Chapter 14 : Buffalo Soldier

Mnemon Rhomon, Sorcerer

Realm Year 764, Ascending Wood

Road to The Lap, Southern Inland Sea Coast, Barbarian Lands

“So how exactly are you intent on conjuring a meal for us, Sorcerer?” Siata asked, leaning over him as Rhomon assembled a section of brass pipes from his bag. They were wrought more crudely than he’d prefer, but the entire work was enchanted to the best of his abilities so it should work fine. “Some manner of spell then?”

“There are probably spells that would work for this, but no I’m not going to be using sorcery.” Rhomon corrected, fitting the pipes into place and tightening nozzles. After a tentative test of the instrument, he stood up, casting his gaze around for a good spot. They were out of the rockiest part of the mountains at this point, now into a section of grassy rolling hills interspersed with boulders and canyons. 

Instrument in his hand, bow and quiver on his back, he began to clamber up the side of a particularly fine boulder. It was some immense hand sticking out of the ground, posed as if to hold an object, a long-fallen statue overgrown with mountain grass. Only the rubble remained to remind of the past. Rhomon bet if he inspected each and every boulder they came across, they’d all bear the distinct shapes of unnatural, carved work.

The boulders ranged from as large as a man’s torso to larger than most common houses, and could be seen as far as his eye could see in any direction, littering the grassy slopes. Hundreds, thousands of statues once stood here. Now only their fragments remained.

It was a very distinct kind of wistfulness he felt, looking out over the ruins. He smiled, shaking his head and turning his gaze down to the cart, where the rest of their little band looked up at him with raised brows. “No, today I will be using thaumaturgy again. The Art of Summoning will be more than suitable to conjure our dinner.”

“Summoning isn’t sorcery?” Brahm asked with a raised brow, hands on his hips. 

“It can be, but by default no. If I asked you to climb up this rock and sit next to me, and you did so, that’s a successful summoning.” Rhomon waggled a finger down at the monk.

“Does that count?” Brahm asked dryly. 

“Thaumaturgical summoning is, like all thaumaturgy, based upon the natural inclinations and flows of essence through Creation.” Rhomon continued with his lecture, ignoring the skeptical monk. “In knowing of these natural flows, and the characteristics of the subject, a thaumaturge can enact changes through mere cause and effect. Sorcery, meanwhile, is the active usurpation and alteration of natural flows. They both manipulate essence through opposite means.”

“So what will you do, Sir Rhomon? Something to do with that instrument in your hands?” Shuri asked with a curious tilt of his head. 

“One of the most consistent means to lure any creature is through song.” Rhomon declared, briefly sliding the instrument up and down again before nodding in confidence. He took up a pebble and scratched out a word in Old Realm before his feet, surrounding it with a circle then licking his pinky and tracing the pattern. “And it is a well known fact that all cattle love jazz music.”

“Jazz?” Shuri asked, turning to the others to see if they knew what he was talking about. He received a collection of shrugs and confused looks. It would be very odd if any of them knew what Jazz was, Rhomon was pretty sure it was entirely foreign to Creation beyond broad musical motifs. 

“Observe.” Rhomon grinned, then raised the brass pipe instrument to his lips. It wasn’t quite a trombone, or a saxophone, but it was his best effort recreation. 

Loudly echoing over the hillsides, the sound of a lone trombone played. Long, low, soothing tones rolled across the grass and rocks, a tune he half-remembered from a previous life. Like all jazzy, brassy music, it brought to mind a romantic mood. The ambience of the tune rolling over ancient ruins was a distinctly new feeling.

He wasn’t all that good at music, but he had enough training forced into him by his upbringing that he could appreciate it abstractly. 

He took a few moments to breathe at the three minute mark, lowering the instrument and sighing.

“Nothing arrived.” Brahm observed with a blank expression. 

“It’s a very unique instrument though, cousin! You should give a performance at the next party we attend!” Siata gave a little applause.

“I’m not done yet!” Rhomon growled down at them, flicking a pebble in their general direction. “Calling animals can take upwards of two hours. It’ll be awhile!” 

