Chapter 4: The Heat of the Moment

Alexander orchestrates a clever, joint economic strategy for Ouardia and Viki as he continues to pull Macedon back together and earn respect, but thieves of an unknown province attack Tatsu.

         Noon the next day, four students glared acrimoniously at one another, two from one graduating class and two from another. Harsh words were exchanged as the two pairs goaded each other. The competition between classes was intense. “That’s enough,” Hiryū said as he stepped in front of the pair from his class to defend them. He stared confidently into the eyes of the other two. “Hiryū,” one said, “from what I hear, you guys just got a new student who’s never trained a day in his life. That’s bound to drop your class average considerably, which puts us back on top.”

         “It doesn’t matter, Garyū. We can beat you senseless whenever we feel like it, so get lost.”

         “Heh, y’know Hiryū, when we graduate and get drafted, there won’t be any teachers to save you. I’ll have a prince licking my boots clean, and the king will probably just disown you. You might want to get on my good side now so you don’t end up homeless in the military.”

         “Idiot, I won’t tell you again. Get out of my face.”

         Garyū and his classmate walked away, and Hiryū began walking toward Kōryō with an irritated facial expression. Kōryō sat alone with his lunch, which he had already finished. Hiryū placed his left foot on the chair next to Kōryō and rested his left forearm on the elevated knee as he spoke. “You’re coming with me to the military training grounds after school today.”

         “I… am?” asked a nervous Kōryō.

         “Yes, we have to get you strong as fast as possible so that you don’t run our class average into the ground. Got it?”

         “Oh, okay.”

         Alexander stood on a balcony with Lord Balder, overlooking the beautiful skyline of Viki. Balder said, “Construction is what we do. We have nearly every inch of our territory covered with buildings of all kinds--no barren lands. Housing, farmland, mills, banks, libraries, schools, guilds, rune towers, thieves’ dens, watchtowers, training grounds, armories, barracks, forts, guard stations, hospitals, stables, dungeons... You name it; we’ve built it.”

         “Right. Not enough farms, though, I take it,” Alexander said.

         “We didn’t ration our buildings well enough, I suppose. Dwarves eat a lot, overeat in fact, and we didn’t efficiently budget these last few acres we’ve acquired to plot enough farmland to supply the general public with crops.”

         “Yesterday, I agreed to send more food to Ouardia than they can even eat. After our aid trade, they’ll be in surplus, but their finance budget will still be in the red, so I want you to buy their extra produce and meats.”

         “We’ll need a minimum of 75,000 bushels to tie Viki over until harvest.”

         “Ouardia will certainly have at least that.”

         “You rule with intellect rather than might. Even with that, though, I’m not sure how I’ll get the farmers going in time to harvest enough food before those 75,000 bushels deplete. We’ll likely go hungry again. The people are angry with me as it is, though, so I have to give them a period of plenty, even if it is brief. As we speak, they believe you are here to reprimand me for poor judgment regarding tillage.”

         “Dwarves are relatively adept with magic as I understand it, better than we humans could ever be. Isn’t there any spell you could cast on your province to bridge the gap?”

         “We can’t spare the runes. Without food, labor is far less efficient than it normally would be, so this economic recession is causing a sharp decrease in the production of runes. Some of the peasants who work in the towers have even begun to die or grow ill from starvation. Many homes are starving this year; nonetheless, Macedonian Law dictates that, in a state of emergency, the king alone can sanction a dip below minimum resource caps at his discretion.”

         “You should trade for runes as well, then. 75,000 bushels and 50,000 runes?”

         “Does Ouardia have it to spare?”

         “They’re Elves; their rune reserves are always in surplus. Have your mages cast whatever spell you need once trade is complete.”

         “A spell called ‘Fertile Lands’--it greatly increases the fertility of the soil so that land within the spell’s reach will be much more fruitful for quite some time. In the meantime, I may as well go ahead and fund this next exploration expedition. We can always use more land, and we’ll plot half the new acres as farmland.”

