I thought this world couldn’t get any weirder. Although, after the whole ‘death’ thing, I should have figured out how nothing would be normal. Apparently my new knife wasn’t primarily meant as a weapon. Sure, it could be used that way, but its main intended purpose was as a ‘get out of jail free card’ for if one was attacked and needed to be gone. Or, to be a bit blunt about the thing, it was a suicide blade. Not that suicide meant the same thing here as it did in my old world, but still. Here it was more of a way of pissing off anyone trying to attack you. Sure, you would be forced back into town; but they would get nothing, would be marked as an attacker, and would have their ‘brilliant’ plan exposed to all but the very youngest of children.

To this end the weapon looked like the unholy offspring of a fat multi-serrated stiletto and a cheese grater. The idea behind it was that if you stabbed yourself it would cause something akin to a ‘bleeding’ wound, minus the blood. The grater like holes meant that the weapon wouldn’t block the vitality loss and, so long as you didn’t flex your wound to shove the thing out, it would remain in place until it finished you off. Furthermore, once you disappeared, the built up vitality that had leaked into the small space within the blade would be released, creating something of a ‘beacon’ that could be sensed for miles around and stood as a warning. It was a very ingenious way of doing things. The dagger was even designed with a partially breakaway handle sot that those who got too powerful to die quickly could break it off and continue to bleed internally. It was a little gruesome to think about, but it wasn’t as though the experience did anything permanent to people.

As weird an unnerving as its intended use was, however, it could still be used as a weapon and my mother was intent on making sure I knew how to use it. So here I stood, back in our living room, waiting for my first lesson. Or, at least, I assume that is what she wants to do once she gets past her overly protective thing she has going. Still, it is better than sitting around trying to get all my weird ‘magic’ senses to finally start working. That was an effort in frustration, if I do say so myself. Currently I was running into a slightly different frustration.

“Be careful with that, Son, the dagger is sharp and the serrations are meant to go in easily but not come back out. You don’t want to hurt yourself while messing around.”

“I know, Mother.”

“And the holster you have isn’t designed to keep you safe when you pull it out, so you will have to be extra careful.”

“I know, Mother.”

“Hold on tight, if your hand slips forward you could cut yourself on your own weapon. That wouldn’t be good.”

“…I know, Mother…”

“It isn’t at all intimidating so do not pull it out unless you are willing to use it. The biggest advantage it has is surprise.”

I gave her a look. This wasn’t the first time she had gone over these things while fussing over me. “…I know, Mother.”

“You really don’t have to learn all this stuff yet, or even ever if you don’t want to! You can be like your father and do research or…”

I cut her off. “Mother. I’m living in a fantasy world where strength is the one universal basis for respect. If I want to be able to explore and see everything than I’m going to have to learn how to fight. Please stop treating me like a child.”

This time she gave me a look.

I glanced down at my two year old body. “Er, present condition not withstanding.” I quickly tried to change the subject. “Look, you said before that you needed to teach me how to use my weapon, right?”

She frowned. “Well your father certainly isn’t going to do it! He barely knows which end is the pointy one!” She straightened up closer to her ‘neutral’ pose, but I could still see the frown on her lips so I knew I had her. I gave her half a minute to come to her own conclusions before she answered with a tone of defeat in her voice. “Fine. I will teach you. First, what do you know?”

I thought to myself. “I have a lot of experience reading up about the comparisons between different weapons, including more than a few debates on historical examples. I’ve also done some LARPing.”

“LARP?” She asked with a frown, than continued with her own definition. “Alternative fake historical reenactment in illogical worlds where headshots kill the attacker and the most common target is the groin?”

I wanted to argue with her definition. LARP stood for ‘Live Action Role Play’ and was a noble art of safe combat where… ok, there were a lot of groin shots. At least that was true in my last group. I decided, instead, to not interrupt her.

“And what do you know about knife combat specifically?” She eyed me critically.

