Andy approached Gar.

"Ha, puny one," Gar said in a gruff voice. "You were the level zero who crossed me. And yet you approach me to instruct you!?"

Andy stood his ground. After dealing with the Warlock, Gar didn't seem so bad after all.

He was going to attempt to keep this interaction pragmatic. He needed the feat, and he knew that, as a level 0, now was not a time to challenge a guild master.

Andy had clocked Gar as a bully at their first interaction, but now was not the time to hash that out. He wouldn't stand a chance against him for a good while.

"I want to learn Wallop," Andy said matter-of-factly. He wasn't going to invest any emotion in this. He was going to remain calm and try to avoid sparking Gar's temper.

"I'm sure you do," Gar said. "Well, you aren't going to learn it with that attitude."

"What attitude, sir?" Andy said.

Sir? Ugh, Andy thought. That was probably too far.

Gar didn't seem to notice.

"You need to…" Gar inhaled sharply "RAAAAAAAGE!!!!"

Gar's voice reverberated in Andy's chest, it was so loud. Incomparably loud. Cartoonishly loud. It was almost silly.

Gar's veins in his arms were throbbing and his eyes were suddenly bloodshot.

Then, just as suddenly as his outburst had started, Gar calmed down and relaxed, though he still breathed heavily.

"I will not teach you, puny one," Gar said. "You cannot learn."

Andy brought up the display to buy him time.

Gar was refusing to teach him. Why? Because Andy had crossed him earlier.

But what was Gar all about? What made him tick? Was there any way that Andy could turn this interaction around and learn the Wallop feat? It was the last feat of his build, and he didn't want to have to settle for something less optimal because of a random altercation in the street.

Andy wished he could go back in time and make it so that the group had taken a different route to Grimy Grubb's, avoiding Gar entirely. But he couldn't do that. He had to work with what he had now.

I can't freeze, he thought. But I can't flee either, not if I want the feat… According to Bertha, that leaves two options: fight, or ass-kissing. And fighting isn't going to work here. But neither will simply flattery. Gar is too hostile to give into that.

As Andy mulled over the situation, he realized something Gar would never do: back away from a challenge.

He wasn't going to fight. No, not with Gar, and not at level 0. But he could challenge Gar to prove himself a superior teacher.

Andy wouldn't be complimenting him, but he would play to Gar's ego.

Tactical ass-kissing, Andy thought. I can do that.

He snapped back to the present.

"You must not be a very good teacher, then," Andy said.

Gar stood dumbfounded for a moment, registering what Andy had just said. Then his face screwed up in anger.

"How dare you insult me!" Gar bellowed. The skulls that adorned his beard shook as his voice rumbled.

He was getting under Gar's skin. Now to see if Andy could turn it around…

"You're right," Andy said. "I am weak and stupid. But if you can't teach the weak and stupid, then you aren't a real teacher."

Gar's eyes narrowed as he began to breathe heavily, threatened by Andy's words.

"A real teacher," Andy continued, "Can instruct even the most difficult pupil."

"I am the GREATEST teacher," Gar shot back. "I can teach anyone! Even the stupid and the weak, like you!"

Perfect. Now to finish the gambit.

"Then prove it," Andy said.

Gar looked genuinely confused, like his brain was short-circuiting. Finally, he spoke.

"Argh, fine! Now I will teach you and prove to you I am the greatest teacher, and you will honor Gar the Terrible!"

The text flashed across Andy's field of vision:

You learned Wallop!

Excellent.

Gar huffed a bit as he calmed, preparing himself to instruct Andy.

"To Wallop, you must access your anger," Gar said.

Gar was clearly pushing through his pride, giving instruction to a puny otherworlder who had crossed him. But he was doing it in order to defend his pride, demonstrating that even he could instruct such a simple weakling.

"Whenever you strike, your mind and soul must become like fire," Gar said.

Your mind and soul must become like fire.

Andy was starting to understand, all of the feats were activated by emotional states. At least all of the feats so far.

"No sword," Gar said. "Hit me with your fist."

Andy planted his great sword in the sand and walked over before Gar.

He was even bigger than he had seemed the day before.

Andy tried to tap into his rage. He searched around his heart, he looked for that place where he had found his inner fighter just moments ago, but none of those were right.

And the hatred that powered Drain wasn't going to work either. He searched around inside him, but he couldn't find it.

"Where is your anger?!" Gar said, getting irritable. "Find it and attack!"

Gar's outburst caused Andy to flinch, but Andy quickly collected himself. He fought off any feelings of fear or intimidation, as that would be counterproductive to summoning rage.

If rage wasn't hatred, and it wasn't merely a fighting spirit, then what was it?

Andy concentrated and sank into his display, buying a few minutes of time.

