Chapter 3: Natural Selection

The title of this dense chapter refers to both Alexander and Kōryō as king and Rain Dragon, respectively. Alexander earns Lady Mila's respect with his wisdom as Kōryō awkwardly starts school.

“Lord Nubet,” the general said, “it’s my contention that they will soon retreat. We now officially outnumber them. You said yourself that this battle would decide it all, and we’re about to win it. Memph will finally be its own province; my lord, we’ve successfully seceded from Nybre.”

         “Don’t celebrate. Lord Okankwo is the king’s last hope, and he is an overconfident and stubborn knight. He won’t relent so easily. The time has come when retreat is logical, but he will push for victory still if for no other reason than his racial prejudice against Halflings.”

         “Then, we’ll keep fighting.”

         “He needs persuasion,” Nubet said as he unsheathed his sword. The look in his eye was all the general needed to see; he knew Lord Nubet well, so he knew what the look meant as well as what needed to be done. The general would assume command of the outpost--a cluster of massive tents scrawling with troops--and Lord Nubet would ride into battle. “He’s afraid of you,” the general said. “Okankwo has always had to endure the king’s praises of you for your battle skills. This is battle; a Dragonoid father and Avian mother, the bloods of the two greatest warrior races--you were born for this. Carpe diem, my lord!”

         To the tune of the general’s final exclamation, Nubet rode forth with confidence, saddled on his beloved bronco whose neck and upper body bore silver armor and Nubet his bronze armor and slender, steel, single-edged longsword. En route to the battlefield, hawkish wings of brown feathers shot from his back and began to flap with precisely concerted thrusts of impeccable strength. The bronco accelerated directly into battle, aided in its celerity by the strength of Nubet’s wings. This was Nubet’s forte. Speed was what made him excel in battle.

         In rapid succession, Okankwo’s men were slain one at a time once Nubet reached enemy lines. Six soldiers fought, three against three; Nubet came dashing from one side of the skirmish, using his left hand to turn a knob on his armor’s right shoulder guard, and sent .03 amps into the cutting edge of the blade as he slashed indiscriminately at the torsos of each of the three enemy soldiers he passed. As the bleeding soldiers fell to the ground and convulsed, Nubet was already stabbing with precision at another, the tip of his blade piercing directly into the jugular vein of an enemy he was passing, the extraordinary speed of his advancement failing to hinder his accuracy due to his Dragonoid eyes, which naturally processed all images twice as quickly as human eyes.

         It wasn’t long before Okankwo saw Nubet coming his way, bolting across the field in a winding path so as to slay as many ancillary targets as possible. Okankwo gritted his teeth and drew his broadsword, standing firm in his silver armor. “Do it!” he shouted. Nubet leapt from his horse some twenty yards early with the aid of a mighty thrust from his wings and launched himself to great height. Airborne, Nubet wailed as he came down upon Okankwo who strafed left to avoid the sword and struck horizontally to the right with his own blade upon Nubet’s landing. Nubet narrowly ducked in time to dodge the strike as he turned to face Okankwo, his eyes making battle seem slower than for others. As he turned his body to square up with Okankwo, he slashed diagonally upward and rightward, aiming to cut across the torso from Okankwo’s right hip to left shoulder. Okankwo purposely took the hit, confident in the preemptively increased hardness of his armor, and focused solely on bringing his blade straight down on the arm that wielded the slender longsword.

         Peasants of Ouardia stood on the sides of the street gawking and staring as their newly anointed, Macedonian King Alexander rode in on horseback, the gold of his armor glistening magnificently in the orange light of the evening sun. His elite guards accompanied him, also on horses, and Shugoryū, whom Alexander had just acquired during his visit to the province of Tatsu, walked alongside the horsemen calmly. Shugoryū wore black battle armor from head to toe; the shoulders had sharp, silver spikes on them, and his sword was strapped to his left hip, dangling against his left leg as he walked while his back was covered by a silver, embroidered shield. He and the other men, especially while on horseback, towered over the miniature commoners of the town, which was hardly an accomplishment since Ouardians were Elves.

         Alexander and his men eventually entered the Ouardian palace, and the men remained in the lobby with the exception of Shugoryū. He accompanied Alexander into the actual throne room where Lady Mila, queen of Ouardia, sat on her throne being fanned by one of her subjects after a long day of worrying and plotting over weighty concerns. Her pointy ears twitched as a higher authority waltzed into her throne room. “King Alexander?” she asked in surprise as she straightened herself in her seat.

         “Greetings,” Alexander said with a slight bow.

         “To what do I owe this honor so soon after your anointment?”

