The Humble Life of a Skill Trainer

When the King commands your attendance, a smart man either arrives early or not at all. The Baron was planning to arrive early, which meant we would be leaving while the last of the frost was still blowing through. I’d never had the pleasure of a long trip overland, so while I was familiar with traveling carriages, I had never gotten to enjoy a carriage’s comfort. When the Baron announced that he would have two new wagons commissioned, one for his daughter and one for me and my apprentice, I couldn’t hide a grin. Snowy’s was planned to be an ornate and gilded thing, similar to the Baron’s own wagon. I wasn’t trying to impress the nobles, so my wagon didn’t need those kinds of additions. While the Baron was still waiting on the finishing touches on Snowy’s wagon, his Seneschal was run ragged, preparing our trip supplies. Personally, I was enjoying my new (bare) home away from home.

The wagon’s base sat slightly higher than my knee while the enclosed roof was more than a handspan higher than my head when I stood inside. Wide enough that two bunk-style beds lined either side with a walk row in-between, the wagon’s length accommodated two wardrobes near the door. My first act of ownership customizing the wagon was to string two curtains across the bunks, allowing some measure of privacy for both my apprentice and me. Next was removing the plank floor of my bunk and fitting it with a compartment with a knothole as a pull handle. The real secret to the compartment was the false bottom within that required the edge of a thin knife blade to lift. Leaving copper in the container should protect any silver or gold I stored in the false bottom. The convenience of access in exchange for security was always the trade-off with lockboxes.

It took me only a matter of a few hours to fit up, glue, cut, and reattach my adjustments. While they were in, they still needed to dry completely. My [Woodworking] Skill didn’t offer enhancements to my work’s speed, but creating simple planks and boxes was well within my limited talents. Once my own work was done, the real fun began.

“Explain to me again why you aren’t doing this? You could finish this in no time!” my apprentice said as she had her nose stuffed inches away from a plank, her knife slowly cutting along the edge of the fitted lumber.

“Because it’s a chance for you to try and earn a Skill, and at worst, you will know where to look for hidden compartments,” I repeated, my answer not having changed from the last time she asked.

Silently, Abby threw me an annoyed look and continued to run the sharp thin blade along the edge of the plank where it butted into the frame of her bunk. She was cutting a narrow groove, removing the tendon glue to make it look like the wood shifting had worked it free. Once the joint was open, we would stuff in some basic fire-starting supplies and reglue the frame. I doubted that the cache would be necessary, especially since the wagon would be traveling with an entire troop, but that wasn’t the point. I was trying to help her gain experience in the different kinds of smuggling holes, traps, and with forming things from wood. Once you have a feel for how items are typically put together, it’s easier to notice when they don’t come together correctly. It was a useful skill in finding traps and hidden compartments and helpful in knowing the difference between different quality goods. It was easy to gild something and claim it was expensive, another thing entirely to build with quality in mind. Many a middling noble had been silently bilked through such shady practices.

“Alright, the glue is out. Now what?” Abby asked as she leaned back and wiped the sweat from her head.

Reaching back into our supplies, liberated from my basement shop, I handed over a small leather pouch. Made of unlined leather, and small enough that it wouldn’t house more than a couple of coppers, it was tied with a worked tendon string. It was a crude pouch with little worth.

“Grab all the glue and dust you cut out and stick it in here,” I said, smiling at her look of confusion.

I couldn’t help a chuckle at the look - so like my own when I did this the first time.

“Once we get everything back together, we will use the wood dust and the spent glue to make the surface look undisturbed. Remember, when you hide something, you want it to look like it was beforehand if you can,” I said, and I was happy to see that she gave my words some consideration.

I’d noticed more of those looks of introspection lately, and I attributed it to the Skill she earned from conquering the fascination orb.

Self Control - Tier 1: 3

Control over self and the mind.

Passive Effect:

Lesser: Improved perceptual effects.

Lesser: Improved mental effects.

