Savage Divinity

Glancing up from her latest calculations, Mila sighed and tossed the diagram aside to join the other failures. It still wasn’t right. How many iterations did this make now? The tenth? The hundredth? Shoulders sore and eyes tired, she wavered between stretching her arms or rubbing her eyes first and opted for the unsatisfactory compromise of doing both at once. Belly rumbling in protest, she wrinkled her nose and shuffled her diagrams about, hoping there was a plate with food hidden somewhere beneath the myriad of scattered parchments. An embarrassing dilemma, too hungry to sleep but too tired to go out in search of food, what was she to do?

A knock came at the door followed by Rain’s cautious inquiry. “Mila my love? May I come in?” Though she tried to respond, it seemed like there was a disconnect between her mind and her mouth as no sound emitted from her dry, parched throat. In fact, now that she thought about it, she wasn’t sure if she even opened her mouth, too drained from her efforts to make Rain’s vision a reality.

That damned idiot with his nonsensical, infuriating ideas, gorgeous amber eyes, and crooked, heart-melting grin would be the death of her.

After loudly announcing his intentions to enter, Rain cracked open the door and peered in, taking his sweet time as he surveyed the area. Seeing her stare, he flinched and disappeared from sight before reappearing after a short pause with eyebrows raised in surprise. “Oh good,” he said, forcing a smile as he stepped into the forge. “You’re... uhh... Hello my love. I brought breakfast.”

Simpering at her beloved betrothed, Mila tried to thank him but words failed her. Carefully clearing a space on the desk, Rain presented her with a sumptuous meal of pork-bone and preserved egg congee, topped with diced peppered greens and scallions. Taking a seat beside her, he wrapped one arm around her waist while the other poured a cup of tea. Leaning against his shoulder, she closed her eyes and sighed in contentment, enjoying his tender, loving care.

Hmph. It’s about time he showed up, who did this idiot think he was? Here she was slaving away for who knows how long, all to design the Spiritual Weapon he’d envisioned. It wouldn’t kill him to show some appreciation every now and then, a tiny ‘thank you for working so hard Mila’, or ‘I love you and don’t deserve you Mila’, or maybe even ‘you’re so incredible Mila, no one can compare to your brilliance’. He hadn’t even given her a betrothal gift yet, despite having found a fortune in antiques and Spiritual Hearts. Whatever, this made up for it, somewhat. Grunting, she nodded at the cup of tea and opened her mouth, waiting for him to get the hint. Chuckling, Rain brought the cup to her lips and let her sip much too slowly for her liking. Drinking greedily, she finished the cup and squeaked for more, too tired for complete words much less sentences.

Kissing her temple as he refilled the cup, Rain whispered, “Silly girl, overworking yourself like this. At least you’re finally willing to eat, I was worried my cooking wasn’t to your satisfaction.” Snorting softly in reply, Mila sipped her tea and wracked her memory, trying to remember if this wasn’t his first visit. Who’d brought her meals? Was it Rain? The only people she remembered talking to were Papa, Tenjin, and the other experts she’d requested, their names long forgotten in her haze of Inspired effort. How long had it been since she started working? A day? Two?

Dismissing her thoughts, she leaned further into his arms, content to lay in his embrace and be fed like a child. This was nice, enjoying her meal while he hummed a catchy little tune, the comfortable thrum of her chest filling her with warmth. Rain rarely sang but his melodies were varied and original, like nothing she’d ever heard before. Lin often made up words to go along with the tunes, little nonsense verses beloved by Tali and Tate. So darling and well-behaved, Mila adored the white-haired twins, though she didn’t know how to care for them. That was Rain’s domain, a master in the mysterious ways of the domestic arts. If it weren’t for his wandering eye, wanton behaviours, and inability to drink within his limits, he’d be a perfect husband.

Even with all his flaws, Mila wouldn’t trade him for the world. She only wanted to rid him of one or two poor habits, was it too much to ask?

“You keep looking at me like that and I can’t be held accountable for my actions,” Rain whispered, his hot breath brushing against her neck and sending a cold shiver down her spine. “My lovely Mila, so helpless and vulnerable, how am I to resist?” Another kiss followed as her cheeks heated up, both scared and excited by his suggestive tone. He wouldn’t, would he? Not here in Papa’s forge and certainly not like this. When was the last time she’d even bathed? All she could remember were endless hours of frenzied scribbling and exhaustive mental efforts, desperately seeking to hold onto her precious Mother-given knowledge.

Oh no... who’s been cleaning her chamber pot these past few days? It couldn’t possibly be Rain, could it? Mila was still an unwed maiden, she’d die of embarrassment if her beloved handled her... No, no, no...

