Rising Kite - A story from the world of HWFWM

“I believe that we are ready to set out,” Kite finally declared where he stood next to Walker outside their Convergence guildhall. “Braid and Wander have already gone ahead, even if the latter should still be nearby. Will you manage on your own, uncle?”

“Bah, don’t worry about this old man, little Kite. I could take care of myself way before you were even born,” Walker retorted, waving away Kite’s concern. “Besides, we’re keeping just enough guild members active for me to keep track of them. If things go even remotely well, the splash you’re about to make will probably be distraction enough.”

“By the grace of Fortune, may it be so,” Kite intoned, relenting in his worries and turning to the others. “Please make yourselves ready. Glint has graciously agreed to ferry us once we get out.”

The familiar was indeed waiting nearby, still remaining in her draconian form until they had passed beyond the city’s borders, her scales glittering in the summer sun where she stood next to Dragonfly while carrying her new, white parasol - a gift from Little Crow - with careful dignity. The man in question stood next to her, the pair looking every bit like a young master and mistress from the capital who were taking a look around the ‘boonies’ of the north. Dragonfly’s armed and armored form stood in stark contrast to the two, but that didn’t stop her from chatting happily with the others.

Only Soul was still remaining at the other side of the courtyard, currently giving a trio of iron-rankers a most displeased glare as they sparred.

“-still lean too heavily on your left foot, weakness a proper enemy will exploit,” Kite heard her finish, her words punctuated by a yelp and a crash as she gave a proper demonstration of just that. “That better be gone when I return. Warrior does not show mercy, and neither do I.”

With that, she turned and walked over to the other gathered silvers, leaving the irons staring after her in awe, a bit of fear and not a small amount of admiration.

“It is most kind of you to look after our younger brothers and sisters,” Kite noted, only getting a confused scowl in return.

“What do you mean?”

“Teaching them.”

“Well, how could I stand to see that travesty of footwork here every morning? It would erode my spirit and tarnish any gleam of perfection that I might find.”

“No matter your reasons, the guild is grateful, honorary member Soul,” Kite said with a polite bow.

At his words, Soul’s scowl deepened further. “I still can’t believe that you’re making me wear this,” she grumbled, looking down at the guild’s crest embroidered boldly on her new cloak; a stylized leaf of shimmering red, gold and bronze.

“While it is beyond me to force anything upon the great Soul, blessed by Warrior, I still retain my most humble opinion that none should be able to mistake who you are representing. And besides, I would say that we all look rather stylish,” Kite finished, nodding to the rest of them who wore similar garments over their armor. “Braid may only have stopped here briefly before setting back out to prepare, but when it comes to weaving, he is most expedient.

“Hence why I prefer simple fighting without all this… fanfare,” Soul grumbled, but otherwise dropped the subject.

Seeing that they were all ready and gathered, the group told their final farewells before exiting the guildhall’s property and out onto the city, heading for a certain alleyway where a small rat was waving excitedly towards them.

“The way is clear then?” Kite asked Wander as they passed, her rat body hopping onto his shoulder.

“No sect spies or others who will send word quickly enough. The normals will talk about it, but that can’t really be helped, but I’ve made sure that the watchers that might have caused trouble have been dealt with. Based on the concoction you gave me, they’ll have quite a bad time pants-wise when they wake up too,~” Wander squeaked happily. “Poor bronzes, still having enough left of their insides for that little side effect.”

“And honored priest Orichalcum Fist?”

“Is waiting for us at the agreed upon location. I like him! For a priest of Warrior, he’s surprisingly nice and talkative~.”

“He did seem agreeable. Soul’s presence surely helped in convincing him to join our little venture,” Kite agreed.

“And those muscles… Mmm, I wouldn’t mind to be properly squeezed by something like that- Oh, left here, then right~,” Wander continued, interrupting her fantasizing to give directions. While the path she led them on was a bit… unconventional, partly going through a small backyard with a mother and son arguing while hanging laundry who were too stunned by the troupe of silvers to protest or even react to Kite’s polite apologies as they passed.

Eventually though, they were out of the city after having passed through its northern gate, picking up speed as they crested a hill and left Convergence behind them.

