“Why are we out here?”

Alkataia was not happy to be there. She was not happy about many things.

For a moment, she was shocked to realize she had not been very happy for a long time, but she put that out of mind.

“I told you,” said the man she had followed out of town. “If you’re going to reach your daughter, you need to be able to fight.”

He had led her far from town, first following a road to the west, and then striking south into the rolling foothills. That had wound up in a valley, mostly free of the endless flowers which seemed to burst forth from every available surface in this shard. Instead, a single gnarled tree grew at its center, with a few scattered boulders dotting the landscape.

Upon arrival, the man had sat down upon one of the rocks, and had drawn a number of vials from his pockets. He had begun to measure powders and leaves, adding them carefully to the empty vials, and then begun to add dollops of some sweet smelling glop to them.

She had tried to wait patiently, but the longer she stood there, the less certain she felt about having followed him.

“Why can’t we go now?” she demanded, arms crossed tightly.

There was barely a hesitation before the man responded, though his hands did not waver in their task. “You’re not strong enough to make it yet. The trip is dangerous. If we’re going to reach the Princess, you need to obtain a Jewel of Mordred. And if we’re to obtain that, you need to learn how to fight. And if you’re to learn to fight…”

He trailed off, just as the liquid in the bottles began to react. A high pitched fizzing noise emanated from each of them, as the mixture within slowly began to turn red.

“We’ll need some healing potions,” he finished.

Alkataia didn’t allow her eyes to wander to the concoctions. “You haven’t even told me your name yet.”

This time Alkataia did actually notice the hesitation.

“You can call me Dolant, alright?”

Her eyes narrowed. “And what can you tell me of my daughter, Dolant?”

The man sighed, standing away from the five glowing bottles he had prepared.

“I can tell you she’s safe,” he said, taking up a stand near her. “I can tell you that, as you are now, it’s impossible for you to reach her. I can tell you that I have every intention of doing everything within my power to see you safely to her side. I can tell you that the plan I have is truly the one I think has the best chance of obtaining that outcome.”

She searched his face as he spoke, seeking some sign within the set of his eyes, the lines of his mouth, to confirm the truth of his words.

Yet, as before, she knew she’d follow what he said for a single reason: she had no other leads to go on.

The police were looking, but she couldn’t honestly make herself believe they’d find anything.

Her daughter seemed to be in the game along with her. It was hard to accept that, but the only alternative was to accept she’d gone mad. As tempting as that thought was - if she was only made, maybe her daughter was safe - she couldn’t allow herself to succumb to it. If she accepted that, then either her daughter was trapped with a mad woman, or else she’d be wallowing in a lie and there’d be no one to pursue the truth of her daughter’s whereabouts.

She knew, in her bones, that her daughter’s disappearance had something to do with the game. Just as surely as she knew she was in here somewhere, she knew the way to her daughter lay somewhere within the Realms.

And the only possible lead she had was the man before her.

She could ask more questions, but at the moment they didn’t seem like they’d actually help. All she cared about was finding her daughter.

So she’d accept she was in the game. She’d accept the help of his NPC. She’d accept her entire situation. Because she’d rather accept that, and move forward, than just giving up.

She forced her arms down to her sides. “What now?”

Dolant nodded to himself, then reached down to pick up a satchel she hadn’t seen behind the rock. From it, he drew two long, thick sticks.

“Now I teach you to fight.” And he tossed one of the sticks to her.

She flinched, and put her hands up. To her surprise, she caught the weapon in her hand easily.

“Your body knows how to fight, but you do not,” said Dolant, nodding at her. “That will see you through a basic combat, but we’re going to tougher places than that. We need to teach you to fight, not just let your body do it for you.”

This tale has been unlawfully lifted from Royal Road; report any instances of this story if found elsewhere.

She nodded, though truthfully she had no idea what he meant. She held the stick in her hand, and gave it an experimental swing. She found herself swinging it strongly, confidently. The powerful movements were completely against her expectations.

“Just so,” said Dolant. “Now, if you don’t mind, come try to hit me.”

Partially it was because she’d already decided the quickest path to finding her daughter was to follow his orders. Partially it was because she was curious to see what she’d learn.

Mostly, though, she was just happy to hit the current source of her frustration.

So when he said to attack him, she was more than happy to oblige. She rushed forward, racing towards him with a speed she could scarcely believe, and then brought the stick crashing down to his head.

Or at least, to where his head had been. He had neatly sidestepped the attack, and brought his own stick whistling around into her side. She had just enough time to realize he had slowed the attack some before it actually hit, and then she was too busy curling up on the ground.

14 damage!

