Heretical Fishing

Book 3: Chapter 10: Blade

As I trailed Roger up the stairs from the amphitheater, I glanced back toward the stage.

From the looks on the congregation’s faces, they knew the subject of the conversation I was about to have. Sharon waved at me, giving me a reassuring smile that did wonders for my racing imagination; if she was happy about our little chat to come, it couldn’t be too bad... right? Sergeant Snips blew me a kiss from the far end of the stage, and I mimed catching it and shoving it into my top pocket.

Roger hadn’t slowed for my little moment of friendship, so I hustled to catch up. He was marching across the street, headed for the main crossroads.

“Where are we going, mate?” I asked, trying to sound relaxed as I came up beside him.

“Smithy.”

I waited for more of an explanation, but it didn’t come.

I focused on the warm rays of sun beaming down from above, doing my best to not overthink. When we strode into the smithy, I gazed around at the tool-filled room. It was just as I’d left it last time, except there for a few additions. A pile of metal ingots sat beside each furnace, waiting to be used. There were metal bins of coal beside each stack of metal, ready to fuel the heat necessary for smelting. And on the other side of each coal container, there were sealed sacks of gods knew what.

“So... what are we doing here?” I asked.

Roger walked over to a furnace, checking it over. “I tried every profession we could think of when we were trying to make Gormona think I was actually an entire flock of birds. Blacksmithing was the one I found I had the most affinity for.”

I could tell that was all the answer I was going to get, so I just watched as he pressed a button set in the wall. Chi moved beneath me, circulating around the stone floor. As it passed the furnace by Roger, it flowed through it, and transformed into fire-aspected essence via some Xianxia-land shenanigans that I had no hope of comprehending despite my enhanced awareness.

“Make yourself useful,” Roger grumbled as he shoveled coal into the furnace. “Place ten ingots in a large crucible.”

I retrieved said crucible and took it to the blazing forge, pausing a moment to stare at the mostly translucent flames flickering within.

Roger was at a metal bench on the side of the room, and with his back to me, he cleared his throat. “I realize that I’ve been... adversarial. I also realize that without context, my actions likely don’t make sense.”

I considered how to reply as I placed the ingots into the crucible, deciding that it was best to let him continue when he was ready. I was starting to infer the reason for Roger bringing me here; the grizzled veteran seemed ready to open up, even if only a little.

“Add two scoops of carbon,” he said, his back still to me.

“Right. Carbon. Which is…?”

“The charcoal dust in the sacks over there.” He waved with one hand. “It’s carbon. Add two scoops to the crucible, then put it in the furnace.”

“Oh... right.”

A few moments later, I’d added the requested scoops. I shot a glance at Roger before placing the raw materials into the forge. He was doing something with thick strips of metal, seeming to build a frame. I put the crucible into the furnace, and Roger fetched a bag from under his bench. As he opened it and started pouring, words ground out from him.

“I’ve told you before that I was in the army, right?”

“You did, yeah,” I replied, watching the glowing coals before me.

“The thing is, I’m not sure you entirely understand what that means.”

“You’re right.” I poked at a stray coal that seemed too far from the others, the world itself demanding I return it to the center of the furnace. “I don’t.”

I stared into the crucible, seeing the ingots within still dark and cold.

“I was a career soldier,” Roger began. “I enlisted as soon as I was of age. I was proud to serve my kingdom. Proud to fight for my loved ones and preserve their way of life. It wasn’t all sunshine and glory, but I never regretted my choice. War...” He let out a long sigh. “As horrific as war is, the bonds forged there are incomparable. I made lifelong friends while a soldier. Family, really.”

He shook his head, lines of sadness seeming to linger on his face.

“Over the years, I made my way up the ranks. From infantry to squad leader, and eventually captain. Our lack of losses far exceeded the rest of the army, and at the end of the day, that’s all that really matters. War is a numbers game. It hinges on your ability to remove their pieces from the board while keeping your own. Because of our effectiveness, my original squad all transitioned to leadership underneath me. Awards, accolades, and each other. We had it all...”