Active Trigger Effect:

Lesser: Inner Stability - Slight resistance to effects that would alter your perceptions and actions.

It appeared to be a mirror to my [Self Awareness] Skill. Abby had at first been overjoyed with her new Skill and then angry when she found out it was different from my own. Magic was a dream for my apprentice, and I was unhappy with cutting short her enthusiasm. Despite the initial anger, she weighed the idea that it could be merely a different path to the same destination with mature consideration. Where I reached for [Meditation] to enhance my introspection, she went for [Self Control] whenever she was angry or disappointed. This muted her initial reactions, but wouldn’t stop her from acting on them when needed.

The other difference came from how we handled the fascination orb. Where I had needed to take a moment to negate the effect, however brief, my apprentice could practically juggle the gem without effort. Though, only for a time. I could continually resist the impact of the gem, handing it back and forth to her. While she would quickly develop a screaming headache as the effort of using the active effect overwhelmed her. I was having trouble pinning down the passive effect of her Skill. Abby said she felt more focused and capable of ignoring distractions. She described it as being fully awake instead of just on the edge of falling asleep.

“I like to keep pouches like these for little odd jobs. Being so ratty and small, no one is likely to pilfer them,” I said as she dropped pinches of wood dust and dried glue into the leather interior.

Nodding, she pulled the end of the tenon from the frame’s mortise. Stationing the little bag under the tenon, she cut off slivers of wood while keeping the sweat from dripping into the bag. Once the tenon was half the original’s length, she worked to deepen the mortise using a square scrapping tool.

Using my teaching voice, I watched her work and said, “Be sure not to cut through to the other side. If you break through, you will have to replace that leg of the frame. That would be a lot of work for you.”

My apprentice simply sniffed, her annoyance clear even if she didn’t say a word as she whittled away at the inner surface.

Leaning back against my bunk, I relaxed and considered all the different supplies I would need to bring along. I would still have to train Snowy, my apprentice, and anyone else the Baron asked of me. I couldn’t trust that I could get my specialty supplies in the capital, let alone on the way.

“Making these little hidey-holes is easier if you build with these things in mind first. Still, this is good practice, and you are doing very well,” I said to the sound of another grunt from Abby.

When Abby was done whittling, I leaned in to watch her glue in a bit of leather to the front of the tenon and another to the mortise’s inner surface. It wasn’t necessary, but it would protect the flint-and-steel stored in the small cavity. I didn’t need to mention to Abby that it would also work well to keep a single gold coin or a signet ring. We had talked about the different trade-offs of long term storage versus convenience. That this hole would be glued closed and would require her to dismantle the bunk - likely with force - meant she wouldn’t be getting to it quickly. This was actually a common practice for Skill Trainer homes. Hiding coins in the structure meant that even if your home was burned to the ground, it would be possible to come back even weeks later and sift through the rubble to recover coins. The process should be the same for a wagon.

Finally, Abby was done, the wood was reattached, and the fresh glue smell permeated the wagon.

“Now, smear the dried glue and wood dust around the edge there and pack it into the fresh glue. After it dries, we will brush off anything that doesn’t stick, and it will look like the other joints.”

Tilting her head, Abby looked to her freshly processed joint and the one made by the master woodwright on the other side. Comparing the two, it was clear, one was different. But, after drying and curing, it would likely seem the same, or at least it would pass a casual inspection.

“Is this all it takes to learn a trade?” Abby asked in a confused voice.

While we cleaned up and gathered my wood and leatherworking supplies, I weighed how to answer my apprentice’s question.

“In some ways, yes. Doing this is all that you need,” I said to Abby’s surprised look.

“In other ways, not at all.”

Before my apprentice could respond, the annoyed look saying she would not accept that answer, I half raised my hand and gestured her to a seat in the front room.

“In a week of afternoons, I could explain everything needed to be a master woodworker. Even better, you could study the guide I purchased from the Skill Trainers,” I said.