“Oh my love, no need to cry,” Rain said, hugging her tight. “I was kidding, I won’t take advantage of you, I swear.” Shaking her head, she wanted to tell him that wasn’t why she cried, but she couldn’t find her voice. All she could do was clasp his hands and hold him close lest he think she found him repulsive. Relieved, Rain sighed and closed his eyes, taking a moment to rest. “Okay, no more bawdy jokes. Are you still hungry? Thirsty? Need to use the chamber pot? No? Then it’s time for bed. You’ve been working too hard my love, you need rest.” Ignoring her feeble squeaks of protest, he slid an arm behind her knees and carried her like a princess to the back of the forge. Though he still struggled beneath her weight, his steps were firm and arms stable, a sign of his growing strength. Laying her gently on the cot, he draped the quilt over her and knelt at her side, stroking her hair to lull her to sleep.

Though she wanted nothing more than to sit up and return to work, she lost the battle against fatigue and fell into deep, restful slumber. It felt like she had only just closed her eyes before she opened them once again, wakened by her full bladder. Finding the room shrouded in darkness and her face pressed against a damp, furry body, she leaned back and wiped her mouth, trying to muster the strength to stand and find the chamber pot. Too uncomfortable to sleep but too tired to do anything about it, this was becoming a too-familiar situation.

Awakened by her movements, her furred companion’s chest rumbled in protest, kneading her belly with two massive paws. Piecing together the clues, she patted Aurie’s head and rubbed his cheeks with her thumbs, feeling his massive fangs hidden beneath his jowls. If Aurie was here, then Rain couldn’t be far, the sweet, affectionate wildcat never straying far from his papa. “Rain?” she asked, her voice rough and raspy. “Are you there?”

“Right here my love,” Rain replied, his voice sounding distant and surprised. Sparks flew and candle-light flooded the room to reveal Rain’s lethargic expression over by the door while Mama rose from the ground beside the cot, her face etched with worry. Song blinked sleepily from beside Mama and Sarankho while Papa snored atop his bench beneath the window.

“Girl, you truly are a cause for concern,” Mama said, stroking Mila’s cheeks. “Losing yourself in the Mother’s blessings for so long, barely eating or sleeping, I was beside myself with worry. Worse, you called for the boy first, so unfilial.”

Her soft smile took away the sting of her words. “Sorry Mama,” Mila whispered. “What are you doing sleeping on the floor?”

“Hmph, this poor excuse of a wildcat stole my spot, keeping me from sharing your cot.” Rolling her eyes, Mama bopped Aurie’s head in mock anger, who responded with a happy chuff. “A spoiled, overindulged fur bag is what he is. Were he left to his own devices, I’m certain he’d have starved to death in his youth.”

“Mm, no Mama, I mean... why aren’t you all sleeping in your rooms?” This was a little much, sleeping in the forge with her entire family.

“My daughter has been in a waking stupor for the better part of a week and you expect me to sleep in my room? We’ve all been staying here and taking turns looking after you.”

Warmed by the thought, Mila’s brow still furrowed as she reflected on Mama’s words. She couldn’t possibly have been working for so long, could she? It barely felt like a day, no wonder she was so tired and hungry. As if responding to her thoughts, her belly rumbled and Mama sent Rain off to fetch food and tea. After helping wash her face among other things, Mama smiled and brushed Mila’s oily hair aside. “So dear daughter of mine, how are you feeling?”

“Frustrated,” she growled without thinking, sinking into Mama’s embrace. “I was so close to solving the puzzle, but no matter what I did, it didn’t feel right. I can’t explain it, I just had a sense of wrongness about the work. I’m not confident enough to try my hand at forging it, but I can’t figure out what’s wrong. I failed Mama, I failed.”

“Nonsense.” Mama patted her head and rocked her gently, a warm, comforting presence in Mila’s time of need. “Failure only occurs after you give up, and my Mila is nothing if not stubborn. Truth be told, I am heartened to see you struggle, your path thus far has been too smooth and effortless. It is good for you to experience adversity, as you will be stronger for having overcome it. Besides,” Mama added with a pinch of Mila’s cheeks, “I’m no craftsman but I know not every bout of Inspiration results in a groundbreaking new Spiritual Weapon. Even if nothing comes of this, know I am proud of you Mila, as proud as anyone could ever be.”

The heartfelt sentiment made Mila tear up, though Aurie spoiled the moment by poking his head in between them, hoping to join the embrace. Laughing, Mila kissed the needy wildcat before waving Song over. With a shy smile, Song sat on the cot’s edge and joined their embrace. “You will take these lessons and use them to accomplish great things sister, this I know.” Song’s confidence made Mila swell with satisfaction and she nodded in reply, happy to be so well-loved and supported.

