“Block with your sword, not your face.”

  “Keep your arm up. No, the other arm.”

  “Take a half-step forward, and then—”

  “What the hell is a half-step?”

  Training with Naska was exhausting. She wasn’t a particularly harsh instructor, but she was exacting. She wanted perfection out of me, and expected me to understand things she did and said with little explanation.

  Sure, she’d go through the process of breaking down a motion or a command into small, specific details if I asked her to, but then I’d be expected to practice each and every step a hundred times before I could move on.

  Still, she was patient, and I could do repetitive tasks, at least for a time. Every now and then I insisted we break things up with a bit of sparring, and in those moments, I often regretted it soon after.

  Namely because Naska handed my ass to me without even trying. She’d push and fling me around with the motions of her wrist alone, and I wouldn’t even manage to make her breathe heavy.

  “You’re progressing rather well,” she said to me after a solid two hours of practice, through which I felt like I’d learned basically nothing, besides maybe how to hold my wooden sword and break my falls a bit better.

  “I am?”

  “Yes. You’ve gotten better at not answering back, and you spend less time pouting than you did only hours ago.”

  “I do not pout,” I informed her, crossing my arms in the process.

  “Ah. My mistake.”

  “How about my actual sword progress?” I asked, a touch hopeful.

  “Have you attained a swordsmanship skill yet?”

  “No…”

  “Then that probably answers that question.”

  Damn. Naska was pretty brutal.

  “Don’t fret. This is a more intricate skill to acquire than most. It’ll take time. Frankly, I’m expecting it to be a week or two until you’re offered the skill.”

  I listened and I nodded. I supposed that was fine, and I wasn’t going to complain about it, but the fact that I hadn’t immediately picked up [Swordsmanship] like I had [Pickaxe Mastery] did bother me a little.

  “Is there any area you think I need to majorly improve on?” I asked her.

  “All of them.”

  “Wow. Said that without missing a beat, didn’t ya?”

  Naska’s eyes lingered on me for a moment. “Hold onto the practice sword. I’ll give you a couple of basic strike and footwork drills to attempt on your own, assuming you wish to expedite things.”

  “Expedite?” I asked her.

  “Speed things up,” she explained. “You seem in a rush to improve.”

  I always was.

  I watched Naska flawlessly recite two distinct sword drills, repeating them a couple of times each to ensure that I’d gotten a good look at her.

  She moved very fluidly. In my eyes, her motions were flawless and powerful. She looked like she could take on just about anyone with only that piece of wood in hand.

  “I am a level three Sword Adept,” she told me through pivots and flourishes. “It’s one of the only combat skills I’ve managed to evolve, and I imagine that’s largely due to how much tutelage I had in my youth. That said, the difference in skill between me and my brothers is far greater than the difference between us.”

  Wow. When she said it like that, it made me wonder just how many of her flaws I couldn’t even conceive of due to what a novice I was.

  “Even down here, there are multiple fighters who I imagine outrank me with a blade. I’m hoping that the time spent developing your skills will reward me with greater insight.”

  “I hope so, too.”

  I really did. I didn’t want Naska to spend her time teaching me and not get anything out of it. She already did a lot for me and my group as is, and she wasn’t charging me a penny.

  Besides, after what she’d told me about her family, I could more than understand her desire to improve. When that was your competition, how could you not feel motivated to be stronger?

  “Same time tomorrow?” she asked me.

  I thought about it for a moment, then nodded.

  “Same time tomorrow.”

  ***

  “Well, shit.”

  Jackal and I stood in a section of the cave that bled in light from above in a pale, white-and-green sheen. You couldn’t see the sky from here, exactly, but it was enough natural light that it fostered a fair bit of plant growth.

  Or at least… it had. Most of the plants here were picked clean already.

  “Damn,” Jackal complained. “I swear there was more here last time I went by!”

  He put his hands on the back of his head, staring out at the mostly empty grove before us.

  “Well, let’s get to it,” Jackal said with a possibly-forced grin. “I’m sure there’s still a bunch of useful stuff in here. All we gotta do is pick through it.”

