Chapter 5: Shadowed

COMBAT TRAINING EVALUATION

24 March Sorean 1

Evaluator: Keldon, James

PERSONAL INFORMATION

Name: Antiqua, Melia

Gender: F

Race: High Entia father, Homs mother

D.o.B: 22 February Entirmina 232 (age 69)

Height: 139cm

Weight: 41.1kg

Specialisation: Ether staff

STATISTICS

Note: Due to low magnitude, all provided values are estimates. Each value is scored on the related Eryth Combat Scale.

Physical Strength: 3 After five years of training, Melia's physical power remains at a surprising low. While it remains a concern, it is only because her final growth spurt is expected in the next year that action is not currently necessary.

Ether Attenuation: 14 A slight regression has been marked here, presumably due to the major changes in her personal life over the past half-year. It is expected to recover.

Agility: 5 It is difficult to tell whether this is improving or not, again due to an expected growth spurt upcoming. It is not very important at this time.

Resilience: 28 Historical analysis indicates that Melia may be the shortest heir to the throne in a good seven hundred years, if not longer, but even with that considered, her resilience remains dangerously low. Perhaps a change in diet may prove beneficial; suggest consulting with the head chef.

Overall Combat Level: ~0.26 This is quite a high value when only her combat statistics are taken into question, but is arguably lower than expected when her arts are considered.

ARTS

Elemental Discharge: A+ In addition to perfect accuracy, exceptional elemental control with good progress towards mental-only control, and a burst aura of 22 discharges, Melia is a natural tripler and seems very committed towards training this ability to its full potential.

Summon Bolt: A- Summoning time varies between 4 and 5 seconds, with the bolt dealing comparatively extreme damage to targets.

Summon Flare: A- Summoning time varies between 5 and 6 seconds, with the ability to detonate the flare at will in addition to on contact.

Burst End: C- Melia has finally managed to tease an effect out of this art, revealing it to weaken targets' defences, though it is still minimally effective and can only be noticed through directed inspection.

Hypnotise: C+ Casting time ranges from 15 to 20 seconds, requiring constant concentration the entire time, and is ultimately always successful. Nothing else can be said but practice.

Spear Break: F Melia can now damage targets with this art about 50% of the time, but as much as this is progress, it is not success.

Overall Arts Grade: B- Melia continues to be an elemental specialist of impressive skill and potential. However, it is worrisome that her skillset is so tightly constrained, and that outside her comfort zone her results are mediocre at best. Recommend that the next thing to learn is another non-elemental art.

Melia sat on the floor inside her wardrobe in front of the mirror, staring intently at her wings.

Now that her father was emperor, he set the rules regarding her combat training, and beginning in April he had cut her sessions from three times a week to only every Wednesday. His explanation was that he didn't want a potential future empress to be steeped too deeply as a fighter, and that he had always considered more than two sessions a week to be excessive. She believed the real reason was that she was advancing too quickly and would be a potential threat to usurp the throne from Kallian, something she'd never think of doing but suspected several prejudiced advisors believed in.

So, now with two hours a week that had yet to be rescheduled, Melia had to find a way to keep herself busy. She wasn't yet sure what to do on Mondays, but for the Fridays, it was trying to develop motor control of her wings.

The average High Entia believed that flight was an evolutionary leftover and never attempted to learn it. Those who did fly had to devote a large portion of their time towards it, constantly keeping their body in peak physical form, and even then it was considered to be too late for anyone over the age of sixty to start. As a result, while athletes were generally given a pass, seeing someone fly around was considered attention-seeking and a sign of eccentricity.

Melia knew that she had no hope of getting off the ground with her tiny wings, but still felt compelled to learn to control them. She'd been told by Kallian a few times that they would sometimes start wiggling or flapping on their own accord based on her current emotional state, and being unable to suppress that kind of reaction was simply no good.

She continued to stare at the left wing as she prodded it with a sock-covered pencil, trying to stimulate the muscle in her head that could drive it. Even hidden in a closet, she was too scared to touch them with her hands when not actively shampooing them due to how sensitive they were - they contained the same amount of nerve endings as a pure-blood's full-size wings in a much smaller area.

