on my swords are working properly. Shoddy craftsmanship, or is even the Enchanters Guild specifically working against me now?" The soldier behind Jamar, perhaps wisely, said nothing as she continued carving a path of destruction through the jungle. After several more minutes, they came to a line of full-grown trees packed too closely to reasonably pass between them.

Jamar eyed the tree trunk directly in front of her, some 6 inches thick, eyed her swords for a second, then shrugged and stabbed viciously. The point of her right-hand sword penetrated the wood easily, so deeply that it came out the other side. She planted her other sword right beside it, then pulled them to each side, and the two swords cut through the wood in one smooth motion.

She pulled back and swung, completing the cut all the way through the tree trunk, and inspected her swords while the tree slowly toppled, crashing through a section of forest canopy on its way down.

"Hmm." Jamar narrowed her eyes, checking every inch of each blade for flaws, then finally shrugged.

"Seems good, I guess." She casually chopped through the remaining stump of the tree a few more times, reducing it to little more than a low bump in the ground, then beckoned the soldier forward.

"I've had enough. Go back to clearing the path for me now." The soldier bowed and pulled out some kind of broad-bladed long knife as he walked forward. A few more followed after him, each with their own oddly-shaped knife. Why don't they just use swords, like me? She rolled her eyes at their silliness, but didn't bother asking while she waited for her palanquin to arrive. I don't want to get bored by whatever meaningless triviality of an explanation they'd give me. Ah, finally. There it is.

The four soldiers bearing her palanquin came to a stop in front of her and opened the curtains on its side. She leaped up, disdaining the ladder it could deploy, and closed the curtains behind her as she settled into the cushioned chair. Various enchantments engaged with her presence, giving her privacy, protection, and pleasantly cool air. All anyone outside could see or hear of it was the Tostral house colors and house crest, announcing whose wrath any attack would provoke.

Unfortunately, there's no enchantment to prevent jostling from poor handling. Jamar sighed and tried to relax despite the constant disturbances as she returned her focus to the important business of actively absorbing ambient mana. I'm almost at the second stage. Just a few more hours, and I'll be there. Hours later, Jamar relaxed in stationary comfort, hidden under the thick tree canopy with only the bare minimum of space cleared around her. This thing is so much more comfortable in its tent form.

She wriggled a bit, pressing the cushions into a slightly more comfortable shape. Now then, to business. I've reached Level 19, entered the second stage at my lofty rank of Tier 8, and I have plenty of high-level ambient mana to quickly fuel the creation of my new soul structures. She grimaced. If you call four hours per structure "quick," anyway. It's faster than the alternative, sure, but only a madman would consider multiple whole days for a single structure without even sleeping to be even viable at all!

With some effort, she cleared her mind of such thoughts and began her meditation on the appropriate concept for the next step of House Tostral's soul plan. Memories of all the drills and practice she'd done in preparation for this moment came flooding back, and she welcomed them with an excited grin. She immersed herself in visions of perfecting her combat form, always responding to every attack with the perfect counter, gracefully invincible.

She imagined herself dodging, parrying, occasionally blocking with brute force, but far more often dancing agilely and speedily out of reach. She would be untouchable in battle. Jamar barely even noticed the hours passing, until finally a feeling of profound completeness filled her. She opened her eyes, rose to her feet, stepped out of her tent, and flawlessly sidestepped the single attack her top minion greeted her with.

Her new soul structure solidified into finality with that use of it, and the soldier smoothly sheathed his sword, the almost-ceremonial task completed. She nodded in acknowledgement, then stepped past him to the small table where her dinner was laid out for her. Her stomach rumbled quietly as she took a sniff of the freshly cooked food, and she took a measured bite of it before prompting the soldier.

"I'm ready. Report." The soldier captain – or whatever his rank was – bowed quickly.

"Yes, Scion Jamar. Our farthest-ranging scouts have found a disturbance in the ambient mana that we believe is most likely caused by our targets. We have not yet specifically verified the presence of Carlos or his companion, but ambient mana is being absorbed in a Level 29 area at a rate that suggests the presence of multiple developing high nobles." This book's true home is on another platform. Check it out there for the real experience.

Jamar glanced sharply at the soldier before taking another bite of her dinner.

"Level 29, you say? A single level higher than I can safely go at present?" The soldier bowed again and stayed down this time.

"That is correct, Scion."

"Hmph." She growled for a moment as she chewed, then swallowed and shrugged.

"As much as I'd like to beat him today, I suppose I'd have to finish developing my second stage and advance my power first anyway." Jamar quickly finished her meal, barely noticing the taste, and returned to her tent.

"Alright, 4 hours to make one more structure tonight. The extra progress will be worth going a bit more short on sleep." Jamar Tostral, fourth scion of her house, spent the next day grumpily staying in the same spot in the Wilds as she made 4 more soul structures in succession, leaving only 1 remaining to fill out the available space in her soul once again.