  I didn’t argue. The two of us got to work. I thumbed my way through roots and leaves, reading system notifications to see which were the daselbrood plants I was searching for. I didn’t find them immediately, instead finding molecrest, a purple, leafy plant, and vast quantities of barryk, which was yellow and had large blooming buds.

  Jackal was ripping up basically all of the same plants that I was. We stuffed what we found in baskets as we went, filling a decent amount of space, but even after a half hour of foraging, we’d gotten no closer to discovering a single daselbrood.

  That was, of course, until I tried examining one of the four red plants that Jackal had walked right past earlier on.

  [Would you like to store Daselbrood Plant? Y/N.]

  “Hey, Jackal,” I said, walking up to him with a freshly picked dasselwood. “What’s this?”

  He peered at the plant in my hand for a second, and then shrugged his shoulders.

  “That grey thing? I dunno. Pretty sure it ain’t useful.”

  I blinked at him. “Grey?”

  “Yeah. Grey.”

  “Jackal, this is a daselbrood plant,” I said. “Also, it’s red.”

  Jackal tilted his head at that. “That’s red?”

  He squinted at the plant in my hands. “Nah. That’s clearly grey. Red is… I dunno. It doesn’t look like that.”

  I looked at the plant once more. It was as red as anything I’d seen in my life. “Jackal… what colour is a ruby?”

  He gave me a funny look. “Red. Everyone knows that. I’m not stupid.”

  “Have you ever seen a ruby?” I asked.

  He narrowed his eyes at me. “No. So what?”

  “What colour is the sun?”

  “What the fuck kind of question is that?” A growl seeped into his tone. “It’s orange.”

  “Describe orange to me.”

  “Well, it’s… like a yellow, blue kinda thing…”

  Jackal couldn’t see colours properly. Great.

  Also…

  “I thought you said you knew what we were looking for?” I asked him.

  “I did!” Jackal exclaimed. “A daneldorf. I’m searching just as hard as you.”

  “...it’s daselbrood.”

  “Whatever,” Jackal shrugged. “Don’t matter what the name is. Point is, I’m gonna find ‘em.”

  “But I just showed you one,” I insisted. “Why’d you say you could help me look for them if you didn’t even know what they looked like?”

  “I said I knew my way around plants,” Jackal defended. “I do! I know where they grow. And I know what some of ‘em are. Sure, I ain’t ever heard of no daisywood, but I figured if we went to enough places like this and grabbed enough of everything, we’d find some.

  “Plus, now we know what they look like! So it doesn’t matter what I said.”

  I looked at him.

  “That’s…”

  He looked kinda pissed off. Maybe he was questioning his eyesight. Maybe he thought that I thought he was an idiot.

  “It would’ve been easier to search if I knew that. Next time, try and lead with it.”

  I picked the remaining dusselwood plants, counting out four.

  Jackal looked somewhat deflated. I’d expected him to bite back somehow, but he just ended up looking at the ground.

  “Hey, four down,” I said to him. “Wasn’t a complete waste of time.”

  Jackal ignored me. I spoke louder.

  “Do you happen to know any other places like this? Places that might have more?” I asked him.

  Jackal looked up at me. “Y-yeah. Maybe. Assuming they ain’t been picked clean already.”

  I could’ve gotten angry with him for leading me out here. The situation was definitely smoothed over by the fact we’d managed to find some of the plants in question through the course of our search.

  But ultimately, I recognised that Jackal had been trying to do something helpful, however he chose to go about it.

  “Alright. Let’s finish up here, and then we’ll pick up somewhere new tomorrow.”

  Jackal didn’t say anything. Just nodded stiffly.

  “Who knows? Some of these other plants might be worth a few coins. Might as well grab what we can.”

  That did it. Jackal was immediately back into action, harvesting every live plant he could find.

