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Chapter 3 - Arriving in Khaldeer
🕑 Added 2025-02-03 22:00:03 +0000 UTCAs the road wound between two mountains, the first signs of Khaldeer started to show. Inns welcomed newcomers. Temples gave departures one last place to pray for safe travel. Barracks stood ready to lock down the narrow passage in times of war.
Down a bend, the land opened up into Khala’s largest and flattest valley. The plains of Khaldeer. Protected from the weather by the surrounding mountains, protected from invaders by narrow mountain roads, and with a warm-water port, the valley was the most hospitable piece of land in the kingdom.
Khaldeer was to Khala as Ambrosia City was to The Platter. Outside of the relatively large capital city, most of the kingdom consisted of small villages. Geographically, Khaldeer was just as big as Ambrosia City, but didn’t have even a third of the population. So instead of tightly packed buildings that had nowhere to grow but up, Khaldeer was a low city. Tall evergreen trees poked out from the mass of low two-story and three-story buildings. Even looking across the most dense parts of the city, Archie still felt like he could breathe.
The city looked like a collection of boxes, white clay brick buildings with flat roofs made of red-brown wood. Among the boxes, the occasional wooden tower stood out with curved shingle roofs between each floor. On either end of the largest plaza, two buildings stood out as the grandest of the city, made of towers that were wider than most buildings. Even when the carriage dropped them off, Archie could see the buildings poking out from the center of the city.
Barley had been to Khaldeer before, and the similarities to Urokan architecture made it feel familiar to Nori, but to Archie, Blanche, and Sutton, who had never stepped foot outside The Platter, just walking through the city was an unforgettable experience.
They spoke over each other as they covered the obvious differences—the crimson and gold accents on the buildings, the wood lattice windows, the public greenhouses and community farms. As their feet fell into a comfortable rhythm against the compact gravel roads, they started to notice the subtle differences—the slightly wider walkways, the slower pace of the pedestrians, the way street vendors and food stands were built into buildings, not standing apart from them.
Archie tried to pull the group into an interesting-looking restaurant. Blanche supported the detour, but Sutton’s almighty budget kept them on their track. With Barley as their guide, they made their way to the center of town. The main plaza lacked the intricate stonework and ornate fountains and exotic flowers of Ambrosia City’s. Instead, its floor was made of rectangular tiles of slate, and the only things between the capitol building and Khaldeer Monastery were temporary—wooden stands selling food and odd trinkets.
The only color in the plaza came from the vibrant personal rugs of its people. They laid the rugs out and prayed, prostrating toward the Khaldeer Monastery, not the capitol building. Chefs in padded jackets of different colors walked through the praying crowd, swinging hanging incense burners to the beat of a hand drum.
“The people of Khaldeer come to the Monastery to pray every day,” Barley explained, taking on the role of tour guide. “We Khalyans believe in a communal essence. By hearing the same music and smelling the same incense, the essence of our bodies sync.”
Archie smelled sandalwood and flowers.
“We live in scarcity. No other kingdom faces food insecurity like we do. We have fewer Chefs, so we have found a way to utilize the latent essence found in every person. The residents offer their essence to be used by the Bhante, who will in turn nourish the people with his magic.”
“The Bhante?” Archie asked.
“Well, you see—” Sutton started, excited to be able to flex his academic knowledge of Khala.
“—he is the leader of Chefs in Khala,” Barley interrupted. He smiled at Sutton, who shied away upon realizing that the question was Barley’s to answer. “But he’s more than that. He’s a spiritual leader.”
“Has there ever been a female Bhante?” Nori asked.
“No, but there will be. The Bhantla is the Bhante’s successor. For the first time ever, the Bhantla is a woman. The Bhante stays here in the monastery, providing for the people of Khaldeer. But the Bhantla roams from village to village offering her services.”
Barley gestured up at Khaldeer Monastery, which made a grander palace than the actual palace itself. The main building stretched to fill the space between a square of pagodas, making it larger than both of the Academy of Ambrosia’s buildings put together. As they entered the first floor, Archie understood why.
The center of the building had been cut out, forming an atrium with no roof. A public dining hall with large sliding sections of wall created a rectangle around the space, holding hundreds of tables and what must have been a thousand occupants.
While some Chefs tended the gardens in the atrium, other Chefs carried teas and stews and bread to the hungry people of Khaldeer. Archie felt like he had stepped into a giant version of The Gift. He wondered if Rowan had been inspired by the Monastery.