After about half an hour, Melia had figured out how to make small, twitchy movements with both wings. It was both pleasing and uncomfortable, the feeling of succeeding at something not supposed to be done. She was about to move onto fiddling with a different joint when she heard a knock. Looking out the wardrobe door, she saw a letter fall through the mail slot. Hesitantly, she walked over and opened it, finding her father's handwriting.

Tomorrow at 11:30 a.m., please come to the Northwestern Advisor's Room, in order to prepare you for your first independent public excursion.

It took a few seconds for Melia to comprehend what the phrase "independent public excursion" meant. Once she figured it out, she dropped the letter and collapsed onto the floor, heart racing like mad.

Melia had been outside the palace many times before for a variety of reasons, mostly related to being present at imperial functions. Each of these times, she was made to wear an elaborate full-head mask, concealing her face, hair, and wings from the public, and was surrounded by at least two personal bodyguards at all times. She constantly forgot the many reasons why her identity had to be kept a secret, but at the moment the reasoning was clear. In several of the stories from her childhood, a royal trapped in the palace would disguise themselves as a citizen in order to meet the general public and learn how the average person lived. She was to be doing the same thing, just with removing a disguise instead of applying it.

Melia spent the rest of the day fidgeting uncontrollably, and didn't get much sleep that night. She was dead scared of being out in public alone, with zero experience with the outside world, and one slip-up would reveal her to be the princess and lead to who knows what. She hated to make mistakes, and this would be an extended situation where mistakes would be both easier and far more detrimental.

"I have wired this transporter to send you to the central hub of Lumian District as if you were entering the city from southern Eryth Sea. Once you are finished, return to the same transporter, and you will be intercepted and redirected here." The transporter chief finished his spiel. "Are you ready?"

Melia suspected her face was white as a sheet. Clutching her handbag with enough force to choke someone, she gave the tiniest of nods.

Sorean kneeled down to get eye level with his daughter and put a hand on her shoulder. "It is only natural to fear the unknown. You are going to be all right."

That cliché is the best you can do? I bet you... Melia's subconscious mind uncorked a variety of sour, ungrateful phrases that her consciousness suppressed before they got to her mouth.

"You just need to relax," Kallian interjected. "You'll be just another person out there. No spotlight, no pressure, no eyes on you all the time. You might be surprised what anonymity feels like."

And what would you know about that, you... Melia clamped down on her jaw really hard to stop the insults from escaping. She wasn't really sure why her fear had turned into anger; probably something to do with how people who had never gone through her situation were telling her how it would go.

The clock tower struck twelve. Sorean gently pushed Melia towards the transporter. "It is time for you to go."

Fear became Melia's primary emotion again. She staggered onto the transporter with two left feet, and from there it took a full ten seconds to gather the mental focus to activate it.

As expected, she appeared without a hitch in the transport hub in the Lumian District, the main commercial centre of Alcamoth. Saturday lunch hour was not the busiest possible time of the week, but the place was decently full of people. After being transfixed for a few seconds, her legs started walking on autopilot, and she became partially relieved that no one seemed to be paying attention to her at the moment. It was a double-edged sword of course; she was somewhat used to people scrambling to get out of her way, and almost walked right into a group of four large men before catching herself.

Melia went over her objectives in her head, given to ensure that she participate meaningfully in the excursion. She was given a modest 250G to work with and had two goals: have lunch somewhere, and buy something. While she wasn't feeling very hungry, she figured that having lunch first was the safer option, to ensure she didn't end up buying anything too expensive and running out of money for food.

While Melia was not exactly a stranger to the Lumian District, she had never really paid attention to where any specific outlets were. Still running on panicky autopilot, she turned into the first door that had a food-like smell coming out of it without paying much attention to what exactly it was.

It turned out that she had walked into a fast food joint specialising in Ekidno meat. The lines weren't very long, but most of the tables were filled with chattering customers. Melia counted the size of the lines and the remaining tables - there would be enough room left to sit by herself. She joined a line and intently watched those in front of her, trying to learn how one was supposed to order. When it came to her turn she thought she had a fairly good grasp of it.

The cashier was a ninety-something guy with very short hair and oddly-curved wings. "Welcome to Ike's, what'll it be?"

Panic autopilot did not have a speech mode; thinking of what to say to a complete stranger was far less difficult than actually spitting it out. Melia looked back up at the menu displayed above. "A-a radish salad, p-please."

