There were many times when young Artemis wanted to give up. It wasn't just her body that ached; her mind felt exhausted too. The relentless sprinting through the obstacle course, the constant pull-ups, and the soreness and pain in her muscles wore her down with every exercise. But a part of her deeply desired to get stronger. The image of Pacificus parrying a cockatrice to its death remained vivid in her mind. She longed for that strength and confidence. She wanted it badly, but Pacificus's rigorous training regime reminded her daily that it wouldn't be easy. Her muscles were pushed to their limits, her body exhausted every day, but she knew she had to earn it.
As she dangled from a pole, trying to pull herself up, her body weight worked against her. Her muscles screamed in agony, and even her mind began having second thoughts. "I can do it," she whispered to herself, then roared, "I CAN DO IT!" With a surge of determination, she lifted herself up.
"Ten more," she said, her voice resolute. "TEN MORE!" She knew that achieving ten more pull-ups would mean she had gotten stronger, even if just a bit.
As she attempted another pull-up, her sweat-filled grip slipped. She yelped and fell onto a soft but itchy stack of hay.
"Oh," said Pacificus, observing her fall. "You broke your record by one."
Artemis didn't celebrate outwardly; her arms ached too much. But deep inside, she was glad, knowing she had gotten stronger, even if just a bit. She lay on the hay, feeling a mix of exhaustion and quiet pride.
The roughness of the hay scratched against her skin, but she didn't mind. Each ache and bruise was a testament to her determination and progress. She looked up at the sky, the blue expanse framed by the leaves of the towering trees surrounding Pacificus's hut. The scent of earth and grass filled her lungs, grounding her in the moment.
Artemis had been training at Pacificus's farm for a month now. She had gained a bit of confidence in herself, but there was still something bothering her.
"Mr. Pacificus," she asked one day, a hint of frustration in her voice, "when will I train how to hunt? The only thing I've been doing is running."
"That would be later, young lady," Pacificus replied calmly.
"But why only running, jumping, and climbing? I already have those skills thanks to your training."
"That is simple, young Artemis. Tell me, what do you do when you encounter an enemy that is stronger than you?"
"You stand your ground," she answered, her voice firm.
"No, young Artemis. You run away. That is the proper way to face a foe that is stronger than you."
"What? But why?" she asked, her eyes widening in disbelief.
"You run and live another day. Get stronger so one day you will not have to run away again."
Her eyes widened further as realization dawned on her. "Ah, I see," she replied thoughtfully.
She went on her knees and closed her palms, making her own prayer. It was a habit she had developed while watching Pacificus. She prayed to the forgotten gods, her prayers audible only to herself. This way, she could both clear her mind and rest at the same time.
Pacificus didn't really know where she got the habit, but he allowed it nonetheless, thinking it was the best way for her to rest.
After praying, she would start exercising again. Each day she pushed herself harder, knowing that every step, every run, every climb was bringing her closer to her goal.
Her day of training would end with Pacificus's cart as the giant took her back home. Her body ached all over, but there was a sense of fulfillment in her exhaustion.
----------------------------------------
Merina awoke in the wooden building that served as their home and orphanage, greeted by the comforting aroma of stew simmering in the cauldron. She knew who had prepared the meal—young Artemis, a girl the orphanage had adopted. Artemis had a predictable routine. She would rise before the sun, ensure breakfast was ready for her family, and then set off towards the dwelling of the young giant, Pacificus. Every evening, she returned exhausted, usually transported by Pacificus's cart.
Occasionally, Artemis would voice her frustrations about the training, lamenting that she only ran and exercised and expressing her desire to wield a weapon. Other times, she brought back sacks of fresh vegetables and food, proudly announcing that they were rewards for helping Pacificus on his farm.
Day by day, Merina noticed changes in Artemis. The girl had gained both weight and muscle. She had also developed some peculiar habits. She trained with Pacificus for seven days, resting on the eighth—though her idea of rest involved cleaning toilets by digging holes near saplings and depositing the waste there. She ran around the town, practiced pull-ups on tree branches, and prayed to a sapling she had brought home, treating it with the utmost care. She even carried buckets of water from a distant well to nourish her beloved sapling.
