We had all slept a little less soundly than usual. Despite not having any assassins directly attacking us, we now knew of schemes to hunt us down. Paranoia may be a slow killer, but an arrow in the back is a much faster and more painful death. I would know from experience.
For that reason, I was taking the saintess to a blacksmith and tannery. The early morning air was great and only slightly ruined by the knowledge that someone might try to kill us for money.
“Oh my Goodness! That bread smells amazing! I think I’m getting some sense of nostalgia from it. A numbed nostalgia, though. Is that normal?” The saintess looked at me in her white robe, red eyes sparkling with excitement as she bounced back from yesterday’s revelation faster than anyone.
“I would ask the church about that. I’m not an expert on souls or the after-effects of magic rituals related to souls. Nostalgia for bread seems fairly normal to me.” I turned to her and replied with a smile, looking at one fruit merchant who began eyeing us as we walked past. “Perhaps your memories need an adjustment period for the new body, perhaps this new body perceives things differently and you have a hard time connecting what you knew to this new human body. Like trying to translate muscle memory with an ax for skills with a sword.”
She turned to me and lost her previous smile. “Do you have any analogies that would make more sense to someone who doesn’t understand weapons that well? Something that connects us and we would both understand?”
I paused for a second to think about what connected us both. I knew about weapons but she didn’t. We both could use magic but neither had a good understanding of it. I understood much of this world but knew nothing about what she remembered. It would need to be something important that she would have been told by the church. Something that would be integral to her new life.
“Paths. How much did the priests teach you about paths?”
She took a moment to ponder my question and replied, “It helps guide you in life subtly along whichever way helps you most. At a church you get to see your three options become your best self. Or something like that.”
“Not even close.” I turned to a pair of guards who pointed to us as we walked past. They whispered to each other. I put a hand on her back and pushed her to walk faster until we left the viewpoint of the guards.
We walked in silence for a few minutes before she sighed. “Stop stalling and tell me more about it then.”
We were getting close to a tannery so I decided to keep my explanation relatively short. “Imagine a butcher gets his first path as a butcher. He owns a shop, cuts and sells meat, and keeps his stuff clean and organized. His first path would help with that. Even when distracted, his muscle memory would help him cut chickens and sharpen knives. When someone is trying to sell him a sick animal to butcher he would more easily spot the signs, provided he had ever been taught the signs of said sickness.”
“Is that similar to how I thought I could fully heal the monk before I began but then realized the full extent. Panicked when I thought I couldn’t heal her completely. And how I realized I could heal her more than I thought I could by pushing myself farther than normal as a martyr after feeling the signs of magic exhaustion?”
I paused at that question. Truthfully I had no answer I could give. I shrugged. Then I continued on my example hoping it could offer some form of answer she could piece together. “If he gets attacked by a bear, he wouldn’t have true skills with a knife in combat. His path would help tell him when he was outclassed. He would, however, have a weak instinct on where the pelt is thinnest to begin flaying the beast that he could have learned to listen to. An instinct he might be able to use to stab through the fur and kill it. Are you following me so far?”
This content has been misappropriated from Royal Road; report any instances of this story if found elsewhere.
The saintess had been alternating between looking at me intently and losing focus for other things repeatedly. “I believe so. So that path is helping him be the best butcher he can be.”
“It isn’t that simple. Imagine he was forced to join the army for a few months. He used his training as a butcher to help as a soldier between fights. He acted as a butcher when prey was caught while marching, kept his and his friends' blades sharp, and kept an eye on the provisions for signs of spoilage. He only saw a few battles. In one of those battles, he helped slay a dragon. What are your thoughts on this butcher and his potential paths?”
The silence between us was filled with the voices of people going about their morning routines, yet she seemed very focused on answering. “In that case, he is being a good soldier through being a good butcher, and will get three paths based on how he used his training as a butcher as a soldier.”
“Not quite. His first option for a path is as a butcher, but he will make even fewer mistakes than before. He has been acting as a butcher even longer than a soldier so it is the most trodden path for him. The second path would be as a dragon-slaying soldier. In this path he wouldn’t be a butcher, but a weapon-wielding defender. He would still retain instincts from a butcher but have sharper instincts based around being a soldier. This would be his hardest path to tread in killing the dragon, and thus, it would be his second choice.”
She nodded. “I don’t need to be a martyr forever, I can give myself other instincts that help me try to preserve myself.”
I nodded while looking at her as well. Glad we could find common ground. “There is still his third path, which would likely be as a quartermaster. Despite never being one, his path would be going down something similar to it looking after others’ gear and the group’s food. Despite not having massive achievements in-”
A knife swung at me from behind and I jerked my head to the side to avoid it. Armor on, shield and sword on my back but not drawn. I only got a scratch on the cheek when the initial failed attack went for an attempt at my eye. Turning to keep myself between the attacker and the saintess I got a good look at him. A thin and unassuming man holding a knife with dirty clothes. He lunged for me again, aiming for my face. It was a rookie move that was avoidable. I took a step back and put my weight on my back leg. My left arm reached for his arm. He drew back his arm to avoid me, but I sprung forward and grabbed his wrist. I swung my arm while neither of us had a good stance, forcing both of us on the ground. I was the one grabbing him, I expected us to go on the ground, and he obviously didn’t have a fighting-related path. Twisting myself I got him under me. He dropped the knife and struggled against me.
Drawing my sword I asked, “What did you really expect?”
With a murderous grin, he replied, “30%”.
“Spear!”
A spear appeared in my vision a split-second after the saintess’s warning. I leaned back to avoid it as best I could, but they drew the spear back mid-strike to prepare for another attack. I rolled to my side to gain distance. I slid my blade’s length against the man below me and got my feet under myself again. I went to lift the blade, only to see that my opponent had stepped on it to prevent me from using it. With a wide grip on the spear, he swung it wide. He wore a hooded mud-covered cloak hiding his features and other tools he might have prepared. The swing gave me ample time to release my sword and throw myself out of its range. Losing my only weapon would doom me, while his wide grip would allow him to extend his reach midswing and possibly still hit me. With little time to plan, I raised my stone cast in the path of the spear and went closer to them to minimize injury. Pain ran up my arm as the spear made contact with my injury, likely reopening it. Again.
The man swung the butt of the spear to hit my unguarded side, but I grabbed the spear with both hands. We were in a deadlock, but I was beginning to push him back. I heard him spit and something painful went into my left eye. I felt his resistance to pushing his spear lessen as this happened.
I could only imagine they freed up a hand to do something, but I couldn’t see what due to something getting in my eye. A sharp pain appeared in my gut. At the same time, a shiny blade came out from the man’s chest. In the confusion of the fight, the saintess grabbed a fallen blade and stabbed him from behind. Grabbing his hand that held what was currently stabbing me. I yelled to the saintess.
“Stop waiting and stab him some more!”
Without even a nod, she drew the blade back out and stabbed him repeatedly. Most stabs ground against bone, but others slid into important organs. Only when life left his eyes did I release my death grip on him and his spear.
“Are you good? Should we go to the church instead?”
I nodded. “Yeah, thanks.” Looking down at him I added. “I don’t think we need to go to the blacksmith anymore, a decent spear came to us.”