"And to drink?"

"L-lemon juice."

"Okay that'll be 36G."

Melia opened up her handbag and counted out the correct amount of money. To her surprise, a tray with her order appeared on the counter pretty much at the same time she had finished paying.

"T-thank you." She snatched the tray and scrambled towards an empty table near the far left corner. Only upon sitting down did she release a massive sigh of relief - she had succeeded at something completely scary and foreign with no major slip-ups. Hunger started setting in alongside satisfaction, so she picked up the flimsy disposable fork provided and started eating. It wasn't that bad.

"Hey, is this seat taken?"

Melia looked up to see a boy about her age standing beside her; he was wearing mostly aqua-green and had quite ruffled feathers. She glanced around to see that there was one or maybe two empty chairs left in the whole place - it would be extremely rude to make him go away. Mouth full of salad, she reluctantly shook her head "no".

"Thanks, I didn't expect it to be this busy." The boy sat down, revealing two Ekidno burgers and a large carbonated beverage on his tray. Melia tried to find interesting spots on the wall to stare at.

The two ate in silence for a few minutes as a wave of customers all finished and left at about the same time, followed by another wave coming in. Melia was pleasantly surprised by the quality of the lemon juice and quite enjoyed having a straw to drink it with, having been forbidden to use the "childish implement" since she turned fifty.

"And who is this you got here?" The new voice had quite the sneer to it. Melia looked up to see a trio of boys that fit the traditional definition of "bully" very well: large for their age in all directions and posturing as if they ran the place.

"Knock it off, Brent," responded the boy sitting with Melia. It was clear he'd dealt with this gang before.

"Who are we knocking off, now?" The second bully had a very oily voice, like the kind of guy that spends his time preparing the most effective ways to insult people. The third boy clearly thought this was a very funny retort, as he started chuckling madly.

"You're not dumb enough to try anything with this many people around." The sitting boy dismissively turned his attention back to his food in a manner that suggested he wished they were dumb enough.

Scowling, the gang shuffled off to line up.

"Sorry about that." The boy had finished one burger and moved on to the second. "Those guys think they can get away with anything, and for the past few months their goal has been to push me around. I'm Fred, by the way. What's your name?"

She was trying to avoid participating in any conversations, but she couldn't refuse a direct question. "My name is Melia." The imperial demographer had reported that her name was common enough amongst the general public that it was safe to use without arousing suspicion.

"Oh, like the princess?" Fred paused for just long enough to give Melia a small heart attack. "Oh I'm sorry you must hear that all the time, I apologise."

Melia managed to swallow the piece of radish she had almost choked on. Maybe I should have considered a false name. My name is probably only popular because it's the princess's name.

"Anyway," continued Fred, "I haven't seen you around Proval before, so you go to Cresp? What's it actually like there?"

Melia was aware that the two major high schools in Alcamoth were Proval Heights and Cresp Vocational Institute, but knew nothing about them. Needing to avoid becoming trapped in falsehoods, she thought of a third option that was hopefully not too unusual. "I am home-schooled." It was pretty much the truth.

"Oh all right." Fred looked up and seemed to spot someone. "Hey Rick, over here!"

"Yo!" Another boy jogged over and sat on the third available side of the table, with some sort of toasted sandwich on his tray. He had sky-blue clothes, shoulder-length hair, and small wings.

"Was lookin' for a seat far away from Brute, Blab, & Bum," Rick said.

"You didn't smell 'em when you came inside?" The two boys shared a laugh. "Anyway, this is Melia, she just happened to be here when the place was full earlier."

Rick nodded in Melia's direction. "It's always nice to see another hybrid. Say, where's your Homs parent from? My mum was from Colony 6."

Still with about two or three minutes to go before finishing her meal, Melia couldn't leave the question unanswered. She thought for a moment to determine that she might as well tell the truth; the details of her Homs heritage were known to be a complete secret to the public, so leaving it to a couple of boys that were sure to forget about her by next week seemed safe. "My mother was from Colony 9."

Rick let out a low whistle. "Way down from 9, eh? That's impressive. My dad went there once to study some of the ecosystem. He said it's about as different from here as you can get, for a grasslands anyway. You ever been there yourself?"

Melia shook her head. She was never really interested in the idea of visiting a Homs colony just because a relative once lived there; Homs and their possessions were so comparatively short-lived that there was unlikely to be anything relevant remaining.

