Dragged back into the dark hovel that acted as his prison, Alden kneeled before the puzzle before him. Amice Witchester. His target. The silver steel of her plate armor was gray in the dim light, like stone, making her appear as a statue.

With an almost cheerful, if offputting, smirk, Amice hovered over him, waiting for him to start his promised explanation.

Alden inhaled sharply, his chest puffing out slightly. He barely knew where to begin and, so, made the possibly hasty decision to jump right into it.

“Your way of looking at things is…unique,” he began.

“Odd, you mean?” she replied. “That’s how Father puts it.”

“Odd, then. It doesn’t matter. What matters is how you look at things. How you comprehend them. And how you try to get others to understand you.”

“Go on.”

“What you spoke of earlier. About death. You’re right. Or, at least, I agree with what you said, in part. Death is scary, no matter what we think about what happens after. The problem is the circumstances. The idea has merit, perhaps, but as a captive fearing for his life I was not in the particular state of mind needed to consider the philosophical realities of death.”

“Ah, I see,” she said, a finger brushing against her chin. “I am too detached from the circumstances of others, then?”

“Exactly,” he replied. “You’re too focused on your thoughts and not enough on the thoughts of those around you.”

She nodded, the plumage of her helmet swaying. “I see,” she said. Alden, for his part, was uncertain if she did. “Then, in this moment, you are able to focus on the philosophical aspects of death, yes?”

“That depends. Will you kill me?”

“No,” she said.

A wave of relief washed over him then. Along with it, however, was a whirl of confusion.

“Why?” he asked, curiosity getting the better of him.

Amice tilted her head, eyes looking up thoughtfully to the thatch roof above. “Something tells me I shouldn’t,” she said. “I’ve had this nagging feeling since I saw you laying in the grass with your companions. I wasn’t sure, at first, but it’s only grown stronger.”

“My companions?” he asked.

“Servants, then? Friends? Whoever the thirty men with you are,” she said.

Shit. They hadn’t escaped notice, then.

“Are they alive?” he asked.

Amice nodded. “They are. The nagging feeling said to ignore them. My own soldiers didn’t seem to notice them, either, so they should be safe, if that is your worry.”

Closing his eyes, Alden breathed deep. She was telling the truth. He had to believe that, anyway. His own situation couldn’t afford the distraction. It didn’t matter much if she was lying, though, considering the situation.

“What is to be done with me?” he asked.

“My curiosity is not yet sated,” she said, “though for the moment I am uncertain. I cannot allow you to go free, my soldiers would never allow it. They have no loyalty to me and would kill you at the first opportunity.”

“I’d like to think I wouldn’t make it so easy for them.”

“Oh, for a certainty. Despite my best efforts, they seem to remain willfully weak for reasons I cannot understand, despite their hunger for abusing others. Every opportunity to improve has been granted to them, including personal instruction from myself in the ways of Mother and her people, but they abhor even the mere attempt to strengthen them. It is the way of things, I suppose, when you make farmers into fighters.”

“Does Hilva not use career soldiers?”

She looked at him strangely, as if expecting him to have already known.

“As a vassal we could not. Our treaty with Drygallis prevented us from doing so. Foolish, in my mind, to allow the words of parchment to control us so. Something the Hilvan royal family agreed with, at least, considering they trained troops in opposition to the treaty. The other noble families were not so future minded, and continued to make use of mercenaries or adventurers.”

They were weaker, then. The whole country. No trained soldiers, far fewer knights, less people overall. This campaign of theirs would last months, a year at best. Why attempt rebellion, then?

“Your mother,” he said, switching his attention. “You said you tried to train your men in the ways of your mother. What are they?”

“Curious?”

He was, desperately so. Amice was a monster in human flesh. If he could coax the method of achieving that kind of strength from her he’d never need to fear for his life again. Or mutilation, at the very least.

His missing hand throbbed at the thought.

“I am,” he said.

Amice regarded him with a blank stare, her lips stretched thin, emotionless. Or so he thought. Looking closer, Alden could see the faintest upward movement of her lips and eyes. The beginning of a smile.

You could be reading stolen content. Head to the original site for the genuine story.

“Mother taught me the ways of her people, the ways of the southern mountains. Meditation, sparring, vigorous training of all kinds, all to achieve enlightenment of both body and soul. It is the source of my power, and you have seen the results of my training firsthand. I had intended to impart my knowledge to my soldiers, or perhaps an apprentice, but I have had no such luck.”

“It seems to me you have the perfect candidate right in front of you,” he said with a joking smile.

“I cannot. It would be treason. And my soldiers would never allow it.”

“They don’t have to know. We could do it in secret.”

“We would be discovered,” she said, turning away. She was seriously considering it, he realized. Betraying them. Teaching him.

“Your nagging feeling, it’s returned, hasn’t it?” he said. “It’s telling you to listen to me.”

She did not answer.

Alden could see them now. The faintest lines of thread stretching from his chest to hers. A tangle of multicolored string, green and blue and purple. And with them were two other strings, fainter than the others. Barely the width of hairs, Alden almost did not notice the strings of red and pink as they entwined with the others.

“You know it’s the right decision,” he said.

Opening the hole-filled makeshift door, its hinging screeching faintly, Amice left him without a word.