I organized my thoughts and then began. “The only two advantages that a knife has over something like a short sword is that it can be used effectively in a clinch or grapple and that it is easy to conceal. In many archaic societies a good knife was viewed as a tool, rather than a real weapon, and so it could be carried openly where other weapons would be restricted.” I tried to think about what movies and various internet videos had taught me. “Um, there are three common grips. The first is with the blade coming out the top of your hand, like most blades would, with the blade facing forward. This is flashy for movies but most real knife fighters just say to get a sword if you plan to use it that way. The second is out the bottom of your fist with the blade facing forward and is how most actual knife fighters and militaries use it, I think? It is best for quick strikes with high mobility. The third is out the top of your fist again, with the blade facing backwards. This one is favored by assassins and Navy Seals for quick and silent takedowns.”

She watched impassionately as I spoke but didn’t correct me, so I took it as a good sign. “And how would you hold it?” She commanded.

I took the knife in an underhand grip, pointing the blade forward like I remembered from some videos but she interrupted me. “Other way,” she said simply and I started to comply. I gave her a questioning look and she continued. “There is no point in teaching you a dagger specific style till you have the basics with blades in general.”

That made sense, I guess. This time I placed the dagger forward aiming one of the blades to line up with my front knuckles like I had seen someone somewhere before recommend. The weapon was double-bladed, so it meant I could use it for both the popular movie style and the assassin style at once. I looked up to see her frowning.

“I see your experience is all theoretical,” she stated as she readjusted my grip. It was true, but also hurt a little to realize that I couldn’t even hold the thing right. “The blade’s angle should follow the flow of your forearm. Your hand isn’t quite big enough yet, but you should always keep the requirements for the overall movement in mind. Also, if you can’t draw your weapon and be ready to use it at a moment’s notice you are better off not pulling it out at all. Without it you are an inert obstacle, not usually worth the time to cut down. With it you are an incalculable error that needs to be removed before your ineptitude causes chaos.”

I nodded. Her words seemed a bit mean but they were laced with experienced practicality. I would much rather someone be honestly forthright than try to spare my feelings.

“Wield it.”

I took a couple swings to the side, back and forth, trying to move smoothly from one swing to the next while cutting straight through the air as I did. A couple of jabs forward made it clear to me that I didn’t know if I should try to keep my weapon straight or twist it, so I went back to cutting motions. I tried swinging up and down a few times as well. Meanwhile I could feel her disapproving gaze on my every movement and I could feel my face redden in embarrassment. This continued well beyond a full minute, possibly as many as five before she stopped me.

“Fortunately you have only a few bad habits, mostly because you lack any real experience at all.” She smiled and exhaled in a way that seemed somewhere between relief and something more strict that I couldn’t place. “First lets work on your form.” She showed me some practice swings with her open palm in place of a weapon and then corrected me as I attempted to copy. “Every attack is some variation on these basic nine angles.”

Straight up and straight down, straight left and straight right; those four directions and the four angled between them. She showed me those and then stopped. “That adds up to eight,” I pointed out, “what about the ninth?”

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“That is straight ahead. You can’t effectively practice it without magic.” She stated. “What I can tell you for now is to not spin your weapon as you thrust. All that will accomplish is making it harder to insert and dislodge your blade from your target. In the worst case you may end up disarming yourself on your opponent’s ribcage. Don’t do it.”

I nodded.

“Your shoulder and elbow aren’t the only points of movement,” she continued, “use your wrists to add to your weapon’s speed at the moment when you expect to make contact. This will whip your weapon forward, greatly increasing penetration and speed at the cost of stability.”

“Like ‘stability’ the stat?” I asked, still swinging but making an attempt to incorporate her advice.

“No. Weapon control. It will be easier for them to knock off your guard if they intercept just before or after the most powerful part of your swing.” She answered. “You will need to watch for it and be ready to take their defense rather than blindly attacking without thought.”

“And how do I do that?” I asked with some frustration.

“Stop!” she called, and I immediately jerked to a halt. “Swing slowly and correctly every time. Once you have your form down you can begin to add speed. Only after this is all ingrained well enough to be without thought can you begin to learn how to use your mind within the battle.”

That didn’t make sense to me. Shouldn’t you learn both at the same time, even if you have to set one aside to practice the other; that way you would progress in both areas without being delayed by either the physical or mental exhaustion?

I didn’t get a chance to ask. “Next we will practice the defensive forms,” I was glad to move on to something I did remember from my LARPing days. I had trained the basic 5 blocks more than anything else. She continued, “though you only have the ability to work on six of the eight, currently.”