“This way,” Barley said. “I think. It’s been a while…You guys go wait in the yard. I’ll find someone that can show us to our rooms. Here, hold this for me.”
Barley held his trunk of belongings out to Archie. Archie groaned. They had adjusted the contents of their trunks according to the strength of its holder, making Barley’s bag significantly heavier than even Archie’s, who carried the second heaviest bag. Carrying both didn’t seem like a realistic option.
“Come on,” Barley said. “I can’t lug this thing around through this crowd. Here, just trade me.”
Barley swapped his luggage with Archie and set off toward the kitchens. Sutton, who carried the lightest bag, tried to stifle his laughter as Archie used two hands to pick the trunk off the ground.
They made their way to the yard, which had been sectioned off into a greenhouse, a garden with a well, and the training grounds. They watched as two Green Jackets with leather helmets trained with quarterstaffs, their thudding blows echoing through the entire first floor. They stepped quickly and struck quicker, always stopping before taking the other’s head off.
After spending a week stagnating in the carriage, Archie started to feel himself come back to life, his blood and essence coursing through him as he watched the Green Jackets fight. The journey over had been rough and cramped. But here? Here he could really stretch his legs. He walked past the garden and onto the compact dirt of the training ground.
“Where are you going?” Sutton asked. Blanche wandered off to inspect the garden.
Archie set the trunk down against a fence. “I wanna fight.”
Thwack!
The Khalyan Green Jackets circled each other, probing for weaknesses with their quarterstaffs. Archie could follow their movements but couldn’t predict them. Each time the quarterstaffs met, they bounced off each other in unpredictable ways and spun back around to clash once more. Each attack had an echo, each step a purpose.
A swing from the top left, bounced back, spun around the head, another strike from the top right. A knockaway swipe, a step forward, a change in the grip, a snapping strike down on the shoulder.
Despite the force of the strike, the recipient of the blow seemed bothered only by their defeat, not by pain. Archie wondered if and how they had changed the quarterstaffs to reduce their lethality.
“Nori, let’s try it,” Archie said as he watched the spar continue.
“Oh, I don’t know,” Nori groaned. “I’m really tired.”
Archie looked back at her, discovering her frown. “Come on,” he said. Of his potential sparring partners, Sutton would be too bad, and Archie would feel guilty for hitting Blanche. But Nori could take it. “It’ll be fun.”
Nori scrunched up one side of her face and released it with a sigh. “Okay…”
Archie led Nori over to the training ground and grabbed a quarterstaff from a weapon stand. He inspected the rod. Six feet long and uniform thickness. Rattan wood. A good soft and flexible wood for sparring. It squished in his grip, and he recognized that the essence had been modified to make a softer surface while maintaining its rigid form.
“Hey!” one of the Green Jackets yelled at them. He jogged over, taking off his leather helmet and running a hand through his black hair. “You can’t use those. Chefs and soldiers only.”
Archie pulled down the collar of his overcoat, showing his orange jacket. He couldn’t wait until he got a Khalyan-styled padded Chef jacket. The chill resistance of his overcoat was hardly worth the extra effort he had to go through to prove he was a Chef.
The Green Jacket squinted at him. “You’re not from here.”
“We’re from the Academy,” Archie said as he turned around to introduce his group. Only Nori stood with him, Blanche and Sutton having already gone off to the garden to look at the rare flowers. “I’m Archie Kent. This is Nori.”
While he had lost some of the edge on his obsession of legacy, Archie still saw his trip to Khala as a chance to get the Kent name circulating again. He and Nori had both introduced each other enough times to know the rules. Archie, always Kent. Nori, never Harper—unless they needed an extra dose of prestige or intimidation.
“I’m Hawthorn.”
Archie studied Hawthorn’s face to help remember his name. His black hair came down unevenly across his forehead, the sides of his hair trimmed in a way that accentuated the goofiness of his sideways-sticking ears. He had a rosy round nose that was too big and rectangular eyes that were too small. He smiled at Nori, pushing smile lines into his cheeks. Somehow, despite all of his goofiness—perhaps because of it—his smile managed to be a charming one.
“Does Nori have a last name?” he asked, one side of his smile rising higher than the other as he spoke.
“She does,” Nori said, smiling back.
The playfulness inflicted Archie with a pang of jealousy. He decided to cut off their budding banter. “It’s Harper,” he said.
