Maria and the Three Masters (Part Two)
Maria Turn 10 Thirteenth Omake
The first lesson goes about how Maria expects. She shows up early. The Sibling picked out one of the training courtyards. They're meditating when she gets there, calm and still, eyes closed. They have a wide, healthy bearth of space around them, but beyond that it feels like half the fortress is here, whispering to each other and staring.
She doesn't quail, but it's a close-run thing. She's in a loose training robe today, in the Turtle style, and her feet and hands are bare. It felt appropriate. She didn't want them thinking she was arrogant, or- or rude. It doesn't seem to have worked, though; everyone's godsdamn staring at her. At the edge of the crowd, she can see Cao Pai Mei, his face set in a charming, avuncular smile. She'd almost buy it if his eyes weren't locked on her and dripping with scorn.
She makes herself look away. Damnit. Focus.
The Sibling's eyes open as she steps in. Calm. Empty of judgement. There's a scar running down over the left one, and it's milky-pale and cataracted. An old wound, she presumes. They smile, gently.
"You have come."
She nods. Feels like she's getting her captain's pins all over again.
"Yes."
"You are ready."
The screaming, agonizing descent, wrapped up in her Dao's rejection, echoes in the back of her skull. She swallows.
"Yes."
It comes out more defiant than she wanted. The whispers and stares are getting worse. The Sibling nods.
"Good. Then Maria, Captain of the 263
rd, Second Scorpions Legion, Bearer of the Blood of Bronze, and proud child of the Golden Devils, I name you my student."
The room goes silent. The stares start to burn. Maria forces her eye closed, and bows deeply, in the turtle style.
"Thank you, Master. I swear to you on my name, blood and legion that I shall not fail."
And then everyone goes mad.
In hindsight, it's better than she expected. At least a quarter of the room are cheering and shouting congratulations, and most of them aren't Optimatoi. A few of Ganpei's old disciples are pouring out Baijiu in celebration. Nameless and a few of his friends from Strength-Purity are offering bows and sparring practice. Even Liming, standing behind her master, is… well, not bellowing condemnations, which for her is practically a ringing endorsement.
They're still the minority, though. The rest of the crowd is snarling "demon" in a variety of less-than-pleasant ways.
She'd expected this. The Sibling was well-respected. A Foundation Establishment cultivator in good standing, not far from Core, and the kind of hand-to-hand fighter you saw once in a generation, if that. They'd turned down students from almost every major sect and got away with it, too, and that needed the kind of political savvy you read about in political manuals. And now taking on a demonic student? It would, at best, be seen as rudeness, if not a direct insult.
The Sibling, however, seemed unperturbed, still smiling at Maria. After a few moments, they stood, and raised their hands.
"Perhaps," they say, "those who disagree with my choice would care to express their grievances one at a time?"
"Oh no, Master," says Cao Pai Mei, with his usual nigh-obsequious politeness. "I am sure none of us would dare question your wisdom. Who may demand a master of such potence and virtue explain their reasoning? Certainly not I. But perhaps instead you might assist me? In my foolishness, I am blinded to the glory of Mount Tai. The honourable Captain is known as strong and brave to all who have served alongside her. Yet, many others too may number such honours amongst their deeds. What unique virtue is it the Captain boasts that was so absent amongst her peers?"
The Sibling's smile stays still and serene on their face.
"Ah, my friend. I see your mistake. You assume it is I who chose her, or she who chose me. Such an idea is not surprising, given we are born mortal, and still in our weakness see through their limited eyes. The truth is simpler. Virtue is that which occurs when the Dao of the individual is in concert with the Dao of the universe. In this moment, that synchronicity requires me to serve as the Captain's Master. Similarly so, it asks she serve as my student. Would you ask me to deny it?"
Cao Pai Mei's face freezes for a moment. When he continues, he let a hint of surprise, worry, and confusion slip into his tone.
