Cultivating Plants

Stealth was as she had predicted, a stance where every movement was hard-fought. Not because she was slow and heavy – which was any stance that wasn't speed already induced that – but because her body procured that her movements were never detected. She was moving on top of quicksand, not only without sinking but also without displacing a single grain of sand. That was how the stealth stance truly felt.

Then she opened her eyes.

The first thing Aloe saw was Fatima's amused face, but her mind didn't elaborate a single thought as her body ached for air. The scribe gasped heavily, only now noticing she hadn't breathed for a long while.

"That was fast, I expected at least another quarter of an hour." The sultanzade mentioned.

"I have… been out… for a quarter of an hour?" Aloe said between pants.

"More like half an hour, pupil." The fact that she had lost half an hour didn't seem to irk the princess but amused her. "Good job dealing with the charm, though I imagine you are already used to it. I wonder if you can build tolerance from continued exposure…" Fatima only mumbled the last sentence, as if she was talking to herself.

"One question," The princess raised her chin, and the commoner took the gesture as an invitation. "Did you use the charm to make it easier for me to obtain stealth?"

"What? Did you think I used it because I wanted to court you?" Fatima added amusedly.

"I cannot discard the possibility in my field of work," Aloe responded seriously.

"Bah!" The cultivator grunted. "But I cannot deny that statement. Though what interests me is how you found out."

"There is not much to explain," the scribe admitted. "Once I was getting the hang of the stance, the influence of charm seemed to dim more and more, so at that point, I thought you had been issuing it so I could manifest it."

"You are not wrong, but why did you think it was the stealth stance that caused the charm to vanish instead of being me who controlled the exertion of the stance?"

"I… it did not feel like that was happening." She wasn't a hundred percent sure of her claim. "But I also know that charm does not function like that, does it now?"

"No, it does not." Fatima sighed. "There is no controlling that stance, not that gradually. What you saw there was a little perk – more a niche than anything else – of the stealth stance. Because the charm stance makes your body more attractive to the observer, if said observer is harder to detect or downright undetectable, then your body cannot adapt to it. That was what was happening there. This is not a well-known fact, even amongst sultanzade. I doubt even Rani knows it as you would first need to work with the stealth stance and… how to say it? She is the center of attention, that woman. Stealth is her antithesis."

Aloe couldn't deny that fact.

"Consider that tidbit of information a compensation for the events that unfurled yesterday." The scribe cringed at being reminded of it. "Do not get me wrong, I would not have allowed you to get yourself killed. The aphrodisiac is too valuable, enough to threaten a bit the possibility of Mother's rage, so you were never in real danger. But at least now you have a defense against Rani. Heavens know that woman flounders her charm like a prostitute her tits."

Yet again, Aloe couldn't deny that. However, accepting it could likely classify as some degree of treason. There was no reason to risk it, still when the embers were hot.

"But we have distracted ourselves enough," Fatima said. "There is still light in the sky, so let us try to push for agility now." The princess stopped for a second to gather her thoughts. "Following your theory of opposites, I will dare to say the agility stance is the counterpart of strength. Knowing that, what feeling do you think agility exerts on your vitality."

"Hmm…" The scribe hummed in contemplation. "Strength is might, roughness, and violence so… maybe agility is calmness?"

"Not fully wrong, yet not fully right either," Fatima confirmed. "If I were to give agility an epithet, it would be gracefulness. As you have said, strength is violence. But more than that, it is impulsiveness. When you shift into the stance to lift a heavy weight you do not have the imperious need to bash some skulls, do you now?"

"Not at all." Aloe swayed her head. I already have that need every waking moment.

"That is the answer. The strength stance is the mindless impulsiveness of recklessness, whilst the agility stance would be the controlled movements of discipline. An earthen strike against a watery touch, or for a less metaphorical analogy, the might of a war hammer against the grace of a rapier."

"I see." She didn't.

"No, you do not."

Damn. Am I that obvious? Aloe reset her visage as if it were an abacus.

"Talking will not bring you answers, practice will." Fatima placed her hands on the scribe's shoulders. "You have the theory already, so let us just practice."

By now, after a full day of audiences and the previous practice with stealth, Aloe was exhausted to the bone, but she didn't raise her concern as it would be likely shut down by the commandeering princess. Instead, without being prompted, Aloe closed her eyes.

"For the next imagery," the sultanzade started whispering with her honeyed voice, "you find yourself in a storage room filled with fragile pottery. They are expensive ceramics made out of porcelain… you know what porcelain is, right?"