Gathering drinks, I settled myself across from my apprentice and fiddled with one of the tools that had slipped from the leather bag.

Sipping at my watered-down ale, I said, “It would take you months of work to be able to produce something of worth using that explanation if you could remember it. Still, you wouldn’t be a master woodworker. To be clear, I am not a master woodworker either.”

Abby nodded but still looked pensive with my non-answer.

“Most of those apprentices, they aren’t given much more training than you got this afternoon. Maybe a week’s worth of training for different processes altogether,” I said, then leaned forward, catching my apprentice’s eyes, “so, what’s the secret?” I asked.

Seeing her confused look, I sipped more of my ale, enjoying the bitter tang even if it was diluted with a large amount of water.

When she shook her head, admitting her defeat, I answered my own question.

“They force their apprentices to build the same parts over and over again. Having them earn their Skills through boredom and endless repetition instead of pain and focused effort. They learn how to use the tools, marking the knowledge in their bodies with repetition, and enforced boredom helps them produce their Skills.”

“You and I,” I said, making a production of pointing between us, “We aren’t going to earn Skills for quickly chopping wood, or for cutting straight lines, or Skills for speeding the drying of glue, or any of the other hundreds of Skills that an apprentice might learn from their near-slavery to their master.”

Tapping the table, I continued, “But, we can earn broader Skills, more useful Skills, that can help us create what we want and need. If we enjoy the trade. We aren’t earning Skills through boredom but through want and enjoyment. It’s a different emotional need, but just as effective. Still, even then, we won’t become a master woodworker this way. The best have both the want and the repetition, the thousands of hours put into their work. Finally, we are limited in two other ways. Can you guess what they are?” I asked my apprentice.

Rising from my chair, I returned to the kitchen and washed out my tankard, making a note to get my apprentice to flag down a street boy to fill the water barrel again. Once my tankard was back on the shelf, I returned and sat in my chair. I was simply enjoying the moment, watching my student work through her thoughts and consider the question. I could see the moment that she had part of the answer, or at least what she thought the answer was, and I smiled at her moment of excitement.

“Knowledge,” Abby said.

I nodded to her response, “The classic example is alchemy, where recipes are the lifeblood of the profession and, in some cases, worth more than the glasswork.”

Seeing that I had her attention, I continued.

“The Guilds won’t let someone else sell their products. They can’t earn money, so they can’t do it for a living,” I said, laying bare the only slightly hidden economic force that constrained the common man.

“Skill Trainers offer a backdoor into some professions. Many noble Houses are like little cities all unto themselves. Trade skills are practiced without the Guild’s oversight for the House’s use. Woodworking, metalwork, jewelry, even coinage, and construction. Despite my dislike of nobility, they will offer a lot for the secrets the different Guilds hold. Even more for someone to train their masters through the application of those secrets. Then there are the bread and butter Skills: [Pain Resistance], [Poison Resistance], [Etiquette], [Reading], [Writing], [Poise], [Acting], and a host of others. More, access to our Skill dictionaries and the knowledge on Skills we hoard is worth a great deal. The collective whole is often worth more than the sum of their parts.”

“Like knowing how different Skills overlap and interact? The synergies?” she asked to my quick nod.

“We fill a niche and a useful one at that. Rich merchants often pay for sons and daughters to earn Skills that make them enticing to the nobility as wives and husbands. A husband with [Accounting] is a useful addition to the household. A wife with [Bargaining] is a boon. So much the better if they come with a rich family as well.”

I hadn’t considered my words before I spoke, and I could see Abby thinking of her own mother and how her actions had led to Abby’s imprisonment.

Coughing into my hand, I rose and grabbed the two bags, stuffing the scrapping tool back into the woodworking bag.

Trying to interrupt the cloud forming over Abby, I said, “Why don’t we get our clothing into the wagon and see what else we need to bundle up for future training. It’s going to be a long trail.”

The Baron announced we would be on the road at the end of the week, and Abby was looking forward to seeing the capital.