  ***

  Things fell into a solid routine over the next few days. Mornings were spent training with Eric and then mining, after which me and Jackal went on the hunt for more dasselwoods. Evenings were split between Naska’s sword lessons and my own training, everything from wall-punching to rock throwing to running and jumping with [Flame Body].

  It was a lot of work, but I was managing six hours of sleep, and I’d noticed that my body was adjusting to the high workload. I could deal with the aches and pains. I could use a pickaxe for hours and still hold a sword in the evenings, even if I hurt while I did it. The time I spent foraging with Jackal gave me some reprieve, at least.

  “How’s the hunt going?” Maisie asked me three days in.

  “Not bad,” I told her. “We’ve found eight plants so far, so only twelve left to go.”

  “Only eight?” she asked. She bit her lip. “You know, I could help you. I’m not exactly bad with plants myself.”

  I dropped my voice. “I appreciate it, but…”

  “But what?”

  “I think we’re fine on our own,” I said. “We’re making good pace. No need to trouble yourself.”

  Maisie gave me a long look, then shrugged.

  “Alright. If you’re sure.”

  I honestly wouldn’t mind the help. This was looking like it was gonna take another week at this rate.

  Jackal would, though. I could see him getting frustrated last night when we’d only been able to locate a single dasselwood, and it was quickly becoming apparent by how overeager his searching was that he was determined to finish this himself.

  I wasn’t really sure why, but it clearly mattered to him.

  I decided I’d take Maisie up on her offer if we managed to lag behind further. I’d rather do it without having to ask, but I wasn’t going to jeopardise myself either.

  It was weird having people eager to do things for me. I supposed I didn’t mind in Jackal’s case. Some of these plants would probably make money once I sold them, so he’d at least get something back for all the time he put in.

  Training with Eric was really paying off. A couple of days ago, I’d managed to raise my [Mining] skill to 6, and everyone else in the group was boasting at least decent growth.

  Eric had calmed down with the group some. He still had his moments where he became an angry little psychopath, but primarily, he was acting like himself most of the time; a kind, chilled out kid.

  Honestly, that just made it more terrifying when he went crazy mode. I was thankful Naska wasn’t like that.

  Or maybe I wasn’t? Her patience could feel condescending at times, and she was extremely hard to make heads or tails of. It would be nice to know how she felt about my progress without having to ask her, especially if I didn’t have to take her words at face value all the time.

  Honestly, I thought it’d be fun just to see her react strongly to something. It was a juvenile thought, but I couldn’t shake it.

  I didn’t wanna make her angry. It felt too mean, and I also didn’t feel like being sliced in two.

  Ideally, I’d like to impress her with my swordwork so much that she broke character and actually smiled. I wasn’t expecting cheers or applause. Just a smile would do.

  But… three days of continuous training and still no swordsmanship skill told me that wasn’t happening any time soon, so I needed an alternative.

  I stared at a bubbling crock pot. An idea formed.

  “Hey, Ceri. Can you cook up an extra portion for me tonight?”

  “Sure,” she said with her mouth full of carrot. “There was gonna be leftovers anyway.”

  Great.

  Training with my [Flame Body] took a different flavour on the fourth evening. Namely, I was trying to figure out how to heat soup to the optimum temperature using only my hands.

  I had about an hour to experiment with it until I was due to meet Naska. In that time, I thoroughly ruined the soup. After about twenty different attempts to heat it in an hour, it tasted abysmal.

  I did, however, manage to figure out how to keep the bowl nicely warm somewhere around the fifty minute mark. So it was that I rushed back to camp and took another serving from the communal pot.

  “Hey! You got a tapeworm or something?”

  I ignored Ceri’s call of confusion, thanked her, and ran off in the direction of Naska’s camp.

  The journey was around fifteen minutes. Once I’d arrived, I used my hands to keep the bowl nicely hot as I walked throughout the camp, eventually finding Naska at her usual spot, waiting to begin the day’s lessons.

  The moment I did so, I marched up to her and deposited the hot soup bowl into her hands.

  “Here. For you.” I tapped the spoon at the end of the bowl. “Taste.”