"Master, again, my foolishness blinds me. Do you claim to know the will of the Universal Dao?"
There was, again, silence. Maria forces herself to breathe. This was dangerous ground, and bordering on fatal. To know your own Dao was a great achievement. To know the Universal Dao was miraculous. Even Nascent Souls only managed brief glimpses. Some even said that a personal Dao was the closest anyone could get, the filtered version that wouldn't burn your mind out of your skull. And now the Sibling was invoking it. Worse, by doing so, the Sibling was implying they knew better than everyone else in the damn sea.
…This was going to get them killed, wasn't it?
But they merely smile, and duck their head briefly.
"I would never claim so great an achievement," they say. "But my friend, answer me this. Does the Personal Dao not dictate our actions?"
"Of course," says Cao Pai Mei, looking for a weakness.
"And is the Personal Dao not a view, however small, however distorted, of the Universal?"
The Divine Saber's face distorts a hint, behind his genial mask, into disgust. He knows where this is going.
"Of course," he allows, grudgingly.
"My own Dao led me to this student," says the Sibling. "And in her, I see echoes of another path. How weak I would be, how churlish, to turn aside the demands of that Supernal truth at the behest of mortal trivialities."
Maria takes another breath, and feels herself relax. It's a smart play. Cao Pai Mei can't push without asking about the Sibling's Dao. That's the kind of question no-one likes. Given how much of Coalition politics is based around everyone playing nice, he can't ask about it without spending political capital – and the Sibling's popular enough to hit back. He can't counter by arguing for inefficiency either; Maria's record for completed missions is damn good. Picking up a new style just enhances that. Even the Demon angle's going to be hard to play, given the amount of work the Golden Devils are doing on the Fearless Line right now.
She watches his face as he searches for a move.
"Your wisdom, master," he says, voice calm, eyes seething, "is unparalleled. Thank you for educating this foolish one. My friends! I bid you return to your studies. We have disturbed the Honourable Sibling and their… student… long enough."
And he's gone, flouncing out of the courtyard with the Divine Sabers on his heels.
---
It's a very public, political start to her tutelage. Thank every enemy of heaven, it doesn't go on that way. The next day finds them outside the fortress, fifty miles away from the Line, in a mortal farmer's field. She doesn't question how the Sibling got dispensation for that. As is, they've a large communion stone and standing orders to get back to the fort the instant they hear a damn peep.
"To begin, a question. What is strength?"
Koans. Okay. Not how she's used to training going, but she can handle it.
"Will," she says. "Commitment. Consistency. Wisdom."
"It has many shapes, it seems!" The Sibling's voice is light and amused. Maria reddens a little. "You are correct, however. Much of strength is built on the foundations you have described. There are others, too. Clarity and perceptiveness. But these things are not necessarily strength."
She crosses her arms and considers.
"…Power?"
"A synonym and a definition are different things. Try again."
She crushes the rising irritation in her chest, and thinks.
"…The thing the means you can ensure what you want to do gets done, the way you want it done, even when someone else tries to stop you," she says. The Sibling smiles.
"Well put. Translation of potentiality into reality is how I think of it," they say. "And yes. That is strength. Or, as you have stated previously, power. Every form of cultivation offers that, usually in a certain field. More specifically strength, as it is conventionally thought of, is the power of the flesh – lifting, carrying, tearing, crushing. It is with these attributes that we shall concern ourselves. Watch."
They rise, breath in, breath out, and begin, slowly, to move through their kata. The speed's just for clarity's sake, Maria realizes. A learning aid. It works. Very quickly, she comes to three realisations.
The first; that this is simple. Every move is almost austere – the body shifts
only to maximise the blow delivered. No frills. No frippery. Just efficiency.
The second; that this is fast. The Sibling is teaching now. If this was a fight, she doubts she'd even see them move.
