The Humble Life of a Skill Trainer

Eventually, the troop turned around, hooked up the wagons, and we began to march. The plan was to move only a few miles up the road before camping. We wouldn’t be able to hike a full day after the fight, but likewise, we had no plans to sleep in the same field as the site of a battle. Cleansing the bodies should solve any problems, but there were still horror stories about what battlefields could become over time. Stories we planned to avoid. Besides the risk of the undead, there was also the possibilities of creatures attracted to the smell of death. They could come from the forest, the sky, and even under the earth. The farmer’s defenses would see some use tonight.

Once we reached the new field, the camp was thrown together quickly, everyone eager to eat a bite of food and then to sack out. I waved away the use of a tent and instead camped out with my bedroll and ground tarp leathers under the wagon. I fit myself behind the wheel of the cart. I didn’t expect any trouble tonight, but if there was an attack, I had no interest in being wrapped in a tent when it came. Being in the open left me feeling uneasy, but the tent would obscure my view more than it would provide protection.

There were no jovial conversations, no lecture on Skills, no half-formed questions. The feel around the fire, for those few who were awake beside those keeping watch, was that of depression and shame. Watching from around the wheel of the wagon, I could see the Captain glancing at the faces of his men and women, those who seemed stoic, depressed, or resolute to earn a Skill in the next fight. Despite his stuffy attitude, he seemed to care about his people, and I had no doubt that he would take care to rouse the spirits of those who needed it. Tomorrow would be soon enough for me to provide further words of encouragement.

We rose bright and early before the sun the next morning. The night was uneventful, as was the bland breakfast of boiled oats. For the first hour of the ride back, I managed to sit next to the Mage. Still, I wasn’t able to get comfortable knowing that a possible enemy was sitting so near, even if he seemed uninterested in me. When the troop passed a corpse wagon, it was the perfect excuse to leave the cart. I doubted the Mage was fooled, especially since I had little to add when the Captain suggested that the farm down the lane wouldn’t need the corpse cleansing to invigorate the farm.

I had initially planned to focus on [Meditation] during our ride to the next location. While sitting next to the Mage, I had zero interest in using [Meditation]. I wasn’t sure if he could discover my use of the Skill, but I didn’t want to test it. I certainly couldn’t work through trying to figure out what more the Skill entailed. It was nice that I had reached the point where I could leave [Meditation] active whenever I wasn’t [Acting]. Though, as I had told the soldiers, mindless practice was not the way to improve a Skill.

Finally, I settled on joining Snowy in her carriage. We had plenty of things to work on, and we could at least make a plan for advancing her Skill. Rapping on the window of the moving carriage, I was surprised when the door swung open quickly, and Snowy gestured me in with a frazzled look.

While I climbed into the moving carriage, Snowy packed away bundles of letters and stacks of leather notebooks.

“What’s all this?” I asked while gesturing around at the different paperwork.

Alexis cringed as she looked at the papers, then rubbed her face.

“My father asked me to study his journals. He has made many decisions during his rule, and I’m supposed to study them,” Snowy said, then sighed.

Snowy seemed a little frustrated, but not like she was beyond what she could handle. I had been worried that she would need support after yesterday’s battle, but she quickly bounced back from it. I should have known, if there was one thing that I was certain Snowy could handle, it was combat and its aftermath.

Snowy pushed the rest of the journals and books into a pile on the seat next to her. Then gave me a smile.

“So, what brings you to my carriage?” Snowy said while still flashing her grin.

“Uh,” I stuttered while trying to find the way to ask any of the questions I had. There were things about Snowy’s situation that didn’t make sense to me. But their nature made any questions a delicate thing. Delicate social situations were not my forte. Instead of asking any of the more difficult questions, I decided to stick to something safer.

“Do you know if [Arcanum of the Blood] is a blood-line Skill?” I asked.

Snowy shrugged and said with a look of frustration, “It’s possible. I don’t know. There are few Blood Snow tribe members left from before they joined the Mountain tribe. My mother only knows a few of the old stories from before the tribe’s decline.”

“If the few Blood Snow tribe members joined the Mountain tribe, why isn’t it the Mountain tribe instead of the Blood Snow tribe?” I questioned.

Even as I asked Snowy about her tribe, I rubbed my hands over the seat. I kept glancing out the window at the passing countryside, trying to fit the pieces together. Something about the situation sounded wrong, but I couldn’t put my finger on what exactly. No, it seemed fishy all the way around, but I was too removed in space, time, and culture to be specific. Shaking my head, I tried to remind myself that Snowy was my employer’s daughter. Despite our budding friendship, I shouldn’t stick my nose into her past unless she wanted my help with it. There was enough trouble in my own life that I didn’t need to go looking for it.

