Gerran sighed. He wasn’t running a bad business, but he had hoped for more dramatic success by now. He had hoped that the Firebrand Gym would be able to sponsor a school house, an orphanage, a medical clinic… all those institutions that had made Gerran’s childhood possible after his parents’ young death.
He had avoided becoming an initiate in the Order of the Behemoth only because he thought he could make a bigger impact by pursuing private projects. With the gym, he made the biggest ideological impact he could, especially among the noble-born. He tried his best to instill in them a love for their fellow citizens, regardless of class.
And the only reason he could get away with it was because he was a damn good Fighter, and an even better teacher. If he couldn’t become independently wealthy with a fighting gym, at least he could try to spread some common sense to the upper class. It was becoming harder, though, in the face of growing discontent among the nobility.
He had never considered shuttering the gym before, but he had to admit he was discouraged. How long would this project last? Another year or two?
He sighed and dropped the papers back on his desk, stretching and heading outside.
Two of his students, Patesh and Quinn, sparred casually in the outdoor gym. A few other students, approaching the end of their training, sat on the sidelines. They’d be moved out in a day or two, and Patesh and Quinn would remain.
“Keep your form up!” he called to Quinn.
Quinn was a relatively level-headed individual, and he’d make a solid Fighter. Patesh, though… Was he even getting through to him? He was a uniquely stubborn and irascible student.
Gerran tried to remind himself that no one was beyond hope, but the sentiment rang hollow when it came to Patesh.
The arrival of the new Visitor, though, had been intriguing. At Morwen’s Grove, Gerran had witnessed this new Andy fellow, with zero progression in the system save for a rank of [athletics]. The kid’s talent impressed him. He was a quick learner who seemed to have a cool head. By Morwen’s accounts, he seemed sympathetic to the Order’s values, too.
Gerran had extended the invitation to Morwen for the Visitor to train at the Firebrand, and he hoped she and Andy would accept it.
***
Andy awoke early. He was nervous about his [martial weapons] test, though he didn’t know why… He had completed the forms and drills just fine, and Morwen had been nothing but complimentary. He knew he could count on her mentorly criticism if he needed it. But he remembered from his [combat] training not to presume his own success…
He considered, again, the question Morwen had put to him the night before. Should he go into the city to train with Gerran for his second ranks in [athletics], [combat], and [martial weapons]?
He was leaning towards a ‘yes.’ As much as he felt at home in Morwen’s Grove, and as much as he adored Morwen as a teacher, and as much as he enjoyed the company of Pliny and Noel… he had to admit, he was getting a little restless. He needed some excitement, a little change of pace.
He split wood and fed the fire in the den before sitting down with coffee. He decided to open the book Morwen had let him borrow:
The Virtues
By Archscholar Barthes Romanes
Preface
Virtues are characteristics of the mind and heart that make right action both easy and pleasurable. Without guidance from reason, the soul tends toward short-term gratifications, which can cause undesirable outcomes in life, and moreover, prevents the individual from attaining happiness. With training and discipline in reason, anyone can develop virtues, which, at the end of the day, are the one and only key to a happy life. In this volume, Archscholar Barthes Romanes explores relevant virtues as well as strategies for developing them.
“Those who attain virtue attain everything, for though they have nothing, they are content in their virtue. Those who fail to attain virtue fail to attain anything, for though they have everything, they are discontented in their vice.”
Andy pondered over the passage, sipping his coffee. He had made it halfway through the first page, and he was already thinking carefully about what it meant… He closed the book.
Too heavy for this morning, he thought.
He picked up an easier tome, Minor Monsters of the Cresthaven Region, and opened it up to the index.
Maybe I can find some information on trolls in here… see what Noel was up against, he thought.
He scanned the index and found it, flipping to the corresponding page. He saw a shockingly fearsome illustration of a giant. The human form drawn for size comparison came up only to the troll’s mid-thigh.
The creature wore a loin cloth and carried a giant club over his shoulder. He had tusk-like teeth, jutting from his lower jaw, and a single horn, like a rhinoceros, jutting from his forehead between his small eyes.
Andy didn’t even need to read the description.
He defeated seven of them? Noel must be a formidable fighter…
As if on cue, footsteps resounded up the steps in rapid succession. “It’s here! It’s here!” Noel cried as he emerged into the den.
Morwen appeared, climbing down the ladder quickly. “What’s going on?” she asked.
“My payment has arrived! It’s in the yard!”
The three of them made their way out to the yard.
“Holy shit,” Andy said as they crossed out onto the porch.
Pliny was already on the veranda, scratching his head.
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In the yard, there was a burly man with a wagon drawn by two muscular oxen. The wagon was filled to the brim with treasure chests, heaps of gold, and an array of weapons, some of them glowing faintly.
“Where should I put it?” The man said.
“I suppose put it in the… bunk room?” Morwen said, her mouth still agape in astonishment.
Andy, Morwen, Pliny, Noel, and the wagoneer spent about half an hour unloading the treasure into the bunk room. Andy moved several heavy chests, filled to the brim with gold, jewels, and valuable-looking trinkets. He also took several armfuls of swords, spears, shields, bows, hammers and axes, some made of gold, some made of silver, some incredibly light, some incredibly heavy.
Aside from the bunks occupied by Noel, Pliny, and Andy, and the bunk they had reserved for Yarel’s return, all of the beds and much of the floors were covered in treasure.
***
The four of them, Andy, Morwen, Pliny, and Noel, sat on the porch. It was midmorning, and the air was still cool.
“Before we devote more attention to sorting out the treasure situation, I suppose we should take care of Andy’s [martial weapons] test, eh?” Noel said.
“Yes, yes we should,” Morwen said.