Wait, six? If two were things I couldn’t practice without magic than shouldn’t the others match what I remembered from before? Afterall, the angles of geometry and relative leverage shouldn’t change… except ‘magic’. I was still getting used to that BS answer.

She went through the blocks, still using her hand instead of a real blade. I recognized the first five easily: Straight above the head, above and to the right, above and to the left, turning the blade downward to block the lower right, and then continuing across to block the lower left. Finally she turned her ‘blade’ downward to block toward the ground in an exact mirror to the overhead defense. It was the final block that threw me off. Swordsmen from my old world didn’t use it for a number of reasons ranging from the fact that a person’s arms weren’t long enough to stop the sword from hitting the feet or legs to the fact that blocks were primarily used, rather than deflections, in order to create openings and that was supposedly a horrible direction to attack from. At least, that is what I thought I remembered.

So I decided to ask. “Wouldn’t it be better to swing your weapon across in front of yourself to nock away anything coming directly from the bottom?” I demonstrated the way I had been taught. She frowned at my bad form, similar to how she had frowned at my earlier showing, but seemed to get the point.

“You can’t deflect a ‘pew-pew-lazer’.” She answered simply, seemingly struggling to not roll her eyes as she used my own terminology. “You must either avoid it or block it.”

I went still, suddenly realizing exactly what she had just said and what it meant. These weren’t just sword forms she was teaching me, these were a set of forms meant to fight with and against magic as well!

“William, you are smiling in that creepy way again.” She said.

I tried to calm myself but I was so excited. Learning how to walk was necessary but didn’t have the same ‘you are living in a fantasy world’ vibe to it as actually learning magic/sword fighting from a master, who happened to be my close relative. I’m just glad that I didn’t have to go through the stereotypical test that so many stories used: being abandoned in the mountains to fend for myself till the student could survive and find their way back. Then again eating wouldn’t be a problem and getting back would be as simple as holding my breath till I literally turned blue. Did I ever mention how weird this whole world is, because it is extremely weird.

Calming myself down I answered her. “I’m fine. I’m just really excited to learn something that isn’t the ‘basics’. I want to go out and have an adventure but instead I’m stuck in here trying to ‘hear’ magic.”

“Do two year olds in your old world go out on adventures?”

“No, but I’m not exactly two in my head.” I pointed out.

She nodded. “Some people think like you seem to want, giving their children free reign to do whatever they want as soon as they can attempt it. Most of those children get themselves in trouble or become little more than slaves to the more powerful. Instead we try to protect you until you are ready to succeed rather than simply willing to try.”

“But what if I think I’m ready to try some less dangerous things? It isn’t as though I’m going to die permanently and I’ll listen if you tell me to avoid a certain thing because I’ll run into problems otherwise, so why not give me more freedom to try different things and grow on my own?”

She frowned in a way that was less her normal ‘thinking’ pose and more actual unhappy. She quickly schooled her features into her more normal impassive demeanor and answered. “There are… ‘reasons’ that I know how that approach doesn’t work out. It…” she seemed to be struggling with her words so I remained quiet, curious for what she would say. “I didn’t always follow the Path of the Guide, I actually grew up Land and Sky. They are the ones who think it is a good idea to throw their children to the wolves.” I guess ‘Path of the Guide’, whatever that was, were the ones who believed in the ‘traditional’ ways of raising kids.

Still, the ‘Land and Sky’ people not protecting their own kids seemed overly harsh. “Why would they do that? Do they hate children or something?” I asked.

She shook her head. “No. They just believe that it is the way of the world for some to succeed and others to fail by their own strength and cunning.” Her face took on a sorrowful look. “But the truth is that everyone fails by that measure; and those who seemingly don’t fail only succeed through a lack of humanity.” She then returned back to her more neutral face. “The man that you met in the shop, Rack; I knew him from before. He is proof that not everyone who believes that way is a bad person or holds to it as tightly as some. He can be somewhat opinionated, at times, however.”

“You knew him? I don’t think I remember him from my birthday party.”

“He wasn’t there, it would have been… awkward had he been invited.”

