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Chapter 15 - Initial Assessments
🕑 Added 2025-02-15 20:00:05 +0000 UTC“There’s only one rule in fighting. If you die, you lose.”
Picea paced back and forth in the training ground of the yard. The Academy crew plus Hawthorn stood at attention in a line.
“Two ways to mitigate the damage of an essence attack,” Picea continued. Perhaps inspired by the upcoming combat training, she had added another blonde braid tight against her scalp. “You can dispel it or you can block it. Archie, if you would, attack me with your noodle whip.”
Archie knew better than to hesitate. He stepped forward and lashed a noodle at Picea.
She caught the noodle in her hand. “If you have a significant advantage in essence manipulation, you can dispel an attack. Just tell the essence to return to normal.”
The noodle disintegrated from Picea’s hand all the way to Archie’s.
“Now you bunch probably don’t have much of an essence advantage on anyone. So that leaves the other way. Hawthorn, bamboo. Give me your best shot.”
As comfortable as Archie was attacking Picea, Hawthorn had even less hesitation. Archie wondered how many ineffective attacks the Khalyan had launched at his teacher.
Hawthorn slammed his palm on the ground. A fraction of a second later, a stalk of bamboo erupted from the earth beneath Picea. She twisted her body, putting her forearm in front of the rising bamboo. Something crunched—whether the attack or the defense, Archie couldn’t tell. But the bamboo stopped growing, impeded by Picea’s crustskin.
“Skin modification. Luckily, it’s one of the easiest things for a Chef to learn. Otherwise there’d be a lot less Chefs in the world. Now…let’s see what we’re working with.”
Picea walked up to Hawthorn, whose skin transformed into a subtle, bright green with dark green rings every few inches. Picea gently tapped her fist against his arm, then again, harder, then finally, a strong blow. The force moved Hawthorn, but if it hurt him, he didn’t show it.
“Hawthorn uses bambooskin. One of the best, but a rare affinity. Next.”
Picea walked over to Nori, who turned her skin yellow and leathery. Picea hit it once, twice, three times—none as hard as her final hit on Hawthorn. The third hit made Nori wince.
“Rindskin of the lemon variety,” Picea commented. “Very effective against slashing—swords, knives, claws. Serviceable against blunt force. Frankly, I’m surprised. I’ve fought some Harpers before. They had clam shells and chitinous armor that even I could hardly crack.”
Nori shrugged. Archie knew what went through her head. By rejecting her natural affinities, she rejected her familial identity. She didn’t care if it made her weaker. She’d rather be weak Nori than strong Nori Harper.
“I like lemons,” Nori declared.
“Hm. Well, something to consider, I suppose. Next.”
Picea stepped toward Blanche, who shied away.
“It’s alright, flower. I won’t hit you as hard.”
Blanche winced as she stepped back toward Picea and braced her arm. Her skin seemed to grow ridges and ripple into flaky bark with deep lines. Picea hit it once, twice, three times, then with a look of surprise, delivered a fourth blow that would have knocked Nori flat. Blanche moved back and forth with the force of each blow, but she didn’t seem to feel any pain.
“Oakskin?” Picea asked as she nodded in approval.
“That’s right.”
“It’s strong. Just have to be careful. If a chunk gets broken, you need to recast it. You know, hawthorn—the plant, not him—has, well, thorns. You could turn your defense into a bit of an offense. Because what you have already is good.”
“Really?” Blanche beamed.
“Yeah.”
Picea stepped up to Archie. Resolved to absorb the biggest blow of the bunch, he limited his essence to his upper arm and formed sugarskin. With such a small area of focus, he could create a much stronger defense. He stood sideways, planting his back leg into the dirt to brace himself.
Picea hit once, hard. She already knew he could take it. A second time, harder than she had punched Blanche. Archie felt a flicker of pain beneath his hardened skin. His back foot started to slide. A third punch. A real punch. A step-into-it-and-knock-em-flat punch. His sugarskin cracked and splintered into the air, but the bottom layers held firm.
Archie didn’t.
His body twisted around, his stubbornly planted feet refusing to cooperate as they tangled each other up. His knees clanged against each other, hurting worse than his arm. He stumbled a few steps, managing to stay on his feet.