         “Use the rest for constructing armories and training grounds.”

         “Oh? You deem our military weak? Viki is a mighty fortress.”

         “Your military is pandering to defense too much; you have no offensive strength and, thus, pose little threat to anyone. You have very few soldiers compared to other provinces with the exception of your mass army of defensive elites. I would increase your draft rate, build armories and training grounds, and even construct a few extra barracks as well. You have more than enough guard stations, forts, and watchtowers.”

         “You’re right. I know that Macedon is struggling with military strength as it is--no offensive powers besides Tatsu and Ouardia.”

         “And even Ouardia relies mainly on magic, not soldiers.”

         “I’ll do as you ask with the acres we acquire from this next expedition.”

         “Good, I’m heading to your sister province now, Aesir.”

         “Ah, give my regards to Lord Gallow. Oh by the way, I meant to ask you: what do you think of Nybre?”

         "What do you mean?"

         "Perhaps, they'll make a good war target in the near future. I hear their strongest province has seceded."

         "The Memphian Revolution. Memph is an Independent now. Either way, I'm not looking at war options these days. Macedon's in no position."

         "Revolution my a*s. Halflings, y'know? I don't mean to feed the stereotype, but I can't help feeling Memph was in the wrong in whatever dispute started all that."

         "My father never described you as a man of prejudice."

         "I'm not. I mean, I don't know. I think everyone makes the exception for Halflings, don't you?"

         "I'm prejudiced against my enemies and only my enemies, whomever they are."

         “Of course.”

         Meanwhile back in Tatsu, it was evening, and the shadows were many. Lurking in the shadows was a team of several thieves--spies from another province; second and third teams were leaping from the city walls and hang-gliding over and through the skyline. Each team moved with quickness and expert stealth. They wore black from head to toe, and none of the common peasants even noticed their presence, nor did any of the guards in the watchtowers. The spies infiltrated barracks and armories throughout the province, meticulously eliminating several soldiers without being detected. They managed to discretely assassinate over one hundred soldiers before a defensive elite in a watchtower took note of two spies scaling the wall of one of Tatsu’s Wizard Guilds via zip-lines. Immediately, he sounded the alarm and cast a searchlight on them.

         By this time, some of the assassins had already reached the military academy during night school, which turned out to be a dangerous place to be discovered. Their cover was blown, and the academy’s guards--normal soldiers of no particular status--engaged their armaments and attacked them. The students remained inside as per protocol but watched through the windows. Without permission and against the rules of such a high-priority situation, Hiryū ran out of the classroom to help combat the spies, leaving the door open. “Hiryū!” the teacher shouted in an infuriated panic. Hiryū was confronted in the corridor, not far from his classroom door; three mysterious spies glared at him, ready to pounce. “You fools have made a big mistake,” Hiryū said. “What’s the kid’s Joule Grade?” one asked in a digitally altered voice.

         “65 Gigajoules!” another exclaimed in surprise.

         Hiryū’s right hand became scaly in texture of skin, and his nails became inch-long claws; moreover, his canine teeth grew an inch as well as his left hand copied the change of his right hand. He leapt at them full speed, which was far faster than they could react. The boy’s teeth sank into one’s neck, evoking a monotone moan fraught with static, as his claws slashed a second thief’s face. The third spy lunged with a dagger to stab the boy in the gut, but Hiryū’s left hand caught the blade, Dragonoid eyes aiding reflex and hand-eye coordination; the edge scraped against his palm, yet his hand did not bleed. The cut was too shallow to draw blood due to the resilience of his reptilian skin.