Artemis had become industrious and incredibly strong. She finished her chores faster than the other children and was the fastest runner among them. Her strength was evident in the way she helped rebuild the orphanage, although her older brothers ensured she stayed away from the tree-cutting near the Ever Resting Forest, a dangerous area with tales of mysterious disappearances.
Nonetheless, Artemis found ways to contribute. She pulled wagons loaded with lumber, chopped wood with her older siblings, and lifted heavy beams. The orphanage's reconstruction owed much to her newfound strength and determination.
One day, young Apollo approached Merina with a request she had been anticipating. "Mom, can I train with Mr. Pacificus too?"
She sighed, then smiled warmly. "Of course, Apollo."
----------------------------------------
The next day, two children appeared at Pacificus's farm. Artemis stood beside her brother, Apollo, who looked determined yet slightly apprehensive.
"What brings you here, Lord Apollo?" Pacificus asked, towering over the small boy.
"I want to train. Can I train too?"
"Of course... have you taken breakfast?"
"Yes," Apollo replied quickly, though Pacificus raised an eyebrow in doubt.
"Let's have breakfast first before we start training, Lord Apollo."
After a hearty breakfast of harpy eggs and vegetable stew, Apollo and Artemis sat on Pacificus's porch. Apollo felt a mix of embarrassment and shame for enjoying food that wasn't his own.
"Why do you want to train, Lord Apollo?" Pacificus asked the boy gently.
"I... I want that," Apollo stammered, pointing at Pacificus.
"Pardon?" Pacificus said, puzzled.
"I want to have that," Apollo repeated, pointing more emphatically.
Pacificus looked down at his own body, trying to understand where Apollo was pointing. Finally, Apollo pointed at his sister's arm, where new muscles had begun to show.
"Oh, you mean muscle," Pacificus said, finally understanding.
"Yes," Apollo admitted, his face turning red with embarrassment.
A memory flashed in Pacificus's mind. He recalled a scene from his youth, watching his parents interact. His father, a robust man with strong arms, had admired his mother's biceps, rubbing his chin as he said, "I want that. They are so big and hard."
His mother, flexing her impressive muscles with a giggle, had replied, "You have pretty big biceps yourself, my love."
"But yours are bigger and more beautiful," his father had insisted, admiration clear in his voice.
Pacificus then thought of the harpies he had encountered in the forest. Among them, the males were more colorful, often performing elaborate dances with their feathers to attract lifelong partners. Similarly, the Great Apes would flex their muscles to impress the females.
Isn't young Apollo way too young to be thinking of those things? Pacificus pondered. Then again, if it helps the young man's self-esteem, he would gladly support him in his quest for self-confidence.
"All right, Lord Apollo. But be informed the training will be hard."
"Yes," Apollo replied, his determination unwavering.
"It will require discipline and facing hardships."
"Arty told me that too."
"Good... We will begin after an hour."
A few hours later, young Apollo found himself sprawled on the ground, his breath heavy, his entire body screaming in pain. He wondered how it had happened. He had been enjoying the run at first, but then his legs suddenly ached. His side started to hurt, making it harder for him to continue. His arms grew weak, and before he knew it, he was on his knees.
"Don't do that, Lord Apollo," Pacificus advised, his voice calm and steady. "Walk, then rest. No need to break your body."
Artemis, having finished her own run, smiled at her little brother. "Hard, isn't it?" she grinned as she passed Apollo, a mix of pride and sympathy in her eyes.
A part of Apollo felt frustrated at the grin on his sister's face, as if she was taunting him with her muscles. He felt frustrated, angry, and jealous. If she can do it, so can I, he thought to himself as he pushed his body to the limit. However, his determination led to him slipping and falling to his face with a yelp.
"Are you all right, Lord Apollo?" Pacificus asked, concern in his voice.
"Y-yes," Apollo replied, trying to mask his embarrassment.
"Rest, then do it again, Lord Apollo," Pacificus instructed gently. "Don't worry, everybody falls. What matters is you always get back up. Even Lady Artemis fell like that t-."
"NO, I DIDN'T!" Artemis interjected, her cheeks flushing red.
----------------------------------------
Another month passed.
Merina would wake up to find two children missing from her home. However, she did not panic, knowing exactly where the children had gone. Every evening, the two children would return home on Pacificus's cart, both exhausted yet always having room for supper.
At the dinner table, the two children would argue and bicker with each other.
"Mine is bigger!" Apollo would declare.
