Arthurian Cultivation

It took five more days before we could head out. Five days of extreme awkwardness across numerous fronts. The most awkward was the new dynamic between Rowena and me. She'd offered a barely acceptable apology that had grated across my truth-sense like a rusty saw. She was clearly repentant, but I didn't think she'd truly forgiven me. Not that I forgave her either, but the way her eyes twitched, like she was constantly looking over her shoulder whenever we spoke, was a great balm to my soul.

For my part, I just treated her as a colleague, being cordial and polite without an ounce of warmth. In return, she spoke to me as if I were just like the rest of the order. If the others spotted the tension, they didn't mention it.

Then there was the challenge of avoiding Arthur. The man clearly only tolerated my existence and butted into every conversation I had with Sephy or Maeve. It was so irritating that I nearly outed his unrequited passion to Maeve, who still hadn't noticed the gazes he shot her, but I held off. I wasn't a monster, and given that cultivating emotions gave him such trouble, it felt like I'd be needlessly escalating the feud by taking that from him.

He was just an idiot, and I wasn't about to sink to his level.

His focus only added to the challenge of maintaining good relations with both Sephy and Maeve. The others had by now noticed something was going on, and I was on the receiving end of many a pointed look from my fellows as I did my best to maintain appearances. Beside Arthur, Lance was the worst offender. Since the hunt, she and Maeve had grown closer, their shared love of the blade making them fast friends. My only solace from her cutting glare was watching Arthur try, and fail, to naturally join their discussions.

There were other challenges. There was the debate about our outfits. The agreed image was a simple block red, embroidered with a golden circle, with blades radiating out from the centre like spokes of a wheel. It was meant to symbolise a table with swords laid down upon it, with subtle hints worked into each of the blades to show which sword belonged to whom. The blades symbolised us as founders.

My hilt had a clef, the musical notation, built into the pommel.

The placement of the blades had been an endless topic of debate, until eventually Tiff had shouted at everyone to make a decision or she was going to order the whole design scrapped. Only then had Gaz, motivated by his love's frustration, suggested that they make all the swords the same, except the sword oriented to the top, which would bear the symbol or design making it clear it belonged to the wearer. It added a touch of personalisation, without stating anything about their allegiances or orders.

To everyone's great relief, the group unanimously agreed.

The final challenge for me was dodging Marek. My Witch tutor was keen to ensure I didn't kill myself or anyone else with my death glamour while out campaigning, and he loaded me down with exercises, challenges and reading material. I had always been an avid learner, but I found myself struggling to absorb all the information he sought to pour into me.

It was only after I agreed to start practising a range of control exercises and stick to them that he finally eased off.

Given all these pressures it was no surprise that relief welled in me as I stood outside in the cool mid-spring morning, ready at last to leave some of these trials behind. It was finally time to leave. Around me, our small column made its final preparations to depart from Felix Lodge.

We'd just seen off the three Steels, Tiff and Butler, and to my surprise, Marek. All of them would wave us off from the main manor and then head out separately, taking a more direct route to our first stop: the city of Alka, which stood at the edge of the mountains and the plains. The city itself was controlled by the Order of the Golden Keep, a group of knights who tended towards metal and earth cultivation, and rarely left the walls of their city.

It was a perfect place to start our journey, as the Order was firmly part of the alliance standing before the divine cultivators. They would serve as our first staging point, and as Alka served as a trade hub connecting with the various routes across the mountains, it was a solid start to both our stated and secret quests.

We planned to take a winding route, cleaning up a few of the roads that'd received reports of bandit activity, giving ourselves a chance to warm up. The general consensus was that the bandits in the plains and hills weren't going to be half as dangerous as those in the mountains. The plains were relatively safer. Weaker cultivators who slept outside heavily reinforced caravans or the walls of settlements tended to end up as monster droppings up in the mountains.

I patted Elphin as the final checks were completed, the spirit horse prancing beneath me, as impatient as I was to get moving. The knights checked their storage rings for last bits of kit and adjusted their gear. There was a beautiful tension in the air, a secret drumbeat generated by our collected pounding hearts. We were all ecstatic to be finally heading off on an adventure. I was just pleased that I was going to be free of most of the attentions that had challenged me these last few days. Most, but not all.

"Are you certain it's proper for you to be there in the column?" Arthur grumbled, he and his mount striding between Sephy and me.

"Arty, give it a rest, will you? We're in full armour. The only improper thing happening is chafing," Sephy snapped. Her patience for Arthur's behaviour had been eroded these past few days. The overprotective prince kept inserting himself into our business, appearing at the worst moments, and any progress we'd made towards understanding each other had disappeared.

"Arthur, why are you out of formation?" Kay's voice cracked like a whip, and Arthur winced. Their Marshal was going to get everything just right if it killed her. The forces that be had arranged for our initial ride out to be witnessed by all those of power and standing who could be dragged here on short notice, and she wanted our cohort to appear perfect.

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I understood the need. A hero's journey didn't start with just wandering out onto the road. Well, at least the kind of heroes we were aiming to be didn't work like that. Still, I chafed at holding position, at waiting in place as everything was checked and polished. Yet it chafed. My patience for such things was worn thin. I longed to be adventuring, not bogged down in this arresting interlude.

It was strange. Years of patiently dealing with the Harkleys had taught me to wait, often in silence, to ensure I didn't catch errant attention. Why was this small hardship a challenge of endurance?