“Unless they have a gold-ranker watching us, I declare our escape to be a decisive success~!” the little rat at Kite’s shoulder declared, puffing up her little furry form in obvious pride. “And look, there’s that lovely hunk of a priest~.”

A scant second later, Kite too noticed the man slowly going through some unarmed kata beneath a lone tree on the top of a faraway hill, uncaring of the two rats who were constantly scuttling over his bare shoulders and arms which rippled with clearly defined muscles.

“Wander, was it you who convinced him to practice without his shirt on?” Kite asked with a raised eyebrow as their group slowed down their final approach to be clear in their peaceful intentions.

“That’s the best thing! I didn’t~!” Wander squeaked happily. “He just saw me watching, stopped and took it off. It’s so nice when art actively accepts its admirers~!”

Soul was the first to arrive before the priest, and Kite had never seen her bow as deeply to anyone like she did to Orichalcum Fist, priest of Warrior.

“Honored priest.”

“Ah, blessed one!” Orichalcum Fist exclaimed, returning her bow with a surprising reverence of his own. “It is good that you are finally here. Our Lord seems to be most pleased with what you are doing here. Glorious combat surely awaits you! And you too, Pathbreaker and Dragonfly!”

“Honored priest,” both Kite and Dragonfly intoned as they caught up, with Kite continuing to speak. “As long as the sects don’t shy away from our challenges, our clashing will hopefully find your Lord’s approval.”

“All good, all good, Pathbreaker,” the priest agreed heartily. “Also, I have looked forward to going along on your most novel mode of transport. To be carried across the lands and towards battle behind a most glorious, beautiful dragon like Glint here… Truly stirs the heart just thinking about it.”

“It is clear that you can recognize greatness, honored priest,” Glint responded, head held high. “All of you, gaze upon my splendor.”

With that, she stepped off to the side as her transformation started with its usual golden, shimmering glow that left the familiar in its much larger, serpentine shape with silken fins billowing outward to catch the sunlight. While those that had seen it before still gave their token show of appreciation, Orichalcum Fist proved not to be as retrained in his appreciation.

“Glorious! Magnificent!” he called as he ran along Glint’s body, uncaring of the whipping winds or the ground and trees blurring beneath them during their flight, the priest seeming to want to enjoy the eastward ride in every way possible while all of the rest except Kite had retreated into the shelter of the boat which Glint dragged behind her. Or rather, most of the rest.

“Maybe I should’ve gotten the vast essence instead, if it gets one all that attention of a man like him~,” Wander mused from next to Kite’s ear where she sheltered from the rushing air.

“Orichalcum Fist does seem like one to thoroughly live each moment,” Kite noted. “I am sure that he appreciates your path as well.”

“Or maybe I should get glittering fur~?” the rat continued her musings, not acknowledging Kite’s attempted consolation.

Leaving her to it, Kite instead leaned out to look to the horizons, where their destination awaited.

“Or rather, our first destination. If all goes well, we will do this again soon enough,” he thought, imagining the clashes that were to come. It was time for the guild, and him, to get a lot bolder.”

“-and this humble sect leader hope that this recounting of our handling of the guild issue will be to your liking. The Luminous Cloud sect looks forward to sending a group of our most promising students to the capital in the future, so that they may bring back tales your boundless knowledge, prowess and heritage,” Gossamer March of Morning finished, looking to her personal scribe to the side. “Did you get that?”

“Yes, sect leader. Your way with words is, as always, an inspiration,” the younger man acknowledged, letting the conjured brush with which he had been writing vanish in a cloud of dispersing mana. Just a glance at the scroll before him once more confirmed to sect leader Morning that her choice in taking in the young scribe was worth it, as his calligraphy was growing more divine with each month.

“Excellent,” she confirmed, turning to other matters as she gave the younger man a dismissing wave. “Have it sent out with the next set of messages to the capital. If all goes well, we can soon send confirmation that the guild has finally surrendered before our might, and we can move on to taking care of their members more thoroughly when they are out of the public eye.”

“Of course, sect leader. As always, you show impeccable wisdom and-” the young man began, but froze in his bow. But he wasn’t the only one who had stopped what he was doing at that moment. There was probably not a single one in the entire sect who wasn't currently diverting their full attention to the voice that spoke from somewhere outside, words ringing out like heavenly thunder.

