Will

Will felt a little bit bad about throwing Sam in the deep end without giving her much time to acclimate—however, as he had expected, it didn’t take her very long to rise to the challenge.

He made sure to remove himself from the process as much as possible. He wanted her to figure things out on her own, so she wouldn’t get into the habit of relying on him to solve everything for her. There would come a time when she would be expected to achieve great things, and she couldn’t do that while clinging to his apron strings.

Number One—the only one of the chimps he really trusted to give an accurate account—continued to provide updates on Sam’s progress. Mongrel also added his own commentary at times, but Will found his word a good deal less reputable than that of his servant.

Will actually did have a fair bit of work to get done if he wanted to finish the next batch of ointment in time for Mongrel to hand it off to the city merchants by the appointed date. That specific ointment of calendula and comfrey was one of his more popular products, mostly on account of the fact that it was a good topical remedy for all sorts of STD infections. Needless to say, diseases of that nature that ran absolutely rampant in a squalid cesspit like Sheerhome. Mixing and Preparing batches of the same bland, whitish paste each day was not exactly inspired work, but at least it netted him a steady income.

Despite his commitments, Will could not help but sit down with the little audience that gathered on the porch to watch Sam on the morning of the third day. Apparently, she had spent her Level 2 upgrade point on Shock Absorption, which was probably the best choice.

The rest of the chimps were also gathered to watch, along with their master. Even Nyx was there, offering insincere encouragements to the challenger while wearing a mocking sneer.

Number Four was the only one not in attendance. Will asked Mongrel about it, but the strange little man just cracked a secretive smirk and tapped the side of his nose.

That bastard’s planning something, isn’t he? Will thought warily. He wasn’t sure he wanted to know what it was.

Sam’s body was a patchwork of welts and bruises under her clothes at this point. One of her eyes had nearly swollen shut, while the other was completely bloodshot. The cream he had applied to take away the swelling last night had only helped a little.

Despite the extreme punishment she had taken, she did not let it slow her at all, nor did it stop her from cracking a big grin and sketching out a stiff bow for her audience.

Number Three was gibbering and screaming and pounding his mallet on the ground, impatient to get started with the thrashing. Will halted the proceedings, however, by calling Sam over to have a word with her.

“You’re not using the training weapon I gave you,” he observed.

Sam clapped her hands together, empty except for the bloody bandages she had wrapped around them, and gave a sheepish laugh. “Yeah, sorry—I kinda broke it.”

“Mongrel can make you another one, you know.”

“Of course I can,” Mongrel agreed. “Number One, make her another stick.”

The old chimp shot his master a sour look, but began to rise all the same. Mongrel immediately flopped onto his side to spread out across the spot Number One had occupied, letting out a contented sigh.

“Oh, thanks, but it’s all right!” Sam replied. “I don’t think I’m into all this sword business. My hands work just fine for me.”

“That’s because you need more practice,” Will admonished. “There are going to be people out there who want to make you very dead, and they’re not going to be using wooden weapons. You don’t want to walk into that kind of fight with just your fists and a can-do attitude, trust me.”

Sam’s smile took on a playful edge, and her eyes twinkled despite how messed-up they were. “I guess we’ll see who’s right eventually, then.” She turned, and strutted back out into the yard without waiting for a reply.

“Stubborn,” Will sighed, rubbing at his bad eye.

Mongrel, who had taken on the role of referee, whistled sharply to signal the start of the first bout. The two fighters ran at each other, clashed, and danced apart again. The difference made by Sam’s new passive became evident almost immediately when she took a hard knock on the head and only stumbled slightly from the blow without breaking her stride. She retaliated with an uppercut that caught Number Three on the chin and sent him reeling.

“She’s got a hard noggin, I’ll give her that,” Mongrel hummed approvingly.

“I guess that’s not too hard when there’s nothing but rocks and protein powder in there,” Will grumbled, though his tone was no-less fond.

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The chimps started oohing and aahing and signing rapidly to each other once Sam got their brother on the back foot, turning his weapon aside with a palm or an elbow whenever he tried to bring it to bear, and following up with cautious but steady retaliations of punches and kicks to keep him reeling.

Number Three screamed in frustration. He pivoted on his back foot, refusing to retreat any further, and Sam caught him with a jab that snapped his head back. The chimp came back with a one-handed downward swing that Sam easily sidestepped, moving in for a grapple.

But Will caught the signs Number Three was weaving with his free hand. When the mallet hit the ground, a web of cracks shot through the earth, and it shook and shattered into fine pieces. Sam slipped on the suddenly treacherous ground with a yelp, and Number Three brought his weapon back up to catch her on the chin with a triumphant roar.

Still struggling to keep her footing, Sam toppled onto her back, and then the chimp was on top of her. The next minute consisted of fairly one-sided whaling until Mongrel declared that the bout was over and instructed the fighters to reset. Sam rolled to her feet, spat blood, and trotted over to her side of the yard, a whole new constellation of bruises already darkening to join the rest. Her face had taken on a grimly determined set, but she still clung to a stubborn smile.

