"Alright, enough of that, let's go, girlie," Baelvyr said, standing up as his cup disappeared.
"Oh, OK. What was that, anyway?" Beth asked a little disappointedly, getting up and following him out of the lounge room.
"Just a lower leveled combat bout, nothin' to be antsy 'bout," he answered calmly.
"That was lower leveled?! They moved so fast I couldn't see them!" Beth cried out in shock.
"Of course, it was low level. Just listen to what I tell ya, won't be long 'fore you can move like that," he replied with a lethargic wave.
"Really? You can train me to move like that?" Beth asked eagerly.
"Ya really have the heart for it, huh? What makes ya so eager, girlie?" Baelvyr asked her curiously as they came up to the elevators.
"I dunno," Beth replied, finger tapping away. As they stepped in the elevator, she continued, "I've just always wanted to be strong, you know? I practiced fighting and I trained, and I spent some time studying a lot of different things, but it didn't really matter. I could've practiced my whole life and not been half as strong or smart as I already am. I guess after seeing a path open up to actually become someone I've always dreamed of being, I just decided to do whatever it took to make that dream come true."
As they walked out of the elevator and down the hall, Baelvyr replied, "Others might laugh at ya for that kinda talk, girlie, but not me. If ya can find an ambition like that to cling to, a dream that ya can feel even in your bones, that'll carry ya farther than any kinda expectation or responsibility. Ya want to be strong, ya'll become strong. It's that simple."
Beth was quiet as they finished the walk to the training room, seeing it was the same one they had used the day before. She spent the minute thinking about what he had said, and thinking about what she really wanted. Being strong, someone that could beat anybody, solve any problem; it was something she had dreamed of for a long time. She still felt it was just a dream, even with the Path there to give her, well, a path to realizing that dream. She didn't really believe that she was all that special or strong, feeling like she was just some nobody. But she was determined to try, an ember already formed within her. Small now, but perhaps one day, it would become a flame that could consume even the stars.
When they entered the usual room, Baelvyr grabbed a controller again and started something similar to the second program they had worked on the day before. He had Beth go up and stand before a dummy, copying its stance and movement, walking her through the basics. As she trained, he first lectured her on the premise of the exercises before they really got started.
"Now, this part is important here, girlie. We're gonna build up yer foundation, the basic principles of how ya fight, and even before that, how ya move. Even how ya stand is important. I'm gonna drill it into that small head o' yours, by the end of next week, ya'll be standin' the right way even when yer brushin' yer hair in the morning, so help me," Baelvyr rumbled at her, a small frown on his face as he watched her move back and forth with the dummy.
His threat proved not at all for show, as she spent an entire hour just standing, moving forward, moving back, and moving to the side. Baelvyr gave her a break afterwards, telling her to get some water and one of the protein bar things in a blue wrapper out of the fridge, which would be safe for a normal human to eat. Afterwards, it was back to moving. Moving, and moving, and moving; another entire hour on moving.
As she was grabbing two drinks on her second break, she asked her instructor, "I know moving is important, boss, but I'm not getting any levels out of this. When can I start hitting things?"
"Don't ya worry none 'bout levels. Yeah, growing yer skills is important, but that's secondary for us right now. Let me put it this way, girlie; ya think ya can build a tower to the sky with a first floor built outta mud? Of course, ya can't, that's just stupid. It's the same thing with all these damn kiddos these days, always talkin' about 'skill levels this; skill levels that.'" He expounded with a shake of his massive head.
"If ya don't learn and understand the basics, how are ya supposed to get to even Master rank in a weapon skill? Let alone all these kids dreaming about bein' the next Sword Sage or whatever. They don't even know where to put their two damn left feet, and they're gonna be a sage or what have you? Bunch o' damn knuckleheads," he finished, his voice more a low grumble by the end.
"Alright grandpa, enough about the kids," Beth quipped, sitting on a bench near him while slugging down water.
"It's a damned shame, I tell ya," Baelvyr ignored her quip, seemingly building up a full head of steam. "Some of these damn brats have some real potential. We could see a new sage or even divine. Can ya imagine that, a Sword God or somethin'? But do these kids take the time to train and practice? No, of course not. Especially them rich assholes. They basically have mommy and daddy buy 'em a bunch of skill levels, gettin' them easy runs through dungeons or a decent trainer to whack 'em a little. Then they're so surprised when they can't figure how to get past the first big bottleneck at the top of expert realm. Stupid punks."
Beth had given up already on stopping him, enjoying the longer break while listening to him rant. It wasn't all worthless, either, with his rant revealing a number of things. It seemed there were rich families who still had wealthy privileges, just like on Earth before the integration started. It also seemed Baelvyr was very ridiculing of those that spent money to level up, seeming much more a hard work and effort type. Not really surprising; just after a day and a half being around him, Beth already had this sort of 'work hard, do it right the first time' impression of him.
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"Now enough blatherin'. Finish that second bottle and get back up there, girlie," he rumbled at her, scratching the side of his massive gut with his pillar-like fingers.
She hadn't quite believed his earlier threat, but maybe from his fit of pique, or maybe just because he was just a straightforward type, Beth spent the entire day training her footwork. In the afternoon it wasn't just the dummy, but Baelvyr himself stopped just passively observing and started to instruct her, commenting on how she placed her feet, how big her steps were, the exact angle she moved, and even a slight tilt of her body this way or that while she stepped. And if anyone thought moving for a whole day might not be that hard, they could think again. Under the instructor's relentless commands, Beth was drenched in sweat and barely had the strength to stand by the end of the afternoon.
"Not bad. I think ya might have a little potential," Baelvyr commented while absentmindedly thumping the top of his gut with his free hand.