He thought back through his life. What were the times when he felt rage most?

He recalled being picked on in the cafeteria in middle school. Jaime, a big, tall bully, had flipped Andy's lunch tray as he walked by. Andy remembered clearly: he had been hungry, tired, ready to eat something, and this asshole kid had just thrown all his food on the ground for no reason.

Of course, looking back on it, it was easy to see that Jaime was acting immaturely. Andy reckoned if he met him now, Jaime would be embarrassed over the way he had treated Andy.

But what really caused Andy distress, what really caused him anger, was the Mr. Bellefonte's reaction.

Mr. Bellefonte was the gym teacher, and Andy had never been great in gym. He did what he could to get by, but Mr. Bellefonte had always punished Andy for "slacking." Running laps, doing push-ups, and cleaning the locker rooms when the other kids were playing. Bellefonte had even given him written remarks on his report card: "needs improvement," "unsatisfactory," and the like.

And Mr. Bellefonte had been standing there in the cafeteria, watching the whole thing as Jaime flipped Andy's tray onto the floor, causing peas to scatter, mashed potatoes to splat, and a whole square of overbaked pizza to slide like a hockey puck over to Bellefonte's shoe.

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Replaying the memory, Andy felt angry against his bully, sure, but the thing that really disturbed Andy was Mr. Bellefonte's reaction to the incident.

"You better clean it up," Bellefonte said.

Andy felt a spark.

Injustice. Abuse of power. Failure to protect the powerless. He had found his trigger.

This was anger, indignation even. But was it rage?

Andy tried to push it further, to find the limits of his anger. He recalled his most recent encounter with a bully.

He recalled Gar's cruelty, his disgusting treatment of the townsfolk, this big bully that stood right in front of him now.

Andy felt in him a thirst for justice, to set things right. He felt anger at the way things were, anger that someone like Gar could get away with belittling others.

He felt that spark somewhere in his shoulders, moving him to fight.

He closed his display.

Andy harnessed his anger, suddenly leaping forward and throwing a punch. It landed on Gar's right pectoral muscle, which met it like a steel beam.

Pain shot through Andy's knuckles and wrist as if he had just punched a brick wall.

"Gah!" he cried out. "What the hell! You're like solid stone!"

"Gar loves to work out, loves to become ripped, to develop lovely and hard muscles" Gar said with a smirk. "And you fail."

Andy stepped back, shaking his fist.

"What's the secret?" Andy said. "How do you activate it? Isn't there some mental trick?"

Gar looked confused.

"Trick? Berserkers don't trick," he said with contempt. "We aren't charlatans or tricksters."

Andy rephrased.

"How do you access your rage?" he asked.

Gar stood silently for a moment, then he sneered.

"Please teach me," Andy said, putting himself in a non-dominant position. "I may be a difficult pupil, but I can learn if you just give me a chance."

Gar thought it over.

"You find it, and you use it," Gar said.

Clearly Gar did not spend much time thinking about the emotional techniques involved in activating feats. A berserker's rage came as naturally to him as being an unreflective asshat, apparently.

"You see something that needs to be fixed, and you tell yourself: I can fix that," Gar said. "If you can't fix it, you can't rage."

Now, there was a helpful nugget.

Andy could tell that Gar was trying to communicate something subtle.

He pulled up the display so he could have some more time to mull it over.

If you can't fix it, you can't rage, the words echoed in Andy's head. That means that you have to feel capable. You have to be able to do it. You have to be taking matters into your own hands. Maybe I am failing because I am looking for an emotion to work for me, rather than using the emotion as an engine for my own work…

That was it.

Andy revisited his memory of Mr. Bellefonte.

"You better clean it up," Bellefonte said.

But instead of sulking, instead of complying, instead of feeling hopeless, as he had in the past, this time, he altered the memory.

Andy stood up from the cafeteria table. He looked Bellefonte directly in the face, defiant.

Bellefonte's eyes went wide as he stumbled back.

"Coward," Andy said in his memory.

His anger transformed into something more concrete: a burning desire to impose his will on the world, to let Mr. Bellefonte know that he was wrong. To make him feel ashamed. To set the moral record straight.

He felt it. He felt the rage.

Andy came back to reality.

Andy stared at Gar as he held onto that spark of rage in his chest. The hulking man was brutal and unjust. Andy allowed himself to associate that injustice with all injustice. He pictured all of the cruelty and callousness in the world intersecting in Gar.

Then Andy pictured himself as capable. He pictured himself as a mighty hero who would shatter the injustice before him. He would impose his will on the world.

He would set the moral record straight.

The emotional spark ignited into an uncontrollable flame, practically forcing his body into motion.

Andy raised his fist and lunged, releasing a loud yell as he planted a punch onto Gar's abdomen.