“Two hours to call an animal to butcher? We might as well keep moving and just shoot the birds.” Melia complained in his general direction, before remembering that she was supposed to be respectful and jolting. “Er- uh- kindly speaking, master.”

“I’ll start making some rice.” Brahm muttered, retrieving the appropriate supplies from the cart and finding a nice flat region to start setting up a fire. 

“Instruct Siata on how to perform a proper sacrifice while you’re at it.” Rhomon commanded loftily, waving a little hand down at him. Brahm paused and sent a suspicious glance his way.

“Why?”

“We’ll wrap the thighbones in fat and burn it to the road-god for protection along his path.” Rhomon waggled a finger. “And none of us mortals are allowed to make sacrifices, but that’s why we’ll have cousin do it.”

“What am I doing?” Siata asked, glancing back over. “Apologies, I wasn’t listening.” 

“Brahm will teach you how to make a proper sacrifice.”

“Oh, certainly.” Siata cracked his neck. “Say, if it’s going to be awhile, then I might ask for a spar, Snakeman.”

“Hm? Oh certainly!” Shuri smiled happily, hand going to his sword. “I welcome any opportunity to use my blade!”

Rhomon smirked and raised his instrument, beginning another long, soothing song. The image of the beast in his mind, its name in Old Realm clear on the rock before him, and the music carrying through the winds. 

It was nearly thirty minutes of consistent play later that his efforts were finally rewarded, but in an unexpected manner.

“There’s a buffalo approaching.” Shuri called out, currently wearing just a chest wrap and loincloth. Siata was wearing just a loincloth, and the pair of them had been sparring for some time.

Why were you wearing a chestwrap, snake? You didn’t have boobs. Rhomon could plainly see his lack of boobs.

“A buffalo?” Melia asked, pulling up from the cart with furrowed brows. “Master, weren’t you trying to summon a cow?”

Rhomon squinted, following the snake-prince’s gaze down along the hillside until spying a beast slowly trotting in their direction. It was similar to a cow, albeit with knobs on its head and a distinct sweeping motion to its horns. Close, but not a cow.

“Uhh…” Rhomon glanced down at the Old Realm sigil he had scratched out. Old Realm was a kind of progenitorial language that most other languages derived- the language used by the Primordials when they constructed the world long ago. Its basic vocabulary was overall simple, a mere thousand words, but the words were assembled to form more nuanced or complicated ideas.

Each compound word looked like a tiny painting, little figures layered and stacked upon one another. Like spirits smooshed into tight spaces and made to coexist. There was no simplified alphabet, because the creators of the language could use magic to conjure tomes worth of words in an instant, so they never needed it. 

He thought he had written the word for cow- there was no proper individual word for it, so he had to assemble it from combining concept-words. ‘Beast, Herbivore, Horned, Herded, Milked’ all assembled so that the primary traits formed the core, surrounded by secondary traits.

“Can you milk a buffalo?” He asked quickly.

“...Yes? I believe so?” Shuri asked with a tilt of his head.

“I need to be more specific next time.” He grumbled, vaguely annoyed with himself. “Right, ready for battle friends, we eat buffalo tonight.” He declared, setting the instrument down and picking the bow up. 

Now, if he did this right, then he’d puncture the lung in one shot and it would die in less than a minute. The brain would be another valid target if he was a better archer, but the lung was much easier. Large animals had very, very big lungs- they made for reliable targets.

“...Should you be the one to-” Brahm began with a tone of rising suspicion. Rhomon loosed the arrow before he could finish.

The arrow, instead of hitting the beast’s lung like he was aiming, went high and struck squarely into its upper back. A very non-vital region of the animal. 

“-Fire.” Brahm finished, pausing as the buffalo let out a furious bellow and began to charge. The monk pulled himself up at once, racing for the cart to find a weapon.

“Oh no.” Shuri replied mildly, eyes widening and sword lifting up defensively. 

“Haha- don’t worry! We can take a beast like- GAH!” Siata declared boastfully, stepping forwards and raising his sword just in time for the buffalo to smash its head against his torso. The dragonblooded flew for a few meters before landing in a pained heap. 

