"I have?" Murciel looked down at himself, surprised by his mothers comments of his physical growth. He hadnt even noticed how his pants now barely came down to his ankles. And his cloak had become a cape.
Thena turned to face Mrs. Augustus. "Have you discussed nothing with him?"
Mrs. Augustus scowled, "The boy doesn't care about anything but getting into what he's not supposed to."
"How do you mean?" Thena questioned.
Mrs. Augustus pointed at Murciel, "Go smell him."
Murciel panicked. He wasn't even entirely sure why but the events of the day— the red, Logan, Sandmaw, the Foul-Beasts….
Before he could say anything, Thena was putting a hand on his thin shoulder and pulling him close to scent his head.
"He's been listening in on my field reports to the Druid Patrols and fussing with them!" Mrs. Augustus spat, "The boys going to get himself killed…. Or worse."
Thena spun around to look at Mrs. Augustus who still stood at the round table clutching her cloak.
"Yea. Worse." Mrs. Augustus repeated.
Thena turned back to Murciel and scented further, "How many was that, five?"
"Six." Murciel corrected.
"What's your current Cultivation Stage?"
"Mortal….." Murciel tried to ignore his own rising shame.
"What branch? There are mortals who feel like mortals and those who fight closer to gods." Thena said.
"Low-Seed." Murciel dropped his head. For all he'd worked for, he was still at the beginning. Still bronze. Still—
"Hmmm…" Thena seemingly thought aloud to herself, "That doesn't sound accurate. How would a Low-Seed Druid of the the Mortal Cultivation Stage defeat six Foul-Beasts alone and best a Demi-god in combat?"
Murciel looked up at her. Logan's words once again ran through his brain before evaporating at the sight of her kind smile.
"When I commented on your growth, I wasn't referring to your height, young warrior. Keep discovering yourself. Keep pushing for more. It's the duty of the Druids to cultivate the green…. Many forget we ourselves are also part of the green." Thena said.
Murciel smiled and gave his mother a Druids salute.
Thena returned the gesture.
Mrs. Augustus sighed as if a child being supported by their mother was a failure of some sort.
"Mother."
"Yes, Mercy?"
"Titus showed me his new shifting abilities." Murciel said.
"He's grown as well. Our enviroment demanded it."
Murciel nodded, "Can I see what you've learned? It might help me reach the next Cultivation Stage. Professor Switch says the health of one plant can repair the others with enough exposure."
Thena smiled, "Sounds like you're finally paying attention in training. Growth does beget growth."
"So you'll show me your power????" Murciel hopped around in place.
"No, Mercy."
"What the—"
Thena held up a hand to silence him, "Do you know what Cultivation Stage I reside in? Comfortably?"
"Green Knight." Murciel commented, "You're the youngest Green Knight ever."
"I'm an Green Knight of the Oaken Warrior branch."
Murciel's eyes widened.
"This last deployment into Low-Earth was….. treacherous. And pointless in many ways. But still, I clim Yggdrasil The Ancient's branches of power. With that being said, our difference in power is too great. You wouldn't be able to comprehend much of what I'm doing. I'm closer to the Verdant Lord Cultivation Stage than you are to me."
"Verdant Lord….. I don't even know what that is."
"You don't need to now."
Murciel threw his head back and groaned, "I can't see your abilities or learn what a Verdant Lord is— why is this my life?"
"Let me offer an alternative."
"Yes. Please. I accept."
Thena laughed. He didn't see her laugh often, it made him nervous. "There's a Dark-Root infestation six miles from here. The Patrolling Druids of Silverhenge's most accomplished were supposed to complete the mission, but I think we're capable."
"Thena!" Mrs. Augustus started, "What does this teach him?"
"Nothing. This is for me."
Mrs. Augustus quieted, "Be back before sunrise."
Thena bowed, "Yes, ma'am."
Murciel followed his mother out.
Suddenly they were out, under the dark evening sky as it continued to mix and be overcome by the dark purple of encroaching night.
The winds grew richer.
Murciel felt relaxed as the dark came. Excited, even.
That had to be because of his mother.
No other reason.
He watched Thena lift Titus' saddle and throw a handful of stiched bags over the back of the beast. It was quick and efficient. No more than a few minutes and then she was turning to Murciel.
"Hop on."
Murciel nodded and hopped onto Titus.
The bulls width had his legs spread wide enough to feel the stretch in his inner quads. It's muscles pushed into him with every inhale.
"I want a bull like Titus when it's time for me to learn Beast-Taming. At what branch of the Mortal Cultivation Stage does that begin?"
"The Sapling Druids of Goldhenge. They begin their journey into beast-taming and shifting. Their missions require it."
"What kinds of missions are those?" Murciel asked.
"When I was training in Goldhenge, I took down my first Wyrm Colony. They tainted a whole village. It was….. hard work. But Titus and I are much harder."
"…cool."
"Not cool. Serious." Thena corrected.
Murciel still thought it was cool but he kept that fact to himself.
"Are you ready?" Thena asked.
Murciel nodded, "Are you not hopping on?"
"No. I need to stretch my legs." Thena took off in a burst of dirt and torn grass.
She was a blur in the distance.
Murciel grabbed hold of his saddle and yelled for Titus to follow.
They moved like the wind, swift and sweeping as they drifted across the outskirts of Seersgrave and past the coverage of Cave-Valley.
Soon enough they escaped the dense massive forests and Murciel found himself catching up to Thena as she cleared open grasslands in massive leaps and bounds. Her green and gold aura glimmered in the evening dark like torchlight, making her a beacon to follow.
She hadn't done any fighting or any magic beyond empowering herself with the absorption of Ambient-Mana, and still he was amazed.
She was right. He wouldn't be able to comprehend much else.
The richness of the dark wild air was tainted suddenly as a small patch of forestry loomed in the distance, right at the edge of a cliff drop off is the scent of stone and water behind it said anything.
Thena skirted to a stop.
Titus stopped beside her.
"This is it?" Murciel questioned.
"You can smell it, can't you?" Thena asked.
Murciel looked at her, "I can."
"What else can you do these days?" Thena asked.
Murciel felt his mouth go dry.
"Perhaps you'll be the one showing me things tonight." Thena said suddenly, "But before that, where is your weapon? I gave you those daggers for a reason."
"I lost them fighting the Firespeaker."
Thena shook her head, "Fair enough. I got you something a bit more fitting."
"You did?"
Thena flicked her chin to the saddle. "Have a look."
Murciel hopped off of Titus and dug through the left side of the saddle. Strapped down behind thick bags of seeds and leathers were a pair of blades.
They were shaped in a way he'd never seen. He couldn't find the handle at first, but eventually he got aquianted.
Unique wasn't the right word. They were otherworldly.
The handles stuck out at the sides, allowing the sharp silver metal blades to run up along his arm like fins…. Or wings. Runes and sigils engraved the metal, the light of the rising moon gave the bladed sides a sparkling white glow and allowed him to see the name written on its edge.
"Sanquine Retribution."
"They're Tonfas. From lands far from here." Thena explained.
"What fighting style fits this?"
"You'll figure it out. Let's go, young warrior. You have much to show me."