The third; that this is
ruthless. There's no other word for it. She can see, in her mind's eye, the bodies of the Sibling's enemies distorting and coming apart as each strike is delivered to the weakest, softest point of their body. Fingers caught and snapped, ribs cracked just right to send them spearing into lungs, throats crushed like over-full sausages. The motions might be simple, but gods. The results would have a horrific, gory pageantry to them.
It's brutal.
It's magnificent.
It's perfect.
Yeah, agrees Maria, watching strike chain into strike into strike with relentless perfection,
yeah it is. The Sibling catches her eye and smiles again.
"This," they say, not stopping, "is strength. You may also call it the Black Bull's Dance."
---
As soon as they're done, Maria's thrown into the kata. The Sibling's not one for fucking around, it seems. They run her through it slowly, without comment. Then they have her do it again, correcting each motion.
"Why?" she asks before she can stop herself. The Sibling, currently critiquing the spread of her fingers, shoots her an inscrutable look.
"Why what?"
"The- fingers. Why? Master," she adds lamely. "Just – so I can understand."
"Do you think words could help with that?" they ask, tone mild but with a hint of frost.
"…Yes?"
"To aid in pressure distribution and to maximise force per-square-milimeter in your fingertips."
"But- how will that-"
"And thus the problem with language is revealed. We are studying a body art. What knowledge you will find in a description will be pale and paltry. Only through motion will you find illumination." She fights down the frustration again. She wants to understand, gods damnit. Can't she do that? She doesn't ask again, though.
They run the kata a few more times. Then the farmer comes out to plough the fields, and the Sibling sets her watching every motion he takes.
"Focus on the shoulders," they say. "And the feet."
That goes on for a while. She thinks the farmer gets self-conscious half-way through, because he starts shifting around so he's behind the plough more than he needs to be.
After that, it's strength building exercises. Those she understands. Then it's the kata again, some moving meditation, more strength building, more watching. Only when the sun sets do they stop.
That becomes the pattern of study. Lessons once a week. She practices alone every other day, around squad training and patrols. Runs through the strength building exercises, then the katas. (Tries it in the training courtyards once or twice, but the stares become so blatant, so hungry, that it throws her off. Nameless helps her out, in the end; he has a private ground made up in his quarters, and the Strength-Purity are much, much better at being discrete.) The Sibling sets her observation exercises too. Watching birds as they take off, or mortal labourers heaving blocks.
Maria's missing something, though, because none of it's clicking.
"They won't
explain it either," she hisses through gritted teeth, as she works her way through the fourth kata; the footwork is finicky as hell. "They always just – '
words are insufficient, and worse, misleading.' Doesn't make a
LICK of sense!"
"I thought," says Letha, without looking up from the heavily ciphered paperwork in front of her, "that it made a great deal of sense, the last time you explained it."
"That was before I got stuck!" She twists into the punches that finish up the sequence. They're surprisingly therapeutic. Might even be cathartic if she didn't have to lapse right back into the whole thing again. "I keep trying to break it down, try and – there's got to be something I'm missing here. But it makes no damn sense; there's no fucking common thread. Everything's unique to the situation."
Letha gives a sympathetic hum. "Well," she said, "I'm sure you'll get it."
"Yeah," growls Maria, and prays she isn't wrong.
---
Four months in, the Sibling's starting to show the first hints of strain.
"You complicate things," they grumble. The two of them have been sitting, watching the fish in a river leaping up out of the water, and the fishermen watching them, their spears arcing down to catch them.
Maria shoots them a glare. Proper student humility wore off a while back. The Sibling didn't seem to mind.
"Don't complicate shit," she mutters. "Do what you tell me."
"No."
"Yes!"
"You do what you
think I tell you. There's a difference."
Maria's been reigning in her anger for months now. It's a miracle she's lasted this long. Now the boughs are breaking.
"Well
fuck, Master, what else do you expect me to do?! I do the work you set! I practice every damn day! And yet, somehow, it's never fucking good enough! And you don't explain what's wrong!"