“Sugarskin,” Picea said with disdain. “I’ve fought a few sugarskins. Always a pain in my ass. Doubles as an offense. Hits like a club. Only real weakness is a fire user. Trust me, you do not want to know what it feels like to get brûlée’d.”
Archie imagined being encased in a molten, skin-tight tomb. He shuddered.
“Archie, your essence is stronger than your muscles. You’re too small. You’ll just get thrown around.”
Archie frowned, hoping that the soreness he continued to endure from chopping wood at Buart’s would fix that problem soon enough.
“Alright, big boy,” Picea said as she stepped up to Barley. They were the only two that seemed like a match for each other, Barley standing just an inch taller and a couple inches wider.
Perhaps that’s why Picea didn’t offer him any warm-up punches. She delivered a single, hard punch, cracking the unnaturally white skin on Barley’s arm. She brought her second fist down but stopped an inch short.
“Mintskin,” Picea observed. One of the strongest defenses with a serious drawback—the coldness slows your movement. But you have a bigger problem. It nearly dispelled before my second punch.”
Barley frowned. “It’s hard to maintain. I do better in short bursts.”
Picea rocked her head from one side to the other, figuring out how to turn Barley into a real fighter. “I assume you can do the breath?”
“Yeah.”
“Let’s see it.”
Barley breathed in, his already large chest expanding up toward the sky. He breathed out harshly and all at once, sending a puff of fog that rolled past Picea’s head.
The fog disappeared to reveal her unimpressed expression. “What’s the longest you can hold it?” she asked.
Barley took a sharp breath in, small breath out. Sharp breath in, small breath out. Sharp breath in, small breath out. With his billowing chest full of air, he started to breathe out slowly and evenly. A steady stream of fog came from his mouth but dissipated before even reaching Picea. He held the stream for three seconds before it faded to nothing.
Barley took a few breaths to regain his composure. “Sorry,” he muttered.
“It’s alright,” Picea said. “We just need to find a way to cover your weakness.” She turned to Sutton. “Alright. Last, but certainly not least.”
Archie thought she might want to reconsider that sentiment. He remembered the long days practicing conjuration in Tarragon’s class. While Archie and Julienne had competed at levels rarely seen by Orange Jackets, Sutton had sat out of the way with a stack of books. Archie didn’t have high hopes for the bookworm.
Sutton didn’t either. Even before starting his technique, a nervous sweat formed on his hairline. He flexed an arm—not that he had much to flex—and prepared for impact. His skin turned a faint yellow with little raised bumps.
Picea considered it for a moment, then lifted her hand, but not in a fist. She flicked Sutton’s arm.
“Ow!” he yelped as he backed away and rubbed the spot.
“What was that supposed to be?” Picea scolded.
“Squash!” Sutton squeaked. “I asked several Chefs what the hardest thing to cut was and they said squash.”
Picea shook her head. “Have you ever eaten squash?”
“Yes. A few times!”
“Have you ever grown squash?”
“Yes. Well, I tried. Technically I succeeded, but they were very small.”
“Have you ever cooked with squash?”
“...no. I was going to with the ones I grew, but they were too small and too bitter.”
Picea folded her arms over her chest. “Do you…like squash?”
Sutton sighed and looked down. “Not really…”
“Not good enough, Sutton. Not good enough.” Picea’s voice contained none of its typical affection for Sutton. “You can’t take a purely academic approach and force it. We all have natural affinities. You need to find yours. Start with what you love.”
Archie leaned over toward Blanche. “It’s a shame we can’t use essence for anything. Can you imagine if he could turn himself into a hardback book?”
Blanche giggled and touched Archie’s forearm.
“Alright!” Picea barked. “Let’s talk offense. Sutton, you got anything?”
Sutton couldn’t make eye contact. “I can do a little heat…”
“Show me.”
Sutton pushed his palms forward, sending an indiscernible amount of heat forward. Judging by Picea’s reaction, it wasn’t a lot.
“Let me guess,” she said. “You heard heat was the most powerful?”
“Y—yes…” He looked at Picea, pleading his case. “But I really did heat naturally before anything else! I’m just…I’m just not very good at it.”