  Naska barely raised an eyebrow at me. “Is this some custom I’m unfamiliar with?”

  “Nope.” I shook my head. “Just good food. Try some.”

  Naska slowly, almost trepadatiously, lowered her head and raised the spoon to her lips, getting soup and a bit of veg on it. She sipped on the edge of the spoon, then withdrew, staring at the steaming bowl.

  “A little cold for my liking.”

  She had to be joking, right? I’d kept the bowl hot all the way here!

  This story originates from a different website. Ensure the author gets the support they deserve by reading it there.

  She touched the palm of her hand against the top of the bowl, and with a pulse of mana, a blue flame spread throughout the liquid contents, instantly evaporating a little.

  Then, she took another, longer sip.

  She seemed to consider the taste for a moment…

  Then went in for a second bite.

  “This is… pleasant.”

  I couldn’t tell if it was high praise or if she was trying to be polite.

  “Really?”

  “Yes. Far better than the soups I make.”

  Huh, so she did like it! Not that you could tell by her face. She looked exceedingly neutral as always. Almost bored.

  She passed the bowl back to me. “That said, I’ve already eaten. I do appreciate it, but I’ll be ineffective in our training if I consume any more food.”

  Ah, that made sense. Didn’t really think about that when I decided to bring this to her. Guess I could pour this.

  That said…

  I was curious what Naska considered to be optimum soup-eating temperature.

  I decided to bring the spoon up and try the contents of the fiery bowl. I flinched back a little from the steam assaulting my face, and dropped the spoon in the process.

  Rather than dig my fingers in to retrieve it, I took a sip from the side of the bowl.

  “Ow! Fuck!”

  I yelped and almost dropped the bowl from the sheer heat that had just assaulted my tongue. I gingerly placed it down with one hand while fanning my tongue with the other. In the midst of my gesticulation, I knocked the bowl over, following that with another string of expletives.

  [Pain Tolerance: 8 >> 9.]

  In the midst of all that, I heard a quaint sound.

  It wasn’t quite a laugh. More of a breathy exhale.

  I didn’t manage to catch her smiling, probably because I was too embroiled in panic mode, but her eyes looked amused at the very least.

  So it was possible to make her laugh. She wasn’t a statue. Just reserved.

  In that case…

  “Hey, so two orcs walk into a tavern.”

  “Which two orcs?” Naska asked.

  “I… uhh…”

  “Was a tavern opened in the mess hall?”

  “What? No! Listen. Two orcs walk into a bar, and one of them has a peg leg. And the other has a hook.”

  “These sound like rather auspicious orcs,” Naska commented.

  “I don’t even know what that means. Anyways. Both of them are blind, and one of them is deaf.”

  “Prosperous,” Naska explained. “That’s what auspicious means.”

  “I… how are two blind orcs with missing limbs prosperous?”

  “Well, I’d say they’re lucky to have found each other.”

  She stared at me deadpan, straight-faced through the entire delivery.

  It took a few seconds, but I burst out laughing.

  ***

  Swordplay didn’t come to me naturally. It was so different to everything I’d practiced previously, and it took sweat and discipline for me to start seeing any kind of results.

  At first, it was simply being able to complete a simple drill without too many corrections. Then it was getting the number of faults down. Next was incorporating footwork. After that, practicing my draw. That required a real sword and a scabbard. Currently, I was only permitted to use that sword for draw practice, but I was already realising it was a fair bit heavier than the wooden sword I’d gotten used to.

  Part of me wanted to insist on using a proper sword for drills, but Naska’s first ‘no’ had been so firm that I didn’t bother trying my luck.

  Besides, I was making progress. Maybe not as quickly as I often did with other things, but it was coming to me, and every time I swung or thrusted with just a little bit more accuracy and poise than I could boast a day ago, each time I managed to make an advance or a sideward motion without feeling like I was gonna trip over my own feet, I felt a building satisfaction.

