The Dragon Ascendant

The Quiet Power

CHAPTER 6: THE QUIET POWER

Raiden sat quietly in the garden. A warm, gentle breeze rustled through the leaves as the sun began its slow descent. Before him lay a collection of ancient scrolls, and he was studying them intently, trying to comprehend the complex and difficult teachings on sword magic and chakra gates. 

The serene ambiance of the garden was quickly replaced by the sound of footsteps approaching…..footsteps that were anything but quiet. As Selene approached, her lips twisted into a smirk that was almost a sneer. She was obviously coming to give him a hard time, and she wasted no time starting in on him. He chose not to respond right away, thinking that if he ignored her long enough, she might leave. He continued to read, his focus unwavering, despite the range of expressions appearing on Selene's ever-changing face.

Selene's tone was sharper than necessary. "I heard about your performance at the Conquest. An E-rank? Even for you, that's pathetic. Everyone's been laughing behind your back, you know? Maybe you should stick to the stables, at least there, you won't embarrass yourself."

Raiden's fingers stilled over the scroll, and he looked up, his calm but piercing eyes boring into her. "Does it make you feel better, mocking others?" he asked quietly.

Selene faltered, caught off guard by his unexpected response. "Excuse me?" she managed, a bit taken aback.

Raiden stood, careful not to jerkily fold the scroll or fumble, suggesting he was in control of the space. He faced her fully now, his height and presence invested with that quiet authority that made only nonsense to her since they'd started on this road together.

"You spend so much energy belittling others, Selene," he said. "But I wonder...what is it that you're trying to compensate for?"

Selene stared at Lady Morgana; her icy presence filled the garden. "Morgana—" Selene began, but Morgana cut her off with an upraised hand. Morgana's contemptuous gaze traveled over Raiden's face and flitted back to Selene.

"He's not worth your time. You're better than this, Selene."

Selene's anger flared again, and it took effort to keep her voice down. "You think I regard him as anything close to what I would regard a brother? No, Morgana. You act with such disdain, but he is….simply put, an E-rank. E-rank in the Conquest, and yet he thinks he has a place in this family? What distorted view of reality must he have to allow that kind of notion to flit through his mind?"

Morgana's expression went from contemptuous to incredulous, as well as a little amused, and she returned her attention to Raiden. "Do you honestly believe you will ever be anything other than our little punching bag? You should be thankful, Raiden; I allow you to live under this roof."

Selene was laughing behind Raiden now, but he didn’t mind, he knew that both women put a lot of stock in their idea of the “show.” Was he somehow entertaining them? Power came in many forms, after all.

"But were these just 'cabooses' on the old 'Power Rollercoaster,' taken upside down at dangerous angles, with all the precariousness that entails?"

"You actually enjoy this, don’t you?" Morgana scoffed, with that flicker of unease showing in her eyes. "Are you really bold enough to think you’re pulling off what most figures of your rank can’t?"

Raiden sensed another shared glance between the two women. A wordless conversation.

"Why don’t I pull off what figures of my rank can’t, then?" he asked, momentarily stalling for time to figure out what they were up to.

That night, the calm of the manor house, with the moon riding high in the sky, was broken by a lone figure slipping stealthily out of a room. Raiden. He had always been overlooked, a second son with an elder brother who shone in every conceivable light….bravery, talent, and such. Raiden's brother was the hero of a thousand tales, and Raiden was only the son of the man who had no part in those stories.

No part, that is, except for overwriting the history told in those tales and the manuscripts bound with covers of blue and red and dark brown leather curling at the edges. Watching those covers curl and thinking of the dust motes that would waft up into the air if anyone tried to open one of those books made Raiden feel a kind of determination he had never felt before.

When he got to the clearing, he was hit with an unexpected energy…a strange mix of anticipation and determination he'd never felt before. He unrolled the Swordmaster scroll and concentrated on its contents, the words glowing as if lit from within by some divine force.

Raiden balled his fists and let himself visualize the events of the Conquest. The sneers and taunts of his enemies, Lucan's infuriatingly self-satisfied face. He let the anger wash over him, but not for too long: he didn't want to be stuck in an anger loop, like he had been for way too long in the past. Instead, he thought about his desire for strength and what that meant to him.

He didn't know how long he had been pushing himself…hours, days. Time lost all meaning when you were straining against the boundless confines of your own body and soul. He poured everything into his practice, and then some, demanding of himself magic and mastery that should have been impossible. And really, they were, until they weren't.

Dawn found him standing in the clearing, staring not into the sun but into the unfathomable depths of his own potential. He nearly struck down a newcomer to the scene, a voice reaching him just before he stepped over the threshold of his own home.

"Are you a thief or just a man scared to lose himself?"

The woman in the red robe looked at him with disdain.

"Who are you?" he demanded, hurrying toward her. He needed to see her face.

"You'll know soon enough," she said. "Power comes in many forms." And then that lady just vanished.

I walked back toward the manor, desperate to avoid being seen. I whispered to myself, "Power comes in many forms. What does she mean by that?”