Picea sighed. Her sharp posture softened, going from drillmaster to counselor. “It’s alright, Sutton.” She cupped his cheek. “Some people just aren’t made to be fighters. And the world is better for it. You just need to find a way to defend yourself.”
Her body snapped back upright and tensed. “Barley,” she said. “Got any other tricks?”
Barley matched her posture. Whereas he had been ashamed of his limited capacity to perform magic, there was something he was confident in. “Before I left for the Academy, I trained with the quarterstaff.”
Picea seemed pleasantly surprised. “A true Khalyan. Are you any good?”
“Yes,” Barley stated.
“Good. You and Hawthorn are sparring partners. I have some ideas for both of you.”
Barley looked over at Hawthorn, who grinned back and wiggled his eyebrows.
“Alright, Archie, I already have you covered,” Picea said. She passed Archie and walked over to Blanche. “What about you, flower?”
Blanche swallowed forcefully. “I—uh. I don’t know if what I can do is really useful…”
She crouched down to the ground. Whereas Hawthorn had slammed the ground, Blanche gently placed her hand on it. The ground shifted and rippled near Picea’s feet. Small green stems grew from the earth and sprouted into multi-colored flowers. Blanche had the right of it. The flowers were only beautiful, not threatening.
Picea’s demeanor broke again, this time into an endeared smile. “Flower, indeed.” She reached down and plucked a flower. After a couple of seconds in her hand, it withered into dust and faded away from existence. Blanche lifted her hand from the earth, causing the other flowers to disappear as well.
“They’re not real,” Blanche whinged.
“They are real as long as you can manage them,” Picea responded. “And so is the smell. I have some ideas. And that leaves Nori.”
Nori stood at attention. “I have three,” she explained. “Although I’m still working on this one…”
She conjured a blueberry and threw it into the open space. It exploded, similar to Archie’s but lesser.
“And then I have these two…”
She reared back an empty hand. When she threw it forward, a wave of pale yellow acid went with it, bubbling on the surface of the dirt.
Picea walked over to the puddle before it could disappear, stepping into it. The leather of her boot screamed as the acid melted a bit of it.
“Impressive,” Picea said. “You had one more?”
Nori nodded and motioned for Picea to step aside. The Head Chef obliged. Nori conjured a whole lemon and rolled it across the ground. It slowed to a stop. Wobbled in the dirt. Then, boom! The lemon exploded, sending acid scattering as far as ten feet away.
Picea raised her eyebrows and nodded. “Impressive. Especially for your level. Can you control the timing?”
“Um…not yet,” Nori answered.
“You should work on that. Listen up, everyone. Lots of times, one surprise is all it takes to win an equal battle. So you get in a fight. You make the lemon explode after four seconds. Later, you do it again. Four seconds. Do it again. Four seconds. Then do it again and reveal that the whole time you could make it explode in two.”
Archie thought back to the IKC battle he had seen in Ambrosia City the previous year. Pepper Ivy had beaten Tataki by surprising him with alcoholic bubbles. But when he thought of Tataki, he didn’t think of the Urokan fighting. He thought of him below stage, sitting in front of the mirror. Reciting the names and skills of all of Archie’s loved ones.
In case I need to know who might avenge you.
Archie realized just how close he was to the Harpers. He wondered how Nori had managed to deal with it so well.
“Alright, I’ve seen enough,” Picea said. “We got two close range fighters, two mid-range fighters, and two non-fighters. We’ll pair you up. Hawthorn and Barley. We’ll shape up your melee skills while figuring out a way to incorporate your conjuration.”
“Haha!” Hawthorn squealed as he ran over to the weapon rack.
“Archie and Nori. You’ll still train with quarterstaffs. But slowly. You need to be able to defend yourself up close. Aside from that, Nori will work on her defense and her explosive lemon timing. Archie…I have some ideas for you.”
Archie perked up in surprise. He grinned at Picea, who grinned back.
“Finally…” Picea sighed and looked back and forth between Blanche and Sutton. “We got you two. Flower…I have an idea. But my little pill bug here…We just need to make sure you don’t die to the first hit.”
Blanche rubbed her hands together. Sutton groaned.
“Now.” Picea clapped her hands once. “Enough talking. Let’s see some action.”