The Sibling brings their begauntleted fingers to their nose, and pinch.
"I can't explain what's wrong," they say, as calmly as they can manage, "because you wouldn't
understand."
"How the fuck do you know, you've never tried!"
"Do you think you're the first student I've ever taken!?"
She's never heard the Sibling shout before. Their voice goes hot, and loud enough that the fish startle and the fishermen stare. It shocks her into a brief moment of silence. They breathe, and fight for calm.
"You aren't," they say. "You aren't even the hundredth. I promise you, your issue is not something words can solve. Honestly, words might be the problem."
There's a flicker in her head, when he says that. Her eye narrows.
"…Say that again."
The Sibling gives her a sharp look.
"Why?"
"I think – just- please, master. Say it again."
There's a pause.
"Words might be the problem. You keep… intellectualizing everything. Making yourself think. That's good for a scholar, not a fighter."
"…It's how I learn," she says, slowly, but even as the words come out of her mouth she knows it's not true. In the Dawn Fortress, they'd drilled the motions into her head until she could do them without a hint of thought. Repetition and live practice to grind spearfighting so deeply into her body she could do it like she breathed.
But that wasn't what she was doing here.
She thinks of her Dao again, and the searing rejection.
"…I need to understand," she tries again. The Sibling shakes their head.
"You do understand," they say. "I've seen it. The katas would be good if you let yourself just… do them. Instead, you-"
"I can't just-" she stops. "That's what I've always done."
Pause.
"And," she stops again. Breathes. Makes herself speak. "And look where it's got me."
The river's quiet rush and the fishermen's spears, diving and rising, are the only sound. Then the Sibling looks away.
"Do you know what my Dao is?"
She shakes her head.
"Death. Interestingly, not as monstrous as many assume. They always assume it is an end. The final gasp. They're wrong. Death is much simpler than that. It is a liminal thing. Without it, there is only stagnation. Immortality becomes… nothing. An unchanging, eternal stillness, in a world of unchanging eternal stillnesses, forever. But Death?"
They smile, briefly.
"Death ensures that we do not see that world. It clears room for the new. It gives meaning to the old. And it allows for transformation. You see, every day, we die. When we end a task, the version of us that existed in that action – that performed it – they cease to exist. When we begin a task, too. When we do… anything, really. Moment to moment. Death and rebirth. We just don't think about it. Because death is also terrifying."
They finally look back at her.
"You died, when you fell from your Dao. You died because the parts of you that so drew its ire – the arrogant parts, the frightened ones – had to die, to progress. It hurt. It frightened you. I understand. But it cannot be the end. Do you understand? It cannot stop you. That way lies only a half-life, fearful and sad."
"I don't understand," she mutters.
The Sibling laughs.
"I know you don't. It's alright. Neither did I, when I stood where you did. I have a better idea."
And they drop into a fighting stance.
"Let's try the practical, instead."
---
She thinks about that for a long time, when they get back to the fort. They'd sparred for a while. Things hadn't changed, but they had loosened, somewhat. But now she lay in her bed, staring at the ceiling, unable to sleep.
"And look where it's got me."
She falls. She falls forever, and she knows she deserves it.
Closes her eyes. Holds the anger that boils up around her tongue.
We're afraid, murmers the Red Place.
She hisses out an angry, brutal breath.
Yes.
Gods. How long, now? How long had this been rattling about in her head, and she'd been ignoring it? For fuck's sake. For
fuck's sake. She's not a coward. How had she-
There's a crunch. She looks down. Her fingers have shredded the bedframe. She hisses out another breath, and tries to make herself calm down. After a while, the anger seeps away a little.
Gods damnit. Is this you?
No.
She believes it. There'd been more bleed-over, lately, her emotions mixing with its and vice versa, but not now. This is all her. Or at least, half her, half it. Their fear, honestly come by on both parts.
Fuck.