Rain soon returned with a veritable feast, though how he managed it so quickly in the dead of night was a mystery. Chatting as they ate, Mila soon learned the gritty details of her Inspired fugue, her cheeks burning with humiliation as Rain and Mama took great delight in listing her embarrassing blunders. On the first day, Papa peeked in to check on her after six hours and received an inkwell to the face for disrupting her thoughts.

Things only got worse from there.

Over the next nine days, Mila devolved into a snarling, grunting, ink-stained mess, mechanically eating whatever food and drink was made available to her and stopping only for short breaks to sleep, sometimes right at the table atop her latest sketch. On more than one occasion, she tried to eat a candle or drink from the inkwell, even nibbling on her failed diagrams in times of extreme hunger.

This was simply too much. Mother above, how can you treat your revered subjects so callously?

It was a delicate balance working with Mila in her stupor, as they worried any abrupt actions might inadvertently put an end to her Inspiration. After two full days, she spoke her first full sentence, wanting to speak with a bowyer. She only had a vague recollection of the events, knowing she asked about speeds and wind shear and other terms she could barely put a name to much less explain. Then she’d asked for an Amplification expert and Charok and Tenjin arrived, but their level of Insight wasn’t to her satisfaction and they were soon sent them running from her scathing rebukes.

Thereafter, Mila proceeded to berate and harangue every expert Mama arranged to come help, cursing them for their complete and utter lack of knowledge or value. Her words, verbatim. Whatever goodwill Mila had with Mama’s old friends, she’d used it all in four days of Inspiration-fuelled inquisition. Whatever, if they wouldn’t respect Rain, then she had no reason to respect them. Her inquiries only came to an end after Rain brought Diyako and his peers to help answer her questions. Well-versed in what they called the natural sciences, they answered her queries to satisfaction, giving her several mathematical formulas which she used to derive the feasibility of Rain’s ideas.

Wishing she could bury her head in the dirt and never emerge, Mila dreaded apologizing to everyone Mama listed. Not only would it be expensive, but it felt unjustified. It wasn’t her fault, she wasn’t in control of her actions. If anyone took offence then they should bring up their grievances with the Mother above and leave Mila out of it.

“Still,” Rain said, glancing over Mila’s drawings, “I don’t see why these won’t work. Like this one, it seems like a great idea. Coolest blade slash bow ever.”

It took a moment for Mila to puzzle out her own work, the drawings unfamiliar to her tired eyes. “Eww, no.” One of her more desperate attempts, forgoing the spring-launched projectile for something more familiar, a longbow with springs added to each limb to increase the draw weight. Not only was it unable to Amplify an arrow, the draw was so heavy it’d take someone with Papa’s strength to fully utilize, making it worthless even if she found a string strong enough to withstand the force. The blades she added to the limbs only made matters worse, a garish monstrosity of a weapon best burned and forgotten. It was almost as bad as the crossbow with a blade attached to the barrel, or the other crossbow whose limbs folded up into a poor likeness of an axe. Of course, she made all these drawings before learning exactly how Amplification works, so they were all useless.

Why was it so difficult to make a melee/ranged hybrid weapon? Obviously the Mother saw merit in the idea else She would never have granted Mila Inspiration, but what was she missing?

Undeterred by her curt answer, Rain pulled out another diagram. “How about this one? I like this, it’s like an axe-rifle. A little short in the barrel though. This is pretty close to what I wanted too, a coiled-spring launcher.”

“Yes, but it won’t work as intended.” Pointing at her careful measurements and calculations, Mila sighed and shook her head, deciding it was better not to spare his feelings. “See, your idea to use a coiled spring seems solid at first glance, but it’s riddled with flaws. You understand how Amplification works and why it doesn’t work with a bow right?”

“Uh huh.” Rain nodded as his eyes darted from side to side. “But umm, why don’t you explain, just as a refresher.” What a terrible liar.

“When drawn, a bow stores energy in the flexed limbs,” Song interjected, saving Mila from offering a snappy retort, “and when released, it exerts a constant force on the string which propels the arrow forward. Amplification exerts an instantaneous force which sends a wave through the string. This results in either a snapped string, failure to launch the arrow, or an arrow launched in an errant direction. The proper timing for Amplification is difficult to measure and near impossible to do in real time, as it hinges on a variety of factors such as draw length, string tension, humidity, and angle of launch.”

“Uh huh, uh huh,” Rain said, nodding despite not really understanding. “So it’s virtually impossible, got it. So why not use a sling, like a rope and stone?”

“You encounter the same issues,” Song replied, “albeit on a smaller scale. Impossible to aim correctly. Amplification works best when channelled through a rigid material and used on impact. Flexibility introduces too many extra variables to take into account.”

“So how does Charok do it? Doesn’t his finger flicking thing work on the same principles, storing energy in his bent finger and unleashing it at the point of impact? How’s he so accurate?”