"Well that's not much of a surprise honestly. Dad says it's not a good idea for us to visit the lower Homs colonies because of how most of them don't believe in us; there's no telling what they might do if one saw us." Rick took another bite of his sandwich. "Man, I wish Colonies 5 and 8 were still around."

"Count me into that," Fred added. "It'd be so much better for us hybrids if we weren't such a minority."

Melia, just finishing her lemon juice, was caught off guard. "You too?"

"Yeah." Fred turned a little gloomy. "My dad was Homs. No idea who he was or where he's from though."

Having avoided previously doing so, Melia gave Fred a more thorough look-over. Those ruffled feathers certainly could be of Homs origin and not just poor hygiene. It was generally a toss-up as to whether a half-blood possessed full wings or small wings, though those of High Entian mothers tended to have full wings, and those of Homs mothers often had small wings.

"Anyway, I gotta get back home." Fred stood up with empty tray in hand. "No way I'm missing the pregame show. You in, Rick?"

"You know it." Rick also got up. "Well, nice meeting you Melia."

"...Indeed." She didn't really know how people were supposed to end conversations, but it seemed successful enough; the two boys kept chattering as they walked off. With her own lunch finished, she disposed of her garbage in the same way and walked back outside.

Feeling a bit more confident with participating in the world, Melia set her sights on her second goal: "buy something". It was both unhelpfully and delightfully vague; she presumed that as long as she came back to the palace with some object, it would be considered successful. (Proving her first goal of "have lunch" successful would be as simple as not being hungry after returning.) Given the implication that I will be keeping whatever I buy, the main question is whether to select something useful or something...leisurely.

Walking down the street, Melia cast her eyes across the various shops on either side. I don't need clothes. I couldn't buy furniture. I probably can't afford jewelry with what I have remaining. I don't need cosmetics. I have no use for groceries. I shouldn't be buying toys. Finally, she reached a bookstore. This shall do nicely.

The inside of the bookstore was a light yellow saturated with the addicting smell of new books. Anticipation overtaking trepidation, Melia didn't know which way to turn first. She was provided a steady stream of books from the imperial library, but everything she'd been given recently was purely informational and not always a pleasure to read, not to mention often on worn and torn pages. It had been a long time since she had read a fresh work of fiction.

I don't want to take much time in making a decision, she thought. I'll pick whatever first catches my eye.

Drawn towards the back wall of the store, Melia's gaze immediately latched onto one of the thicker books on the shelf: The Count of Mt. Kristol. Carefully sliding it off the shelf, she glanced at the island fortress on the cover and read over the summary on the back.

Edellon Dortres leads a successful life as a merchant of the seas. But when circumstances and a trio of like-minded individuals conspire against him, he is sent to rot in prison with no reprieve but a burning desire for revenge. All that he needs to do is learn all there is to learn, escape the inescapable, and discover an unimaginable treasure, to transform him from an ordinary merchant - into the Count of Mt. Kristol.

Melia was hooked. Fictional world where multiple islands and seafaring trade made sense? Check. Plot of revenge against injustice? Check. Over fifteen hundred pages? Double check.

Moving quickly, she hefted the book onto the front counter. The cashier was somewhere in her 240's and was wearing a refined purple.

"That will be 84G."

Melia spent a bit of time sorting out the larger-denomination coins; she was pretty good at math but had never handled real money before today. She hoped she wasn't acting too inexperienced.

The cashier slid the book into a bag and handed it to Melia. "Have a nice day."

"...You too." It seemed like a sensible thing to reply.

Back outside, Melia turned back towards the transport hub and started moving at a fast walk. She couldn't wait to get back to the palace and start reading her new book, which would be welcome after whatever debriefing process she'd probably have to go through. Still, I want to savour this, not overdo it and finish in a few days. Perhaps restrict reading to my free hour on Mondays? That seems a bit too harsh, maybe-

"Well, look who we found."

Melia skidded to a stop. The three bullies from earlier had slipped out of an alley and stood in her path.

"So you weren't with those two other halfies after all," the oily-voiced one said. "I'm not sure whether to be surprised or relieved."