"I do." The commoner added with a sigh. "Was that detail worth interrupting the narration?"

"You need to have a clear image, so yes." Fatima coughed. "Anyhooow… The expensive pieces will break at the slightest touch, you are led to believe that even a wisp of wind will make them crumble. Anxiety is getting you, but the only way out of the storage is obstructed with multiple pots. They are big, bigger than you, and the space separating them is minimal."

Unlike the previous scenario of the party, this was easier to visualize. Every commoner has had that nightmare of being at a rich person's house and knocking down an expensive vase, or that was what Aloe believed. The anxiety Fatima was manifesting into her was very much real.

"To pass through the slits is impossible, even when crawling. The only way forward is slithering like a snake." Aaaand I'm already lost. Aloe didn't voice out her confusion and just let the princess continue with her storytelling. "The spaces are too tight, the only way to pass through is putting your shoulders on top of each other, then dropping to the ground, letting your body become a malleable puddle."

This is not working, not even my body is getting this image. I guess I'll have to try myself. Aloe decided to power through with her own intuition instead of Fatima's poor analogies. Agility is grace, moving like a rapier, flowing like water… not the best image, but I also know that what the stance does is add ductility to the bones, making them malleable and bendable. Probably also to the whole body, so 'slithering like a snake' it's not fully out of the question.

The inexperienced cultivator led with that image in her mind as she started manipulating her inner flow of vitality. Strength is loud and passionate, so agility is… not silent, but perhaps moderate and calm. The sound comparisons crafted another analogy on her head. Strength is a war drum, a march of violence. Agility is… a flute. A sound that flows with the air itself and boasts the calming whispers of the desert.

A perfect image it wasn't, but it was only for a lack of trying. Aloe dictated her movements at the rhythm of an imaginary song. She recalled the powerful cacophony of the strength drums and shifted it into a graceful melody with the agility flute.

Her body slithered, not like a snake, but a soothing song.

Aloe felt her spine lose strength and her body slouching down on the chair. Not as if she were a puppet whose strings had been cut, but a candy that had melted in the sun.

I feel like… water. Her very thoughts became like the liquid she was trying to become. Ah~ Maybe this is not so bad. A puddle needs not to think about…

"Aaaah!" The scribe writhed in pain as her bones protested against her actions, a mighty wail voiced it out.

"Hey, snap out of it!" Fatima grabbed her by the armpits and raised her up to avoid her falling to the ground. "What is wrong?"

"It hurts! It hurts!" Aloe reiterated with tears in her eyes.

"Deactivate the stance at once, you fool!"

Aloe did as commanded, now finding herself impossibly stiff in the chair. Her body gasped for a breath, whilst her mind seared in pain, her thoughts spinning and her vision wobbling.

"Why does it hurt?" The commoner asked weakly, bewilderment drawn in her visage.

"I do not know." The princess answered truthfully. "Agility can be dangerous as you can move parts of your body where they should not be but you did not even have the chance to do that. You only made your bones sof… huh."

"What?" The scribe jumped at the sudden silence.

"Well, let us say I forgot about your fracture."

"You forgot?" Aloe almost screamed; she bit her underlip in rage. "I am on a nince-damned wheelchair, Fatima." The scribe's tone was dead.

"To be fair, you are currently on an armchair."

"It is not the time for jokes."

"There is always time for comedy," The sultanzade said all too seriously. "However it may be, agility is the most dangerous stance to practice, and it is not recommended to practice whilst injured. I dare to say you have hurt yourself more than you already were with this short of an attempt."

"Fatima!" Passion got the best out of her, and Aloe snapped at the princess. The hints of water in the corners of her eyes now became fully-fledged streams. "I feel like I am dying, the pain is horrendous. Why did you not think that before?"

"Sorry." It was a short response, one that may have only incited more rage from the scribe if it wasn't because the one who uttered the word was an imperial princess. Heavens know how much pride she had wasted in accepting her own shortcomings. "I will search for your maid and make her bring you a calming infusion. Shift to regeneration and do not move, the pain will subside after a while."

The princess walked toward the door with heavy steps. Crestfallen. Aloe knew that Fatima didn't care about her, she had shown that much yesterday; she only cared about her productivity, not the person. But even then, the woman regretted her actions.

That was more than she had ever obtained from an imperial, a gesture of utmost beauty born from the lack of words.

Epsilon_Twilight

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