Sleep's not going to come. She forces herself up out of bed, scrubs her face, and rises. Pulls on the loose red garments she wears beneath her armour. Stalks out. She doesn't think about where she's going, but when she finds herself striding into the training courtyard, it's not exactly a shock. Eyes on her again. A handful of Strength Purity, working their way through katas. A Bear Enslavement practicing some qi technique she doesn't recognize.
And of course, a dozen Divine Sabers, led by Cao Pai Mei. Because the world is fucking cruel.
Maria makes herself ignore them. She takes one of the empty training circles, and starts working her way through the ninth kata of the Black Bull's Dance. One of the rougher ones – lots of tearing and crushing. Her finger placement's shot to hell, too. Locks her attention on that, moving through it slowly.
Behind her, Cao Pai Mei laughs, quietly.
Her teeth grit without bidding. She breathes out. Relaxes. Keeps going.
"I must say," he says, conversationally, "when the Honourable Sibling took you as a pupil, I assumed the results would be more… interesting."
"Did you," she mutters. Index finger needs to curl into it more. She's sure of it.
"Yes. After all, who has not heard the legend of the Black Bull's Dance? The Funereal Brother Sect were some of the greatest fighters to walk the Third Sea. Only their numbers kept them from being a major power. And yet the latest inheritor of their art is… well."
There's muffled laughter from the Divine Sabers. Pissant little sycophants. No. Focus. The hands, she's here for the hands.
"Perhaps that's to be expected. After all, you honed your skills fighting bottom feeders, didn't you?"
That does it.
Maria rises out of her kata and turns, the anger a clear, humming song in her head.
"Bottom feeders?"
Cao Pai Mei smiles like a cat.
"You have a better description for the Battle Blood Cannibals? They consumed
mortals. It's a wonder they lasted so long. Not that we aren't grateful for your efforts getting rid of them. Someone has to kill pests, after all."
It's a trick. She knows it. It's a trick to get her to dishonour herself and give him ammunition against the Sibling. It's obvious, too, and that's almost more insulting. He doesn't even think she's worth the effort of a real tactic.
Well. Let's see how he likes it when she serves it back.
" 'Course," says Maria, smiling sharply. "Public service. We're good at Blood Path. As you know, I'm sure."
His face doesn't change, but she sees his eyes flicker.
"Do we?"
"Well, given we saved the Jin Empire for you."
The room goes very quiet. Maria pantomimes embarrassment, covering her mouth, staring into Cao Pai Mei's eyes the whole time.
"Gods. I'm sorry. That was rude."
"Yes," he grinds out. She can see him trying to find a way to turn this to his advantage – intersect insults aren't enough. She steps in quickly to do it for him.
"How about I make up for it? Short a sparring partner. Why don't you come tan my hide for a bit, see if that works out the kinks."
It's laughably obvious, but it's the kind of laughably obvious he'll expect. The Golden Devils have a reputation for bluntness, and an offer like this – taking a beating in a sparring match – wouldn't be out of place in the tea houses of the Righteous. They just usually dress it up more. Of course, he'll need to put a bow on it himself…
"Perhaps I might give you a chance," he says, stepping into the circle. "I'll leave my sword outside the ring."
"Sure."
He glares at her easy agreement.
"…And tie a hand behind my back."
"Very decent of you. You mind if I stick with the kata I'm doing? Practice makes perfect, and all that."
He smiles coldly, eyes seething again.
"Of course."
"Much obliged."
And then they're fighting.
At the beginning, it's a release. She doesn't have to try and twist this, or present it right, or phrase it carefully so the locals don't get nervous. She just has to beat him senseless. He isn't expecting her to be as good as she is, either; very quickly, she gets him snapping out cuts that would make sense if there was a sword in his hand, but here are nothing more than glancing blows. She watches him realise his miscalculation. She's rattled him, if he's making mistakes like that. Joy boils in her veins at the thought.