"Nuh-uh, mine is bigger, and I can run faster," Artemis would counter.
"Well I started later than you. That makes me faster."
"No, it doesn't!"
"Yes, it does!"
The two would show their muscles at the dinner table to everyone's amusement. It seemed that the siblings had developed a healthy rivalry.
Not only had they become competitive, but they also shared the same habits. Both would wake up early and complete their chores so quickly that they had time to help with the chores of others. Even Merina was left with time for her hobby, tailoring new clothes—something she appreciated as she didn't want the children to be dressed in rags, especially now.
The two would pray in front of a sapling, and they even started planting potatoes in their backyard. They often raced through the town, coming back tired but with a fire in their eyes. They did all this once every eight days when they weren't training with Pacificus.
Merina and the others didn't mind, for they could see that the two children were not only becoming more muscular but also healthier and stronger.
Then, the inevitable happened.
Merina smiled at the children in front of her, who had pleading eyes. "All of you can ask Pacificus tomorrow."
----------------------------------------
As they approached Pacificus's home, the early morning air carried a crisp chill, tinged with the scent of dew-dampened earth. Merina led the way, her steps deliberate yet light, flanked by twelve eager children from the orphanage. Two of them, Apollo and Artemis, walked ahead confidently, their muscular frames a testament to their recent training with Pacificus.
Unauthorized content usage: if you discover this narrative on Amazon, report the violation.
Apollo, taking on a protective tone, whispered to his siblings, "Don't disturb Big Brother Pacificus when he's praying, okay? He wakes up really early and starts his prayers, and that's why he's so strong." The other children nodded in agreement, their faces a mix of curiosity and admiration.
As they walked towards Pacificus's hut, a small, unnatural breeze swept through the air, gently caressing their bodies. Artemis whispered to Merina, barely audible over the distant sounds of Pacificus swinging his wooden sword, "We're close. That's Big Brother Pacificus practicing with his wooden sword."
Merina nodded, her eyes following Artemis's indication. She felt a shift in the atmosphere as they approached, the wind intensifying with each powerful swing of Pacificus's sword. Each motion echoed with a resounding crack, accompanied by gusts of wind that brushed against their faces, adding a sense of energy and anticipation to the quiet morning.
Merina's eyes widened as she watched Pacificus practice. Though she disliked violence, she found herself captivated by the grace and precision of his movements. The large wooden sword seemed to dance effortlessly in his hands, its swings controlled yet swift, creating a blur of motion that mesmerized her. Despite the speed, Pacificus's focus was deep and unwavering, lending a sacred air to his practice.
After concluding his sword practice, the towering figure of Pacificus gently placed the sword aside and turned to two nearby trees. Merina noticed them for the first time, their branches stretching upwards with leaves that were beginning to turn yellow and fall.
Merina whispered to herself, recognizing the scene before her. "Ah, so this is where the two got that habit." She observed Pacificus as he began to pray, his actions so reverent and personal that she felt it would be disrespectful to interrupt.
The moment held a quiet solemnity, punctuated only by the soft rustling of leaves and the occasional distant call of a bird. Merina and the children stood respectfully at a distance, watching in silence as Pacificus completed his prayers, his presence seeming to harmonize with the natural surroundings.
After finishing his prayer, Pacificus turned to see Merina standing there. "Oh... L-l-l-l-Lady Merina..Wh...What brings you here?" he asked, his face red in blush.
Merina smiled warmly, a smile that made Pacificus blush even more. "I'm just here to ask you something, Mr. Pacificus," she replied.
Pacificus glanced at the children gathered behind her. "Then.... then please, come inside," he said, motioning them toward his home. "Have you had your breakfast?"
"Of course," Merina answered.
"Uhm ahh...Wa... Walking here must have made all of you tired. Please...Please, come inside my home. The weather is getting cold."
Twelve children filed into Pacificus's small home. It was modest, containing only a bed, a fireplace that doubled as a cooking station, and a kitchen with a massive sword displayed on the wall. That seemed to be everything Pacificus owned, or so it appeared.
Pacificus noticed the number of people and decided to make breakfast. "Please wait here," he said as he opened an underground door hidden near his bed. The door surprised everyone except Apollo and Artemis.
He returned with some vegetables, bread, and meat. "Wait a minute," said Artemis, her eyes widening. "Is that the barometz meat?"