“Luminous Cloud sect! Let it be known under the heavens that you are honorless cowards, base brutes and bullies striking out at those you perceive as weaker than you while lapping at the feet of your betters to the south!”

“What? Who-” sect leader Morning began, but the thunderous voice continued.

“The Autumn Wanderer’s guild has been nothing but peaceful in our dealings before this, but when faced with your cowardice, the leaves will part to show the thorns. My name is Kite Flown in on Winds of Fortune, known as the Pathbreaker. Along with me are the guild’s champions, and with Warrior as our witness and divine adjudicator we challenge each and every one of you. Send out your elders. Your grand elders. Your sect leader. You will all break upon our paths, proving the truth of my words; that the only thing your sect is good for is punching down.”

And with the echoing proclamation also came a spectrum of auras, silver one and all, showing an eroding implacability, smoldering flames of life and power, the feel of perfection glimpsed in a foe’s impeccable stance and the promise of destruction hidden beneath a pleasant veneer. But what was worse, something more seemed to tower over all of them, a presence distinctly different. It was the clashing of steel and the measuring of strength, the cry accompanying a decisive strike and the endless hours spent perfecting a single swing. And while it was neutral, a witness rather than an invader, none who had ever been to the temple square could mistake the touch of divinity. Warrior had indeed sent a witness.

“Heavens…” sect leader Morning breathed before the situation and its risks came crashing down upon her. There was suddenly a blade at their throat, and none of them had seen it coming, thinking it a distant thing scrambling to keep up with their offensive.

“They are here? Why weren’t we warned? I specifically allowed a fortune in messenger constructs to our watchers,” she snapped, looking to vent her frustrations on someone or something. But the cowering bronze-ranked scribe was not that person, so she just strode past him while calling over her shoulder. “Call for the elders. All our silvers. We need to plan this. And prepare to open the sect’s vaults. Luminous Cloud will not suffer such base slander.”

As Kite fell silent, Braid let the inner ritual circle fade, and the outer one projecting their auras outward followed soon after. Kite had to admit that he almost still couldn’t believe how a ritual like this could make his voice carry like that, but at least there was no risk that their intended foes hadn’t heard them.

“Well, spoken, Pathbreaker. Stating your intent and tackling them head on is ever approved by my Lord. As Warrior’s eyes in this matter, I look forward to the upcoming clashes,” Orichalcum Fist said, nodding with approval. “But I will remind you that I am here to officiate, not intervene. The strongest will prevail here today, and Warrior does not care if it is you or your adversaries, as long as you meet in glorious battle.”

“Of course, priest. We will just have to wait and see how they respond,” Kite replied with a polite bow, even as his mind went to the other half of their plan which would be enacted soon enough, assuming that the sects didn’t back down from their challenge.

“With as public a challenge as this, I would be most surprised if they don’t rise to meet us,” Little Crow noted. “Even though your most impressively loud words won’t be heard all the way to Convergence, the criers we hired should be repeating them as we speak. None will miss your challenge today, Kite. And thus, they cannot back down or they risk losing all esteem from the other sects and people both- oh, look! I would suspect that is indeed news from the city at last!”

Little Crow pointed out a small dot in the distance which quickly grew as it drew closer, soon making out to be a small messenger construct looking like a mechanical peacock whose tail feathers were instead a mass of trailing cloudstuff. It zoomed past them towards the sect, with none of Kite’s band attempting to hinder its passage. They wanted the sect to know of word being spread in the city, after all, to further back them into the proverbial corner.

“Let us hope that it creates enough of a stir,” Kite said, a meaningful look passing between him and his adopted cousin. They did want a distraction after all, because if the other part of their plan was discovered, there would definitely be consequences. But they kept silent so as to not alert Orichalcum Fist to their dual purpose. While the man generally seemed good-natured, it felt best to keep his focus on the more straightforward side of things.

While waiting outside the sect in the summer sun was pleasant enough, Kite was still most relieved when they finally caught movement at the sect gates.

“Only two hours. I had expected it to take longer. Not that I’m complaining,” Dragonfly said with a grin from where she was leaning against her greataxe as the gates finally started to creep open, revealing a procession in the pale golds and oranges of the Luminous Cloud sect, complete with banners, fluttering ribbons and disciples escorting their elders.