But it's brief, and then he's turned the fight around again. Worse, she gives him the chance; a beat's hesitation is all it takes trying to line up a punch, and he
explodes, leaping at her and firing off a stream of brutal chained kicks she barely manages to avoid. Then he's in control; palm slaps to disorient, heel strikes and ankle hooks to fuck up her footwork, tearing holes in her defence and punishing her with them. She's lucky to dodge one kick in ten, too – she's feeling that trademark Golden Devil slowness weighing her down. He's fought her clan before, she realizes.
Fuck.
Fuck. What the
heavens was she fucking thinking? He wanted to bait her into a fight. All she has to do is lose, and he can turn this around on the Sibling. And she's
going to lose. He's foundation. She's tenth Heavenstage. One bound hand doesn't mean shit, he could have hacked off a leg and she'd still have gotten her ass kicked. Damnit. She has to think, she just needs to think, but he won't give her the fucking
time-
A palm catches her on the jaw, then reverses into a backhand that sends her spinning to the ground, head reeling. Dimly, she hears the raucous laughter of the Divine Sabers.
"Ah, well," says Cao Pai Mei, voice dripping with false kindness. "I think the junior was a little over-excited."
Her mind's fuzzy and full of stars. That might be what does it. She's just not thinking as she rises up again and settles into the stance for the first kata of the Black Bull Dance.
"Oh! It seems she's not finished yet! Well,
legionnaire, I'm sure I can offer a few more pointers."
The words should mean something. They don't. Instead, she watches him take up his stance-
And moves.
Simple.
All of it's simple. He tries for a leg sweep again, so she stamps down on his ankle and hears the crack. That leaves his leg extended, so she punches his knee and watches it bend. That pulls him off balance, so she leans into a headbutt and smells the iron-tang of blood as she breaks his nose.
He falls.
She steps in. Sees the weakspots. Shifts her body. Throws out two punches – hip and shoulder. Crack crack. He screams.
She steps back.
There's a pause as her brain, still scrambled, tries to piece together what just happened. He's already healing, she can see. That's… normal, right? Yeah. Yeah, that's normal. And he's snarling now. Angry. Closing.
She doesn't think. She just moves. He's faster than she is, but it doesn't matter – if he hits her, she hurts him. The kata's just teaching her the easiest way to do it. He lashes out at her face, but she just ducks under it and that puts her in position for a double-punch into his side. His knee comes up to stop her, but that's fine – she can put one of the strikes into the knee instead,
oh, like the fishermen did with the spears, and that's put his leg out of action again.
It's simple.
That's the point.
And then there's someone big and heavy and familiar between her and Cao Pai Mei and she can't think of what to do.
She feels something cold press against her head. Tingles. Funny. Should she-
Oh. Oh. Qi. Yeah. Qi running through her head, kind of like feathers. The world starts swimming back into focus.
Maria blinks. The Honourable Sibling watches her eye for a moment, checking for concussion.
"I WANT-!" Cao Pai Mei is bellowing, but the Sibling doesn't seem to be listening.
"Are you alright?" She nods shakily. They smile. "Good. That was excellent."
Then they turn back to the furious Saber leader.
"I must apologise for my student," says the Sibling. "That last exchange was subpar against one of your stature. In her defence, we are still early in her training."
"Your student
broke my nose," hisses Cao Pai Mei. The Sibling nods.
"Yes. Iron God's Forehead, the technique is called. Thank you for giving her the chance to practice it."
"I WILL HAVE HER-" begins Cao Pai Mei, but that's as far as he gets.
"No. You won't. You'll leave her alone. Because if you do not, we shall all of us face a coalition tribunal. They will ask why, in this sparring match with a junior, you inflicted brain damage. Under normal circumstances, you could of course admit that it was simply an accident – which it was, correct? But this is war, my friend. You would have removed an efficient and decorated officer from service.
