The next day, I showed up to training without Avice and arrived to a very, very unhappy looking Wolf.

“You ignored my advice. And went out thinking what exactly?”

I didn’t have much to say at all. I guess my sullen stare at the ground revealed as much.

“Guilty.” I eventually pressed out.

It took a long moment for him to respond with an even longer and tinny sigh. “No one ever listens. Rye, why do you think asked you not to go out yet?”

“…because I’m not ready?”

“Because you are not prepared to be out there. Therein lies a big difference.”

“Let me guess: The only way to become prepared is by following your advice, your training, your meditation and whatnot?”

He eyed me like I was giving him an unnecessary amount of sass. In my opinion, my sass was absolutely justified.

“That is one way to go about it.”

“And what about any other ways? You’ve barely told me anything about this world, how to survive, how to do anything. I don’t even know your name! How can you expect me to loyally follow your every advice when I don’t even know that much?”

Once more, he took the longer part of a minute to stare at me. Eventually, he sat down on a grave and pointed to the floor.

“Sit.” He commanded and I did.

Maybe now he’s going to finally tell me something useful. Such as how exactly soul influences my body and mind. Or how magic works. Or how boons exactly work. Or, or, or…

“You are impatient, I can see as much. But you are also young. Inexperienced. Have you ever asked yourself how old I might be?”

I thought for a moment. “Dunno. Fifty. Or forty, just poorly aged.”

His voice didn’t carry the same undertones of snarky humor as mine. “Let us be generous and assume forty for now. How hard do you think it is to live in this place for forty years?”

It didn't require much thought to realize he had a point. I could barely count the number of near-death encounters I had over less than half a year with my two hands. Actually, I couldn’t even do that much because half of my fingers just wouldn’t move.

I looked at my right hand and tried to wiggle it, just to be sure.

Yep. Still fucked.

“Dunno.” I said. “I just know I’d be long dead by forty.”

He nodded. “Exactly. I am not trying to shove as much as I know all at once because I do not wish for you to merely learn how to survive for a year or two. If I would, I would have just taken you out to hunt tree-crocs all day until eventually your soul spanned further than the entire temple island.

I swallowed a bit at the thought of that.

Soul makes you stronger. Better. Moggen sure as hell looks sturdy and strong. Then again, I don’t know how much of that is his soul and how much is just his body being, well, better. I think I’m starting to get why everyone uses it as a currency. Why Harris wants it so badly. He might fix his legs with it. Or he might not.

“You need to learn the basics. And not just learn, your body requires much work to build a good foundation. Remember, the body strengthens the mind, the mind strengthens the soul”

“…and the soul props up both to greater heights. Yeah, I get that. It’s just… we’ve been doing almost exactly the same stuff for nearly five months now. Even you’ve got to admit that that’s not exactly riveting, engaging or possibly even all that helpful. It's like... like even though everyone started similarly scared and confused, I'm still crawling in place while everyone else is already running ahead.”

He nodded sage-like. “Then, would you prefer to give up?”

“Excuse me?”

“Do you still want to become a knight?”

“Of course I do! What kind of question is that? Are you trying to weasel out of our deal again?”

He laughed, a deep and hollow tone. “It was worth a try. In truth, I cannot afford to spend all my time shackled to this dilapidated refuge. But if I am to train you, you will do it right. Believe you me when I tell you that those four and a half months of basic muscle training were necessary. Your body was in quite the pitiful state.”

“Hey! Rude.” Though I wasn’t going to deny the truth of it, it still didn’t feel nice to hear someone else say as much.

“However, circumstances change. You are not ready to go outside, yet evidently, I cannot stop you. Therefore, we will be accelerating your training to the point where you have no energy left to step beyond the bridge.”

Somehow, even though I was wishing for it, I didn’t like the sound of that. Did he have to sound so gleeful?

“Yay?” I said tentatively.

“Mister Moggen! Hello.” Said the Wolf and I turned to see the man himself approaching.

Inwardly, I groaned. Outwardly, I groaned louder. “And what is he doing here?”

“Training.” Mog said and got thrown a small bag of something by the Wolf. He caught it and stowed it away.

Payment. Or a bribe. What are they scheming?

I shot them both a glare. Neither of them seemed particularly perturbed.

“Mister Moggen has readily volunteered to act as a sparring partner while I am gone.”

"Hers?" Moggen asked, face full of confusion.

I was equally puzzled. “Gone? Sparring? But you haven’t even taught me how to fight with a sword!”

