"Running?" Saga asked. "From what?" They tried to play it coy because they had an idea of what awaited them. Saga was not a runner. The others gave Saga a flat look as Olaf's apparent joy at what was coming grew.

"The garrison barracks are a little ways from here." He said as Saga silently cursed to themselves.

“Wait. Do you guys really have time to waste on that? Weren’t you telling the Jarl about the farms and stuff?” Saga asked, suddenly wondering how training was meant to go. Already bruised, Saga figured the training would not help in that regard. Likely the opposite.

“We are staying here for a few days as we’ll want to hitch a ride with a caravan down south. Especially with raiders about.” Olaf explained as he all but hauled Saga up to their feet “No time to slack off.”

Saga looked at the others, hoping for Ingrid or Ordan to save them. They just waved as they were dragged like a kid who didn’t want to go home. Saga cursed them silently in their head as they left with Olaf. They hadn’t walked for more than about twenty meters from the Inn before Olaf picked up the speed.

“Start running.” He said and as Saga once again began to look around as if looking for someone chasing them, he laughed. “Not to flee. You need to run, to help improve your conditioning. It looks like you are destined to become an endurance fighter. It is going to be key for you to at least pick up one or two physical recovery skills. Better to pick them up early!” With that, Olaf set off into a run that was entirely unfair for a man of his size.

“I really wish I had been a mage” Saga mumbled and set to run after him. Saga was never the running type. They had tried to pick up the habit but they felt it was just tedious. Now, however, as they ran to try and keep Olafs broad back within their sight, they found themselves driven like never before. The idea of strength, real strength. Strength enough to forge their path in a world such as this. It was as good a motivation as they could ever hope for. So they ran, managing to barely keep the large Viking within their line of sight. By the time Saga reached their destination, they were soaked in sweat and heaving. As they staggered towards him, Olaf simply gave them a bucket. A few guards and warriors looked on amused as Saga lost their breakfast. All of them had been there, getting hounded and trained to the point of passing out. One of them, a slender woman with a large ax at her hip, handed her a bottle of water to rinse the taste from their mouth.

"Thanks." Saga said between heaving, coughing breaths. Trying to hand it back the woman just shook her head. "Keep it. You'll need it I wager." Then she moved over to join a group of four other guards as they set off on a jog towards the gate.

“I did it. I ran all the way.” Saga said, getting up on unsteady legs as Olaf handed her a fruit. It was the same kind of fruit they had been given by Ordan when they first met. This time, Saga realized that the fruit made them instantly feel better. Their energy stores were slightly less empty.

“Lesson one. All people have three things to keep in mind. Stamina, which governs your physical taxation. Vitality, which measures your overall health, and Mana which taxes your magical spells and abilities like your Battle Cry. For warriors such as yourself and I running out of stamina is tantamount to death.” Olaf's voice left no room for arguments.

The next two hours were nothing but exercise, running laps around the courtyard then lifting large round stones onto the pedestal then taking it down again. It was an exercise Saga had seen on tv during the world's strongest man. Back home they knew it was called Atlas Stones. By the end of the first hour, Saga was too tired to move. They just stared at the last stone, willing themselves to grab it and get it done. A few of the other's training were cheering Saga on, recognizing a fledgling warrior in need of moral support. Steeling themselves, Saga gripped the uneven stone surface and heaved. With the last of their stamina, they got the stone up and as the stone slipped into place they felt a sudden pang of satisfaction. As they staggered away, Olaf gave them a small vial of something yellow and sparkling.

“It's a very weak Stamina potion.” He said as Saga uncorked it and swept it. Then they coughed and spluttered as everyone winced. They knew stamina potions were awful the first few times and this was no different.

“It tastes awful!” Saga exclaimed, looking absolutely disgusted and almost angry with the potion in their hand. As if it was an affront to everything they believed in.

“It does. Potions are expensive, the better ones can’t even be made here. A moderate one goes for several golds a vial. That one is 4 silver. It does nothing for those of us at higher levels. But the Jarl uses them to help recruits keep up with the early training.” Olaf explained, watching Saga wretch and heave for a few more seconds before they finally got over it. "It was made not with taste in mind. As you so obviously noticed"

“Today is awful” Saga muttered.

“Not at all Saga. Today is only starting” Olaf grinned. Saga silently cursed him and his affable smile in the face of their impending torture.

The next hour was much more relaxing however as it focused on stretching and helping Saga limber up. There was a rigorous program of stretches, limbering exercises, and lessons on why it was so important. Then, as the third hour drew to a close, Olaf handed them a staff and a shield.

“Alright. Let's teach you the basics before lunch.” He said with a grin.

It turned out that the basics included getting whacked with a wooden stick across the chins, the shoulder, the arm, and everywhere else that Saga was too slow to turn about and guard with their shield. The Spear proficiency allowed Saga to figure out how to thrust, feint, and keep distance in mind well enough. But the lack of proficiency with shields made their blocks clumsy and their estimation of when to retreat behind the shield poor. Olaf didn't hit them hard, but it was still hitting already bruised areas from time to time, making the lesson all that more painful. By the end of the sparring session, Saga was more than willing to just take up farming instead. At least you didn't get whacked with a stick. Then again, who knew what farming was like in this world.

Did you know this story is from Royal Road? Read the official version for free and support the author.

“You did good” Olaf said as they settled down by a table.

“How so. You schooled me. I barely had hit in. I felt like I was tripping over my shield half the time”

“My proficiency with shields is far greater than yours. It is greater than with any of my weapons.”

“Rune Warden was it?”