Pacificus nodded, looking at his guests. "Yes, it is. I thought it would be nice to share it with everyone today."
Pacificus realized he didn't have enough wooden plates for everyone, so he decided to make sandwiches instead. He gathered the vegetables, barometz meat, and soft bread, and began preparing the meal with the same meticulous care he put into everything he did.
First, he laid out the fresh vegetables: crisp lettuce, ripe tomatoes, and crunchy cucumbers. He washed them thoroughly, the cold water running over his hands, then set them aside to dry on a clean cloth. The vibrant colors of the vegetables added a touch of brightness to the rustic kitchen.
Next, he turned his attention to the meat. The barometz, a plant native to the Ever Resting Forest, was a peculiar plant that usually has sheep as fruits. Pacificus sliced the meat into thin, even pieces, the sharp knife gliding effortlessly through the tender cuts. He then seasoned the slices with a pinch of salt and a few fragrant herbs from his garden.
He heated a large frying pan over the open fire, the flames crackling and sending a warm glow through the room. Once the frying was hot, he added a small amount of oil and carefully placed the meat slices in the pan. The meat sizzled as it hit the hot surface, filling the air with a mouthwatering aroma. He cooked the meat to perfection, ensuring it was juicy and flavorful, then set it aside to rest.
While the meat was resting, Pacificus turned to the bread. He had baked the large soft, hearty loaves himself, their golden crusts a testament to his skill with the oven. He sliced the loaves into thick pieces, the knife crunching through the crust and revealing the soft, fluffy interior.
With all the ingredients ready, he began assembling the sandwiches. He took a large slice of bread and layered it with crisp lettuce, a few slices of juicy tomato, and the perfectly cooked barometz meat. He added thin slices of cucumber for a refreshing crunch, and finished with another slice of bread. Each sandwich was a large work of art, balanced and packed with flavors.
Pacificus wrapped each sandwich in a clean cloth, making them easy to hold and eat without plates. He handed them out to the children, who eagerly accepted the delicious parcels.
Merina watched as Pacificus worked, admiring the care and attention he put into each sandwich. Despite the simplicity of the meal, it was clear that he had poured his heart into it, ensuring that everyone would be well-fed and happy.
The children took their first bites, and a chorus of satisfied murmurs filled the room. The sandwiches were a hit, the flavors melding together perfectly. Even Merina, who had eaten breakfast already, couldn't resist tasting a bite. The combination of fresh vegetables, tender meat, and soft bread was simply irresistible.
Merina admired Pacificus that day. He was usually an awkward, shy man who could barely hold a conversation with anyone. He always seemed so distant and aloof. But now, she saw another side of him. She had watched him practice his swordsmanship with a dedication and precision that bordered on artistry. His prayers to his god were filled with a quiet reverence that spoke of deep faith and humility.
His lifestyle was as simple as his home, and yet he went out of his way to feed a stranger and her children with such care and hospitality. There was a warmth and generosity in his actions that transcended his usual reticence.
Merina understood now why Artemis and Apollo admired him so much. He wasn't just a strong warrior or a skilled farmer; he was a man of integrity and kindness, someone who lived by his principles and extended his compassion to others without hesitation.
As they all shared the meal he had prepared, Merina felt a profound gratitude. She saw how Pacificus, with his simple yet profound gestures, had made a significant impact on her children.
"Mr. Pacificus," said Merina softly.
"Y-yes,"
"Thank you... for taking care of Apollo and Artemis. I really appreciate it. Also, I'm sorry for bothering you with this request, but can you please train my other kids as well?"
"I... I don't mind," Pacificus replied, though his voice wavered slightly.
"Re-really? You... you would be very busy. That is a lot of work, Mr. Pacificus."
"I don't mind," he repeated, a bit more firmly this time.
"Surely, Mr. Pacificus, you must mind it. There are twelve children. These twelve children are all precious and feeble balls of energy that can't be contained."
"That... that is one way to describe children, Lady Merina," he said, a hint of amusement in his tone.
"Taking care of children would interfere with your work on the farm, Mr. Pacificus."
"I... I don't think it would interfere that much, Lady Merina. Apollo and Artemis have been very disciplined."
"The same thing can't be said for the others, Mr. Pacificus. Furthermore, I never even repaid you for the things you've done for us."