         Hiryū released his fangs from the dead spy and stabbed all five claws of his right hand into the arm that held the dagger. The bandit yelped and unconsciously loosened his grip on the dagger’s handle considerably due to the pain, which allowed Hiryū to grab it. Before he could use it, however, the other remaining spy caught him in a headlock. The class could not see the events in the hall, but they could hear the fighting; they could also glance outside through the window and witness fighting taking place between campus security and several other interlopers who had been caught deep in enemy territory, and for the most part, thieves were no match for soldiers in all-out battle. Hiryū stabbed the bandit holding him in time to duck so that another spy’s punch hit his comrade in the face; the dagger lodged between two ribs, and Hiryū pounced upon the last thief, his shoes on the man’s waist while his claws dug deeply into the shoulders and his fangs into the neck.

         Hiryū let the last of them drop to the floor. He felt satisfied that he had already dispensed with three of the enemies on his own, but then, his peripheral vision revealed something that shot his arrogance. Another thief had come from the opposite end of the hall and was now entering his classroom. He heard his classmates scream in terror, so he ran back toward the door. When he got there, he peered inside and saw that the spy was holding the teacher hostage. The teacher didn’t see Hiryū peeking inside, so she assumed he had already headed out of the building to fight more intruders. She felt that she had no help, so she desperately shouted to the student nearest her. “Kōryō, run and get Hiryū!”

         Kōryō froze at first, a look of terror on his face. He was petrified in his apprehension, but he eventually sprinted for the door. The thief, not wanting security to know he was in the school, dropped the teacher and raced Kōryō to the door. He successfully reached the exit first and cut off Kōryō’s path while equipping a dagger and said, “Too slow, kid. Die!” Damn, that was my chance, Hiryū thought. Before either Hiryū or the assailant could make a move, though, Kōryō fell back and shouted in terror. With his mouth wide open as he screamed, a small fireball the size of his fist launched from Kōryō’s mouth, accompanying his shrill shriek, and collided with the thief’s chest with such a forceful impact that it knocked him straight out the room through the doorway, and the fire rapidly consumed his body as he wailed in agony.

         Hiryū stared down at the burning body before him in awe. He couldn’t believe what had happened. It made absolutely no sense that a novice could accomplish what was considered an elite Dragonoid tactic. How could he have done that? Only an elite can produce fire; it requires far too much energy to manipulate body heat correctly. He spit out a tiny yet strong ember, which can’t even be done without at least 200 Gigajoules of work! It’s impossible! Soldiers spend decades training to become elites, only reaching their goal once they meet the military standard for elite status: 200GJ; every elite must be capable of producing fire, but rarely do any manage to actually tap into that potential either way. He’s my age, and he did it on a whim?! Even most elites never get past 220GJ, but if he’s already at 200 this early… No, it just can’t be. There’s simply no way his Joule Grade is that high.

         Everyone in the classroom was speechless as Kōryō leaned back on his hands with wide eyes and panted heavily, indicative of him having exerted himself. No one even noticed Hiryū standing in the doorway as he stared at Kōryō with a facial expression simultaneously indicative of both shock and contempt. His pride was shot mere moments after his greatest accomplishment to date; there he was protecting those who depended on him and feeling proud of his ability when a boy half a year younger than him--lacking any military training, correlating education, or even desire to protect this land and its people--sat idly by with the rare ability that could easily change the entire climate of this defensive battle. Hiryū didn’t know whether to feel insultingly embarrassed that Kōryō had upstaged him this way or patriotically outraged that one with such skill and power was not the first person rushing to enemy lines. He felt no sympathy as Kōryō remained petrified on the floor with wide eyes whose ducts finally began to expel tears in response to the trauma of the situation.

Author's Note

By the end of this chapter, readers should have a lot more confidence in Alexander's ability to rule.

Reviews

[AJJordan]

A little off-topic here, but my daughter - who is an anime freak - is curious who the character is in picture that's attached to this writing of yours. She thinks it's from an older anime, and that he/she looks familiar, but can't recall where it's from.

[JR Darewood]

That was a nice way to reveal Koryo's abilities. I really like teh Koryo storyline quite a bit, and I think you made a good choice in telling it from the POV of Hiryu