"Penny for your thoughts?" Bors rumbled from his position behind me. Bors carried our banner. A simple bit of runic work meant the resplendent red flag with the embroidered golden circle fluttered dramatically in a non-existent wind.

"Just that I'm annoyed with my own impatience. This wait eats at me. It's a nuisance. I'm no child, it shouldn't bother me so much to be held in place."

"Ah, but it makes sense for you," Bors smiled.

"Does it?"

"It's not your path. Knights, well, we're built for this. I can feel my hearth churn as we form up, it speaks to the parts of me that training and manoeuvres flare." He pressed his fist to his chest and looked up at his banner.

"Being a knight isn't just fighting. We may each have our own private journey, the path we cut through the Fae realm, but we are at our core part of a martial union. A group united to hold back monsters, to forge a path forward for all of humanity. This isn't a task done alone," Sephy said from her position beside him.

"I had not thought of it that way before."

"We should talk about your path more. I notice you rarely seem to discuss such things," Bors said, checking over his shoulder as he heard Kay chivvying Arthur back into position.

"But I'm a Bard?"

"Yes, and it's not like I can't learn something from a Witch. I'm not going to copy what the Covens practise, but I can see if there's anything that calls to me. I can also spot what won't work for me. I'll never be an alchemist. I've heard plenty of Witches and Knights speak on their cultivation experiences and I know I'm just not made for it."

"I don't think I'm made for being silent and still anymore," I said. My fingers wandered to the hilt of my lute in its sword form, which hung from my hip. I chuckled at that. It said a lot that I thought of it as a lute, not a sword.

"Well, isn't it good you don't have to be," Sephy said, her voice warm and kind.

Kay rose up and down the column, checking on us all, and we fell to silence.

In the lull I pondered my lack of focus. I really should devote some more thought to my path. In many ways, I was a poor cultivator. I didn't spend much time contemplating my path to power. I knew the Knights meditated on theirs often. I mostly just did what felt right until things slotted into place. I also didn't seek out natural treasures or brews to further myself. Years of poisoning myself with impurities had left me with an aversion to that particular pursuit of power.

"Well, that'll have to do, we're all in position. Taliesin, get ready to start us off," Kay called out. Our whole cohort straightened up, ready to begin our adventure.

"Everyone ready?"

"By all that is Seelie, yes! We've been ready for hours!" Bors shouted.

"All right then, let's head out," Kay called, and blew a short burst on her whistle. Elphin was so well trained now—or perhaps my horse was as impatient as I was—that he began to trot forward without me even having to nudge him.

Behind me, the rest of the order fell into step. We steadily followed the road that would take us past the main manor, where much of the household and the dignitaries waited to wave us off on our quest.

There was be a glaring hole in their ranks. Pel was absent, and frustratingly I'd not had a chance to meet him since he'd come to my aid against Rowena. I'd be upset, but his butler informed me his absence was due to an opportunity to recover another lost member of the family. He'd left me a note with a kind apology for 'failure to control his wrath', and an update that the team he'd dispatched to Albion had recovered my mother's remains. By the time all this was settled, she would be interred beneath the plants she loved so much.

That was reason alone for me to want to return to the manor, but I knew that wasn't the only reason. Artoss Manor was something I'd only ever heard of in my mother's stories. I'd never expected to see its halls, let alone have it start to feel like home. But the lodge had grown on me. I couldn't be certain how much of that was to do with the warmth and comfort my companions lent the halls, and how much was the place itself, but a few weeks here made me feel more at home than years in the Harkley estates ever managed.

The sun illuminated the stately buildings and lit up our column, catching the light from our red cloaks and shimmering across the golden threads, making the blades and circle design shine.

A few minutes later, we turned the corner to find a crowd waiting for us. They cheered as we approached. The welcome was more subdued than those of Lucan's town, but it still spoke to me of the importance of our work. Both our public and private goals had an impact that stretched far beyond us.

The Knights were stoic, eyes forward. I, though, found myself looking around and smiling. I could make out the faces of servants I recognised from the manor among those lining the road. I waved to our cooks. They'd shared with us a truly astounding amount of prepared rations that we'd stored away for later consumption. They smiled and waved back.

Looking up, the powerful stood with glasses of cordial, politely waving and watching our procession. They reminded me of the long faces I used to endure at balls, the permanent hangers-on whose path had come to an end and who now just floated about, scheming as the years slowly turned them grey.

My eyes flicked about, finding Tiff, Lucan, Marek and the Steels. They would be leaving in a couple of days, once we'd got up some momentum. They watched calmly for the most part. Tiff had enough enthusiasm for the rest of them. She waved and whistled, trying her earnest best to get Gaz to look at her.

I smiled up at her, and she waved back. I caught a flicker of movement and saw Rowena shift behind her. I was pleased that we were going to be able to leave her behind for at least a while.

We steadily left the crowd behind, and once we were past them, we eased the horses into a faster pace. The horses carried us out across the Artoss lands, away from the carefully maintained roads, out to the rough dirt paths of the mortal lands. We were quiet, all of us lost in our own thoughts as we considered the adventure we were beginning.

My soul thrummed, the Bard in me humming with power as it sensed the beginning of a new story, a new opportunity. Looking across at my companions, I couldn't help but wonder what tales we would have to tell.