The Humble Life of a Skill Trainer

Staring into the half-empty glass of fiery liquid, I swirled the glass while I considered my options. I knew what I wanted to do. What I wanted to do, what everything in my body urged and screamed at me to do. I wanted to help Snowy fight her duel, to help her win. I could do it as well. I had the whole night, and most of the morning to use in [Meditation]. It wouldn’t take even the full night to produce some kind of magical enhancement like the one the Baron’s mage, Fordson, had used on the men. I could enhance Snowy before she stepped into the duel ring, and her duel with Blood-of-the-Mountain-Cat would move from difficult to relatively easy. The moment I even thought of it, my instincts - as a man, as Snowy’s lover, and even as merely someone who wanted that bastard to pay - all urged me to do it.

Yet, I sat in my chair and continued to swirl the alcohol and consider.

Blood-of-the-Snowfed-Spring made it clear that the ancients wanted Blood-of-the-Mountain-Cat to win an honorable duel. She hadn’t emphasized the word, nothing had caused me to twitch to the word, but it was a qualifier that even now resounded in my mind. Nothing said that Snowy winning a dishonorable duel would help her. Worse, I had a distinct impression that this was Rang Yu’s real test. Was I a Mage? Or was I a Skill Trainer?

A Mage would simply grasp at the power he needed and force the world to his benefit.

A Skill Trainer’s goals were to empower others to do what they wanted. To make others powerful.

Rang Yu didn’t want me as a Mage. He could find any Mage he wanted, likely a few every couple of decades. The discovery of magic could not be so tricky using the Mage Guild’s method. A focus type Skill and an area of moderately dense mana. The second would have been difficult back in the day of his story. Today, this was probably available in every third nook and cranny of the forest or even some random confluence of stones in the city. No, he didn’t need a Mage.

He wanted someone whose focus was on teaching others, empowering others, helping others grow. That was where he wanted to focus his new plan. Instead of hoarding magic for the few and seeing if the elites could discover a solution, he wanted to flip the problem. Give the methods of magic to everyone and see if someone in the masses could find a solution.

He wanted a Skill Trainer.

Swallowing the liquid forcefully, my throat spasming at the unfamiliar feel of high proof alcohol, I gasped then stood. Wandering over to the cabinet, I poured myself another - larger - shot of liquid. Staggering for a moment, I walked through the silent mansion and up the stairs. Somewhere during my steps, my glass emptied itself, and the taste of the burning liquid assaulted my tongue. Stopping at Snowy’s door, I waited for the world to slow its swaying. Eventually, the earth stilled, but the door handle managed to avoid my grasp. Still, with a few tries, I opened the door and snuck into the outer room, my feet working to hide their whisper-like glide in the rhythmic sound of someone gently tapping fine shoes on wooden floors.

When I reached Snowy’s door, I spent a moment at the door before I opened it and stared in, the vast expanse of the floor far too distant for me to cover. Snowy was asleep on her bed, her body covered by a mountain of furs as she gently smiled in sleep. She seemed entirely at ease. She was confident in her Skills. In truth, so was I. Snowy was a warrior and only needed more experience to become a fearsome terror on the battlefield. In a duel between her and an equal opponent, I would bet on her every time. Her only real weakness was being overwhelmed and struck with a lethal blow. That was a serious danger on the battlefield where chaos reigned, but in a duel, she was far too Skilled and skilled to let a lethal blow snake through her defenses.

A knife tapped me on the shoulder, the flat of the blade bouncing on the wrinkles of my shirt. Blurrily, I tried to follow the floating blade. Somewhere during my turn, it disappeared only to appear in Mason’s hands. He gave me a curious look as I tried to find where the blade went in the room, but I ignored him to continue my search. A levitating knife would be helpful for Snowy.

“What are ya’ doing?” Mason whispered, his voice barely rising over the sound of my pounding heart.

“Shh!” I whispered while Mason flinched.

Carefully I closed Snowy’s door and slowly walked past Mason, who reluctantly helped me to my own rooms.

“What were ya’ doing?” Mason asked. The question was familiar, but I waved it away with irritation.

Flopping onto my bed, I stared at Mason as he rearranged the chair that sat in front of the vanity mirror.

“Well? What were ya’ doing?” Mason asked.

Breathing deeply, I let the night air pass through my lungs, and the sudden burst of energy from a deep breath slowly cleared my mind. It wasn’t perfect. Somewhere along the line, I had consumed more alcohol than I planned, but the oxygen would help.

“Ever had a situation where you had two options. What you wanted and what you knew you should do?” I asked.

Snorting, Mason shook his head but not like he was answering my question. Instead, I had the distinct impression that he found my question silly or annoying in some way.