At the front walked an elf woman with black hair leaning towards blue kept in a functional ponytail, built more like an athlete rather than the willowiness that her kind often displayed. She was wearing golden combat robes with bits of similarly gilded armor plating, and nine glowing orbs hovered behind her like small suns, casting a golden haze throughout the mists spread by censer-carrying disciples.

“Luminous Cloud indeed,” Little Crow noted in amused admiration. “They sure didn’t hold back on style. While bordering on the brink of gaudy, I can at least respect their dedication to the aesthetics.”

“They didn’t hold back on the silvers either,” Dragonfly continued. “Nine, if my count isn’t off.”

“Which probably leaves at least two in reserve. It should be manageable.” Kite agreed.

When the sect procession drew closer, Kite decided that it was time to step forward, even though their little procession trailed by Orichalcum Fist looked a lot less imposing. Stopping a good distance away while allowing the silvers to easily pick out any words spoken, Kite inclined his head ever so shallowly towards the sect leader and flanking grand elders.

“Sect leader Gossamer March of Morning,” he greeted. “It gladdens me to see the Luminous Cloud sect accepting our call to honorable combat. At least this time. Last time I saw your elder there-” he said, nodding towards a tall, thin human man in the procession,” - I barely got to see anything more than his back, as he couldn’t seem to run away fast enough from the outcast that is me.”

While he still felt a bit gauche with the theatrics and barbs, Kite felt a lot less shame this time as opposed to when he had crashed the meeting of the disciples from the former Descending Star sect. Having been on the receiving end of this particular sect’s bullying tactics for a time had left little in the way of patience in that regard.

“Pathbreaker. I should thank you for this opportunity, as it will finally let us crush you like the traitors you are before Warrior’s holy gaze. A guild has no place in this land, and even less so one consisting of outcasts and cowards. A few strong paths among you does not amount to any true power worth remaining in this region. Your little gathering of trash will be forced to leave after today.”

“Are we to talk terms then, sect leader? Why don’t you and I finish this without any more preamble? Path against path, as Warrior intended,” Kite said, pushing a bit to get around spending a few more minutes posturing for morale. As the highest authority of the guild present today, only I can make such decisions as to where we keep our guildhalls.”

“Bah, as if I would need to stoop to fight you directly right out of the gate. A sect leader has more dignity than that, but you wouldn’t know that, would you, outcast? My elders will take care of you all before all to witness.”

“As you wish, sect leader. But I will still advise against it, as these particular elders haven’t fared too well against me and mine,” Kite noted, even as he was inwardly pleased with the more lengthy process. “Let us still talk terms, then, before we get on to the only thing that should be truly important for a warrior; glorious tempering.”

“It has begun,” Dancer on the Broken River said where she sat up in a tree on almost the directly opposite side of the Luminous Cloud sect’s compound from where she knew the annoying one and his guild would make their stand.

“Really? I don’t- oh, there it is,” her companion called Braid asked from the side where he rested hanging from the branches in a hammock of glowing threads.

River had felt the clashing begin in her spiritual perception, but the detonations of spells and attacks clearly visible through the obscuring canopy just moments afterwards had apparently allowed the man to catch up. Suppressing an instinct to roll her eyes at his inadequate spiritual perception, River instead leapt down to land softly beneath the trees while Braid was in turn lowered down gently by the same threads that had kept him aloft. As per the prior agreement, the cloth-wrapped man started his ritual, with threads reaching out through the air to form a circle even while he added more and more layers to form an elaborate ritual circle in a scant few seconds.

As the concealment ritual hummed to life around them, Braid nodded in satisfaction. “Time to be off.”

At first, River had found the man’s relative indifference to her to be rather suspicious, compared to the annoying one’s description of the reactions of some of his other companions. But this Braid had been nothing but cordial, mostly seeming lost in a world of his own as he constantly worked on other small projects. River might have thought him a bit daft if he hadn’t already shown off an impressive array of ritual skills, and the magical defenses now ahead of them at the enchanted wooden walls of the sects didn’t seem to give him the slightest pause.

“This will be an excellent opportunity to try out a few new tools and techniques,” Braid noted as glowing threads emerged from within his sleeves, burrowing into the surface layer of the walls as the sect’s defensive arrays became visible, with multitudes of interweaving defensive formations linked with one another. Before River’s eyes, the threads seemed to shift and merge with the magical lines, and the smile in Braid’s voice was as obvious as the excitement which she could feel in his mostly retracted aura.

