Chapter 37

Talisman Circle

“Again!”

“Again!”

“Re-focus! Again!”

“Again!”

Sylas repeatedly stabbed forward, his entire body diving with the motion before snapping back into place. Over and over and over again, tens, hundreds, thousands of times. Beads of sweat coalesced on his forehead, his muscles torn in pain, but the determination in his eyes remained the fuel for his bone. Again. And again. And again.

It was a stark difference from when he just arrived at this place. He’d accustomed, he’d gotten used to life here. Even after hell calmed down and he had more time with his thoughts, he wasn’t as clueless as he thought he’d be. Wake up at dawn, eat, practice, read, learn, practice again, spar, have Ryne teach him about talismans, practice, eat, read, sleep.

The specific routine was established shortly after the four returned from the frigid forest. Valen and Tenner immediately began working to implement their plans for the better security of the castle, while Ryne locked herself up in a basement and started making talismans, a process that nobody else was privy to as those were the customs.

Surprisingly, however, the young girl invited Sylas a few times, likely becoming bored being stuck in a dark room alone, where he got to see some parts of it. It reminded him a lot of calligraphy, with the added ingredient of magic, of course.

A month had passed since their return. It was, by far, the longest, uninterrupted loop within which he didn’t die yet. And that month saw stark improvements across the board—starting with him.

He’d filled up quite nicely, gaining some fifteen pounds, looking more and more like a rugged vanguard of desolate regions rather than a virginland boy with no experience. His hands developed numerous callouses, marks of his hard work, affording him some credibility at last. At least in his mind, that is.

Furthermore, his skill with the sword had improved remarkably. He didn’t have any special talent, far from it, but Tenner was an amazing instructor. That coupled with the fact that Sylas had however much free time he wanted to practice meant that he’d finally reached what Tenner called ‘an average boy-man’s strength’, whatever that meant.

Sylas felt it inwardly, the changes. He rarely ran out of energy, and, for the first time in his life, actually needed four-five meals a day to survive. With the arrival of the food shipment and the restocked warehouse, Valen increased the overall use of food—as long as the guards worked hard. Whoever participated in the morning and afternoon drills was afforded an extra meal a day, so most able-bodied people—not just guards, but maids, stewards, and so on—elected to join.

“Uncle Tenner, isn’t it enough?” a chirpy voice broke Sylas out of his thoughts. “You told me he’d be free half an hour ago!”

“He has to practice—”

"He is! For two hours! It's enough!" Ryne leaped off the wooden fence and strutted over to Sylas, grabbing his arm and trying to drag him away. Sylas, on the other hand, glanced at her oddly before looking at Tenner who sighed and nodded helplessly. "Let's go, let's go!"

“Fine, fine, we’re going,” Sylas chuckled, putting down the sword. “Let me wipe away, at least. I don’t want to stink up your workshop.”

“Ah, now that you mention it, you do stink…”

"… I said it myself just a second before," Sylas said as Ryne pinched her nose. "So why does it hurt so much when she says it?" walking over to a nearby barrel of water, he washed his face and used a nearby cloth to wipe some of the sweat away. He didn't dare take a bath, especially since temperatures have begun dropping heavily. These days, mornings already saw the first signs of frost on the grass, and it smelled like it would snow any day now. "Valen’s big meeting is this afternoon, right?” he asked Tenner before leaving.

“Yeah,” the Captain replied. “He’ll ordain the first batch of successful trainees. I also heard the Baron mention he’ll promote a new Captain.”

“Big boy, big plans.”

“Ha ha ha…”

“Alright, see you later.”

“Have fun.”

“Let’s go, let’s go!” Ryne, once again, grabbed his arm and dragged him away. She’d grown considerably clingier recently, Sylas mused. This was likely due to the fact that he was the most casual one with her; even Valen deferred to her somewhat, let alone everyone else. Most people, in fact, simply bowed toward her when they met her and rounded her immediately.

"What's got you so excited today?" he quizzed as they rounded the training grounds and beelined toward the rightmost wing of the castle, where the side doors to her basement were built.

“He he, I’ve finally done it!” the girl exclaimed somewhat vainly.

“Did what?”

“My first conclusive Talisman Circle!” she said, glancing at him, her gaze seeking praise and approval.

“Oh, wow! That’s amazing!” Sylas wasn’t cheap with those, especially because they cost him nothing. “What’s a Talisman Circle?”

“Wait, you really don’t know?!”

“Nope. Grand men like me—”

“—don’t bother with mortal matters, yes, yes, I know. We all know. Geez,” Ryne sighed, shaking her head in helplessness. “Talisman Circle… is like that pattern of trees, remember? It's just a pattern of individual talismans. For instance, if one talisman can kindle a campfire, ten oriented around the same idea could set an entire hayfield on fire if placed properly."

