Dual Wielding

Corrin watched, his chest clenching, as his life’s work slowly burned away.

“I told you it was too close to the flame.” Wyn said casually, biting a piece of skewered meat off the end of his kebab. He pointed it towards Corrin and spoke with a little still left in his mouth, “And don’t waste that, we won’t be able to fully restock until we get to Cliffside.”

Corrin hung his head, lifting the burnt piece of meat out of the pan. After a moment of hesitation, he began to eat, choking the charred meal down as Wyn laughed. He quickly swallowed and then washed the astringent flavor away with a large swig of water.

“Yeah, well last time it wasn’t cooked enough. Damn, I over-seasoned it too. But—!” He paused for dramatic effect as Wyn awaited the verdict. “The monster meat was still worse.” He reached for a handful of nuts and berries, tossing them into his mouth.

“Really?” Wyn raised an eyebrow, “I still can’t believe you had to eat that. You’re lucky you didn’t get poisoned.”

Corrin made a face like he was vomiting, “Yeah trust me, it’s not an experience I want to repeat. That’s why…” He stuck another piece of meat in the fire, carefully seasoning it—using less this time. “I’m gonna master cooking too!”

“To the warrior chef!” Wyn snorted, toasting with waterskin.

The trip from Straetum to Taravast was a long one, and traveling in luxury was expensive, especially since they wanted to cross the Grass Sea. Most of the travel budget had been allocated towards paying someone to take them across—as it was impassable on foot—so getting food and water was up to the pair of them.

After the experience in the dungeon, Corrin saw the pleasures of good food cast in a whole new light and had decided to try his hand at cooking. The biggest problem was, unlike swordsmanship, cooking did not come naturally to him at all. He’d gotten a few basic lessons before leaving Straetum, but so much of it was guesswork, especially without the measuring tools he’d have in a proper kitchen. Most of what he’d made so far wasn’t very good other than simple things, and using a campfire and pan was harder than he’d thought.

He’d press on though; he had plenty of time to practice.

One year. That was how long the journey was supposed to take. They thought it might be faster with their abilities, but without any real way to judge, and no idea if they’d have to stop for winter, they’d opted to leave a little earlier than that, giving them a few extra months to spare. Though they were already adults by their village's standard, in the east, students didn’t attend academies until turning 18. At their current pace, they’d arrive shortly before that mark, and would be able to attend soon after.

It had been about a month since he and Wyn had set out from Straetum, and they were starting to run seriously low on food. They’d supplemented their rations with foraging and fishing, as they didn’t really have enough time to hunt, and neither was proficient with a bow—despite Corrin’s speed, many of the animals on the plateau were still faster than him in a dead chase, adapted to a life of haring races across the plains. While he might be able to outlast them, doing so would waste too much time. Thanks to this face, they’d steadily been going through their rations, and would soon have to stop for more.

“Let me see the map,” Corrin prodded, trying to look over Wyn’s shoulder. Wyn pushed him away.

“Hang on, I think I’ve almost figured it out.” Wyn looked over at the nearby river. “So if that’s there… then we’re…” He traced his finger on the map.

“We passed Wind’s Rest about a week ago, right?” Corrin asked. “We should’ve resupplied there.”

“Maybe, it’s such a small village though, I’d wager they’re already preparing for winter. I wouldn’t want to ask them for food right now, even if we paid them for it. They’d overcharge, and we need that money for a charter across the sea. Food is more valuable than gold when it’s scarce enough… So that should put us about here, which means Cliffside is still a little over a week out.” Wyn sighed. “Hopefully we can catch some more fish, I think we’re fine, but I’d rather not cut it so close.”

Corrin nodded, “How far out are we from the Grass Sea?”

“Maybe a month at best.” Wyn said.

“You think it’s true? Giant blades of grass way taller than a person, as far as you can see?”

Wyn shrugged like he didn’t care, but Corrin noticed a slightly faraway look in his eyes. “I don’t see why not. I’m looking forward to finding out though.” He cocked his head to the right, looking into empty space, “I guess that’s true; it probably is almost like regular grass for you.”

“She still won’t let me see her?” Corrin asked, squinting as he tried to see the supposed spirit that hung around Wyn. Maybe there was a slight rippling in the air?