The whole group of them had been a bit shellshocked. The horde of wealth that had just poured into Morwen’s residence was several decades’ worth of wages, even for a well-paid Fighter.
“Andy, don’t disappoint us,” Pliny said. He then turned to Morwen, “I told the lad that I want to take him into the city. Could we make that happen soon?”
“As a matter of fact, we can,” Morwen said. “Andy, have you given thought about whether you want to pursue further studies with Gerran?”
“I have,” Andy said. “I think it’s a good idea.”
“Good,” Morwen said. “We’ll miss you around here, but it’ll be good for you. Plus, you’ll be back in no time.”
“Gerran, huh?” Pliny said.
“Yes,” said Morwen. “He can return to us for his third-rank training, but I think it’s important for him to gain exposure to a variety of teaching styles, and to a variety of environments.”
“When will I go?” Andy said.
“Well,” Morwen said, “last I spoke to Gerran, he had an opening on Friday, giving you three days to do what you will in between.”
“Oh, excellent,” Pliny said.
“Excellent, indeed,” Noel echoed.
“Ah, I can’t wait to show you Tobston,” Pliny said. “My favorite little outskirt. Amazing food, and a good gaming hall.” He rubbed his hands together and licked his lips, perhaps subconsciously.
Andy smiled. A day of entertainment in the city actually sounded like a welcome break to him.
“But enough of this,” Morwen said, “we can get details locked down later… let’s conduct your test. Andy, are you ready?”
“Yes,” Andy said, standing up from his chair.
Morwen descended the stairs and Andy followed. His forms and drills raced through his mind again. He recalled each movement he would have to make in the coming moments. It was nothing too complicated, but each move in his forms had to be precise, and he would need to handle his drills well.
“Staff first,” Morwen said, gesturing to the staff leaning against the tree.
Andy walked over to it and picked it up, returning to the center of the yard where they had drilled in the days prior.
Morwen stood in the center of the yard, directly before Andy. Pliny and Noel remained on the porch, sitting in their rockers, legs resting against the railing.
“Present your staff,” Morwen said.
Andy held his staff in front of him in a horizontal position.
“Deliver your form,” she said, stepping back and folding her arms in front of her chest. Her face was stoic and impartial as she observed his movements.
Andy closed his eyes and took a deep breath. He moved through the motions he had learned just a couple of days prior. He had practiced them again and again, so they came to him naturally. He kept his strikes precise, and his posture impeccable. Even after moving several hundred pounds of treasure that morning, he still retained perfect muscle memory. He even nailed the roll at the end.
He stood up and delivered the final strike of his form.
A quiet round of applause, appropriate for a golf course, came from the veranda.
“Well done!” Morwen said.
Pliny and Noel muttered words of approval to each other.
Morwen picked up her staff. “Now, let’s drill defense,” she said. She approached him and nodded.
Andy did the same.
Suddenly, Morwen launched a flurry of attacks from above, from the sides, and straight ahead. The blows were fast, but not overly forceful.
Andy deftly blocked and parried each one.
Another round of polite claps issued from the veranda behind Andy.
“Your defense is solid,” Morwen said, taking her place again at the center of the yard. Andy could tell that she had to work hard to mask the pride on her face. She couldn’t show too much partiality, not in the middle of an evaluation. “Now, let’s drill attacks.”
They both gave one another a silent nod of agreement. The drill began.
Andy lunged forward, bringing his staff down toward Morwen’s shoulder, then up toward her ribs, then he jabbed straight ahead.
She met each blow with a block herself. “Well done,” she said. “Excellent form.”
The two spectators clapped again.
“Not bad!” Pliny called.
“Not bad at all!” said Noel.
“Switch weapons, please,” Morwen said, switching her staff for a shortsword.
Andy leaned his staff against the tree and retrieved his shortsword, sheathed in the plain leather scabbard. He unsheathed it and stood before Morwen.
“Please, demonstrate your forms,” she said.
Andy went through the motions of the shortsword form, aiming for utter precision with each move. He had memorized the exact angles at which to slash, the exact positions his wrists ought to be, how it felt to thrust forward in the correct way. Every move was perfect, especially the roll at the end.
“Outstanding!” Pliny called as the two on the veranda clapped, their applause growing more intense with each successful demonstration that Andy gave.
“Very nice job,” said Morwen. “Now, finally, let’s drill your shortsword defenses and attacks.”
Morwen approached him with her sword drawn. “Defenses first. Ready?”
Andy nodded.
Morwen moved in slowly, then pounced. She slashed down from the left, from above, from the right, and finished with a jab forward.
Andy caught each blow, blocking across himself, holding his sword above him, blocking outside, and parrying the jab downward as he stepped out of the way.
Morwen had been quick with her movements, perhaps even quicker than she had been with the staff, but she kept the force of her attacks light to prevent unnecessary injuries.
“Excellent,” Morwen said as an increasingly raucous applause continued on the porch. “Now, let’s finish by drilling your attacks,” she said.
They faced each other and began.
Andy launched a series of strikes. He thrust forward, slashed from the right shoulder down, slashed from the left shoulder down, and launched an overhead attack, each of them met by Morwen’s light parries.
They disengaged from the drill as Pliny and Noel clapped heartily.
“Yes,” Pliny called. “Great form!”
Morwen smiled broadly. “Well?” she asked, looking to Pliny and Noel. “What do you think?”
“Pass him!” Pliny said.
“Pass him indeed!” said Noel.
“I agree,” Morwen said, looking back to Andy. She no longer hid her beaming pride. “Excellent work, friend,” she said, extending her hand.
Andy shook it, unable to suppress the grin on his face.
*
Level Up!
Level 3
Skill Rank Achieved!
Martial Weapons 1
*