“Oh, so it’s that!”

“Yes, it’s that,” the two rounded the rightmost end and found what were effectively the cellar doors to her basement. Despite the fact that they were perennially unlocked, nobody, nobody ever dared go inside on their own. “It’s really hard to make them since each new talisman needs to be inscribed exactly the same as the last. Even a single dot out of place renders it useless.”

“Geez, that sounds super hard. You must have been working super hard…”

“Careful, your instinctual ass-kissing is getting really lazy,” Ryne rolled her eyes as Sylas pulled the doors open.

“So, what kind of a circle did you make?” he asked, ignoring the jab.

“Vale—I mean, His Highness’ first demand was wall-reinforcement,” even still, Sylas mused, her cheeks would flush whenever she’d talk about Valen. Ah, handsome boys and their pull. Why are reactions always so completely different? “So, I tried drawing simple stone-reinforcing talismans. Turns out, it doesn’t work—I’d have to draw up talismans for each individual stone in the wall for it to work and, well, no.”

“No.”

“No,” she nodded firmly as they descended down the steep set of stairs lit up by a few wall-hanging torches. “After that, I experimented with localized reinforcements, so covering a larger, general area. Turns out, my skills enabled to cover the upstanding, amazing, incredible size of… fifty squared inches! So…”

“No?”

"No," she nodded again. "But, last week, it finally dawned on me! There is no need to cover the entire wall—just its foundations! But then I also realized that involves miles of length, so, no, again. I was frustrated, I have to admit. And I cried."

“You cried? I didn’t know you cried.”

“That’s because you never visit me.”

"I've been busy," Sylas said.

“With what? Playing a soldier?”

“… what do you mean playing?! Are you implying my skills are bad?”

“Implying? No. Stating.”

“… that hurt.”

“Getting back on track,” Ryne diverted the conversation as they finally landed into the corridor leading to her ‘dwelling’. “I finally figured out the issue.”

“You did?”

“Yes. Reinforcing solid states is naturally hundreds of times harder,” she said. “For instance, if I divorced the reinforcement from the stone, I could easily create a talisman that covers anywhere from twenty to thirty squared feet. Applying it to the stone, however, diminishes it, clearly, by incredible margins. So, I figured—why not not reinforce the wall and instead just… create a shield in front of it?” Oh? Like a force field? “Like a force field of sorts,” she practically read his thoughts, tossing open the wooden doors to the basement. “It’s not quite as strong and resilient as it would have been normally, but I can cover virtually the entire wall with it within a couple of months. Furthermore, I can layer it further, adding extra protection over time. And—it can easily be moved as it won’t be permanently attached to the stone. Tada!”

She set him beside a massive, wooden desk—it was almost seven feet long and nearly three across and was currently occupied by hundreds of strewn pieces of parchments and ink stains. Toward the edge of where the two stood, however, was a remarkably clean portion that only had seven parchments—each exactly the same length, palm-sized, with the same inscriptions across their surface.

“I know it isn’t much,” she said. “But… it’s the first time I ever created a Talisman Circle on my own.”

“… wow,” all the intricacies and notations, naturally, eluded Sylas, but he understood just how much hard work it took when he looked at the state of the rest of the desk, as well as the young girl’s expression. This was something that was chiefly hers, designed and manufactured by her hands. He could sympathize with that, at least. “Good job,” he reached over and patted her head gently. “I honestly didn’t agree with Valen when he asked you to do this, thinking it was too much of a burden. Looks like I underestimated you.”

“Heh, of course you did!” she exclaimed proudly, pointing her nose toward the sky.

"You should show it to him this afternoon," Sylas said, smiling slyly. "He'll definitely look at you in a different light."

“Y-you… you think?” gone was the confident, proud girl immediately—in front of him stood a shy, sixteen-year-old girl with likely her first crush. The transformation was… uncanny, to say the least.

“Aye,” he nodded, petting her again. “I’m sure of it. I mean, if you keep stuttering and mumbling and avoiding his eyes, he’s sure to have questions, so you have to work on that as well.”

“W-wh—shut up! Get out! I need to work!”

“…” Ah, I’d forgotten how fickle a young heart in love is, Sylas mused, smiling wryly while Ryne pushed his back with all her might. He let himself be dragged forward and out of the room, with Ryne slamming the doors immediately.

“T-thanks for the advice…” her low voice trickled through the wooden doors as, immediately after, the sound of the racing, receding footsteps followed.

“… tsk, damn handsome boys,” Sylas cursed enviously, climbing out. “When will it be my time? Preferably with some nice, older dame~~haaah…”