Day 56, 7:30 PM
"People who cannot find time for recreation are sooner or later to find time for illness."
– John Wanamaker
I draw the window curtains closed and work a thin thread, which I took from our household servants, into a fine mesh. Manny watches me work the thread along the ceiling and leave an end dangling above my head.
“Is this really better than simply stationing a pair of guards outside our window?” Her question is logical, but in my eyes, placing two inexperienced men to stop a seasoned assassin is no different from killing them myself.
“I already told you, a proper assassin will kill the guards quietly before climbing here. Stationing men beneath our window is almost like executing them.”
She holds my gaze for several moments, silently saying, ‘You know guards are there to risk their lives for you?’ but she doesn’t say the words, instead she moves on to the next illogical item on her list.
“So you plan to hold a string in your sleep, and when they cut or move the curtain, they will wake you up?” Her voice is full of doubt. Can’t say I blame her. The plan is simple at best, but I have little choice, other than staying awake all night, every night until I catch the other two assassins.
“I’m not even certain they will come into our room again. They probably won’t. That’s why I tasted your food today, and why I insist on being with you all the time.”
She gives me that look, gesturing towards the curtained window and following the thread with her hand.
“Just in case,” I say with a smile.
“Good night.” I peck her on the forehead and we go to sleep.
Ten hours later, I yawn. My hand is slightly stiff, but that’s about the only excitement for that night. I gather the thread in five minutes, open the curtains, and do my stretches before the sun rises.
“Why are you doing those?” Manny asks, watching me with fascination.
“They help everything work properly when you grow older.”
“But you are young?”
“I am, I was before too, and I regretted not doing these when I grew older.”
“Are you serious?” she asks.
“Dead serious.” I look her in the eye, and I can see her doubt. “I really am. You should start doing some stretches and exercises now, it will save you a lot of pain when you’re forty.”
She stops putting her dress on and grins at me. “You know, planning to live forty years old is very ambitious, given our circumstances.”
I stop with my stretches and walk over to her. I grab the back of her head and plant a deep kiss.
“Listen, forty is just the start of living. I’m gonna keep banging you even when we’re both old and shriveled up. I will be such a bad boy, the world would be disgusted if they knew what a shriveled old man was still doing to his shriveled old lady.”
She’s smiling at me. It’s a sweet, fond one. The smile that warms your heart. A normal man would have hugged her and kissed her forehead. I push her to the bed.
The rest of the day was pretty much the same as yesterday. Old Phill spent hours trying to make me tear down Manny’s castle, and we practiced with the staff.
By the end of the session, I’m certain my movements are better than yesterday. More fluid, more natural, but the old man still kicks my ass with ease. We continue our exercise in the grand dining hall, where Gomer reads me the second third of Warfare.
The third day is much the same, but in the middle of fending off Phill’s furious assault BSD pops up.
This book's true home is on another platform. Check it out there for the real experience.
[Ability - Initial Staffsmanship acquired]
Huh? For a moment I’m stunned, then I grin and dismiss the screen. Even though my mind blanked, my hands kept moving on their own, and suddenly, Phill’s advance is easier to follow and counter. I take a moment to realize I’m blocking the strikes which used to hit me a moment ago.
The old man frowns. The change was too abrupt, and he noticed it.
“Did you have a sudden epiphany?” He stops swinging his staff and steps away, eyeing me from head to toe.
I shrug. “It’s like something just clicked, and I now know what I’m doing.”
Phill nods slowly. “If I were younger, I’d say it’s about time I stopped going easy on you, but I’m five years too old to go all out when my life is not in danger. I’m sorry, but you will need to find a better sparring partner to challenge you with the staff.”
What? That’s it? Just three days? I don’t want the old man to go. I open my mouth to complain, but he keeps talking.
“We’re going to have twenty-five of your best soldiers take turns attacking you with dummy swords from now on, and I will switch to teaching you the spear. I am a spearmaster, after all.”