         “I’ve just come from Tatsu, and I am visiting each of the provinces this week to discuss various things with each of my knights. With you specifically, I want merely to assess the state of affairs in Ouardia and, of course, spend the night in your company.”

         “Well, how pleasant, albeit unexpected. You’re more like your father than I had anticipated--a hands-on king.”

         "You look stressed."

         "When it's painful, I don't value honesty much. Hold onto that information, dear. I'm stressed over this economy, not to mention the war going on in my backyard."

         "The Memphian Revolution."

         "Fortunately, we believe the battle today has ended it. It was Lord Okankwo's province who led the final strike, and my thieves reported his death at Lord Nubet's hands an hour ago. Memph has allegedly seceded, and I can remove Ouardia's Protection spell within a week or two."

         “I wasn't yet king when the war started, so I'm grateful to you for honoring my request and not getting involved. Ouardia is our second strongest province, so I am pleased with the work you’ve done with this land.”

         “Thank you. Second to Tatsu, I take it?”

         “Indeed, your military pales in comparison, but this province is the source of our excellent use of magic.”

         “Elven heritage, of course.”

         “How are your resources?”

         “Magic's our specialty, which of course requires runes in great abundance. As such, rune cultivation is any Elven province's focus; Ouardia's rune reserves are always in surplus. Our economy as a whole is a different story, especially regarding agriculture.”

         “Anything in particular you’re struggling to fund?”

         “The scholastic community mostly--we’re at a standstill. We need literature and lots of it; higher education is suffering. No new books in fifteen years means we're behind; our schools no longer produce economists, scientists, generals, or architects abreast of the latest studies to actually figure out how to increase military efficiency or construction productivity. We're behind in so many fields.”

         “Your focus is on military efficiency and industrialization? Does this mean you're working on increasing the size of your army?”

         “Well, I want a military that at least rivals those of Tatsu and Viki, so yes. We were drafting peasants into the military as quickly as we could without exceeding our ‘peacetime’ limits as regulated by Ouardian Charter during the end of your father's reign, but as a result, the non-militant population shrunk considerably, so several jobs were going unfulfilled. To prevent an economic plummet, I ordered the use of magic to fix the problem. I had my mages cast a spell known as ‘Love and Peace’ over the province, which is a spell that increases the birth rate of the general population via serenity and amorous sensations.”

         “Very impressive. An aphrodisiac of the mystic arts.”

         “Yes, well, it worked too well. Farmers were unprepared for the baby boom. Essentially, it's all come back to bite me in the last few years because there are too many mouths to feed and too many people to house. These past five years, we focused our spending on land exploration to compensate for the population growth.”

         “So that you could capture new territory to accommodate your people.”

         “Yes, but exploration is expensive, especially since we aren’t that knowledgeable about how to do it as efficiently as Aztlan or Cuzco. My people need to be further educated in that field, which requires a wealth of literature that exists at costs we simply cannot afford. It’s an endless cycle.”

         “I see what you mean. Fortunately, Aztlan could really use the aid of a certain spell I have in mind, and we’re too low on runes--terribly low. I propose we pay you for the runes, splitting the payment between gold and food.”

         “Excellent, as I had hoped, you're attempting to mend Macedon by pooling resources among provinces without tilting all aid in the capital city's favor; your father was wise enough to teach you much before he passed. Give me some ballpark figures.”

         “Tough to do without the reports right in front of me. I’ll play it safe and say 400,000 runes.”

         “That’s all?”

         “It’s a lot to the rest of us non-Elven provinces. For that, Aztlan pays a million gold coins and, say, 670,000 bushels.”

         “Too much food for us, we'll need a little more money instead. All that extra food will spoil, which is another problem entirely.”

         “Don’t worry. The rest of your need will come from elsewhere. It’s likely that someone else will be able to benefit from trade with you as well, which is what I'm trying to encourage. I’ll be sending a messenger with my convoy of goods to let you know what province should be sending you aid in exchange for something they need from you.”

         "You've thought this through."

         A young boy of age sixteen stood in front of his class for a weekly evaluation. In the back of the class, Lord Ryūjin stood by the door with fifteen-year-old Kōryō standing next to him. Ryūjin told him, “This is where you’ll be learning from now on. The class is all about how to become a great warrior. Tonight for example, they’re measuring everyone’s Joule Grade, and they do so every week because they work hard to use what they are taught to increase their Joule Grade.”