“You will have to learn in parallel. And I expect you to keep to your training routine out of your own power.” He said. “In the morning, endurance and full body muscle training. Afterwards, mediation. After that, sparring. Then, some light exercise. Possibly more meditation, if you feel up to it. I will be gone for a while. A few weeks maybe. By the time I return, I expect you to win at least three out of ten bouts against Moggen.”

“Three?” both me and Moggen shouted before looking at each other.

“You expect too much of this little girl. Her movements are amateurish and her proclivities tend towards suffering hits rather than dealing them. And quite poorly at that." When the Wolf stared him down, expecting him to shut up, he paused before continuing on. "I was promised a proficient sparring partner and been have offered a crippled little girl."

Gee. Thanks for that, Mog.

“I hate to agree, but yeah, he’s right. In case you haven’t noticed.” I said, pointing at the relevant parts on his body. “More armor. More size. More buff. More everything. He holds all the advantages.”

“Oh please.” The Wolf said and scoffed. “You are not dueling a giant. And you would best get used to fighting against the odds. Gods know you will seldomly have them stacked in your favor. And no shields for either of you.”

“This isn’t fair.”

“The world cannot give you fair. It will give you a cakewalk or it will give you hell.” He said with mounting impatience. “There are demons out there. Beasts from the forest. Maddened hordes of dregs and traitors. Worse. You both get no shields because they might as well be damn near useless against half of what lurks in the dark.”

What went unsaid was exactly how useful they’d be against the other half. I frowned.

I like my shield. Shields are good. Great, even. They make me feel safe.

He made to leave but turned to say one last thing. “Oh, before it slips my mind. If anyone so much as tries to light a matchstick, I expect both of you to deal with them.”

And then he left, leaving an exasperated me and an indignant Moggen in the darkness.

“The hell’s a matchstick?” Moggen asked.

“No clue. So, how do we want to do this?”

He turned to me, his helmet in hand. “Apologies, but I refuse to strike a, a… dainty flower such as you.”

“Oh.” I said, not really sure what to make of him, his description of me or the entire situation itself. Moggen hadn’t been the nicest to me ever since I got to know him. And that was an understatement. In fact, maybe this was an ideal situation to let off some steam. Maybe it’d even help clear my mind a bit.

The narrative has been taken without permission. Report any sightings.

Justice! Revenge against the man with the familiarly forgettable face.

I shrugged. “Your loss then.” I said and with a sneaky underhanded swing, swatted him across the back of his head with one of the nearby training sticks.

“Ow!” he yelled. “What was that for?”

“One for the dainty flower!” I said and swung again. “Two to go!”

He dodged this time and within but a moment, he too had a stick in his hand. No twigs or bark on it, but with a slight bend. “I will not hit you. You are a dainty lady. You have no place on the battlefield.”

I hesitated for a moment.

"What about Vinesse?"

He scoffed. "You can tell our madam caster she's too weak to fight, if you wish."

"Pass." I circled him, one hand on my sword. His was still held limply at the side. It was longer than mine.

Is this fair? Hell no. Is this going to help me learn how to swordfight? Nah, not at all. Is it fun? Hell yeah.

“Fine by me.” I went for a thrust this time, but he easily swatted my stick aside.

Over the course of the next hour, I got to know him a bit better. We didn’t really talk at all, even though I tried to distract him with banter. He simply shrugged me off with stoic silence. He was a strait-laced guy alright. A bit too uptight. A bit too principled. And he still looked down on me just because I was a woman and that somehow didn’t fit with his image of how knights ought to be.

Or he just thought women belonged in the kitchen. But that would be ridiculous. We weren’t in the dark ages before our glorious (new) empire. As far as I knew, Moggen had lived even a century after me. Surely, all citizens of age could, join the legions, own property and were technically equal before the law. Not that I’d ever find out, with how he was keeping mum and all that.

To be entirely fair, it took almost an hour of poking and prodding until he finally overcame whatever was holding him back and struck at me. Yes, I had gotten bold and moved deep into his reach. I had to, if I wanted any chance at reaching him and stabbing the end of my wooden spear somewhere soft. He didn’t have a lot of places that were and neither did he strike me as all that soft of a guy who'd go down from an underhanded blow.

Especially not when he simply stepped forward and slapped his stick right at my throat. That hurt a lot more than strictly necessary and I was left rolling in the mud, choking for air.

His large frame stepped into my field of view, and he looked down on me, not even having put on his helmet in all that time.

“One.” He said. “eight more to go. You have brought this upon yourself.”

“S-screw you, Mog.”

“Mog?”

“Mog. Y’know. Short for Moggen. Also… because you’ve got such a recognizable MUG!” I struck out with my sword, going straight for the softest part in his armor I could reach while on the floor.