“That is correct. We are specialists in using our shield in an offensive capacity, with shield charges, damage reversal spells, and the like. I am a fifth-generation Rune Warden in fact. But you did well. Your ‘Any Weapon, any time’ ability does not extend to shields it seems but I think that by the end of the day, you should have novice proficiency in shields and be a step closer to Intermediate in spears.”

“How fast does one rank up proficiencies anyways. I feel like I am picking up things left and right in just two days”

“That's gonna slow right down once you hit level five, trust me,” Olaf said between bites. The food consisted mostly of salted beef and root vegetables but Saga wolfed it down without a care in the world. Working out and training had a way of making the most basic of foodstuffs taste better. "And your first proficiencies rank up to the second rank about the time it takes you to hit level five. After that, picking up new proficiencies and gaining ranks in them is a lot more difficult. Your Any Weapon Any Time skill is immensely powerful in that regard."

“So. What happens at level five?” Saga inquired as they finished their plate.

“Every fifth level, the time between levels increases by a noticeable margin. It is why it's so important to figure out and acquire your foundational skills and attributes for your path in your early levels. Because playing catchup later is very hard.” Olaf continued to explain as they left the table to return to the courtyard. It was a lot more crowded now, with people pairing up to spar. The majority seemed to favor axes, swords, or spears. But Saga was surprised to see people wielding massive two-handed hammers, whips, and other more irregular weapons they would not have ever considered bringing to a fight. It just went to show that this place, this world had some very different rules at play. One man was holding off two people using only his hands. He moved like some kind of wrestler, ducking low and shooting for a double leg, lifting the attacker up over himself before dumping him on his ass.

“You don’t have people fighting like that where you come from?” Olaf said, noticing Saga's interest.

“We do. But my world's technology seems to be somewhat more advanced than this, in absence of magic. Nobody can shoot fireballs or summon stags made out of the wind. So we found a way for anyone to simply point and end a life with a click of a trigger. Martial Arts can't stop bullets.” Saga said then thought to themselves before adding. “Not without magic at least.”

“You know how I mentioned the early levels are important,” Olaf said as they found a spot to continue their training.

“Yes. Why?”

“Your fight at the Alehouse could have ended you upon entirely different paths. I wager if it wasn’t for your Rage trait, you would have ended up with something like a Brawler path. Then you’d likely be training with that man and his martial arts”

"I see. Instead, I am training with a man whose training method is 'Hit the newcomer until they learn.'" Saga said sardonically as they picked up a spear and shield from the wall and took their position again. Olaf took a wide stance as he wasn't using his shield, instead, he hefted a large wooden training sword.

“You aren't gonna wack me with that are you.” Sagas eyes widened as such a thing would come down on them with a lot more force.

“Not if you guard properly.” Olaf grinned.

The next hour turned out to be hell itself. Saga desperately tried to focus on blocking as the big sword came down again and again. It was slower than the poking of a spear, but the force of the blows upon their shield had Saga grit their teeth in pain. With each blow, Saga felt frustration set in. They felt as if they were being bullied. It was a feeling they had not felt in years and it was not one they planned to ever welcome. Grunting in pain they set their feet and pushed into an attack, intercepting the blow halfway, lessening its impact significantly. Olaf's eyes widened in surprise at the sudden shift in Saga's defense and hopped to the side Saga tried and failed to stab him with their training spear.

The pattern changed as Saga tried to take a more offensive approach without compromising the benefits of the shield. All the while Olaf adapted with them. If Saga began to move and try to intercept, he added more feints. If Saga pulled back to consolidate and rethink, he pushed the attack. It became a give and take, a push and pull that was fast and brutal. Again and again, Olaf would stop short of a blow against an exposed part of Saga to mark a killing blow and Saga would grow more frustrated. As Olaf moved in for what would be decapitating blow in a real fight, Saga exploded into a warcry, catching Olaf by surprise before Saga surged forward. They slammed the edge of the shield into his chest and followed up by stabbing forward with the spear only for it to hit the air again. Olaf had caught himself just in time, angling his sword to deflect the spear, and smacked the flat of the spear against their back. Saga stumbled forward with a curse.

“I think we call it there,” Olaf said. “Any more and I am pretty sure you are gonna try to kill me” He laughed as Saga huffed and heaved. He tossed them one of the fruits that seemed to help restore stamina as Saga all but devoured it.

“These are seriously good,” They said after catching their breath. “What are they called?”

“We call them stone apples. But I am told the original name means something else entirely. They have imported here hundreds of years ago, as they can grow with very little nutrients, even among craggy rocks. From what I hear, the ones we grow here are better both in taste and restorative properties than what you find in their native region. Something about the abundance of trapped life magic in our mostly frozen soil.” Olaf explained as they left the training gear with the quartermaster. He was an old and stern-looking man who remarked on the poor state Olaf always left his weapons in and mumbled about how Olaf didn't know how to properly pull his punches as soon as Olaf was out of earshot.

“So what now. What fresh hell have you cooked up for the afternoon.” Saga asked as they started down the main road away from the garrison barracks.

“I am going to put you up against someone a bit closer to you in level, and see what I can glean from the way you fight.”

“I just want to point out that I have three days worth of fighting training at most.

“I am aware.”

“And this low level has how much training.”

“Oh, she's been training since she was 7. So, I’d say about 16 years worth”

“I am gonna die.”

“Not at all. Vetra is going to watch too, she can heal you.”

“Are you just a sadist or what?” Saga asked, eyes narrowing at the large man who didn't even look at them as he answered nonchalantly.

“Not at all. I take no pleasure in the hurting of others.” Olaf said with a smile.

"You just take pleasure in their overall suffering," Saga added with a sigh.