That will merit more than a slap on the wrist. More than that, you will have interfered in my attempts to tutor a successor. And
I have friends too."
There is a long, fraught, silence. Maria realizes how many eyes are on them. She tries not to panic.
Then Cao Pai Mei bows slowly. When he comes up, he's back to everyone's favourite uncle. She can't even see the hate in his eyes.
"I must commend you on your tutelage, master Sibling. The Black Bull's Dance is a sight to behold."
"Thank you. I, in turn, must thank you again for tutoring my junior. This is a lesson I doubt she will forget."
They smile like liars at one another. Then Cao Pai Mei is gone, and the Sabers follow after like bewildered puppies.
The Sibling pats her on the shoulder.
"Another lesson tomorrow," they state.
"I've got patrol," says Maria, still dazed.
"I know. It's a short one. I'll meet you at the gate before you go."
---
It's the next morning, and she's trying
so hard to balance "panicked student" with "successful captain". The squad isn't helping – Nikolas is shooting smirks at every Divine Saber he sees, Cecilia and Priscian keep staring at her like she's Rina fucking Callista, and Georgy keeps alternating between deeply cynical and naively amazed. And that's
before she gets to Draconis, who draws level with her as they march towards the gate.
"Lan Hua," he whispers, "informs me that Cao Pai Mei is in
notably foul humour."
"Shut. Up."
"In fact, she has no memory of him ever being quite this upset-"
"Sergeant, whatever goes on between you and your girlfriend is not my fucking concern."
He snickers and draws back. He's proud of her, but that translates into affectionate sarcasm, and she'll be eating that for a long while.
None of which is, in turn, as bad as the looks she gets as she steps into the dispatch office. Nameless is behind the desk today – he took an arrow to the knee on some stupid adventure she hasn't asked about – and he gives her serene smile #47, 'deeply amused at your expense but also very impressed'.
"Don't," she warns.
"Your choice of routes today," he says. She blinks.
"I- What?"
"Your choice of routes."
She stares. Then she takes hummingbird out of habit.
"Do you know," says Nameless, "that the best way to throw you is to be nice to you? You panic most agreeably."
She snarls.
"Oh fuck off."
"Well done."
"He had a hand tied behind his back and no sword, and
I got very lucky."
"Still."
She waves him off irritably, praying to the Imperator that the heat she feels in her cheeks isn't a blush.
And then they're out of the gates. In the middle of the road, their iron-clad arms crossed, is the Honourable Sibling. The squad comes to a halt behind her, muttering to one another.
The Sibling has a leather bag at their feet. She has no damn idea what's in it.
"Student." Their voice has no warmth in it, just austere authority.
"Master," she squeaks.
"Come forth."
She glances across at Draconis, but he's gone into full parade rest, and through sheer sergeantly authority he's got the rest of the squad doing the same thing. They could be mustering back at the Dawn Fortress. This, she knows from experience, is an impenetrable defence, especially at formal occasions. No help there.
She steps forward.
"When a student has proved themselves, it is custom for the master to grant them their Hands," intones the Sibling. "It has been a long time coming, but at last, you are ready."
They hand her the bag. She opens it. Inside are two heavy black spirit-steel guantlets, set into vambraces, cowters, rerebraces, and shoulder-pads – full sleeves of metal. They're simple, functional things, just as good for punches as they are grapples.
She looks up. The Sibling smiles.
"Not gravebronze," they say, "but they'll do for a student. Perhaps, when you're ready for mastery, I shall find a Golden Devil smith for you."
And then the smile takes on a gentle quality.
"Do you trust yourself again?"
---
I've gotten into the habit of making major characters in Maria's story on Heroforge before I write them. The first one I did was, in fact, the Honourable Sibling, so I figured I'd link them
here in case anyone wanted to see.
@Alectai @ReaderOfFate @Kaboomatic , may I have a threadmark please?
Going to do one last bit to sum this arc and then on to something Not Shit.