The pain didn’t linger, thankfully, but it was sharp enough in the moment to linger in the mind. She realized after a few moments that Dolant was actually crouched at her side, one of the potions in his hand. He had placed it at her lips, and though she wanted to push it aside, she wanted the relief it promised more.

At the first taste of it upon her lips, she felt fire rush through her spine, and spill into her limbs. It tasted of cherries, and summer, and nights well spent. Before she could have another drop, though, it was already pulled away.

“Don’t have enough to waste,” Dolant said, and he actually sounded apologetic. “I knew the first hit would be hard to take, so I had that ready, but from this point on we’ll need you to get a bit more injured before you can use any.”

“What is it?” she asked, rubbing her side. Instead of the cracked rib she expected, there was nothing. Even the memory of the pain seemed lessened. She glanced up at the HP counter at the corner of her vision, and saw it was full once more. There was even two small icons there now, one with a small green arrow over a shield, and another with a small green arrow over an arm.

“Special brew,” was the answer. “Quite effective, but loses potency after a couple hours. So that’s how long we have to teach you how to fight. Now, come try to hit me again.”

She drew the stick back… and paused. The pain might be gone, and the memory already fading, but she wasn’t stupid. The memory was manageable, but still there.

Then she grit her teeth, and charged.

This time, though he dodged it once more, no attack was forthcoming.

“Very good. Plenty of bravery,” he said from her side, while resting the stick on her shoulder. “That first hit was more of a warning, than anything else. You’re used to this being a game. Now, it is not a game. This is your body, and the things you do will impact you. That means pain when fighting. You needed to know what that could be like, at the very beginning, while you’re still inexperienced enough that I can control the combat.

“Now, from this point on, I won’t be trying to hurt you. But, as you improve, bumps and bruises will be inevitable. You’ll start to get better, and we’ll both have to actually give it our all for you to reach that level. So hits will happen. That’s why I have the potions. Let’s get going.”

---

They’d been fighting for half an hour, and she was beginning to grow frustrated.

It’s not that she wasn’t hitting him. Once she’d grown used to his movements, and had started to anticipate him, she’d been able to land plenty of hits. She swing her weapon at him, trusting in her body’s instincts to direct the blow, and she could hit him easily enough. It’s just that the hits were worthless.

She’d asked, and he told her there were training weapons. They were intentionally made to do as little damage as possible to your training partner. That didn’t explain how he’d done three times more damage than she was doing though.

And all he’d say in return is, “You need to hit me.”

She was angry, she was bruised, and she was beginning to think this was a waste of time. So when she got a shot this time, after he deliberately moved just a hair slower than normal so she could see his mocking smile, she didn’t just initiate an attack and let her body take over. She gripped the stick with both hands, and leaned into it, concentrating all of her rage and frustration into the blow, willing it to strike him for all she was worth.

Even as she was swinging, she knew she’d done something right.

9 damage.

It wasn’t much, but it was easily twice what she had been doing. Much more satisfyingly, it was also enough to drive the wind from Dolant’s lungs.

He wheezed as he walked over to the collection of potions, and took a sip.

He sighed as it did its work. “There you go. I told you - you need to hit me. Not your body. You. Understand?”

And she did, now. Her body was capable of performing actions without her, but it would only perform as well as it could if her mind remained in control every step of the way.

“Good,” said Dolant, straightening back up and hefting his own stick. “Now that you’ve got the idea, I can take off the training wheels. Time to get serious.”

The half formed smile fell from her face. In a single moment, she went from triumphant to horrified.

---

An hour and a half later, and having healed enough bruises to cover her body five times over, Dolant finally pronounced himself satisfied with her progress.

By the end, she was entirely holding her own in her sparring. While Dolant was definitely a better trained fighter, his body didn’t seemed to have the raw power hers did. She was now easily hitting him for more than he was her, sometimes significantly more, and she also seemed to move faster. Only his obviously exceptional training allowed him to keep up with her.

Even so, by the end, he was taking two sips of the healing potion for her every one, and he seemed more than happy to end the training session.

“Well done,” he told her, and she glowed in pride. She had worked hard, and done well, and Lilly would be so-

For the past hour she hadn’t thought of Lily once.

The training had been so brutal, requiring such perfect concentration, that all thoughts of her daughter had been driven from her mind. For that wonderful hour, there’d been only the dance, and the exhilaration of her body.

She began to shake.

Dolant kept his distance, looking slightly to her side. “That’s enough for tonight. Time for you to wake up, I think. I’ll be here when you return.”

She wasn’t listening. Her hand had already moved, reaching to logout.

It felt like losing her daughter all over again.

For an entirely hour, she hadn’t thought of her once.

She woke up to bitter tears.