“She says no, she still doesn’t seem to like you for some reason.” Wyn said.

Corrin frowned.

“Don’t look at me like that! I don’t know why any more than you do.”

“Isn’t she your spirit Wyn?” Corrin asked.

Wyn winced. “Careful please. She likes to think of me as her human more than anything. I’d like to avoid getting zapped while I sleep.”

Corrin laughed and they finished up their lunch in high spirits and began to walk the path again. They did talk often during the trip, but when the majority of the time was simply spent walking through the empty countryside—and occasionally fighting off any spirit beasts that wandered too close—the conversation often gave way to a comfortable silence.

The plateau’s scenery was consistent if anything. Weeks of walking and cloud cover had taken the soaring peaks of the Windfall Mountains out of sight, save for a small sliver of the range which jutted further inland. For the most part, the entire view was filled with rolling green hills, dotted with trees and the occasional forest. They’d yet to encounter any creatures more dangerous than the flying spirit beast in the rain. Most that approached them turned and ran as soon as Corrin began channeling his mana, and the ones that stayed got cut down.

They’d also had a particular tense encounter with a mother bear and her cubs while fishing, but that had been more of an awkward situation than anything—subduing the bear without killing it was more difficult than they’d assumed.

Focusing inwards, Corrin channeled his mana as he walked. It was less effective than sitting down and meditating, but they had places to be, and he preferred not to sit anyways. He breathed in deeply, mana rushing in with the air. The swirling mass of mana crashed through his body, mixing with his own, like a massive waterfall suddenly appearing above a small pond. He held it for a brief moment, forcing it to circulate around his body slowly, pressure building inside him.

He breathed out, the foreign mana was expunged by his own, and the storm inside him lessened. The technique was something he’d come up with on his own after watching the flow of mana in his channels. From what he could tell, it helped the mana already inside him circulate more smoothly, giving him even better control, though he wasn’t sure how to increase the actual amount.

Ever since that night, the mana within his body had seemed significantly weaker, which they guessed was the product of the environment, a single breath below the third floor of the dungeon held more mana than a whole minute of focused breathing on the surface. Though he wasn’t sure why he couldn’t hold as much, or why it had seemed to stream off his body back then. It was an experience that hadn’t occurred since, a brief moment of harnessing what felt like an endless supply.

Either way, thanks to the energy granted to Corrin by the mana, and Wyn’s ability to apparently burn away his own exhaustion, they were able to walk faster and further than a normal person would, and do so without tiring. Their pace—considering they were walking—was blistering, and if they could keep it up the whole trip, they may even arrive early. Corrin knew mana was valuable for more than just walking longer though, and he had no intention of stagnating before getting to Taravast.

He started pulling mana into his hand, pooling it into a small ball of power. As it concentrated in that spot, it suffused outwards from his channels into his muscles and tendons, increasing his grip strength as it went. He condensed it further, but with each passing moment, it became more and more difficult, like packing a snowball. By the time he couldn’t compress it any more, about half of all the mana in his body was gathered in that one spot. The rest flowed slower, drawn slightly towards the palm by the force of his will. Sweat dripped down his brow as the exertion of his channels began to manifest physically.

Corrin pushed. Trying to force the mana out of his palm and into the air. But instead of leaving his body, the pressure in his hand seemed to just build and build.

Come on. Get… out!

He felt his channels clench in a feeling like a cramp, sending a shock throughout his whole body as he seized up, falling to the ground face-first, unable to brace himself.

“I don’t think it’s working very well.” Wyn said flatly as Corrin slowly recovered and stood back up. He slapped his hands against his clothes, knocking the dirt loose from the robes.

“I’ll figure it out eventually.” Corrin replied.

He’d been trying to see if it was possible to pull or push mana at range but hadn’t been successful so far. His intuition told him that if he could manifest it outside of his body, he’d reach a new level of power, and he thought it was possible, even if he had no idea how. The mana could enter his body quite easily, and he could burn through it in a flash if he used it within himself. But getting it to leave his body without being used, other than via his breathing, wasn’t something he’d been able to figure out.