He trailed off, and I chewed my cheek as I glanced at his slumped back. I’d guessed he’d had some sort of responsibility in the army just based on his attitude, but I had no idea he was a captain. He continued staring forward, his body frozen.

“I don’t know if this is a rude question, mate, but who were you at war with...?” I asked, hoping to draw him from his memories. “I’ve barely heard mention of another kingdom, let alone an army.”

He let out a slow breath and resumed pouring. “Not really surprising that you haven’t heard about it. We’re at peace now, and this village is far from any of the battles. The kingdom we fought was called Theogonia.

“Oh! Maria mentioned that to me when we went camping. I—wait, was?”

“Aye. Was.” He upended the sack and shook the last of its contents out into the metal frame, then bent and grabbed another. “The war with them lasted over a decade and was fought by regular humans. Cultivators were employed by both sides, but they were only ever unleashed in isolated areas. They’d destroy supply lines, or make terrain impassable for the other side. But they were never used in battle… at first, anyway.”

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“So it was like a ceasefire?” I asked, watching as the metal within the crucible started to glow red. “Neither side wanted to attack with cultivators because the other would retaliate.” I grimaced, realizing it wasn’t so far from the threat of nuclear war back on Earth. Countries threatened it, sure, but no one was willing to be the first one to drop a nuke and open Pandora’s box.

Except in this war with Theogonia, someone had fired the metaphorical nuke.

“Something like that,” Roger replied, his voice haggard. He picked up a wooden block and used it to flatten whatever material he’d poured into his metal frame.

I clenched my jaw, my mind imagining the havoc a cultivator could wreak on regular humans. I watched the flickering fire and glowing coals of the furnace, having caught whispers of the king and prince’s flame-based cultivation. If such destructive chi were unleashed on civilians… the damage would be catastrophic. This wasn’t a short time ago, either. It was within Roger’s lifetime.

While I was lost in thought, the farmer-turned-heretic had continued working. He let out a bone-weary sigh, grabbing my attention. “Come here a moment.”

I strode over and finally got a look at the bench before him. The massive metal frame was filled with black powder, the same color as the carbon I’d added to the ingots, but slightly more course. Using his wooden block, he’d created a gigantic rectangular impression that almost went all the way to the edge of his mold.

“What’s the black stuff?” I asked.

“Graphite carbon. It’s the material Fergus suggested for casting.”

“Right...” I raised an eyebrow at him. “What’s the cast for? A big rectangle…?”

“Fergus intended for it to be a surprise, but agreed to let us make it together when I told him I needed to speak with you.”

He didn’t continue, so I cocked my head in question.

Roger remained staring forward as he smoothed the graphite with one hand, fixing imperfections that didn’t exist. “It’s a... what did he call it?” Roger waved his hand vaguely. “It’s something you’ve wanted for a while but haven’t had the chance to make. It’s for cooking.”

My eyes went wide as I looked at the rectangular cast. “Oh! It’s a barbecue plate!”

“Yeah. That. Before we pour the iron in, do you want to make any adjustments?”

Normally, being surprised by the prospect of a barbecue plate would have filled me with joy, but the shadows of Roger’s tale lingered fresh in mind.

“It looks almost perfect, mate. I might make one change...” I retrieved the smallest chisel I could find and started shaping a lip around the rectangular indentation Roger had already made. I took my time making the impression uniform, hoping that Roger would continue his story without being prompted. When I stole a glance, he stared at the wall, his eyes distant.

After I’d already completed one side, he finally spoke.

“As you can imagine, the cultivator’s joining the battle had dire consequences. No one can truly say who weaponized them first. Gormona’s propaganda machine told us that the enemy had leveled a village unprovoked. The enemy accused us of doing the same, of sending a squad of cultivators after their king’s head. In the end, it doesn’t matter who made the initial attack. The result was the same...”

After he trailed off, a long silence stretched between us.