         “Ah, Lord Ryūjin,” said the teacher, “you’re just in time to see your son’s outstanding Joule Grade be measured.” The teacher held a small box in her hand and tilted it toward the sixteen-year-old, Tatsuvian prince who postured arrogantly with his arms crossed. The iron sand within it shifted in large amount toward the boy, and the needle on top of the box pointed to a specific number. Boxes like this one were mass-produced throughout all kingdoms of the world as an item no less common than a sword. They were called Sand Scanners. They fit in the palm of one's hand and the iron sand within the box would shift in a specific way that would push the needle atop the box's surface to a particular number on a dial based on the sand's distribution of weight, and Sand Scanners came in varied units for measuring energy in different grades: Nanojoule (nJ), Microjoule (μJ), Millijoule (mJ), Joule (J), Kilojoule (kJ), Megajoule (MJ), and Gigajoule (GJ), respectively; these units were simply called Gigascanners, Joule Scanners, etc. “Excellent as always, Prince Hiryū--65 Gigajoules; you remain the strongest,” the teacher commented, hoping to score points with Lord Ryūjin.

         Hiryū was like his father. He didn’t crack a smile but, instead, walked back to his seat with a stern expression. The classroom had stadium seating, so the boy walked up several stairs before reaching his row and sitting in the isle seat, his royal, violet cape gliding behind him as he walked. He was, by far, the strongest in his class and always had been since the average Joule Grade in his class was approximately 38GJ; consequently, he was the love interest of many a female heart, yet he never let girls cloud his mind or stray his focus. He was too determined to be like his father.

         Kōryō simply stood there next to the king of the province. He was extremely nervous. His hands were sweating, so he wiped them on his pants. He was the opposite of Hiryū who was cool and focused; instead, Kōryō was anxious and scared, and he was wearing a normal peasant’s clothes because that’s what he was: a normal peasant--a kid. Most of these kids were wearing blue shirts with blue pants; it was a uniform. Even Hiryū wore it with the exception of his violet cape to differentiate himself from the others. Kōryō’s hair was white, short, and spiked on top, yet Hiryū’s hair was black, straight, and pulled into a ponytail.

         “Lord Ryūjin,” the teacher said, “why don’t you come on down and let us look at your Joule Grade? It could inspire the students.”

         Without actually complying, Ryūjin tugged at Kōryō’s sleeve and proceeded down the stairs toward the front. Kōryō nervously followed, feeling the eyes of every student in the class. Ryūjin rarely showed up to the school, and people were bound to be wondering why Kōryō was with him. Also, there was extreme stigma surrounding Kōryō at the time because he was actually a bit famous. After all, his court case, which had only just been resolved a few hours earlier, was still the talk of the town and had been for months; it was the biggest news there was. Kōryō's father had managed to keep a secret for fifteen years that he had killed the doctor that delivered Kōryō as well as the fact that Kōryō was a Rain Dragon, which had actually become a term used as slang for ‘crazy’ over the course of the last few generations simply because Rain Dragons were typically insane, and Kōryō was the first Rain Dragon Tatsu had in many generations.

“Just let me put more iron in the scanner because we’re dealing with quite a high grade of energy here,” the teacher said. “Enough of this,” Ryūjin said, indicating that he was not willing to indulge the teacher. “I am here to introduce your newest student, Kōryō. He’s spent his schooling days in the sciences thus far, but he is now being transferred to military school.”

         “Forgive me,” the teacher began, “but why would he do that so late in his school career?”

         “This was an order given to me by King Alexander himself.”

         Kōryō winced as the entire class began a collective “woah” succeeded by innumerable whispers. Even Hiryū’s eyebrows raised as he heard this. He thought, Why the hell would the king of Macedon care about this kid? Just because he’s a Rain Dragonoid who didn’t go as insane as they’re supposed to? To most Dragonoids, not only in Tatsu but in all Dragonoid provinces worldwide, Rain Dragons were known more for their insanity than for their power. The negative aspects of the legend now overshadowed the positive because Rain Dragons were killed at birth, so it had been many generations since anyone had even witnessed the power of Rain Dragons. Most citizens viewed the term "Rain Dragon" as the social equivalent to the term "mentally challenged," so people certainly didn't view it as a good thing, hence the ostracism.

         “Well then,” the teacher said, “this is most unexpected, but welcome to the class, Kōryō. We may as well measure your Joule Grade now. We keep a running tally of everyone’s grade to measure their progress as they grow into stronger warriors. Now, the class averages between 35 and 40 right now, but years ago, when everyone first started this class, they were all at about 1, give or take a fraction. As you are untrained, it’s perfectly natural for you to be hovering between .95 and 1.25. There’s absolutely no reason to be embarrassed. With time, you’ll…”

         “No,” Ryūjin interrupted, “never measure his Joule Grade in front of the class.”

         “Oh… um, alright.”