Gar doubled over and stumbled but quickly righted himself, eager to appear unbothered. But he couldn't help holding his gut.

Gar cleared his throat.

"That was fine," he said, turning around. "Good enough to pass, I am tired of teaching you."

Andy saw that he had caught the hulking man by surprise. He had mastered the Wallop feat more quickly than Gar had anticipated.

"I hope to continue to improve," Andy said, playing along. "Thank you for teaching me."

Gar shooed him off, holding his stomach.

"I am tired of the weakling," he said.

Andy gathered up his sword and walked back toward the entrance of the arena, taking in the view.

Maybe Arlene isn't so crazy, he thought. Maybe we could kick his ass sooner than I thought.

***

Arlene was with a heavily armored paladin, presumably learning Righteous Wrath. Kermit was speaking with the farmer, who was showing him a few different dinner plates.

Things seemed to be winding down. Several of the guild masters wandered off into the recesses of the stadium, disappearing into corridors.

The druid Dilgur approached Andy.

"I trust you learned how to use your feats, dear boy?" said Dilgur.

"I did," said Andy. "I'm very happy with them."

"Good, good," said the Druid. "Your party seems very well-rounded. The duke will be pleased."

The duke?

This was the first time Andy had heard anything about a duke. Lilly had mentioned a thing or two about Cresthaven nobility, and Tobo had given them the rundown on the shady politics in the region, but nothing had ever been mentioned beyond vague gestures.

Andy decided to probe gently.

"Will the duke be attending the arena?" Andy asked.

"Yes, yes he will. I've gotten word that he is very happy to have new otherworlders here. It has been many, many years since any new arrivals, as I'm sure you've been made aware."

"Yes, I've been told," Andy said. "But what has that got to do with the duke?"

"Well, a lack of new arrivals means that most otherworlders have gone on to other lands in search for adventure, glory, and strange foods."

"So, are we the only otherworlders in Cresthaven?"

"At the moment it seems so, and the Duke apparently has a few errands that he'd like help on. He will be evaluating you today, to see if your group has the capability to carry out a quest on his behalf."

Not even level 1 and we've already got a quest lined up?

"What kind of errand?" Andy asked.

"Well, we're not entirely sure, but it probably has something to do with trade. The duke comes from a family of merchants, the Pyms."

Duke Pym, merchant, Andy thought, committing it to memory.

He couldn't allow himself to get too excited, though. If the nobility was as cutthroat as Tobo had suggested, then there was a chance that this was some kind of suicide mission. Something to kill off the new arrivals so that the balance of power wouldn't be too upset.

On the other hand, if new arrivals could be controlled, they might be valuable assets to the nobility. The duke might be making a wise move in recruiting the group before they even hit level 1, establishing a working partnership before any other nobles could claim him.

The whole situation was ambiguous.

"What kind of trade?" Andy asked.

"Well, from what I understand, the Pyms have built their fortune on the importation of luxury items. He likely has a fetch-quest for you," the druid responded. "But that's really all I can say. I am but a lowly druid, unskilled and ignorant to the world of commerce."

A few moments passed as the two of them watched Arlene and Kermit finish up their training. The druid bowed and retired through a nearby archway as Arlene and Kermit approached.

"This is so awesome," Arlene said with a smile.

Andy smiled back. She seemed in her element.

"The salad was made with a pear balsamic reduction," said Kermit.

"A what?" Andy asked.

"It's a sauce," said Kermit. "I know a lot about cooking already!"

"Hey, good job!" Arlene said.

Andy held out a hand for a high-five.

Kermit beamed, hitting Andy's hand with his own.

"I can't wait to cook!" he said.

A snack cart rolled into the arena and Kermit instantly peeled for it.

"You looked like you had a good time," Arlene said. "Any surprises?"

"Well, I did have to feed my blood to a demon, so yeah, I guess so," Andy said.

"Wow," Arlene said. "I'm not even going to ask."

"You shouldn't," said Andy.

"But," he continued, "you should know, apparently we've got a potential client."

"Yeah?" Arlene asked.

"Yeah, the Duke of Cresthaven."

"Really?" said Arlene. "Already?"

"It seems that way," said Andy. "Depending on our performance in the arena I guess."

Andy saw Arlene thinking it over intensely.

"What's going on in your brain?" Andy asked.

"I'm strategizing," said Arlene.

As usual.

The druid emerged again, eating a drumstick.

"Andy, Arlene, Kermit," he said, his mouth full of chicken. "You can pick from the snack cart if you want, or you can come enjoy the pre-arena feast with the guild masters."

"Did he say feast?" Kermit called from the snack cart, where he was double-fisting ice cream cones.

The group followed the druid into the tunnels under the stadium.