Shuri fared slightly better, the buffalo smashing into him, but he was ready and caught one horn by the hand and the other by his sword, long heavy grooves cutting into the earth as he was pushed back. Thin arms somehow holding back a half-ton and furious herbivore. 

“Lead it around- lead it around!” Rhomon ordered in a panic, knocking and loosing another arrow, which punched into its side and enraged it further. The buffalo pulled back and twisted, throwing the snake-prince up to land across its back and charging again.

Shuri, holding onto the horn with one hand, desperately began to stab with his sword. Siata lifted himself woozily and raised his sword again.

The buffalo smashed into his guard, pushing the dragonblooded back against a stray boulder with a terrible cracking noise. 

“You forgot about your missing eye- didn’t you?!” Brahm yelled out, leaping forwards and smashing both of his feet against the flank of the beast. Something within cracked and the beast staggered to the side, quickly recovering to sweep its horns at the monk, who flipped over the attack and crashed his heel into the side of the beast’s skull before landing.

“Shut up and kill it!” Melia shrieked from the safety of the cart. 

“Go for the vitals- the vitals!”

“Blind it!”

“The horns- watch the horns!”

The invisible gods bore witness to the frankly comical scene of an exalted champion, a pair of powerful warriors, and a sorcerer struggle against a single angry animal.

—

Silent save for the cicadas and crackle of a campfire, they sat around and waited for a stewpot to finish boiling. Containing an ideal blend of rice, vegetables, and random herbs that Brahm picked up along the roadside. 

Each of them save Melia were covered in a medical paste and at least one layer bandaging to hold it in place. Siata was the worst off, wrapped thoroughly enough to give a decent mummy impression. His nose was padded, and one arm was in a sling. Shuri was significantly better off, perhaps on account of some bestial vitality of his heritage, but still wrapped in bandages and medical paste.

Brahm had splint around one arm, and Rhomon had a long gash along his leg. Not from the buffalo itself, but from where he attempted to jump down and help and had sliced open the limb on a sharp bit of rock while descending. 

“I think that, next time…” Rhomon began slowly, drawing long annoyed glances to him.. “We will have Siata, Shuri, and Brahm use bows, while I hold its attention under the effects of Invulnerable Skin of Bronze.”

“I think that’s a perfectly fine idea.” Siata inclined his head, voice muffled by the bandages. “I imagine we will be somewhat more proficient shots than you.”

“Won’t that be more dangerous…?” Melia asked, a bead of sweat on her brow. She wasn’t used to heavy labor, from the looks of it, and helping him apply medical treatment followed immediately by helping him process a buffalo corpse was a bit too much.

He was pretty tired too, but he disguised it better than she did. “I’m fairly certain I’m the most durable one here by a wide margin.” He mused consideringly. “With bronze skin active, of course.”

“Naturally- you have sorcery that makes you supernaturally durable.” Brahm pointed out with a raised finger. “You rely on it too much, no amount of durability will help you against some foes.”

“I probably don’t rely on it enough, honestly.” Rhomon muttered.

“Wait, apologies.” Melia said, pulling up and blinking. “Sorcery?”

It was Rhomon’s turn to blink in slight confusion, exchanging a glance with his fellow men before looking back to his aide. “I- I told you I trained at the Heptagram, didn’t I?”

“Did you not know what that meant, alchemist?” Brahm asked in dry amusement.

“I- I could infer that it was a school of mystic learning…” Melia brought her hands together, raising them up and down as she spoke. “But he said he was an alchemist and didn’t elaborate, so I…”

“Pfeth.” Rhomon let out a noise that was almost a laugh. “For clarity, yes, I am not just a thaumaturge. I am a fully fledged sorcerer as well. Wicked, nefarious, and dastardly by nature.” He nodded assuredly. “At any given moment I am merely a breath away from going mad with power and unleashing a font of endless curses against innocent bystanders.” 

“No you aren’t.” Brahm refuted with a roll of his eyes.