  It was during our sixth night’s sparring session that I felt the improvement hitting. I’d been on the backfoot as usual; Naska came at me with just a little bit more strength and speed than I could put up myself. She kept her movements fairly simple, and didn’t use any tricks that she hadn’t already shown me.

  That made things easier, but still it was hard. She was constantly an enemy out of reach. I was that bit slower, that bit weaker, and she was unwavering. Never giving me even an inch nor a moment of feeling level with her.

  So it was that when I finally, finally managed to parry a single blow from her, knocking her sword to the side, I knew that I’d earned it.

  It wasn’t just that strike, either. In short order, I managed to parry a second. Duck a third. Two minutes later, I found myself dodging multiple attacks from Naska, all of them in seemingly rapid succession.

  With my last parry, I even managed to send her sword out of her hand. I watched as it clattered onto the ground.

  I immediately stabbed forwards with my wooden blade, hoping to strike her in the belly. I’d accumulated countless welts and bruises over the past week. It was finally time to pay one of those back.

  Okay. Maybe it wasn’t.

  She sidestepped the blow, just barely, but I saw it graze her leathers. I was close that time, and I knew it.

  She followed up with a palm strike against my wrist, and I yelped as I dropped my sword.

  “Good. Far better than yesterday.”

  That was the strongest praise I’d gotten since we started, and it wasn’t remotely close.

  Grinning, I went to pick my sword back up, ready to have another try, but paused about halfway. I saw a golden notification dangling in the air in front of me, willing me to read it.

  [Swordsmanship: Level 1 attained!]

  I almost couldn’t believe that I’d done it. After working on it this long, I’d been willing to trust Naska’s assessment that it’d take me a couple of solid weeks to see the skill. Even still, I’d managed to get there within six days.

  I recounted my accomplishment to her. Her eyes widened a little.

  “Truly? You learned it this quickly?”

  “Damn right I did,” I said with an extremely light smattering of pride. “Told you I wouldn’t take that long.”

  Naska stared at me. “Well, that’s excellent. I’m sure you’re happy.”

  “Yeah!” I spun the wooden sword in my hand a little, instantly feeling like a master. “I feel great. More than ready to go again.”

  “In that case…”

  Naska dropped her tone like an anvil. She stepped on her sword, flicking it up into the air and catching it in her hand.

  “I won’t have to take it quite as easy on you anymore.”

  She rushed me before I could remotely prepare myself. I felt three distinct thunks! against my arm before I could even raise my weapon…

  Then another on my forehead.

  Level 1 [Swordsmanship].

  I did it.

  Yay.

  ***

  “Hey! Found another one!” I called to Jackal.

  “Oh, fuck me!”

  I was confused by the exclamation. I pocketed the fourteenth dasselbrood as he came thundering over.

  “Hey,” I said to him, sitting before a huge bed of roots and moss. “What’s up?”

  “What’s up?!” He asked, as if it were completely obvious. He stormed over and pulled the plant right out of my hand.

  “You’ve found like ten of these! Eleven now! I’ve found three!”

  I blinked at him. “So… what? It’s a competition now?”

  “Damn right it is!” Jackal exclaimed.

  “Why is it a competition?" I asked him.

  We’d been doing this for nine days straight now. Besides dasselbroods, we’d found tons of other plants, some of which my system even told me were valuable, some being worth a few silvers each.

  Jackal seemed perpetually unsatisfied, however. He’d acted more and more annoyed over the last several days, and now appeared to be at his breaking point.

  “Because,” he shout-explained, staring down at the plant in his grip. “I’m the asshole that suggested we do this. It was my idea. I should be the one finding ‘em for you.”

  I cocked my head. “I don’t get it. I wouldn’t have even known where to look for these if you hadn’t told me. Why’s it matter who finds more?”

  “It just matters,” he said.

  “It just matters?”

  “Yeah! After me lying to you and stuff. I didn’t know what the fuck a dasselwood was, and I still dragged you out here. I should at least pull my weight.”

  “Well, why’d you lie about it?”

