Lock watched in amused contemplation as Harald meditated industriously in a sitting position. Killing intent wafted over to Lock in a continuous stream. Like the subtle smell of tea one partook in when entering a street with a tea house in it.

His contemplation ended eventually, as all things did. The conclusion that Harald was smarter than Lock had judged him as was surprising, but not world-shattering.

Role assignment. Hadn't he been waffling about the importance of the psychological urge to fit the moulds others subjected one to not too long ago? He had, if he remembered correctly it had been in the context of treating others as subordinates.

It had worked, on the twins at least, they had, while not enthusiastically, done everything he'd required of them. It was just odd seeing the same trick applied to himself. He'd understood completely what was happening naturally. Harald had been afraid for his life, had known that he had no chance in hell of actually beating Lock, and had thus used another strategy. A psychological one.

Claiming that he knew that Lock was only performing, not genuinely enjoying torturing him, like he actually had been. Trying to restrict him into the role of a non-sadist only reluctantly doing what he considered necessary for the betterment of others.

It wouldn't have worked, of course, Lock was mostly immune to such things. Knowing when they were being attempted on one and being insanely individualistic would do that to someone. Most psychology was after all rooted on the human as a social animal. And while Lock was an animal, he was by no means social.

It hadn't worked, but it had. Why one may ask? Mostly because Lock hadn't actually been interested in harming Harald any further at the time. But also because the moment had been so utterly hilarious.

It was like Harald had spent the entire time setting himself up as a conscientious and moral, if a bit pragmatic, but by no means smart young man. Only to deliver a punchline, that had involved something Lock was intimately familiar with. In addition to this the boy had also gained the skill killing intent, something Lock had not even considered when making the decision to torture the boy, from this very torture.

It seemed that no matter which path Lock walked, victory was drawn to him like a moth to a flame.

Understandable of course. He did burn bright.

The utter absurdity of the moment was something Lock was going to cherish, and thus he took great care of mentally preserving the memory of the absurdity that had occurred, and stored it deep within his mind.

It would become something to help him through the utterly dull childhoods that he would inevitably have to endure.

Lock wondered how his next parents would react to their little baby boy descending into an utterly maniacal laughter. He would enjoy finding out.

Another giggle escaped him. Harald twitched.

Feeling playful Lock blasted a wave of killing intent at the boy. Harald breathed in harshly, but otherwise remained in his position.

Boring. Ignoring Harald he turned to the new skill he'd acquired. It was an interesting one. Hell it even felt interesting to use. A concentration of will build up within his soul, before being blasted outwards like a particularly murderous ejaculation. He grinned.

For the sake of exploring the feeling Lock started building up a little ball of killing intent within him. It grew larger, and larger. Blacker and blacker the longer he held it. Seeing a lonesome bird sitting on a branch he had a devious idea. What if, instead of diffusing his will in all directions with his body being the centrepoint, he only targeted one being?

Slowly unwinding the black ball inside of him Lock attempted to point it in the direction of the bird, who was looking at him curiously, shaking its small yellow head. A magpie. Once he locked eyes with the thing, it was almost as if a string twanged into place between them, connecting them.

Lock let loose. The killing intent provided a pleasant sensation as it left his body. Holding onto murderous thoughts for too long couldn't be healthy. A hypothesis that the bird Lock had been targeting proved by freezing, and keeling over dead. It tumbled of the small branch it had been sitting on, unmoving, and hit the ground with a soft thump. It’s glassy black eyes stared listlessly at the cloudless sky above.

The sudden realisation that he now had an infinite access to meat, as long as the animal was within his sights, struck him. He laughed out loud.

He noticed Harald fidgeting out of the corner of his eyes and turned towards him, curious at how he would handle being on the receiving end of a concentrated blast. He wouldn't die, would he?

He sighed, too much of a risk.

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Lock turned inwardly to peruse the details of his new skill, hemming and hawing at the explanation of why his killing intent was so powerful, while Haralds was unlikely to kill even an ant.

In the end it came down to two things. The willpower of the people involved. Something quite basic. Killing intent was stronger, the stronger the will the person exerting it had, what a surprise. The second thing that affected, well, effectiveness, was quite interesting however.

The amount of people one had personally killed during one's life. Now the number that Lock had racked up in this particular life was honestly quite impressive. Especially considering the fact that he'd done so in the space of one month. Four of the Castouts, four of the bandits that had been trying to ambush Harald, three bandits that had been trying to ambush him, Grandfather, and the Vídd he'd been fighting.

Thirteen people, not bad. However, what if, what if the people he'd killed in his last life also counted? An interesting question. One to which the answer was most likely yes, since Lock had doubts believing that the concentrated killing intent from someone with a higher than average will and a murder notch of 13, was enough to one-shot a living creature, no matter how small, by simply throwing KI at them.

How many people had he killed in his last life?

Lock genuinely had no idea. He'd stopped counting after sixteen. He tried remembering, but, he'd had other priorities back then.

The sound of something swiftly cutting through water interrupted his attempted ruminations. He turned around and raised an eyebrow at an unknown boat getting ever-closer to their position.