         “I’m leaving now, as my men are outside waiting for me; however, I need to speak with my son in the hall. Please, excuse him.”

         “Oh, of course, have a good day, sir. Kōryō, won't you have a seat in the front here?”

         It was an awkward situation for Kōryō as he sat in the front of the class trying to keep his head down and his eyes fixed on the surface of his desk. Without even looking around, he could feel all the pregnant glares on him. Eventually, as the woman continued her lecture, Kōryō watched his desk intently and witnessed a paper slide itself between his elbows, both of which were firmly planted on the desk since his hands were plastered to the sides of his head like dual kickstands. Three pages stapled together--the top of the first page read in large, bold print, “UNIT ONE: THE MEASUREMENT OF WORK.”

         The class was studying the concept of Work, not with regard to occupation or strenuous activity, but the scientific definition. Physics defines Work as the exertion of force overcoming resistance or producing molecular change, and since this was all science, Kōryō was pleased to see that he would at least be interested in the class's material. They were learning about Joules, the unit of measurement for work. In the Jewel Age, a person's physical capacity for bodily energy was measured in Joules, hence the importance of a "Joule Grade". The higher the Joule Grade, the more efficient or powerful a warrior could potentially be, but Work was all about potential, which meant it dealt with one's maximum output. Furthering the concept was the fact that warriors commonly found that Joule Grades were affected by the armors they wore; an example would be that Hiryū, whose Joule Grade had just been measured as 65GJ, would drop to about 10GJ if he were wearing the standard Tatsuvian battle armor because the weight of the armor greatly impinged upon his potential output of energy, which would become evident once he ran and failed to move anywhere near his maximum speed due to the weight of the armor. In the same way, King Alexander, a human, wore an armor that held him to 50J without which he would naturally have a grade of 90J. These were all concepts that were new to Kōryō, who was born an entire grade above his peers, but for the rest of the class, it was review. This was the graduating class that year, after all. Graduates of the military academies were always about sixteen years old.

         Meanwhile in the hallway, Hiryū stood with his father, Lord Ryūjin, and the two of them spoke seriously. “Who the hell is he, father?”

         “Watch your tongue,” retorted a zero-tolerance Ryūjin. “Your arrogance has gotten in the way of your progress. Your JG has been stuck at 65 for three weeks now; you used to manage a point every two weeks. What happened to your growth?”

         “Nothing, father, I just… I’ll fix it. Either way, I’m way stronger than everyone in there anyway.”

         “That’s the arrogance I’m talking about. Do not allow yourself to be surpassed.”

         “Who would surpass me? Honestly? They’re all weaklings to me.”

         “After school, you’ll be inviting the Rain Dragon to come to your Advanced Placement training at the Military Training Grounds.”

         “What? Why? Can he even afford that training?”

         “That training costs too much for anyone in your class to afford it, especially that kid. His father, who made excellent money as a defensive elite, is gone now, so he and his mother are poor since his mother’s income as a seamstress is very small, which brings me to the real reason I brought you out here during your class when you should be learning how to get stronger. The boy will be living with us for a while.”

         “Wait, what?! You can’t be serious! He’s…”

         “Shut up! Don’t you dare defy me.”

Author's Note

Long chapter, I had a lot to accomplish here. The points to be made here should further the idea that Alexander is a very capable king, introduce another of his knights (Lady Mila), justify Alexander earning her respect, get the ball rolling on Kōryō's side of the story, convey weakness in Kōryō while still allowing the reader to know fairly well that he MUST be more than meets the eye, and establish a certain disdain for Kōryō in Hiryū.

Reviews

[JR Darewood]

The directness of the dialogue and logistical detail of the descriptions always makes me feel like I'm watching this on animeseason. :) I liked that we finally got to Koryo, poor kid being stuck in military training, and this part was the perfect place to explain the joule grade thing, in a class, well executed.

[AJJordan]

I liked this chapter. It was well written and took me places and showed me things and wasn't just an entire page of dialog. The only thing I would suggest is that you press Enter a couple of times to make a definitive break at the places where the story or the scene switches to another place.

I liked the Love and Peace spell...and its consequences...lol

"Lady Mila, queen of Ouardia, sat on her throne being fanned by one of her subjects after a long day of worrying and plotting over weighty concerns."

I really loved that sentence, which conveys the lofty pressures of of being in command [back of the hand on forehead, eyes fluttering, dramatic sighing].

So as for Kōryō (had to copy and paste that) I would say it has been well and truly established that there is more to him then meets the eye. In fact I would say the opposite is true - we know all about him being this powerful Rain Dragon, and the possibilities of what he may become with training, but nothing about the boy himself.