I’m relieved that Phill will keep training me, but at the same time I have another thought, What level is his Staffsmanship? And that’s just a secondary skill for him.
“What are you staring at? Go push the wall!” Phill shouts, and I get going.
“Yes, Sir, thank you, Sir!”
A few minutes later, I’m straining against the wall, trying to move the immovable object, and Phill is bashing my side with his padded staff.
I take the hit without a sound, and I realize something. I’ve dropped my guard against the assassins. Yesterday, I was still turning around, looking at shadows, but today I’m just following my routine, and my vigilance and unease have grown fainter than they were yesterday.
I try to force myself to be more paranoid, but it doesn’t help.
This is probably what the assassins want and what they are waiting for. That thought does the trick, and my paranoia spikes for a while, but the day is not much different from yesterday. Gomer reads Warfare while I’m focused on Phill’s lesson. The old man is bolder when wielding the padded staff as a spear. His attacks are quicker, fiercer, and they hit a whole lot more often. They hurt a whole lot more, too.
He probably has speed and damage bonuses.
“You are relying too much on your instincts to dodge,” Phill growls. “Stop doing that! You need to counter my attacks to learn.”
That’s easy for you to say! I got a blue screen saying I got injured from one of your attacks.
“Sir Phill,” I say, slipping past yet another jab intent on dislocating my shoulder, “I’m afraid your attacks may cause me serious harm.”
“Of course attacks will cause harm,” he shouts. “If they weren’t causing harm, we wouldn’t be using them. Nobody will swing at you just so you can dodge their attacks on the battlefield. Now, stop squirming around and fight like a man.”
I glance towards the table. Oola and Gomer are doing their jobs, one writing, the other reading. Manny, however, has set aside her quill and she’s looking at my suffering with a grin.
Our gazes meet, and her smile grows wider.
“Yes, Aang, fight like a man,” she shouts.
I clench my teeth and get beaten while trying to hit the vigorous old bastard. He thumps most of my attacks aside, rewarding my effort with devastating counterattacks. They hurt, but at least they don’t register as wounds.
Then, he fails to block one attack. It goes right past his guards, and the treacherous old goat twists his body sideways and dodges.
“What the fuck?” I shout. “Take it like a man!”
“I’m a senior citizen. A hit like that could have dislocated my shoulder,” he says without an ounce of shame, and rams his staff into my side as I stare at him in shock.
“Don’t let your guard down,” he says, stabbing me again and hitting my shoulder half a second after the phantom pain flashes there. I grab his spear, and he doesn’t even try to yank it free.
“That’s a great move on the battlefield, with your instincts, it could be better than dodging, assuming you can grab a spear before it strikes. However, it has no place in the training room.”
I clench my teeth. I’m slightly frustrated, but I know this is training, and he’s my instructor. He made it clear on our first day that he won’t teach if I don’t listen.
“Yes, Sir. Sorry, Sir.”
“Good lad, let’s keep going.”
Days flash by. The assassins are staying low, and our men are shaping up into an army. On the seventh day, the first messenger returns.
I’m in the great hall, holding my ground much better than I did yesterday. I stop seven out of ten Phill’s attacks before they reach me, and thanks to my improvement, he allowed me to dodge when today’s training session started.
“The best tactic at conquering a heavily fortified castle…” Gomer reads about using deception rather than muscle during sieges when a knock echoes on the door.
“Come in,” Manuella says, and a sweaty man carrying a stick of parchment enters the room. The man is breathing like he’d been doing hard labor for hours, and after a moment I recognize his red, glistening face. He’s the horseback messenger Manny sent to count Arangel four days ago.
“My Noble Lady, I bring bad news,” he says and hands Manny the sealed scroll.
Manny opens it, scans it, then reads it aloud.
“To traitors and the enemies of the king, I have but one thing to say: ‘I will meet you on the field of battle, capture you, and bring you before my liege in chains.’”