"Lady Merina, there is no need."
"No, Mr. Pacificus, there is a need. I won't be a burden to you. That is why I will be your farmhand whenever you train the children."
Realization hit Pacificus like a bolt of lightning. Merina would be staying while the children trained. The simple fact that Merina would be in his abode filled him with embarrassment and dread. What if he embarrassed himself in front of her? What if he did something wrong that she wouldn't like? What if he accidentally harmed her without knowing? All of these 'what ifs' made him nervous. How could he say no without insulting her, he wondered.
"So please, Mr. Pacificus, let me repay your generosity."
"O...okay," he answered, pausing as he dreaded his answer. Why didn't he say no? He needed to fix his mistake. But before he could say anything, his heart was frozen by Merina's warm smile.
"Thank you, Pacificus," she said with a grateful expression.
How was he supposed to say no to that?
Thus, Pacificus found himself with a brand new farmhand... well, a temporary farmhand.
A few hours later, the children's training session had taken its toll. One by one, they fell to their knees, their breaths heavy as they struggled to catch their breath.
"It hurts," one of them groaned, clutching his legs. "My arms, my legs... it hurts."
"Why is it so hot?" another panted, wiping sweat from her forehead.
"I'm so... tired," a third one moaned, slumping onto the ground.
Meanwhile, Apollo and Artemis stood nearby, grinning at their siblings' plight. The other kids, frustrated and annoyed, glared back at them.
"If you're tired, then rest," said Pacificus, his voice calm and steady. "But walk a bit first before you take a seat."
"Do they do this every day?" ask the smallest child, looking up at Pacificus as he rests on the ground exhausted.
"Yes, Lord Minos. Young Artemis and Apollo have been running like this every day. But don't worry, at the start, they too fell like you," Pacificus reassured him.
"NO, I DIDN'T!" Artemis protested, her face turning red.
Pacificus chuckled softly. "Yes, yes, of course. But remember, everyone starts as a beginner. You have to crawl before you learn how to walk, and you have to walk before you learn how to run. Also, it is important to learn the limits of your bodies. You are here to get stronger, not break your bodies."
The exhausted children simply nodded, absorbing his words.
"Be patient and strong, young ones. You'll get stronger someday... all of you."
While some of the children were resting, Merina helped them by giving them water. "Aren't you cold?" she asked.
"No," a child replied. "I think I'm too tired to feel the cold."
After that, she tended to the farm, watering the plants and checking on the vegetables.
Pacificus took a deep breath and summoned his courage. "L...Lady Merina... can I ask you something?" he asked as he watched her tend to the farm. She was mostly looking after the potatoes.
"Ask me anything, Mr. Pacificus," she replied with a smile.
"Wh-who taught you how to tend to a farm?"
"Oh... My mother was a farmer, and my father was a hunter." She smiled fondly at the memory. "Mother had a farm like this too when I was young... although your crops are more... unique." She glanced at the mandrakes. "Mr. Pacificus, aren't these things dangerous?"
"The mandrakes?"
"Yes."
"Well... they make for a good meal and medicine. Although, I usually chop the head off first before I pull it."
"And those, Mr. Pacificus... aren't those maneaters?" She pointed at the plants with flowers that looked like giant vases.
"Oh, you mean those things. They are useful for making spices and keeping the wild beasts away."
"My mother would never even try farming those things... why are they so docile? Did you manage to tame them, perhaps?"
"Oh... it's my skill... Domestication. They turn into a completely different species when I use this skill. Although I actually can't use that plot of land to rotate the crops."
"My mother has that skill too... but she usually uses it on wild boars and cows. Now that I mention it... where are your livestock, Mr. Pacificus?"
"I don't have any... I don't have what it takes to... to kill an animal that I raised."
Seeing a giant act rather naively made her giggle. "Oh, forgive me, Mr. Pacificus," she said, trying to calm herself. "I've been asking too many questions."
"No, no, no... you are not... Uhm, just out of curiosity... what did you choose for your class?"
"Oh, me?" she smiled. "I chose the tailor class."
"A tailor... I never met anyone with that class besides merchants and nobles."
She chuckled. "Well, not everyone can afford good pieces of fabric... I mostly chose that blessing to help my mother with her sheep, turning wool into cloth and turning hide into leather, or simply turning my father's prey into a fur cloth."