  “Ten gold sounded real expensive for a plant,” Jackal explained. “I know you’ve got that big bag of money—no clue why—but you shouldn’t have to pay out two hundred to fix something that only happened because you were saving our asses.”

  “I told you already,” I said. “I did that for me as much as I did it for all of you.”

  “Yeah, whatever. It’s not even the point.”

  “Then what’s the point?”

  “I dunno…”

  He dropped the plant. He walked past me, eyes focussed on the wall.

  “Look, everyone’s got something, you know?” He turned, putting out a hand. “Like, Maisie’s the healer. Ceri’s the cook. Marc’s a fucking guard dog, and Finn’s good at everything. Even Toar was a pretty good leader.”

  He shrugged, running a clawed hand through his patchy fur. “And then there’s me. The fuck do I do?”

  “You do plenty.”

  “Yeah, plenty of complaining,” Jackal snorted. “When Ceri called me out the other day, fucking Ceri, queen of doing nothing,” he growled as he spoke. “It was a wake up call to me. What the fuck’s the point of me opening my mouth if I’m this fucking useless? It’s no wonder my folks sold me. I wouldn’t wanna listen to my mouth run all fucking day.”

  He took a deep breath. He seemed to calm some.

  “So yeah. I decided to do this. Couldn’t even do this right.”

  He shrugged once again.

  “I’m gonna go look again. I’ll let you know if I find anything.”

  He made to leave. He paused when I put a hand on his shoulder.

  “Listen to me.”

  “What?” he growled, looking like a crazed animal. “I’m not in the fucking mood.”

  I looked at him. I thought I knew him a little, beneath it all.

  “There’s six flowers left,” I told him. “Find at least three of them.”

  He simply stared at me, not seeming to know what to make of my request.

  “If you don’t, you’re scrubbing pots and cleaning dishes for the next month.”

  Jackal’s eyes narrowed. He lost his crazed edge.

  “Dude. I fucking hate scrubbing pots.”

  “And I’ll tell everyone not to scrape their leftovers,” I continued.

  “You wouldn’t.”

  “And I’ll make you oil and polish our tools from now on.”

  “Dude.”

  “And dig all the trenches.”

  “Alright, alright! I’ll find some! Screw off already!”

  There. He seemed energetic again.

  Now all I had to do was not pick the next few dasselbroods I found. I’d let Jackal earn his place.

  Truth was, he might’ve been lousy at looking for plants, but he was a good miner, a good fighter, and loyal to the group. I just knew he wouldn’t wanna hear any of that.

  Maybe he could tell what I was doing. I didn’t really mind. Either way, over the next few days, I only ‘managed to find’ two dasselbroods, and Jackal found the remaining four, plus an extra two for good measure.

  Needless to say, he was back to his usual self.

  “Hey, Marc! Try not to eat these, okay?”

  …for better or worse.

  ***

  It’d been about almost two weeks since my confrontation with Selsor, and life was generally going well.

  The group was more profitable than ever. Sessions with Eric had dropped from daily to three times a week, and there was much rejoicing at the increased earnings everyone was receiving off the back of that.

  My [Mining] skill had stalled at six for the last few days, but with thirteen straight days of training, I’d managed to make progress in other departments.

  [Throwing: 8 >> 9.]

  [Marksmanship: 2 >> 3.]

  [Swordsmanship: 1 >> 3.]

  [Pain Tolerance: 9 >> 10.]

  [Flame Body: 5 >> 6.]

  [Running: 8 >> 9.]

  [Cooking: 3 >> 4.]

  [Pain Tolerance] had finally hit ten from a mixture of sparring, wall-punching, and the level of work I put myself through every day. I wasn’t sure quite how much it dulled things, but I imagined it wasn’t insignificant. There was a time that I couldn’t imagine doing quite this much work so consistently with zero breaks.

  [Throwing] and [Marksmanship] had both increased from the time I spent daily practicing with my rocks, as had the control I had over my [Hoard], though manually throwing was still far more effective.