Melia supposed "halfie" was a racial slur of some sort, but having never heard it before, didn't get upset over it. Attempting to simply ignore the trio, she hopped sideways and tried to exploit her tiny size by slipping past them.

"Agh!" It was clearly a trick the boys had seen before; she noticed far too late that both the ones on the ends had their legs stuck out, sending her tumbling to the ground. The trio broke into laughter.

"Think you're clever, missy? Yeah, you'll need to get up earlier than that to pull a fast one on us."

"But hey, thanks for trying, come again." The leader of the group, the one that Fred called "Brent", bent down and tore Melia's handbag away from her. "I'll just take a gate tax from your funds here and call it even. I'll even give you the pure-blood discount this one time, because I'm such a nice guy."

Melia wasn't going to stand for this. Disrespect she could ignore; thievery she would not. She jumped to her feet, slapped Brent in the face as hard as she could, snatched her bag back, and started running.

"What...um...did..." It took several seconds for Brent to shake off his confusion, giving Melia a big head start. "You idiots, what are we standing around for?" The trio started chasing after her.

The streets were much emptier than earlier, giving Melia a clear shot to the transport hub. She could tell by the noise that the gang was gaining on her, but she knew they didn't have enough room to catch up to her. Coming to a stop on her target transporter pad, she turned around to see the three bullies about three seconds away, clearly committed to following her through the transporter.

Adolescent adrenaline taking over, Melia stuck a rude hand gesture into the goons' faces just before she initiated the transport. She assumed it had to be considered offensive, given various ham-handed attempts to shield her eyes from the public throwing it out many years ago, but was unclear as to what exactly it meant.

I wish I could see their faces when they transport to Eryth Sea to find I am nowhere to be found.

Melia retracted her arm midway through the transport, hopefully early enough that no one in the palace saw it, though it was sometimes difficult to tell when exactly one's perspective switched from one side to the other. She materialised in the imperial transport room to find Sorean and Kallian still there, as if they had been waiting for her to return the entire time.

"Welcome back, Melia." Sorean looked somewhat relieved. "You seem quite excited. I trust that your excursion was successful?"

Adrenaline dying down, Melia nodded. "Yes, Fath-uh, Your Majesty. I completed both tasks asked of me."

"Excellent. Let us head back to the advisor's room, and you can tell me all about it." Sorean led the way out of the room.

Kallian said nothing, but made a pointed glance at the bagged book in Melia's hand and nodded in approval. Melia followed her father down the hallway.

Melia placed her newest acquisition on the bookshelf: The War of the Worlds, a somewhat harrowing tale of a successful Mechon invasion of Alcamoth. It stood alongside The Count of Mt. Kristol and Herman and the Fudge Factory, a slightly more light-hearted entry mocking bad parenting and the greed of children.

Now with three excursions under her belt in the past five months, Melia's anxiety levels when out in public alone had dropped significantly, and her father was considering giving her more freedom for the next one. Indeed, she was starting to enjoy wandering around outside the palace and be treated like a normal person, something she had given up on experiencing when she was forty-five or so.

Moving over to her desk, Melia opened a notebook and started writing. Returning from today's excursion, her father had suggested she keep notes about what she had told the public about herself, and review them periodically so she could keep her stories straight (even though she had yet to meet the same person twice). She decided to also take the opportunity to pre-emptively answer some other questions people might ask of her in the future. It was kind of fun creating a sort of alternate persona for herself.

first name Melia, last name Wallace, prefers "Mel" to be distinguished from princess

mother Gwenyth Reclo, deceased Homs from Colony 9

father Terrence Wallace, reclused High Entia scientist, works for the government (to explain lack of address and hospitality)

no siblings, no other living relatives, have always been home-schooled

aspiring author

Melia paused to consider whether she had anything else to note. Tastes in food, personal interests, and such should need no fabrication. So that should be it for now. She closed the notebook and slipped it into the desk drawer before glancing at the calendar on the desk, marked to count down the days left until next Wednesday. Reddel had told her that she would be learning a new, much more difficult ether art on that day, and she was both excited and worried about it.

"This new art is called Shadow Stitch," Reddel began. "When performed properly, it restricts the movement of your choice of foes surrounding you." He demonstrated by striking the ground with his staff, causing a dark field to encircle him for a few seconds. The Luxer drone that was walking in circles around him suddenly froze to a standstill and began leaning as if its ankles were affixed to the ground.