I concentrated on the etching I was making in the graphite carbon, trying and failing to focus my will toward creation.

Roger grunted. “There’s no way to properly describe what happened when the cultivators joined the battle. The devastation was unparalleled. They were forces of nature.” Roger clenched his fists at his side. “In a single attack, I lost my squad. My family...”

He turned his back to me, clearing his throat and averting his eyes as he took a steadying breath.

My heart dropped in my chest. “Roger… I’m so sorry.” I put my chisel down and fumbled for the right words to say. “I can understand your hatred for cultivators. I—”

“No, Fischer,” he interrupted, his throat hoarse. “You can’t.”

His core vibrated with fury, small whispers of chi radiating from it. Just like the flame-aspected essence roaring within the furnace, his power had a feel to it, but I didn’t recognise it. I sent my awareness out, finding his chi... sharp. It had a deadly edge to it, and my instincts screamed to get away. Instead, I remained, sensing the odd fluctuations coming from his core.

“We were having a meeting when he arrived,” Roger said, his words quiet yet just as razor-edged as his chi. “We were discussing what to do about the cultivator threat when a single man arrived in our midst. I threw myself to the ground immediately, which is the only reason I yet breathe. Everyone else, though...”

Roger’s power ebbed, and I thought it might return to his abdomen, but then it rushed back out even stronger than before. My body took a step back, my instincts screaming to get away from his chi.

“In the blink of an eye, they were torn apart,” he continued. So much essence flowed from Roger that he seemed to glow to my senses. “There was the sound of a whirling blade, and where my friends had stood, only pieces remained. There was nothing I could do to protect them.”

“How did you escape...?” I asked, not sure of what else to say.

“The cultivator took a single step toward me, arm raised and ready to finish me off. He looked at my outfit and said, ‘Oh, we’re on the same team.’” Roger’s upper lip twitched, his body and core tensing. “That psycho grinned at me. That cold smile he wore...” He clenched his fists so hard that his arms shook and muscles bulged. “I still see it most nights.”

“Frack me, Roger.” I wanted to reach out and place a comforting hand on his shoulder, but my senses still screamed no to get close to the blade-like chi coursing from him. “He’s not here in Tropica, is he? That cultivator?”

“No,” he replied simply. “He only had one eye.”

“Are... are you sure? Snips regrew hers. You’re positive he isn’t among those we saved from Gormona?”

“I’m not an idiot, Fischer,” he spat, whirling on me. “Even if he healed or changed his face entirely, I’d recognize that smile anywhere.”

I thought I’d find tears welling in his eyes when he turned my way, but they held only rage. A fire hotter than any forge roared within his gaze, threatening to burn away everything in sight.

“Cultivators are monsters, Fischer.” The air around the room stirred. “They tear through humans and rip lives asunder. It’s in their nature to destroy.”

I wanted to tell him that wasn’t the case. That we’d be different. But then I recalled the feeling of ecstasy that had rolled through me back in the capital. My chi had wanted to roar free of my core. It needed to be expended, paying zero regard for the surrounding lives that would have been taken as a result. I believed I could control myself—was it possible for me to make that promise for everyone else? I trusted my friends in Tropica too, but what of the cultivators we’d just rescued?

I swallowed, my throat dry. “I can’t believe that of you, Roger. You’re a cultivator too, and no matter how strong you get, you’re way too stubborn a prick to let it control you.”

I hoped my joke would bring a grin to his face, but the curl of his lip held no mirth. “You’re right on that front, at least. My power will be used to protect—a blade to strike down those that would threaten anyone I love.” The essence running through the room seemed to respond to Roger’s declaration. “I won’t lose anyone again. I can’t lose anyone again.”

The chi retreated, sinking down into the stones to get as far from him as possible. I lowered my brows as I felt it rush back up, but then I realized the truth.

It wasn’t the smithy’s power; it was the world’s. It swelled up from all sides, growing into an immense cloud.

Without warning, it slammed into Roger.