Another hour passed before a set of guards returned with a wooden plate and bowl. Upon the plate was a serving of bread, cheese, and a thin strip of dried meat. The bowl, as far as he could see, was filled with a thin soup of lentils and barley and carrots.

“I don’t eat meat,” he told the guard. The guard scowled, snatching the brown strip for himself. Neither spoke, yet by their looks it was easy to see what they thought of him. An oddity, no different than their leader. A rueful prisoner they’d sooner had done with.

Alden sipped at the cold, earthy soup as they poured it into his mouth. With his hand tied behind his back, there was no way for him to direct his magic at them.

Bland, the soup was more water than anything else, but he choked it down, regardless. Ripping chunks of bread and cheese with his teeth, he chewed as quickly as his mouth would allow. Taking too long would draw their ire.

Finished, they left him, and his thoughts turned to the village itself. Their own stores of food were diminished before Alden had even arrived, and the Hilvans would not share with them as they did with him. No, they would sooner wipe the village out than spare their own supply.

There was a chance they’d be killed regardless. Alden had not let it slip, but it didn’t take a genius to see that someone, somewhere had spoken up and leaked Amice’s actions. It was only a matter of time before the question was raised. After that, there was no telling.

Alden sat quietly as hours passed and the hot, dry day gave way to warm, dry dusk. Though he did not move, he spent his time more productively than he had in some since before the battle.

The first had been the distribution of his Stat points. With 20 points to devote, his choices were clear.

Devoting half to Wisdom, the rest he split evenly between Intelligence and Charisma. With an increased reserve of mana, he amused himself with his new magical skills.

Skill Up

The Body Reconfigurement Skill has advanced to Rank D

Reward: 50xp

Skill Up

The Internal Mana Control Skill has advanced to Rank D

Reward: 50xp

Through muscular development Strength has grown.

Reward: 1 bonus point to Strength.

Through muscular development Strength has grown.

Reward: 1 bonus point to Strength.

Through muscular development Strength has grown.

Reward: 1 bonus point to Strength.

Through muscular development Strength has grown.

Reward: 1 bonus point to Strength.

Through novel application of knowledge Wisdom has grown.

Reward: 2 bonus points to Wisdom.

Alden Lyons

Age: 24

Health: 460/460

Mana: 375/375

Level: 9

EXP: 630/25600

Money (Banked): 10 gold, 60 silver, 45 copper

Money (Available): 7 silver, 16 copper

Rank: None

Titles

Knight Slayer (+15 to Strength)

Stats

Strength: 38

Intelligence: 41

Wisdom: 39

Dexterity: 14

Agility: 15

Endurance: 19

Luck: 23

Charisma: 41

Skills

Diagnosis Magic Rank C

Healing Magic Rank B

Observation Rank F

Elemental Magic Rank B

Magic Control Rank B

Swordsmanship Rank B

Horsemanship Rank C

Shieldmanship Rank D

Spearmanship Rank B

Teaching Rank F

Body Reconfigurement Rank D

Internal Mana Control Rank D

Aptitudes

None

Special Abilities

All-Maker

Leadership Lv 2

Extreme Skill Development

It had required expending all the mana available to him multiple times, despite his increased reserves. Even then, the process had been excruciating as searing tendrils of mana coursed through his body; so painful, in fact, that Alden had awoken to find himself sprawled out across the floor on two occasions, having fainted each time. How he had been able to contain the screams of anguish was a mystery, though one he was thankful for.

The effort was well worth it. The ability to expend magic in return for alterations to his body was a great boon, and one he intended to abuse to the utmost.

Though tied behind his back, Alden found that he could shift his body just enough to see his arm, allowing him to appreciate the effects his magic had had. Though there was no difference in his size, the definition of his musculature was more pronounced, the excess fat that once hid it having been burned away. The veins of his arm bulged against the skin, like blue rivers, the muscles underneath straining against his skin as he flexed them.

The door to his (hopefully) temporary prison creaked open, allowing in a thin stream of dusklight behind the familiar silhouette of Amice. Gently, she closed the door behind her and sat before him.

Exchanging uncertain looks, Amice was the first to look away, then the first to speak.

“I have considered your proposal,” she said. “Of teaching you the ways of Mother and her people. I cannot teach you everything there is to teach, as I do not know everything. In truth there are a great number of things that I failed to learn from Mother. But I will teach you what I can, if you’ll allow me.”

“Of course,” he said.

“Good,” she said, sounding pleased. “I will come again in the morning, when I have the time. The first lesson will be on the ways of meditation. An easy task, in my opinion, but perhaps the most vital. For now, however, I will bid you farewell, and goodnight.”

Leaving as quickly as she had arrived, Alden spread himself against the hard dirt, preparing for sleep. It would be difficult, of that there was no doubt; shards of cold rock stuck out of the loose dirt like knives, stabbing every inch of his side and legs at the slightest motion.

At the forefront of his mind, however, was not the displeasing roughness of his sleeping arrangements, but instead the unusual feeling that had begun to swell in his chest. A hollow feeling, it seemed to reach out hungrily for something in particular. Someone. As odd as the knight was, he found her presence soothing. Warm. And now, laying alone, Alden felt for the first time a feeling he could only assume to be loneliness.