  [Running] I’d increased in a similar vein, and I planned to switch over to grinding [Jumping] just as soon as I’d gotten [Running] to ten.

  [Swordsmanship] progress was slowgoing. It took me two days to reach the second level and four to reach the third, despite the multiple hours I was putting in daily.

  Honestly, I was becoming increasingly disillusioned with the sword the more I used it. I wasn’t exactly a big guy, and I felt more comfortable with a knife in hand. I’d expressed as much to Naska, I was just waiting for her to give me the go-ahead that we could spar with real weapons, then I’d start applying the same skills with the dagger I owned.

  [Cooking] was the funniest skill increase I’d received in the last few weeks. I appeared to have gotten it from pure osmosis. Simply watching Ceri cook enough had imparted me with enough knowledge to raise my cooking skill without me having to burn a single sausage.

  Then there was [Flame Body]. I constantly used it, sometimes to the point of exhaustion, but with repeated utilisation of Spirit Stones and enough practice, I was definitely freeing up more of my mana, so it took way longer for me to burn through it. Not only that, but my general level of control was improving. I could send mana to more precise areas of my body, fill my hands or feet with it within less than a second.

  Which, when I sent it to my hands, just made the phantom sense of me having a missing finger feel that much more prominent. I really noticed it when I was practicing, and it was starting to get on my nerves.

  Thankfully, I was getting it fixed today. Right now, in fact.

  I dropped off the dasselbrood plants last night. Mercury looked surprised that I’d managed to find so many.

  He’d told me to wait a day and come back, so I did so.

  I’d expected the healing process to take hours, but thankfully, the incredibly itchy procedure only lasted about forty minutes. Mercury said that he’d done the hard part already, spending hours overnight combining the dasselwood with multiple other ingredients to make a working salve.

  That medicine did most of the heavy lifting. Mercury used his magic to stitch nerves and blood vessels together, while the salve worked on the bone and sped the process along. After that, it was the reknitting of flesh.

  Gods, that part made me wanna tear it back off just to stop it from itching. It was horrible. For fifteen minutes, I had to continually squeeze a rag with my right hand just to keep it occupied.

  By the time it was over, and the horrible feeling had cessated…

  My hand actually felt good as new. The seam around my finger looked natural, as if it had never been disturbed. I couldn’t believe how easily I was moving it.

  “Can I give you a tip for all the work?” I asked Mercury.

  “I got a level in fleshweaving from this,” the healer replied. “Plus two leftover plants. I consider that more than enough for the time spent.”

  I thanked him and got on my way, deciding to take a detour instead of going straight to our daily worksite.

  Instead, I went back to the camp and grabbed a cart. I then filled it with the remaining plants that we’d recently stocked up on.

  I’d already asked Mercury, and he said that between the potion shop and the doctor’s office, the doctor was more likely to purchase any plants or herbs he might have for sale.

  I knew the value of what I had. There were about fifty gold of plants sitting in my cart right now, most of them preserved in [Hoard] over the last week.

  I’d sell them to the doctor and see what I could get. Hopefully at least twenty. I wanted to be able to give Jackal something after all the time and effort he’d put in.

  Plus… I could check on Toar.

  I hadn’t really thought about doing so until I realised I was already going there, but it wouldn’t hurt to ask after him. I was curious to know if he’d woken up. I doubted I’d talk to him if he was awake, but I was curious to see how he’d feel about what I’d done with the group in the time that he’d been away.

  Would he be angry with me? It didn’t matter if he was. The group would defend me over him at this point.

  Well, I guess I was gonna find out what came of my decision to spare him sooner or later.

  Might as well find out now.

  ***

  Mansol was interrupted from his candlelit reading by the sound of the medical tent’s flap opening.

  He looked up, squinting to see who it was. Another unfortunate child who’d been savaged by a beast or crushed under rocks?

  No… it was the boy. The one that had left his cousin in a coma. The one he still hadn’t decided how to deal with.

  Mansol smiled his fakest smile.

  “Hello,” he said, grinning wide. “Has someone in your group been injured?”