“You don’t know that!” Rhomon pointed dramatically. “Mark my words, never trust a Sorcerer! Not even one! It’ll be a terrible mistake!”

“That is the common wisdom, aye.” Siata replied with a grin under a layer of bandaging. “You don’t seem to utilize sorcery that often though, cousin.”

“It’s not very immediately useful, most of the time.” Rhomon shrugged and reached over to check the stewpot. It was steaming hot, but he wasn’t quite sure if it was properly cooked yet or not. He elected to give it a few more minutes. “Sorcery is powerful, certainly, but it’s slow and unwieldy and downright pointless for many things.”

“So most sorcerers use sorcery to summon demons to do things for them- which is just sloth on their part.” Rhomon rolled his eye. “Rather than going out and talking to other humans and commissioning a bodyguard and paying them a fair salary- they enslave a demon and have it hover around them all day. And then the demon kills some hapless servant because it doesn’t care, the sorcerer blames the servant instead of their own stupidity and hubris in bringing demons into the world, and everyone learns a lesson about why sorcerers are untrustworthy scum.”

“You… seem to feel strongly about this, sir Rhomon.” Shuri commented diplomatically.

“If anyone summons a demon when literally any other option is available, you should flog them.” Rhomon declared bluntly and firmly. 

“It’s a bit harsh, don’t you think cousin?” Siata asked with a smile, leaning back slightly before flinching at the pain of his injuries. 

“It’s a good idea.” Brahm supported with a blank expression and a nod, reaching forward to check the pot. “Stew’s done.” He declared, setting the lid aside and starting to dole out potions in bowls for everyone. One scoop of rice, then a different ladle for one scoop of buffalo and random herb stew. He gave himself only one portion of rice and a sprinkle of salt. 

“Says the monk!” Siata laughed. “Thank you.” He received the bowl gratefully. 

At this point, Rhomon wanted to say that the Heptagram lost three students to demons while he was in attendance. Unfortunately the magic of his oath to not reveal the Heptagram’s secrets kicked in, and he was unable to form the words. Instead he grumpily began to chow down on the stew. 

“I’ll take first watch. I’m going to summon a bird.” Rhomon offered through a mouthful of food. It wasn’t all that special, but the herbs, vegetables, and salt made it tasty. The meat was a bit too gamey. 

Suspicious glances were sent his way. “Not to hunt.” He clarified with a wave of his hand. “I’ll be binding it as my familiar. It’s a bit overdue for me to have one.”

“What’s a familiar do, sorcerer?” Brahm asked, not lowering his suspicions yet.

“It is an animal that obeys my commands and I can draw strength from.” Rhomon said blandly. “I intend to use its eyes to see through on occasions that require greater perception. Such as the situation we were just in.”

Brahm nodded slowly. “...You should’ve had one already.” He declared with a sharp nod, provoking a round of chuckles as Rhomon glowered. 

“I know that already, monk!” 

“Are you going to summon a bird, or just something that’s very similar to a bird, sir Rhomon?” Shuri teased with a smile, sampling his own bowl. 

“I should summon less sassy traveling companions.” Rhomon grumbled, finishing off his bowl and ladling himself another portion. “A busty and sultry apprentice that’s enamoured with everything I do, and praises my every action.”

“Apologies master, I’m not that desperate for your approval.” Melia commented dryly. 

“You aren’t all that busty either.” Rhomon shot back, making her face scrunch up, mildly offended.

“They- they are perfectly adequate, thank you!” Melia waved a hand at her chest. “Just because you don’t appreciate it-”

“You’re valuable because of your mind, not your body.” Rhomon scoffed.

She cut herself off, a complicated expression on her face, eyes staring into the side of his head as he finished his stew. “I- Thank you but-”

“Did you get that list of alchemical formulae complete?” He asked, making her roll her eyes and huff. 

“I’ll be finished by this time tomorrow, master.” She grumbled, turning back to her bowl. “It got too bumpy to write earlier.”

“Uh huh.”

“Do you have more of that pain-duller, cousin? My ribs are screaming at me.”

“Second bag, third pouch on the right.”

“Ah- thank you.”