That stopped me for a second. “Wait, were the two of you dating? Did you go buy a knife for me from your old boyfriend?”

She seemed to blush at that, though her voice remained impassive. “No, we were not like that toward each other. He was always a brother for me. He, however, was unagreeable toward some of the lifestyle decisions I made not long before I moved to this area. We have spoken less over the passage of time.”

Yeah right. I saw that blush before and he did follow you here from goodness knows where. It is weird to think of Mom as having old boyfriends. That was not something I wanted to think about so I decided to change the subject. “Anyway… You are good to teach me more magic swordsmanship?”

She nodded. “Please excuse me for my earlier reluctance. I had wanted to give you as traditional an upbringing as possible, even when it became clear how ‘unique’ your approach to this world was. Raising a child is not something I had experience with and my sources of instruction could not have been expected to prepare me for raising such a smart young man.” She gave me a small smile as she spoke.

I sighed. The compliment was nice but I was worried by what she had just said. “Mom, please don’t tell me you were the kind of person who reads though a dozen parenting books before even thinking about getting pregnant.” The term ‘helicopter mom’ jumped to my head but I didn’t actually speak it out loud.

Her composure completely broke and she got a petulant look on her face. “What’s wrong with that! It is perfectly reasonable to be prepared for such a major undertaking!” Then, in a sulky voice she continued mumbling to herself. “Besides, it was only 5 books. That isn’t even half of a ‘dozen’.”

I smiled at her antics. “Maybe I could help?” I said, and she seemed to be considering it. So I continued to give her a chance to calm down. “I never had kids before either but I did a lot of watching over other people’s kids. I don’t think there is a ‘one size fits all’ approach that works for everyone so everyone has to just figure it out. There was this one teacher, back before, who said: ‘When I was a young man I had three theories on raising children. Now I have three children and no theories.’ I think it is like that.”

“ ‘Three theories’? But I thought…” She shook her head and visibly changed gears. “This seems so wrong, somehow. Shouldn’t I be the one teaching you?”

“You are!” I exclaimed! “Aftearall, Magic Swordsmanship!” Yes, the words are very much capitalized in my mind.

She sighed. “It isn’t ‘magic swordsmanship’,” she did not speak the words with the correct capitalization. “It is just regular swordsmanship with no real magic involved. Not at that level, at the very least.”

“Magic Swordsmanship!” I called out, giving it the correct emphasis.

“You don’t even know how to use magic yet. That won’t happen for a while yet.”

That was a bit of a downer, but still. “So… ‘Eventually’ Magic Swordsmanship?”

“William, your mind gets stuck on the most unusual things.” She nodded her head reprovingly but I could detect a faint smile.

“But this is important stuff! Everybody needs to know how to defend themselves! And if the Swordsmanship just happens to be somewhat Magical, once I can do that sort of thing, than all the better!”

“You know what else is ‘important’?” She asked, and I got a foreboding feeling that I knew what she was about to say. “Learning how to properly use your senses so you can grow up.” Sadly my expectations were not disappointed.

“Ugh,” I answered. “It is just so tedious and I don’t even know what I’m supposed to be looking for! I’ve got absolutely no experience with this ‘magic’ and yet this is supposed to be so easy. For me it just isn’t.” I crossed my arms in annoyance and tried not to look ‘cute’. “ ‘It is just like your normal senses, except with magic,’ you both said. Magic sight! Magic hearing! Magic touch! Magic… well no, taste and smell are basically the same except that I can apparently taste things in my weird stomach/lungs hybrid thing, and isn’t that weird. The tasting thing, I’m over the stomach/lungs thing already.” I let out a sigh and decided to stop grumbling. It wasn’t as though she hadn’t heard it all before.

She said nothing but gave me a bit of a slight smile, I might not have even noticed it if I hadn’t spent so much time around her.

Then another thought hit me. “Won’t dad be upset about you deciding to teach me this stuff without talking with him first?”

“No,” she answered, her face neutral again. “This was actually his idea. He said that giving you something else to distract yourself would help you to focus on your more immediate tasks.”

“Smart man,” I commented with a smile.

She nodded, “Yes. Sometimes I forget how much.” She punctuated her statement with a full smile in return.