He swatted it away, but not before taking a step back. “That was low.” He said, allowing me to stand up.

I coughed one more time and wiped some mud off of my face. I was tired, but in all honesty? This was kind of fun. Leagues more than endurance training, muscle stretches and meditation exercises.

“Yeah? Well sorry, I wasn’t built to go for the high-hanging fruit.”

He let out something between a dismissive scoff and a chuckle. Then, he took his helmet and put it over his head. “I’m sure you don’t mind this then.” He said before clanking down his visor.

“N–no fair.” I protested. “At least leave one of your arms exposed like me.”

He eyed me as I got back into a somewhat steady stance. At least the Wolf taught me that before leaving again. Then, to my unending surprise, he undid the leather belts that fastened his vambrace over his right arm. He even took the time to remove his metal gauntlets, leaving his sword-arm, hand and fingers quite exposed while I only exposed my useless shield arm.

“That fair enough for you?”

I snorted a laugh. “I mean, if you want to strip more, I wouldn’t mind.”

“…I’m not so sure you fall under the purview of ‘lady’ anymore. I will strike you now. Above.”

His stick came down and I caught it with mine.

"Left." It came again and I parried it.

"Low."

He slowly but steadily went faster and faster, parrying every one of my own strikes in between calmly readying his own.

Maybe he wasn’t that bad a guy. That I had gotten this much conversation out of him was already quite impressive. We weren’t exactly warming up to each other, but the animosity that was there in the air quickly made way for the will to compete. And I was ready to show him exactly what this oh so ‘dainty’ lady was made of.

And then he proceeded to use the next hour to beat me the fuck up.

----------------------------------------

“Ow. Ow. Ow.”

My legs hurt. My hands hurt. My neck hurts. My butt hurts. At least Moggen had the decency to not whap me in the face. Damn stupid broken nose. And the insults! No mercy. No remorse.

He–he called me a hopped-up fruit-tart! The gall on this man. Just because I always went for low strikes. It’s not my fault his loins are the easiest unarmored section to hit. Not that I ever hit anything.

It was the end of the week, and our third sparring session had ended quite one-sidedly with him flexing years of martial tactics drilled into his body and me lying in the mud, the scores at zero to ten. Mog said something about flailing, hopeless and other mean things, but I chose to not remember them because I was sure that he didn’t truly mean what he said. And if he did, I’d kick his butt twice as hard the next day.

Actually, tomorrow is rest day. Ugh, I need to find something to do on those days. Maybe play with Pim, bless his soul. Maybe talk to Avice. She needs some kind words. Maybe finally divide the loot with everyone else. I could help Vinesse with that. She’s already got her hands full with caring for Krah. Bless her soul. She’s clipped and curt, but she cares about her subordinates. Friends. Party members.

I don’t know how she sees us.

I sat down on what was quickly becoming my favorite perch next to the gem-sentinel. Mostly because no one bothered to skirt along the decorative stone lining on the outside of the temple walls to get there. No one but Stitches.

“You seemed to have a jolly good time getting threshed around. Like wheat from the chaff.” He said, chuckling in his own weird unique way. Like a coyote, or hyena.

“Haha. Great pun. Do you ever grow tired just watching people all day?”

“How could I? There are so many, yet at the core, we’re all made from the same dirt.”

“How so?”

He paused to think for a moment, or just to pretend as much. I don’t know, he was difficult to read. “I’m not so sure I can put it into words yet. But I’ve got a feeling there’s something there.”

“Just a feeling then?”

“Just a feeling. No more. No less.”

We kept watching for some time. People mulled about in the temple yards, a group of them coming or leaving it over the bridge every now and again. There was a quarrel between some. Some were injured. Many seemed to lose all direction after losing sight of the temple, quickly circling around in less than half an hour.

“Y’know, you don’t question things nearly enough.” Stitches suddenly said.

“Oh really?” I asked. “I’ll have you know, I question myself at least a dozen times a day.”

He chuckled. “Not yourself. Things. Signs. Other people.”

“Such as?”

“Our resident Wolfs-knight may be helpful, yes, but he’s awfully tight lipped. Your friend with the three hands. What’s someone from Viln doing all the way here? Last I checked, that place was wiped off the edge of the continent. Harris. He’s just a humble merchant like me, he plays it well, but something about him smells off. And lastly, Glom. Or should I call her m’lady? Proclaims herself to be divine, but what stake have the gods in this sorry dump? What is it that brought us all back? And why?”

I shrugged. “No idea. I just know that my mum told me not to listen to strangers on the roof trying to make me buy what they’re selling.” Stitches was sounding more and more like a well-put-together madman.