"I feel like I'm dying," Beth wheezed, lying on the stage looking up at the ceiling control mechanism.
"Relax kid, ya ain't dying. Trust me, it feels a lot worse than a good workout," Baelvyr responded, a slight hint of grimness in his tone.
"Oh, I know. I came pretty close a few days ago. One of the reasons I don't mind all this," Beth replied, sitting up and waving around the room. "I know I have a lot to learn. Almost got killed by a shitty little level eight wolf."
"Haha, so ya do know how to cuss a little!" Baelvyr boomed out, slapping his gut as he rumbled a deep chuckle that again made her teeth rattle. "Well, good! We'll work more on this tomorrow then."
"Just let me rest a little and I'll be heading out," Beth sighed in response.
"Get some more water and have another nutrient bar. Room'll lock after ya leave," he rumbled out in response before walking out the door.
Beth did just that, draining yet another bottle of water before having her third bar of the day, the second having been eaten in the early afternoon. She might not even eat much for dinner tonight, especially after Baelvyr had told her just how many minerals and calories were in each bar. Finishing up, she dumped the containers in a chute in the corner of the room, everything disposed of in such a manner falling into a type of recycling system that ran throughout the building.
Beth headed out of the training room and wandered down to where Jaq resided, marveling at how easy it was for her to remember the couple turns to get there. She entered to once again find the room empty, the cases full of various equipment and gear. She walked up to the counter with no one behind it and leaned against it, looking over at Blood next to her while she waited.
"Bored, girl?" she asked casually.
Blood just chuffed in response, wandering off to sniff around the cases.
"Oh, it's you," Beth straightened around hearing the voice, seeing Jaq walk out of the far-left door this time. "What do you want?"
"Is that what you call customer service?" she asked a little testily.
"No. But then, you're not a customer. Don't make that face, girl, I know you're absolutely flat broke," he replied coolly, overriding her before she could interject.
"Well, I will be a customer when I get more money," she snapped back.
"And I'll be a king when I find a crown lying about. I repeat, what do you want?" he answered, totally nonplussed at her venom.
"How much would a bastard sword and two good daggers of mana copper be? And how much for some decent armored shirts and pants? How much is the stuff that, like, Tazeen wears? And how much would actual steel cost? And what do you do all day back there?" She fired off at him in rapid succession.
"A sword would be eight silvers. Ten silvers for the pair of daggers. I could outfit you with armored chest pieces at twenty-five silvers each. Armored pants at twenty silvers. The stuff Tazeen wears would bankrupt your planet. mana steel for your level would be well over twice the price. And what I do on my own time would make your head spin, if it didn't just pop from trying to understand it," he replied coldly, waving her off as she prepared to fire back at him.
"Fine, I'll be back when we have the money ready. Let's go, Blood," she said petulantly.
"See that you have some silver the next time you bother me, little mendicant," he replied uncaringly, walking back into the far-left door as Beth stomped out, Blood trailing silently after.
She walked back to the elevators and took them back up to the ground floor before navigating back to the front area and out into the lobby. As she exited the door, she found a group of people were standing at the outer doors, all looking at one person. Looking closer, she realized the person was the man she had encountered the afternoon before, and he was unable to enter through the doorway. She walked over and leaned back against the counter between Tazeen and John, watching the spectacle with the two of them.
"A gold piece they try to push the dumb bastard through," John said with a smirk. Tazeen clasped his hands behind his back and didn't respond, merely watching the show.
"How long have they been there?" Beth asked.
"Oh, about four or five minutes now." John answered, quirking an eyebrow as two people indeed tried giving the unruly man from the day before a push. "Damn, my gold piece!" he bit off grumpily.
"No one would take such an obviously lopsided wager," Tazeen said calmly.
"Leave my imaginary gold pieces alone, you loon," John muttered angrily.
"Well, as funny as this is, I do want to leave at some point today," Beth said calmly.
"It seems they are abandoning their poor companion to the whims of fate," Tazeen commented, the group leaving the unruly man standing outside the door.
The group approached the counter, seemingly stunned by Tazeen and John's appearances, not even taking note of Beth and Blood at first. It was only after a moment that one of the group of about eight noticed the two of them with a start, elbowing another member of the group. That set off a whole round of starts, as the group noticed the two of them standing in front of the counter.
"Welcome to the Combat Ranking Association White Hall. How may I be of service?" Tazeen caused round three of bewilderment to ripple through the small crowd as he addressed them in English with his standard first time greeting.
"You really do speak English!" exclaimed a man in the group, several others quickly shushing him. Beth sidled along the counter a little farther from the group, stopping right next to John.
"Stop me if you've heard this one before: Eight yokels and a loon walk into a bar…" John muttered, leaning forward on the counter next to Beth. She covered her mouth and made a coughing noise to cover her laughter, but the group was distracted as Tazeen continued talking.
"Yes, we have acquired the rudiments of your language. How may I help you?" he said to the group.
"Uh, can I ask why Tom can't get in the door?" somebody else in the group spoke up before the leader could say anything yet again.
"Because he was impertinent and threatened a member in good standing, as well as the organization itself, within CRA premises. He has been barred entry for a period of one year, pursuant to good and honest behavior," Tazeen replied levelly.
"Yokels," John muttered again.
"Look, we can talk about Tomas and his behavioral issues later. We have come here to discuss this group's seizure of town lands," the woman in the lead spoke up sharply, glaring around at the rest of the group.
"Head yokel," John muttered again, sounding somehow both impressed and sarcastic at the same time.
"How'd you sound like that?" Beth muttered back to him.
"Centuries of practice," he replied, a casual reminder that there was a new kind of life expectancy in this new kind of world.