“Ah, yes. Decent defenses, I’ll give them that. I wonder if their array master would be willing to exchange pointers? There is a certain elegance to how they’ve integrated the defenses with the fibers of the wood-”

“Can you breach it?” River asked impatiently, not interested in listening to a small lecture in arrays when standing beneath the enemy’s walls. Or ever, really.

“Breach? No-”

“You said-”

“Nothing so crude. A breach would be detected rather quickly. But a slight subversion to create, say, a person sized, invisible opening which the array core will perceive as part of its pattern until someone manually opens it and takes a direct look? Well, in that regard I do believe that I can be of service.”

“Then do it. I have a hunt to get to.”

“These things take time.”

“How much time?”

“Eighteen more seconds, give or take three.”

To her surprise, River had to suppress her urge to throttle the man - which in and of itself spoke volumes to her own tensions - because what she felt from his aura was only honesty bleeding through the clarity of his focus. So instead of enacting Pain’s will as was her impulse, she prayed.

“Lord Pain, I will now go and seek to spread your purview. Let those who have inflicted agony upon me be touched by you in turn, keeping your domain unbroken.”

“Your very being pleases me, little one. May your word be torment, your strike carry agony, and your purpose be pain.”

River’s prayer had been a silent one, but Pain was always with her, and the agony of his words still lingered as Braid nodded to himself.

“It is done. The hole in the detection is a circle two meters in diameter right here,” he said, a few glowing threads reaching upward to indicate an area above the wall which ostensibly looked to be only empty air, even to River’s magical perception. But the defenses of a compound as extensive as a sect’s would have to be rather shoddy ones if they were so readily visible.

“Then I go,” River said and started to ready herself to jump when Braid’s words stopped her.

“Aren’t you forgetting something? Or rather, someone?” the cloth-wrapped man asked, his raised eyebrow clear in the tone of his voice.

“Is this really necessary?” River asked, frustration clear as she only kept from rolling her eyes through sheer willpower and discipline carved into her by her father all her life.

Ignoring her question, Braid started shaking one of his voluminous sleeves. “Wander. Wander? It’s time- Wander!”

Finally, a brown rat tumbled out onto the ground, looking about a bit confusedly.

“Hmm? What? Wha- oh, right. Accompany the crazy priestess. Right~.”

“Focus, Wander.”

“Hey, you try focusing when a pretty celestine man with a fancy parasol is demolishing a sect elder in a duel. The parasol is shooting needles everywhere, and the needles are exploding, Braid. Exploding~!”

“Wander.”

“Fine, fine~,” the rat complained, skittering over and climbing up River’s armored leg and perching on her shoulder while ignoring the glare from the priestess of Pain. “But I’ll keep watching the pretty man fight too. You can’t stop me~.”

“Now, please go, priestess,” Braid told River with a tone rich in the suffering of someone who had danced these particular steps many, many times. “I’d ask the gods to keep you safe, but that would probably anger quite a few of them. “

“Hang on then, vermin,” River told the perching rat as she once more readied to jump. “And do not get in the way, or you too will feel the touch of my god.”

“Oh, just you dare, crazy girl. I have a thousand fangs with which to bite you in places not even your lovers have dared venture. You- eeeeeeep,~” Wander began, the rat’s little tirade interrupted as River leapt, vaulting three times just to disorient her passenger as she cleared the wall and passed through the hole in the sect’s defenses.

“Do not get me wrong, Little Crow, but… I thought assassins were supposed to be… Well… Subtle,” Dragonfly noted as the man with the parasol returned to his place in their row of five arrayed on one side of the open stretch of slightly hilly land that was the location for the day’s duels. The poor landscape was now a couple of trees and hills short, as well as having earned a goodly number of craters among which Soul was currently taking her place opposite human woman brandishing a wooden glaive trailing foul, noxious vapors.