The curve of Hawthorn’s smile disappeared, leaving a hanging jaw. Shock opened his eyes into circles, showing the entirety of his dark hazel irises. He snatched the quarterstaff out of Archie’s hands.
“You can’t hurt a Harper,” he snapped. “Do you know what kind of trouble you could get in?”
Nori clenched her teeth and scowled. “They don’t control me.”
Nori’s attempted intimidation failed to wash away the very real intimidation of the Harpers. “No, but they control the ocean. They find out one of theirs got hurt in Khaldeer and suddenly we’re light on fish.”
“They wouldn’t do that,” Archie said, not really knowing. He looked at Nori, whose expression corrected him. He turned back to Hawthorn. “Well, she’s with me. They’re not going to run a blockade over a bruise.”
“Nope,” Hawthorn said. “And if you don’t know what you’re doing with these, you’ll accidentally do a lot worse than bruising.”
Archie grabbed a quarterstaff. He was going to fight someone.
“I guess you’ll have to stop me.”
Hawthorn smiled and laughed through his nose. “Put it down, man. Just because your last name doesn’t mean anything doesn’t mean I’m okay with hurting you.”
“Oh no…” Nori muttered under his breath.
Archie copied the grip he had seen, putting his hands on the bottom third of the quarterstaff. He took a step back from Hawthorn and put the quarterstaff between them.
“I’m gonna swing,” he said, his teeth barely separating to form the words. “It’s up to you if you wanna block.”
Hawthorn countered anger with pleasantness, offering a warm, unintimidated smile. His voice sounded like a song compared to Archie’s gravelly growl. “You should put a helmet on.”
Archie pulled the quarterstaff back and swung from the top left. Hawthorn swung up, sending Archie’s quarterstaff ricocheting to the top right. Hawthorn took a step in and brought the back end of his quarterstaff just inches from Archie’s face, freezing just before impact.
“You should put a helmet on,” he repeated, more serious this time.
Archie had an urge to bring the quarterstaff down again, but they were too close together. He looked at Hawthorn’s grip, which had changed to split the quarterstaff into thirds.
Archie took a deep breath and stepped away, returning his quarterstaff to a neutral position. He copied Hawthorn’s grip. He felt more in control and could strike from both sides, but he had lost reach and power.
Hawthorn chuckled as he returned his grip to the bottom of the quarterstaff.
If Hawthorn had the reach, Archie needed the speed. He snapped the back end of his quarterstaff up, hoping to knock Hawthorn’s away in order to close the gap. Archie’s blow landed, but as he stepped forward, Hawthorn stepped back, his quarterstaff swinging down and stopping just short of Archie’s face again.
“Helmet.”
Archie stepped back, changing his grip back to the bottom. He didn’t need speed. He just needed one good shot across this guy’s head.
He thrust at Hawthorn, who parried the blow down into the ground. In the widest, most predictable swing imaginable, Archie looped his quarterstaff around and swung from the top right as hard as he could.
Hawthorn rotated his elbows, sending his quarterstaff up in a half-swing. Archie’s quarterstaff bounced, the momentum carrying it around and causing Archie to whack his own head with the center of the quarterstaff. Even with the softened qualities of the wood, Archie’s bones vibrated with the impact.
He dropped the quarterstaff and stumbled. Hawthorn dropped his weapon and rushed to catch Archie. “That’s why you need a helmet.”
Nori helped stabilize Archie, pulling him away from Hawthorn. “I got him.”
“Bit of a hothead, isn’t he?” Hawthorn asked. Archie groaned in protest, unable to hear his own thoughts over the ringing in his ears.
“Bit of an ass, aren’t you?” Nori replied.
“Hey, I warned him. And I didn’t even hit him.” He sighed as Nori pulled Archie away. “Come back anytime.”
Nori walked Archie away from the training grounds as he held his drooping head in his hands.
“Archie! What happened?!” Blanche ran from the garden, bending down sideways to look up into Archie’s eyes.
“I might have gotten a bit overzealous…” Archie groaned.
Comments
Tyler Campbell
The series will definitely have romantic storylines, but I’m not interested in a love triangle ever being the A-plot (or probably even the B-plot) for any character. The only character that is defined by their feelings toward anyone else is Benedict, and I’ll pop that bubble once we get back to Ambrosia City.
Adunn
Oof. Praying to god this isn’t a budding love triangle. Archie has grown a bit but he’s still childish it seems.