“That’s what I asked but he couldn’t give me a straight answer,” Mila huffed, remembering her frustration. She’d have to apologize to him too, so unfair. “In the end, we concluded since his body was the medium, he instinctively ‘smoothed out’ the process or somehow accounted for other factors. The strange thing is, he’s not the only one who can do it, but no one can explain how.”

“Ha, now you know how I feel most of the time. No one explains anything ever.”

Sighing, Mila ignored his delight and continued. “Your coiled spring idea suffers all the same problems and several unique ones to boot. It’s theoretically similar to Charok’s flicking, but lacking the ability to stabilize the spring and smooth out the process. You say the axe is too short, but make it too long and the coil vibrates too much during decompression. Not only does it make timing Amplification difficult, the projectile will be wildly inaccurate. What’s more, there’s a problem with efficiency.”

“Not efficient enough?”

“Far from it.” Mila shook her head. “With how much force I can pack into a near-indestructible spring, it can launch a projectile at speeds anywhere from 100 to 150 meters per second depending on the weight, which isn’t too amazing compared to a good bow. However, if we factor in Amplification, we could easily see anywhere from two to four times the speed.” For some reason, it irked her how accurate Rain’s randomly sprouted numbers were. Six hundred meters per second wasn’t as preposterous as she’d once believed.

“... so what’s the problem?”

This time, Mama answered for Mila. “The faster an object moves, the greater the force of wind acting on the object. Around 350 meters per second, the force is so great it can shatter steel bolts with ease.”

“Yea, the sound barrier.” All three of them stared at Rain until he explained. “As you approach the speed of sound, 350 meters per second or close to it, aerodynamic drag sharply increases. Breaking the sound barrier is why whips make a cracking noise. It’s not a big deal, you pierce through with slim, inflexible flechettes or avoid the sound barrier by using heavier projectiles, retaining more kinetic energy at lower speeds.” Pretending not to see their questioning gazes, Rain looked down at the diagram once more. “Besides, for the accuracy thing, couldn’t you secure the projectile in place instead of resting it against the coil? Then stick something like a prod to the end of the coil. The spring uncoils, the prod strikes the projectile, and boom goes the Defiled. No more stability or spin issues. Hmm... you could even use multiple springs to help minimize the effect of errant oscillations.”

“It’s not so simple!” Mila exploded, angered by his happy-go-lucky attitude. “This is a Spiritual Weapon, not a wood-cutter’s axe.” So what if his idea had merits? Oh, she could use a telescoping arm to help further stabilize the springs, even placing it in the middle of four springs. That would allow her to shorten the spring without losing power. Another idea flashed through her mind, to make a hammer and insert the springs in the head. Instead of launching a projectile, it could be triggered to propel the head forward 5 to 10 centimeters, much easier to Amplify and with no need to worry about projectile accuracy. Or a giant spike emerging from the tip, oh, it would be so magnificent... No focus. Catching herself before falling into another daze, Mila shook her head. “Most warriors only get one, so it has to be perfect.”

This time, it was her turn to be stared at. After a long pause, Mama’s asked, “Dear daughter, are you telling me you have been slaving away the past week not because your ideas will not work, but because they are less than perfect?”

Frowning, Mila defiantly stared back and answered, “Isn’t it the same thing? ‘If you’re going to do something, do it once and do it right’.”

Her imitation must have been on point as everyone in the room turned to look at her still sleeping Papa. Though he pretended to be slovenly and lazy, Mila knew better than most the pains he went through the ensure every object he crafted was made to perfection. Even the tiniest of flaws in the most common of iron tools would not pass muster, and Mila strove to reach the same standards. While they were distracted, she reached for her inkwell and brush, readying to draw out her newly imagined axe-rifle and impact hammer.

They would need better names, but that could come later.

Losing herself in the work, she only came to when someone took hold of her brush. Lashing out on instinct, her fist bounced off iron-wrought flesh. Nursing her bruised knuckles, Mila looked up to see Mama towering over her with an amused grin. “Enough girl. Your work ethics are commendable, but this is too much. Come,” she said, dragging Mila out into the afternoon sunlight. “We have a funeral to attend and it will not do for you to arrive looking like a beggar.”

“Whose funeral Mama?”

“The former Marshal of the North, Shing Du Yi.”

Oh no... poor Yuzhen, she must be devastated. Squeezing Mama’s waist as they rode Kankin through the streets, Mila closed her eyes and wept. It was obvious Shing Du Yi sacrificed himself to keep his daughter safe, one final act of fatherly love. Mila could only imagine how torn up Yuzhen must be.

Rest well in the arms of the Mother, Shing Du Yi, a true Dragon among men.

Chapter Meme