An enemy?

Odd, considering that Lock should by all accounts have none. Had the twins squealed?

He relaxed upon glimpsing a familiar figure clad in white on the boat.

“Friends incoming, why don't you prepare your sword and your mind incase their intentions change during the duration of their stay at our humble abode.” He absent-mindedly commented to Harald, before ordering Lemmings, who he hadn't bothered making leave the clearing up till now, do so.

Stretching he stood up, also gathering up his weapons and armour he could put onto himself in the short time that he had onto him. Which wasn't much, as the boat seemed remarkably swift for something that looked entirely normal.

It docked in jumping distance of the shore, and two men, one of which he knew, disembarked.

Noticing that the other person on the boat was a more severe, and older looking version of the white-clad wizard he executed a perfect bow. Left hand up to his chest, right hand extended in perfecting dabbing posture, head down, slight bending of the knees.

He noticed that man had lost his severity and was now looking at him with a raised eyebrow once he rose again. “I am pleased to welcome your esteemed lordship to our humble abode unworthy of their radiance. It is with great honour that I, Lock, first of his name receive thee, and it is with great shame that I must proclaim I am incapable of offering refreshments befitting of your Lordship's stature.” He said in a flowery voice without a tinge of sarcasm.

The white-clad wizard seemed horrified. The older gentleman who was dressed in a fine black robe however chortled.

Turning to his companion he remarked, “You didn't tell me we were dealing with a man of courtly experience son. Had I known I would have dressed better.”

Before the man's son was able to stutter out whatever he was attempting to stutter out Lock interjected.

“I assure you my dear man, it is the man that makes the clothes, and you do so wonderfully.” Accompanying his statement he sent a wink the older man's way.

The man laughed again, before turning more serious, “Where are my manners, Archibald Trydan, lord of Trydan, well-met Lock, first of his name.” he said as he stepped forward, extending a hand towards Lock, who shook it with a perfunctory nod.

“I assure you the pleasure is all mine, however I must ask what you have come here for. You see I am currently taking care of my severely retarded cousin, who is unsuited to be in the company of others.” Saying this he gestured to Harald, who sputtered, threw his hands in the air, and promptly left.

“A worthy endeavour, family is everything.” Archibald commented. “Which is coincidentally the reason that I've come here. My son has told me that you've met my daughter?” He asked.

Lock tilted his head in contemplation. “If by your daughter you mean the blind girl I've met twice at the church of Kruto then yes. I have met her. Did something happen to her?” He ended with a question.

Archibald gravely nodded, “Yes, it seems that Kamin has started taking steps to leave the shadow that her disability has cast onto her life behind her.” He sighed, “Something that we've been trying to convince her to do for a long time. Suffice to say it came as a surprise that all it apparently took to finally start her on that path was a talk with a stranger.”

So her name was Kamin. An interesting name. Lock said nothing for a while, forming a sentence in his head. It was important to stay ambiguous in situations like this, no comment on parenting strategies, familiar situations, those topics tended to make the interaction escalate.

“Family has the ulterior motive of wanting what's best for the person they are advising. Sometimes an unbiased perspective rings truer.” he eventually said.

Archibald nodded. “Indeed, if I may ask, what was the unbiased perspective that you gave? Kamin has been unclear.”

“Well, I said a great many things. In the end however, I imagine it all boiled down to one simple message. Namely: When you're crawling on the ground, you can either lift yourself up, or let yourself down.” Lock answered while shaking his head. “The sad reality of life is that one must often fix in oneself, damage for which one was not responsible for. While one may sulk and endure the pain out of spite, refusing to take action, the only thing that will achieve is that the problem remains unresolved and that the pain has transformed into suffering.” He finished.

“She is eleven.” Archibald pointed out. “Self-agency is a slightly too mature concept for her.”

Lock shrugged. “Well, she seemed to understand it for about a day after I told her about it. She quickly forgot about it however, from how I understand it.”

Archibald threw a cold glance Lock's way. “Yes the statue debacle. I was not happy that my daughter let herself get baptized and then underwent that trial. I was even more unhappy that she seemingly forgot all of her resolve afterwards and simply languished, unwilling to improve the skill she'd received.”

“In my experience children are seemingly incapable of understanding that one must work hard and continuously to achieve anything of note. They're always looking for that magical solution.” Lock answered, causing the Trydan patriarch to solemnly nod in agreement.

“Well, you've managed to inspire her to try to improve her skills. For today at least. I fear that her resolve will crumble however. As it did the last time.”

Lock was growing bored of this conversation, and would have very much liked to just ask the man to get to the point. Alas however, that would have been rude. A proper conversationalist, which he could be, if he felt incentivized, abstracted the point, and helped guide the conversation towards it.

“It seems to me that what the girl needs is something to strengthen her resolve.” He idly commented, and watched Archibald's eyes flash.

“Yes, and up to now, there is only one person who has managed to strengthen it to the point of action.” The older man said locking eyes with, Lock.

“My, my, it seems to me like that one person is in quite the demand then.” Lock threw back.