"That is a lot of work."
She giggled. "It gets easier with skills... although... I don't really get that much practice these days."
Pacificus paused, then said, "Well, I actually have some wool if you want?"
"What? Mr. Pacificus, those things are expensive."
"Actually... I... I don't know what to do with them."
Pacificus took Merina into a shack where he stored all of his hides and fur. Merina looked at the abundant number of hides and fur in awe.
Then Pacificus showed her a huge barrel full of wool.
"How did you get all of this wool, Mr. Pacificus?"
"It's Barometz wool."
"Artemis and Apollo told me about the Barometz... I didn't see it."
"It's because we just harvested them. Barometz meat is good, but it also attracts other monsters and beasts. That's why we have to harvest it quickly."
"I see... what are you planning to do with this wool, Mr. Pacificus?"
"I actually wanted to sell it... but no one wants to buy it."
"That's because it has to be turned into cloth first. Do you have any tools, Mr. Pacificus?"
"Well, my grandfather has a spindle... but it hasn't been used for long."
"That is fine, Mr. Pacificus. We also need to wash the wool and brush it to separate the fibers."
"Shall I take it outside, Lady Merina?"
"That would be helpful."
On a farm located near the Ever Resting Forest and a River, children were running over obstacles, exercising with vigor and enthusiasm. The scene was lively and filled with the sounds of youthful energy. Nearby, two adults, one a giant two meters tall and a woman with short hair dressed in rags, were cleaning wool outside as the children played.
Pacificus was amazed by how fast and naturally Merina moved. She handled the wool with an expertise that left him in awe. It was a huge batch of wool, and yet, she finished cleaning it in an hour.
"I thought cleaning that wool would take days," Pacificus remarked, his voice tinged with surprise.
"Oh, it's my skill, Mr. Pacificus," she replied with a warm smile. "It's been so long since I did this... it actually brings me back."
Next, Merina began brushing the wool, separating the fibers with precision and care. After another hour or two, the wool looked completely different. It was not only cleaner but also much softer.
Pacificus watched Merina, her focus and dedication captivating him. He didn't want to interrupt her concentration, so he turned his attention to the children, ensuring they were progressing well in their training.
When Merina moved on to the spindle, Pacificus watched with fascination. It was the first time he had seen his grandfather's spindle in use. His father had told him stories about his grandfather being a man of many habits but also a complete coward. His grandmother, on the other hand, was the one who did all the hunting and fighting, wielding a pickaxe as her main weapon.
Merina's eyes were intensely focused on the yarn being formed by the spindle, and her hands moved with a blur of production. Pacificus thought back to the praises his students gave him, saying his sword strikes were so fast they were a blur. He always felt ashamed of those compliments because his strikes were actually parries. But Merina had no reason to be ashamed. Her skills were her own, the result of her hard work, and it showed.
"Beautiful," he whispered to himself in awe. "She is so beautiful."
He felt a warmth in his chest as he watched her, a feeling of admiration and something more. It wasn't just her physical appearance that captivated him, but the way she carried herself, her dedication, and her skill. She was a true master of her craft, and in that moment, Pacificus couldn't help but feel a deep respect and affection for her.
Two kids, Artemis and Apollo, heard his whisper and exchanged a knowing look.
"What if we turn Big Brother Pacificus into our father?" Apollo whispered, eyes wide with excitement.
"That is a good idea," Artemis answered, nodding thoughtfully. "That way I wouldn't feel ashamed of eating his meals."
"I agree, I agree, I agree... but how do we marry them?" Apollo questioned, a furrow forming on his brow.
"I don't know," Artemis admitted, glancing at the stricken Pacificus, who was still watching Merina with admiration.
"Yeah, this won't be easy," Apollo sighed, crossing his arms.
As they whispered and plotted, the scene around them continued with its usual hustle and bustle. Merina remained engrossed in her work, her hands skillfully turning the wool into yarn, oblivious to the children's scheming. Pacificus, meanwhile, tried to focus on the children’s training but couldn't help glancing back at Merina.
The two children huddled closer, determined to find a way to bring their plan to fruition. They observed Pacificus and Merina, looking for any sign, any opportunity to push them closer together. They knew it would take more than just a simple idea; it would require careful planning and perhaps a bit of luck.