After another failed attempt—though he managed to avoid falling over the second time—he decided to ask about the closest thing he’d found to mana. “So how do you get the spirit fire out of you again?”

“I’m not really sure how to explain it,” Wyn said. “It just kind of came to me naturally. Though, I still can’t just make it come out on its own.” He held up a finger and concentrated, but nothing happened. “I was able to that night to an extent, but I don’t really know how. I think it’s a mental thing, but I don’t know why. Either way, I can still use it to ignite things I’m touching, like my sword. Maybe you could try that?”

“Kind of like a focus then…” Corrin scratched his chin thoughtfully. “Something to draw it out of me. Not a bad idea.”

He’d experiment later, for now the efforts of earlier had drained a significant amount of his mana, and it was so sparse in this air it would take a while to channel more. That was one of the more annoying things he’d noticed since leaving. The dungeon’s ambient mana had been like a vast ocean of power—at least from how stories made them sound. A single breath filled him to his limit and then some. In comparison, Straetum’s was a lake: abundant and deep, but not endless like the dungeon had been. The rest of the plateau, however, was like a river, or perhaps even a stream, which widened and narrowed at times, but was altogether limited in the amount of water available. It was there, with a distinct current to it that slightly resisted when he tried to bring it in, but there was so much less of it. Minutes of breathing to completely top up had turned to hours, and he could feel fluctuations in the amount available between points even just a few miles apart.

Regardless, the walk continued, following the highway southwards towards the edge of the plateau. The sun had long since set by the time Wyn finally demanded they rest, less from tiredness, and more to stick to their routine. Neither were sure about the long-term effects of using their abilities, and in Corrin’s case it had almost killed him before, so they tried to not push themselves too hard when it came to walking.

They came to rest at the top of a ridge, overlooking an enormous valley down below. The elevation wasn’t particularly high, but the sparse vegetation of the plateau meant that they could see almost the entire valley from their vantage point. Corrin didn’t spend much time admiring the view though; even when they weren’t walking, their responsibilities didn’t end. Wyn began sorting through supplies and planning for the next day while Corrin cooked dinner for them.

He’d seen a stream as they’d approached, so he decided to take the opportunity to make stew. After gathering the water and heating it to a boil over their campfire, he brought it to a simmer and threw in some of the venison they had left, along with wild mushrooms they’d tracked down the previous day. Finally, he mixed it with the last of the herbs and spices he’d brought from Straetum, tasting the broth repeatedly until it tasted right. It would be rough eating until they got to Cliffside, but he wanted to redeem his cooking from earlier that day. Stews were easier for him than just cooking meat over a fire, so it went far better than his previous attempt, and he’d all but mastered this sort of “everything stew” over the last month.

While the stew simmered, they had a quick sparring session—which Corrin won—rinsed off in the stream, and then sat down to eat. The stew had turned out well considering the usual standard of meal for the past month, though he burnt his tongue with the first bite. The night proceeded as most had, with the two of them chatting idly and talking about all the things they'd do when they became spirit knights, until Corrin noticed something off in the darkness, out in the valley below.

Two pricks of light, several miles apart, but distinct. He tapped Wyn on the shoulder.

“See that?”

Wyn squinted, looking in the direction Corrin pointed. “Yeah, I think so. Two groups… The first is larger, but they're close enough that they should be aware of each other.”

“Why are they separate then? Wouldn’t traveling together make it safer?” Corrin asked.

“Bandits.” Wyn snapped his fingers in realization. “That smaller group might not be merchants. If they’re brigands, then that’s a chase we’re seeing.”

Corrin looked towards the lights with new interest, clearing up outlaws was basically a knight’s job.

“We should help.”

“Oh yeah? And what makes you think we can?” Wyn asked.

“Honestly it just sounds fun,” Corrin grinned.

“The amount of trouble you drag me into… lucky for you, I actually agree. We want to be knights after all, saving people is what they do.” Wyn rinsed his bowl and got onto his bedroll. “Get to bed then, we’ll get up early tomorrow, and we’re going to be picking up our pace.”

Corrin obliged, kicking dirt over the fire and settled into his own bedroll, glancing up at the full moon, shining softly in the sky.

Somehow, he didn't think he'd be getting much sleep that night.