“You see, spirit is unlike the other stats. Body and mind are easier to get a grasp upon,” Ravel started. “Body is a representation of all of your physical attributes, your strength, speed, endurance, flexibility, power. It takes account of everything, and I mean everything.”
“What about your HP, does body take account of that?” Cillian asked.
“Hmm, indirectly,” Ravel answered. “Your HP is a representation of the absolute damage you can take. The maximum value is the limit you can take at your best, and the current number is, well, what you can take at the moment. The lower the number, the closer you are to dying.”
“That makes sense,” Cillian said.
“Body is somewhat correlated to your HP. As it increases, so too does your HP tend to increase. But that is not always the case. Just because you can run faster, or kick harder, doesn’t mean your body can deal with a knife in the heart any easier, ” Ravel explained.
Cillian nodded and the tabaxi continued.
“Mind is similar, but in my opinion, it’s simpler. It can be distilled down to how much you know, how well you know it, and how fast your mind can think. Spirit has a different element to it.” Ravel paused to organize his thoughts.
“It’s hard to put it into words. It’s not something that is easily measured. The wolf who is caught in a trap and chews its own foot off to escape is employing her spirit. Spirit is used by the sparrow who wakes to the cries of her hungry chicks and doesn’t know where her nourishment will come from, yet still embarks out against the unknown. Or, the boy who continues to climb a merciless mountain, unrelenting from his injuries. Honestly, I am surprised it is even possible for the Manezans to have turned that…force into a number,” Ravel said.
“So what would be the reason for the sudden change?” Cillian asked.
“My friend, your house was turned to dust in front of you, your only family ripped away, and you were beaten within an inch of your life. If you were not filled with spirit after that, I don’t know if you could be considered alive.”
“Hah, I suppose that makes sense,” Cillian chuckled. He tapped around the empty plate without looking, searching for another potato.
“Seems like you’ve finished your snack,” Ravel said, pointing at what was in Cillian’s hands.
“Oh, yeah,”
“I think you’ve trained enough for today,” Ravel said, getting to his feet. “Come on, I’m sure with your help we can find some more potatoes and herbs.”
***
“Cillian, lad,” Tygus said in a hushed voice. “Wake up.”
Cillian was curled up and sleeping on his side. He was tucked into the same small bed he woke up in after his trial. Two heavy blankets weighed down on him; it was the only way to keep warm against the night breeze that passed through his room. The only light in the room came from the candle Tygus was holding.
“Get up, boy” Tygus spoke a little louder as he shook Cillian.
“Mmmh, I already did my pushups,” the sleeping boy mumbled.
The dwarf let out a hearty laugh.
“Oh did ya? How many in a row?” he asked with a wicked smile.
“Thirty-two…” Cillian groaned while he snuggled deeper into the blankets.
“Don’t lie to me, boy!” Tygus yelled as he ripped away the sheets off Cillian with one swipe.
“I did!” Cillian instinctually clawed for the missing sheets. His eyes were still closed and when the blankets never came back, he held his arms and brought his legs close to his chest, trying to be his own cover against the cold.
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“Out of bed! Come on,” Tygus scolded with a smile.
“Ten more minutes…” Cillian pleaded as he rolled over onto his stomach.
“No, we don’t have ten minutes. Don’t make me drag you out,” Tygus said.
Cillian just made a noise into his bed.
“That’s it,” Tygus grabbed Cillian’s ankle and pulled him off the bed.
Cillian fell face-first onto the wooden floor. He rubbed his face and groaned, before begrudgingly getting to his feet. He gave the candle bearer a sour look.
“You asked for it,” Tygus shrugged.
“What training is so important that you had to wake me up this early?” Cillian asked. He looked at the singular window in the room. “It’s literally pitch black outside.”
“Today there will be no training. I have something else much more exciting planned,” Tygus announced.
Even in the low light and sleepy conditions, Cillian could tell Tygus was smiling ear to ear. He just raised an eyebrow in response.
“Get changed and come downstairs,” Tygus ordered.
When Cillian stomped down the steps and entered the dining room, he saw Tygus and Ravel sitting together at the table. The only light in the entire cabin came from three small candles. The candles cast an orange shimmer on the metal tips of three spears that were laying on the round table. The heads were large, flat, and pointed, forming a shape akin to a lethal pheasant feather. Where the spearheads connected to the wooden shaft, a large metal rod stuck through perpendicularly.
“What’s going on?” Cillian asked.
“Sit down,” Tygus ordered.
Cillian obeyed and took a seat across from the other two.
“What are these for?” Cillian pointed at the weapons.
“If you stopped quacking like a giant duck, I would explain,” Tygus snapped.
Cillian rested his head on his hands and stared.
“Sorry lad, I blame the hangover,” Tygus apologized.
Cillian sat up straight and gave him an attentive look.
“Do you know what day it is?” Tygus asked.
“Um, I think it’s Andiel,” Cillian guessed.
“No, not day of the week. I meant day of the month. It’s the 15th of Larier. Do you know what that means?” Tygus asked. He waited for some type of response, but Cillian just stared back blankly and shrugged his shoulders.
“The state of this land’s youth,” Tygus shook his head in disappointment. “It’s the first day of Spring.”
Cillian felt suddenly stupid. He should have known that. He took Amalea to the Spring Festival in West Tassal every year. They hadn’t missed a single one. He hadn’t realized how much time had passed. Being so focused on his training, every day blended into the next, and he missed the passage of weeks since he adopted this new training.
“That means that we must honor this day,” Tygus said.
“But Tassal is overrun by the Black Imperials. I doubt they would be having any type of celebration,” responded Cillian.
“We are going to do things differently from your human kingdoms,” Tygus lifted one spear and examined it between his hands. He moved it gracefully as if it weighed nothing.
“Today, we will celebrate like dwarves!” He announced. “Or, more accurately, like dwarves from my hometown of Velgalir.”
“I’ve always wondered how the dwarvish kingdoms celebrated the turn of seasons,” Ravel interjected. “This will be a treat.”
“The tradition of those from Velgalir is to go on a hunt. This hunt is traditionally done in groups of three. All of the male dwarves would gather together and swarm through the woodlands. The women would stay back and prepare a large feast in anticipation of the nightly celebration. It is the first hunt after the dwarves leave the mountain keep, so it has a lot of meaning,” Tygus explained.
“What did you hunt?” Cillian asked.
“The traditional prey was the Eastern Brown Elk. It is a large and powerful creature, with antlers that stretch high and wide. The hunt was a simple task, but that doesn’t mean it was easy. The eldest of the trio tracked the elk, and when they found it he struck first. Then the second eldest would follow up with his own strike. Finally, it was up to the youngest in the group to deliver the finishing blow,” Tygus suddenly aimed the spear right at Cillian’s face, making the boy jump backward, before putting it down.
“The lower the number of stabs to kill, the better the hunt was. The perfect hunt was delivered in three strikes, but that rarely ever took place,” the dwarf put the spear back on the table. “A lad’s first hunt is when he grows into a man. Ever since I moved to this land, I’ve been craving this hunt. Cillian, now that you’ve come, we finally have the trio.”
“Are you ready for your first hunt?” Ravel asked Cillian.
“I’ve never actually eaten elk before. Do they even live in these mountains? I can’t remember the last time I saw one,” said Cillian.
“Oh boy, we aren’t hunting elk. We are a group of warriors! Elk would be too simple,” Tygus took a spear back into his hands and stood up. “We need a true challenge.”
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Hunting Spear