  “Huh?” The little bastard shook his head. “No. I came here because I heard that you purchase alchemical supplies.”

  Mansol raised an eyebrow at that. Alchemical supplies?

  “I’ve got quite a lot with me,” the child continued. “There’s a whole cart of plants outside. It might be easier if I show you.”

  Mansol slowly stood. He thought the Unclassed’s words over as he did.

  The boy had come here to sell him things. He had no clue who he was. Mansol didn’t have to do anything right now but act naturally.

  “I’ll see your wares,” he nodded cordially, ever the professional. “Please, lead on.”

  He did just that, fully unguarded.

  Mansol had multiple ideas of how he might deal with the boy. His favourite involved simply waiting until the child himself suffered a nasty injury, which simple statistics stated he would over the coming months.

  Then, all he’d have to do was ‘botch’ an operation and he could completely ruin him for life. Amputate whatever he wanted. Remove an organ or two. He had countless methods.

  Until then, he could play the good doctor and buy the shit’s fauna. Even if the mere sight of him made Mansol’s blood boil, he wouldn’t lose his composure. Even if the child had ruined his project, even if—

  “These are dasselbroods,” the brat spoke, producing a pair of red plants. “I was wondering how much you’d give me for them.”

  “Hmm…” There wasn’t much to think about usually. Two gold apiece. It was below their true value, but what other recourse did the creatures here have?

  “I can give you six gold each for them.”

  Mansol saw a spark of joy in the child’s eyes. Or maybe excitement. Some positive emotion.

  “Alright, great. What about—”

  Mansol paid far above his usual prices for everything in the child’s cart, to the point that he was barely even ripping him off.

  There was method here. Establishing himself as trustworthy mattered. It was all part of the game. A few less coins of profit was nothing to him. The true value was in watching that joy melt.

  Mansol handed over thirty gold and six silvers in total. Enough that the boy seemed more than satisfied.

  There. He’d laid a seed of trust. Now all he had to do was nurture that. Let it grow over time. Eventually, the boy would—

  “Also, one last thing…”

  The boy had turned around to leave, then turned right back around. Mansol looked down at him, confused at the pause.

  “How’s Toar been doing?”

  Mansol almost went cross-eyed. Why was he asking? Was he scared the whelp would wake up? Or was he eager to subjugate him?

  “Your leader is still unconscious,” Mansol breathed, trying to sound solemn.

  “Really? Is he recovering at all?”

  Mansol had to stifle a growl as he spoke. “Why are you asking?”

  “Why?” The boy gave him a funny look. “Because I want him to get better.”

  Liar.

  “Were the two of you close friends?” Mansol asked.

  The boy scratched his head.

  “To be honest, me and him got off to a weird start. I don’t know if we could ever be friends. But I think we could figure out our differences.”

  “Do you really mean that?” Mansol asked, not caring how strange the question sounded.

  The boy put a hand to his chin. “...yeah. I think I do. Why do you ask—”

  Mansol had heard enough.

  He couldn’t believe what he did next. He struck the boy so quickly he barely felt his arm move.

  The child clattered back against the table behind him. He raised an arm to block, but Mansol grabbed him by the hair. He smashed his head into the table. Once, twice. Three times. Until he no longer moved.

  Disgusting. Pitiable. To think his own blood had been bested by a weakling such as this. A boy of thirteen. A boy of no class. A boy who spared his cousin’s life. Who spoke of ‘resolving differences’. The filth.

  Mansol’s muscles flexed. He panted as he looked down upon the child whose face he’d just flattened, his nose broken, jaw shattered, ribs smashed.

  Had he killed him? Was he dead?

  It didn’t matter. He needed to dispose of him regardless. He’d lost his composure once again. He wasn’t sure anyone would cover for him this time.

  Sighing, angry at himself for what he’d done, Mansol dragged the boy to the cart and dumped him inside, covering him with a wide tarp.

  If he’d only held his temper, he could’ve stretched out his fun over the course of months.

  Instead, it was all over in an instant.