Answering my question, Snowy said, “The Shaman’s auguries warned that if the two tribes wanted to survive, they must join as the Blood Snow tribe. This gave the Mountain tribe a larger hunting range, so it was good for all.”

I tried to constrain my skeptical response at the mention of divination, but Snowy caught it.

“Yes, I know your people do not believe in visions, but they still predicted what was needed for the Northmen to reach an accord with Valdiria, as well as when to join forces to attack,” Snowy said with a hint of superiority.

Which was something I couldn’t really deny. The Northmen’s attack had been perfectly timed to coincide with the death of the southern kingdom of Glaster’s firstborn son. The second-in-line son was one of five other children, and they each had experienced sudden ‘accidents.’ To appease the merchants and keep his army busy, he sent them north to conquer the Kingdom of Valdiria. Then the Northmen had banded together and attacked the moment Fen had been too busy to deal with them, needing our army in the South to beat back Glaster. After a few skirmishes in the North with limited resources, mostly that of mercenaries, the King entered into a treaty with the Northmen. Which was precisely what set the stage with Snowy, her father the Baron, and everything else.

Shaking my head, I tried to think of how to phrase my question, but there was no way to ask it without being rude or implying that her mother was a part of Snowy’s harassment. Finally, I just asked the question.

“Snowy, why didn’t your mother know that the blade was unbalanced? It should have been obvious by the way you were being stressed during the training that something was wrong.”

Snowy gave me an ugly look that I would never have associated with the young woman I had grown friendly with. Still, she exhaled in a puff of annoyance before giving me a strained smile. The look said that the answer was obvious, and only an idiot wouldn’t understand.

“My mother is a Shaman.”

At my continued look of confusion, Snowy answered my unasked question.

“Shamans are not allowed to take up weapons. They are forbidden to train in combat, hunting, or war. The only training they are allowed is that of fists. The Shamans are excluded from all tribal conflicts,” Snowy said. Her accent grew thicker, and her voice fell into a pattern that I recognized as typical of the Northmen tongue. This was the second time I had heard her slip toward her native language when angry. It was a sign that I had likely insulted her a great deal more than I thought the question actually deserved. This was a cultural difference, I was sure. My mother’s advice in cases of cultural conflicts was to abort the mission and research the issue. Otherwise, I might end up tied to a pole and set aflame. In truth, I think that was more likely a worry for mother than myself, but I might be wrong considering the red flush to Snowy’s face.

Deciding that retreat was the better side of valor, I tried to bow as best I could while in the carriage.

“I deeply apologize, Lady Alexis, please forgive me.”

My suddenly formal tones and recalcitrant look gave Snowy pause, then she waved away my apology.

Awkwardly, despite her waving away my apology, I wasn’t sure what to say, having essentially just accused her mother of being in league with her harassers.

Scratching the back of my head, I scrambled for a different subject.

“Well, even if it’s not a blood-line Skill, we still need to figure out the hidden effects. Is there anything else you feel when you use your Skill?”

Staring into the distance, Snowy’s eyes lost contact with my own as she made a slight humming sound in the back of her throat. Idly stretching her arms behind her head, the young lady in front of me tilted her head from side to side as she thought about all she had experienced while using her Skill. I couldn’t help notice as she stretched that her training leathers had grown thin in places from rubbing inside her armor, the material stretching across her chest. Despite her noble title, she was no more able to bathe than the rest of us, so the days on the road and combat had left the smell of sweat on her skin. Contrary to my expectation, it wasn’t an entirely unpleasant smell.

When Snowy shifted in her stretch again, I snapped my eyes away from their wandering and met Snowy’s smirking - but still red-faced - gaze. Dropping my own eyes to the carriage floor, I tried to cover my embarrassment with a light cough.

Ignoring my social blunder, Snowy said, “When the blood is pounding in my ears, and it rushes through my body, I would swear that at times I can feel something near me. Some push against the beat of my heart. It’s subtle, but it feels like a different beat that conflicts with my own. But, it’s odd that I don’t always feel it.”

Vague, but it was something to look into. I would have Alexis focus on this feeling when we next had a place to stop and train. After a few minutes of increasingly awkward conversation. Minutes where I tried to focus on Skill training while Snowy shifted in her seat in ways clearly designed to tease me, I decided that escape was my last respite. Bowing to the smirking Snowy while trying to extricate myself from the carriage, I hopped from the conveyance and joined the walking men.