“Not what I meant. But it’s ah dumb question all the same. You know te’ answer to that one,” he said.

Nodding, I agreed, my head feeling full of wool as the burst of clarity from my deep breath left me. Still, I shook my head in confusion for a moment, but then looked at Mason with every effort to convey my conviction.

“Snowy will be dueling Blood-of-the-Mountain-Cat tomorrow. I know she will win. She knows she will win. You know she will win. We all know she will win. Blood-of-the-Mountain-Cat, he doesn’t know, and that’s the problem. If he forgets that she is supposed to win. I want you to help me remind him later. Will you help me do that? She has to win this honorable duel, but if he forgets to remember, I want to remind him later,” I said while my words seemed to lay on top of each other.

Mason smiled at me, the lips falling sideways along with the entire room. Which was fair since I was now lying sideways on the bed.

“Aye, boy. I’ll help you remind him later if’n he forgets. I can promise ya’ that,” he said while I slipped away into slumber.

A spike of light drove into my mind, the agony shooting me out of bed. I was lucky that movement never caused me problems when hungover since I never remembered to stay still. Blinking the hell of white from my eyes, I looked around the room, gently grasping at the water urn left for me. Flopping my feet over the edge, my toe kicked the thick glass tumbler that had held my tormentor from the night before. Drinking a large gulp of the waiting water, I sat with my eyes closed, letting the flush of liquid move through my body.

Blinking again, I noticed a slice of toasted bread and a pale, wrinkled root sitting beside my water and smiled at Marcus’ kindness. Biting off a bit of the bitter root, I chewed the fresh-wake root, hoping the relief would find me quickly. Without the other step, it would make my nose feel stuffed for much of the day, but that was a small price to pay for the quick recovery. Swishing more water around my mouth, I swallowed before wandering idly to my dresser as I picked at the residue of the bitter root. It was only as I considered my attire for the day that I remembered the duel that was planned for midday.

Snagging the toasted bread, I scarfed it down - only pausing when my stomach knotted for a moment - but continued when the pressure eased. I grabbed a clean tunic and drawstring pants to pair with my protective training boots and slipped my scabbard and one of my shortswords through the loop of my belt. Kicking the door to my room closed, I marched through my suite and through the halls. Following the smells, I arrived in the dining room.

Abby, the Baron, Snowy, and a strangely visible Mason, sat in the dining room, eating calmly. My forceful march into the room caused a pause in the eating. The consumption of food quickly resumed as the group silently considered the coming day. Slipping into the open seat, I smiled at Marcus when he slid a bowl of oats in front of me along with a large glass of juice. Something easy to process and sweet water, the two things I would need to pair with the fresh-wake root swirling in my empty stomach.

After stuffing myself as quickly as possible, I looked around the table. The Baron and Abby had sad, dead-eyed looks that did not match Snowy’s calm and careful eating.

“You do know that Snowy is going to win, right?” I asked the table, only Mason nodding to my words.

The Baron flinched slightly away from my statement but then gave me an angry look.

“No. I’m serious. Barring Blood-of-the-Mountain-Cat having learned a dangerous martial Skill while chief, Snowy should be able to handle him. He is fast, and she will take a lot of damage. But he can’t keep it up. As long as she keeps him away from a lethal or crippling blow, she can heal through anything he throws at her. When he tires out, she will be fully healed and able to slaughter him. Sure, it will hurt, and she will have a massive headache from her active Skill use, but she will win if she follows the plan,” I said.

All the eyes at the table slipped over to Snowy, who calmly nodded to my words then gave a look of surprise as the concerned look on the other two faded.

Mason spoke up, his sudden words strange since he usually remained silent around groups.

“Abby has only started learnin’ t’ fight, so I wouldn’t expect her t’ know. But, Verstrom, ya’ should have. You might think about spendin’ a bit more time with yer daughter instead of pouting in yer office. Drinking yer worries away,” Mason said, his head dipping down without waiting for a response to shovel more food into his face.

The reference to drinking seemed like a rebuke for me as well, but I ignored the comment - if it was directed at me - since I had no further plans to drink myself stupid. Last night had been a special case, the stress and danger too overwhelming to take while sober. Only after I had started, did I consider it a possible way to scramble any attempts to control my mind as well. A thin excuse, but one that had assisted in my quick descent into the booze.

After finishing our food, we stepped into the front hall to wait while Snowy strapped on her weaponry and armor. She was quickly attired, and we slipped into the carriage the groomsman brought around. It was a tight fit with all of us and Snowy’s weapons, but there was little chance any of us would wait silently at home.