Melia, standing a safe distance away, was intrigued. She recalled her encounter with the bullies during her first excursion, and how being able to stop them from moving would have made things so much easier.

"Now you may be wondering why I have called this art quite difficult, considering that the similar Hypnotise posed little challenge to you." Reddel released the drone from the art's effect, allowing it to wander in circles once again. "The primary reason is that the art requires channelling a dark, shadowy form of ether, almost a sort of negative energy. To one of pure heart and mind such as yourself, you will undoubtedly find it challenging to control."

Having learned that confidence was a strong component of success with ether arts, Melia took the aggressive route. "I will give it my all regardless."

"That's what I like to hear. We'll start with the creation of the dark ether, and later you will learn to control it." Reddel made the motion of the art again - a solid jab into the floor. "Imagine that you have a shadow trapped within your staff, and you are trying to jar it loose. Do not be concerned about damaging the staff or the floor - it has survived far greater force than one can impart on it with bare hands."

Melia nodded and extended the Training Staff. She imagined a black cloud of smoke sitting in the center of its handle and started striking the floor, trying to get a balance between "hard enough to accomplish something" and "soft enough to keep arms from going limp". She kept tapping for about three minutes, but it was difficult for her to estimate how fast the black cloud should be moving, so she subconsciously simply had it stay in place, which made her feel like no progress was being made.

But then a minute later, she felt a cold spot in the staff's handle, the kind of scary cold one feels when shivering in fear.

Aha, I've found it. It must have started from the head of the staff. She had one hand follow the cold spot down the handle as it slowly worked its way down, then let it go as she adjusted her imaginary smoke to match. A total of nine minutes since she first began, a large drop of an inky-black substance about ten centimetres in diameter dripped out of the bottom of the staff and splashed over her feet, which turned to purple whips as it evaporated.

"Ewwwwww." Melia was grossed out. She could feel an unnatural chill and disgusting smell over her feet that made them feel quite heavy, as if they had been dipped in a river full of undead corpses.

"Not bad, not bad at all." Reddel nodded. "Once you're practiced enough to summon the shadowy ether within a minute, you will be ready to learn how to control it. Now, again."

Melia started pounding away again, brushing the top of her staff to confirm that there was a cold spot forming. She wasn't much of a fan of the technique, with how slow it was at the moment combined with the nature of its effect, but at least she was doing better with it than with Spear Break.

By the end of the hour, Melia had improved her time in producing the blob of darkness to five minutes. While almost halving her time was impressive, Reddel expected it to regress between sessions, and stressed usage of the Practice Staff to help counteract it.

"While it will produce no ether, you will still feel the darkness move down the staff," he stated. "Upon completion of the art, the Practice Staff will go cold the whole way down, so you need not follow it the entire way."

Melia nodded glumly, once again disappointed at her father cutting her training sessions to once a week, which was sure to lengthen her learning of each new art by at least a factor of three. Her mood wasn't helped by the dark ether itself, which had continued to splash over her feet the whole time, generating a depressing aura in addition to the feeling she was wearing lead boots.

"Here." Reddel extracted some fudge from his vest and handed it to Melia. "Eat that straight away, it'll help throw off the negative feelings the art has draped on you."

Needing no further encouragement, Melia quickly made the fudge disappear. She wasn't sure if her mood was much lighter, but her feet certainly were.

"I shall see you next week then." Reddel took the Training Staff and began cleaning some residual darkness off its base.

"Indeed." Melia left the training room and returned to her chambers, with nothing else on her schedule before supper.

She was still feeling a little downed by her contact with the shadowy ether. "Dark ether" was one of the rare types of ether that was not a combination of the classical six, in addition to being considered naturally corruptive and evil, and as a result she never learned much about it. She started wondering why exactly she was being taught an art based on controlling it. Sure, its ultimate effect of movement binding will be useful, but could one not accomplish similar with some sort of earth- or ice-based art? After spending several minutes considering the question, Melia deduced that learning an art of dark ether was supposed to be part of eventually learning at least one art of every kind of ether, and that of the non-classicals, she started with dark as it was the most difficult.

Running out of things to think about, Melia plucked The War of the Worlds off the bookshelf, plopped down in her armchair, returned to her bookmark, and continued reading.