This left her incidentally also 1 structure short of completing her second Tier 8 superstructure, and she turned in for the night hopeful that keeping her ambient mana absorption rate relatively high would let her advance just 1 more level quickly enough to let her attack Carlos's current camp. She was disappointed when she woke the next morning and assessed herself. Ugh. Why does that one single last structure make such a huge difference? I'm absorbing at little more than a third of the full rate.

It would take more than a whole day at this rate, and that's if I don't even break for sleep! Her mood worsened further when the soldier captain gave her an update on the latest scout report.

"The ambient mana absorption of Carlos and his entourage seems strangely dispersed, with it being taken in from many points scattered over an area miles across. This makes it difficult to assess the overall total. Nonetheless, our scouts are confident that Carlos will reach the limit of his current location within the day, or at the very most within 2 days. He will undoubtedly move on, farther toward the wellspring, at that point or before."

Jamar glared at the soldier for a solid 10 seconds before she wordlessly turned away, stomped back to her tent, and set to work on building more soul structures again. Guard Captain Polra steadfastly ignored the heavy rain pouring down upon his armor where he stood on the ramparts of Castle Hadral. He also ignored the laughter and sounds of merriment coming from the barracks room just on the other side of the open door to the tower.

He managed to avoid rolling his eyes as he once again reminded himself of how things worked here. I've reported soldiers for being lax in their duties before, and all I got for it was a lecture about being too uptight and paranoid. We're not important enough for anyone strong to bother with, and the castle alone will fend off anyone weak. Lightning flashed uncomfortably close by, and thunder boomed right on its heels. Hairs prickled on the back of his neck despite the wetness of the air, and he shivered.

Haven't seen lightning hit that close in a long time. Maybe never. He blinked a few times to clear his eyes and peered out at the land beyond the wall. Paranoid or not, it is my duty to stand a watchful guard, and I will not shirk it. He jerked in surprise as an overwhelmingly bright flash painted even the raindrops blindingly white for a moment despite coming from behind him, accompanied by a deafening crash of thunder that left his ears ringing. Was that natural, or an attack?

He could barely even hear himself think. He almost turned to look, but a hint of motion in front of him caught his attention, and he tried to make his blurry vision focus again. The motion he'd noticed grew larger, coming up over the edge of the wall in front of him, but the details of it were still obscured by fading spots in his vision when something lashed out at him. He flinched and clumsily tried to dodge as he shouted in alarm, but something heavy hit his helmet, and he knew no more.

Broti of the Black Blades looked down at the slumped figure in front of him and gave the body a nod of respect. The rest of this place may be a shit show, but this guy at least tried to do his job properly. Gotta respect that, even if he was outmatched. He looked at the open door to the tower guardroom and snorted. The rest of these guys are trash, though. They should be pouring out en masse already, but they're outright ignoring a lightning strike so close that it should be obvious it's an attack.

I bet they don't even have their armor on. He shrugged and exchanged his heavy mace for his sword. Oh well, makes my job easier. Of course, the Captain has the real hard part of this job – occupying the house head's attention and getting away afterward. Lady Hadra Hadral cursed under her breath as she walked through her home, clad in armor and with a sword at her waist, surveying the damage left in the wake of the attack. My guards should not have been overwhelmed so easily.

They especially should not have been still in their barracks, slaughtered without even having their armor on! How did they come to be so unconscionably lax? A hint of a memory tickled at the back of her mind, but she couldn't bring it forth fully. She stopped trying after a few moments and moved on to another concern. Who the hell was that damnable lightning wielder? He flew like he was born to it and escaped every attempt to pin him down so well that I'd almost think he's another noble!

And who sent him, and why did they bother? I'm only a minor noble, and I don't have enough resources or political clout to motivate anyone to send that kind of power at me.

"Lady Hadra!" A messenger cried out as he ran up to her and held out a small steel box.

"This was found on your seat in the audience chamber." She leaned forward to inspect the box. It had no visible opening, but a wax seal on its top was marked with an imprint of her house's crest. She hesitated briefly. I suppose it could be trapped, but whoever did this put on an impressive show of force. If they wanted me dead, they wouldn't need to resort to a trap to do it. She pressed her right index finger to the seal and fed a drop of mana into it, and the box's lid popped open on a hidden hinge.

A folded sheet of paper rested inside, and she quickly unfolded it and read. Lady Hadra Hadral, A storm is brewing, and you will not be able to stand aside from it for long. The Crown's crackdown on noble usage of unclaimed Wilds for our scions' advancement threatens the power of every noble house, including yours. We understand that you may fear punishment from the Crown, but we must all stand as one to fight for our rights.

If you do not stand with us, then you stand against us, and we will take action accordingly. Contact High House Tostral if you wish to join us. Choose wisely, and choose quickly; time is limited. Lady Hadra pressed her lips together as she thought. I've heard of arrests and arguments happening over the rotation agreement, but I didn't know it had spiraled this far. She shivered. This is far too big to be just about House Hadral. How many other lords are reading similar messages right now?