“Oh, you aren’t the first one to be surprised,” Little Crow said with his usual smile. “And while the family has plenty of members able to leave bodies behind without as much as a whisper of sound or trace of motion, taking someone down from silver rank and onwards often becomes a much more messy affair. All those powers and durability… Well, it’s not impossible, but the preparations needed are often extensive. And most often, the target being dead is the most important part of the contracts given to our family, so there are not a few of us who have gone for more… straightforward approach. A lot of damage in as little time as possible usually gets the job done, even if we usually work in pairs to let one initial strike soften the target up while the other takes them out. Preparing escape routes is often a lot easier than planning for the perfect kill.”

“Remind me to not get your family sent to take care of me,” Dragonfly noted after a moment of contemplative silence.

“You needn’t fret, Dragonfly. We take very few actual assassination contracts here at home. The complications are rarely worth it if we want some modicum of peace even with the threat of the Tengu looming unseen,” the smiling man said, patting her shoulder. “And besides, you’re close to Kite. And he’s basically family. We care about family. Aaaand speaking of family, I sure am glad that the opponent of our dear Soul there is a fellow silver. Had she been any less, I would imagine that any relatives of hers might soon be donning their robes of mourning. That transcendent damage is breaking a lot of things inside her.”

“Oh, you can tell? Her aura does feel unstable...” Dragonfly noted, trying to get a better sense of the state of the beleaguered elder, but a silver could fight through a lot without slowing down. “But I still find it hard.”

“Perception power. Being able to more accurately assess damage on a foe is very useful, and while it is most favored by healers, many of my siblings have sought stones that might bring similar effects. Combined with the magical aura perception, it makes it a lot easier to get a holistic view of people.”

“While you pick them apart.”

“Indeed. As I said, most excellent.”

“Well, I don’t need a perception power to know that this duel is soon over.”

“Oh?”

“I’ve fought Soul quite a lot for a few months. She’s clearly found what she wanted from the elder, probably trying out the fusion of Celestial Sweep style and Descending Cormorant style that she has spoken of lately. And with that done, she’s ramping up.”

“Hmm, you mean the speed of her footwork? Ah, yes I do see it. Now that you mention it, she did do that a lot during our little spars while traveling. Somehow I now feel like a training dummy…”

“A most well-dressed one.”

“Ah, many thanks. I do think that the golds and sky blue complement the guild’s colors nicely. And it seems that you were right in your assessment, Dragonfly. Good call.”

The elder had just shrieked a fierce battle cry while raising her wooden glaive high to absorb all the vaporous, clearly toxic trees that had sprung from their battlefield over the course of the duel, spilling out poisonous vapors. This caused the weapon to start emitting a deep, inner glow as the mists spewing from it darkened and started giving off an even more intense sense of decay.

Soul seemed unbothered though, be it by the elder’s display or the clear signs of necrotic toxins that spread like a dark moss across parts of her body. The celestine’s stance shifted, her motions somehow giving off the sense of a misty cloud somehow hinting at the threat of thunder from within their depths. As the elder’s strike came surging towards her, supplemented by a torrent of toxic mist reaching out like roots of a hungry forest, Soul stepped into the attack. A tightly-controlled spinning motion carried her past the downward slash of the glaive with speed hitherto unseen in their clash, her swirling passage parting even the seemingly sentient poison clouds as she appeared within the reach of the elder.

The woman did respond, with vines suddenly growing from her body to try and grab Soul, but they proved to be too little, too late. Like the surging lightning, Soul struck her foe’s chest with two fingers trailing transcendent light, and the thunderclap that followed was like the wrath of nature which naturally followed. Except that it stemmed from the elder’s ribcage violently cracking inward onto itself, the lightning strike that was Soul’s hand ending almost elbow-deep inside her foe.

The shock of the bodily damage was apparently too much even for the silver-ranker, whose body slumped almost immediately, only propped up by Soul’s extended arm.

“In the eyes of Warrior, Soul is declared the victor. He approved of this clash and both combatant’s prowess.” Orichalcum Fist declared from his vantage of a large stone, where he had stood unmoving through all fights so far.

“Most spectacular,” Little Crow noted with clear appreciation where he still stood next to Dragonfly, while Soul extricated herself from the elder’s internals and left her to the sect disciples running forward to assist. “We’ll see how many more it will take before the sect leader decides that enough is enough. From the look and feel of her, it shouldn’t be long now. Time for younger brother Kite to step up and show that he can truly back up his words from before.”