He let out a high-pitched sigh. “Oh, the wonders of our human minds. First you doubt none but yourself, but the moment someone points it out, you doubt them in thanks? Shame on you. You should know better.”

I don’t even know why I bother talking with him. Now he’s just starting to get annoying. “I know well enough, mister humble merchant sir.”

“Of course. Of course. That being said, quiet now. I think we’re about to be in for a treat.”

He pointed down. There, I saw Vinesse, followed by Avice leave the temple. Even though me and Stitches were literally glowing in the dark, so was everyone else out here. Barely anyone ever cared to look up, though if they did, they’d be sure to see us.

Hiding only makes me feel like I’m doing something bad. And I’m a good egg. A good egg that watches people. In this case, two very important people. I’m not spying on them. Spies are bad. Evil! Technically, I’m in plain view. It’s not my fault they can’t be bothered to look up.

“So, Avice. I assume you know why I asked you to come out here?” I heard Vinesse ask.

“Yes. I mean, yes Ma’am.” Avice replied, rubbing her arms and looking away in shame. “I… have not been performing adequately enough.”

“Avice. Look at me when I’m talking to you.” There was a pause and then a sigh. Vinesse paced back and forth in front of an increasingly uncomfortable looking Avice. Eventually she came to a stop in front of her again.

“We have a responsibility as people of power. People in power.” She started. “I’m aware you were nobility once.”

“F-from Viln, yes.”

“Was it a nice place?”

“Yes. We had beautiful pottery. Colorful sands at the beach. An ocean like beryl. I… I miss it.”

Another odd pause from Vinesse. “…not that it matters. We might have lived on different sides of the continent for how far we are apart in time. Tell me, Avice, if an apple falls from a tree, is it the wind’s fault or the tree’s?” Vinesse asked.

Avice looked puzzled. Which was entirely understandable, given the nature of this weird riddle. “The… tree?” she eventually said.

Vinesse was of a different opinion. “It doesn’t matter. No matter whose fault it was that the apple fell, what is important is that someone picks it up before it rots. Now Avice. Tell me. Can I count on you to pick yourself up?”

They both stared at each other for a long while. Eventually, Avice looked to the side again. “I-I shall try.” She said.

“I need better than just ‘try’, Avice. Krah is out for the count. The party needs to be able to rely on everyone.”

“I… I understand.”

“Good. Because if you don’t, I’ll be forced to recruit someone else in your place.”

And with that, Vinesse walked away, leaving Avice by her lonesome outside the temple. She did not seem keen on entering it after her and if it were me, I’d also feel like shit after being talked to like that.

I actually do feel quite shit just listening to it from above. I can almost feel the self-judgement radiating off of her from all the way up here.

Meanwhile, Stitches was just looking all kinds of content after snitching up a juicy bit of gossip.

“So, you enjoy this?” I whispered to him.

“Hmm? Oh, not at all. Honestly, the way she talked to her, makes one feel downright sorry for the poor girl.” He answered in the same conspiratorial tone.

“Yeah. Me too. Wish I could do something for Avice. She seemed down all week already.”

“You two are friends in some sense?” he asked.

“Friends? Yeah, friends.”

“Then what are you waiting for? Plunge down and be the angel that saves the doubter from falling from grace.”

His tone was all kinds of snarky and even a bit eager at the prospect. “I, I’m no angel. I’m just Rye.”

“But you do want to make her feel better, right? Lift her spirits and all. Right?”

“Right.”

He went quiet and stood up, maybe to call out to her or something.

“Well then, I’ve decided to help out.”

“How are you going to help me, or her? You probably don’t even know what exactly the problem even is, let alone how to fix it.”

He sighed. “You’re quite right. I’m just a humble merchant looking for a bit of truth. How could I even begin to help either of you sorry souls?”

“…I don’t really need help though.”

“Then maybe you just need a kick in the rump. Look out below!” I heard him yell.

And then he booted me off the balcony ledge. ‘Huh’ was the first thing my genius mind thought. ‘Motherfucker’ the second as I careened downwards. It was a ten-foot fall and I was not looking to be in for a soft landing.

I screamed.

“AAAAAAAAAH!”

With a yelp and a groan, three hands caught me before I hit the floor.

“H-hey Avice.” I said, seeing the grinning face and thumbs-up of the man known as stitches on the balcony above before he moved away.

“H-hey Rye?” she said, more a question than a statement.

“So… heard you’re in trouble. Need a hand?” I offered my right.

We looked at each other, me dangling in her arms, she, holding me like fallen fruit. She burst out laughing and I giggled as well. It was nice. It was the first time in a while that I heard her laugh quite so genuinely.