Sam had always been good at getting herself into fights, and it had always pissed people off the way she could take a hit to the face—or three, or ten—and still be grinning like an idiot.

Will thought it was perhaps her most admirable trait.

Now that Sam was aware of Number Three’s Demolish trick, she fought more cautiously in the second bout. It was also a near thing, but ended in much the same as the first. It was in the third bout that Sam actually knocked the mallet out of Number Three’s hand with a well-placed kick and snaked past the baffled chimp’s grasp, had him on the ground before he even thought to resist. Grappling a chimp looked far more awkward than doing it to a person, given their mismatched anatomies, but she managed it regardless, latched to the chimp’s back while locking down one of his arms in an outstretched position, her legs wrapped around his torso.

Number Three screamed. He refused to give up, even as Sam pried his arm further and further back. Will expected her would hear a snap any moment. The chimp, who had clearly never practiced the fine art of grappling, had no idea how to get out of the hold she had put him in, and could only thrash uselessly.

The bout was over at this point.

“Heads up, kid!” Mongrel cried out of nowhere, laughing at something no one could see.

Until a small streak zipped through the air from behind the barn and cracked Sam in the temple, knocking her sideways. Deflected off her dome, an arrow blunted with a ball of rags spun off through the air.

Number Three took advantage of Sam’s momentary lapse by wriggling free of her grip. While she was still trying to get up, rubbing at the side of her head in confusion, Number Three had fetched his fallen mallet and put it to use on Sam’s chin like a golf club.

Number Four peeked his head out from the corner of the barn, grinning big, and ducked back into concealment.

“Mongrel…” Will sighed.

The bastard in question smiled innocently, propped up on one elbow. “It’s for her own good, you know. In a real fight, she’s got to keep her eyes peeled, not just on the guy she happens to be fighting.”

“You could have at least warned her to be on her toes.”

“I guess so. But that would have spoiled the surprise, wouldn’t it?”

Sam fared worse after that, worn down by repeated thrashings. She clung desperately to that famous grin of hers, but it began to look more and more like a pained grimace with each passing bout. Will didn’t like watching it very much, and he called an end to the training sometime after midday to give her a break for the day.

“That wasn’t my idea, you know,” he murmured while checking over her wounds on the porch once everyone else had cleared out, cleaning dirt and gravel out of any scrapes he found with a wet cloth. “You would have won that match if Mongrel hadn’t played dirty.”

“Nah,” Sam replied in her sunny voice. “He taught me something, so I’m happy he did it like that.”

“What’d you learn? Never trust the ugly ones?”

She giggled, then winced when it exacerbated one of her countless hurts. “That too.”

“And?”

“Keep my eyes open.”

“Not bad. You know, maybe it is a good lesson to learn quickly. In the Frontier, no one ever fights fair. You fight fair, you get dead.”

“That’s pretty harsh.”

Will shrugged, removing the lid from a pot of ointment to smear over her bruises, making sure to keep it clear of any open wounds. “It is what it is. No point whining over reality—you just learn to deal with it.”

“Is everyone really like that here?”

“Pretty much.”

“Is there no one who can do anything about it?”

“I’m trying.”

Sam smiled at him, then nodded. “That’s good. I’ll make sure to get better at this quick so I can start helping you.”

“I know you will.”

Will pulled up the rear of Sam’s tunic. She winced when the cold ointment touched her tender skin, but slowly relaxed as he proceeded to rub a thick layer of it up the defined muscles of her back, trying to softly massage some knots out at the same time.

“I’ve been thinking,” Will said.

“That’s new,” Sam replied.

“Hilarious. Just listen. You did well today, and I think you could use a bit of a break. I was thinking I could take you into Sheerhome tomorrow, give you the grand tour. If you’d like that, I mean. Like I said, it’s not much of a tourist destination, and it probably stinks worse than anything you’ve ever smelled, and there’s pickpockets everywhere, but…” He shrugged. “Change of pace, at least.”

Sam looked back over her shoulder with big eyes and a huge grin. “Really?”

“Sure.”

“I thought you said it wasn’t a good idea?”

Will sighed. “It probably isn’t. But it doesn’t feel right to keep you cooped up here either, with no sense of what’s going on outside this farm, and I thought of a way to make it work.”

“Yeah? How?”

“I’ll just have to wear a disguise.” Reluctantly finishing his rub-down, Will pulled her tunic back down and washed his hands in the water basin sitting next to him.

“A disguise?” Sam asked doubtfully, and spun to face him. “You’re embarrassed to be seen with me now, is that it?”

Will laughed. “Can you blame me?” He held up a pacifying hand at her indignant expression. “Joking, joking. It’s nothing like that, it’s just… There’s a lot of politics involved in this place. I’m too high-profile to blend in on the street, and if anyone spots me with a freshie Laborer that the lord doesn’t know about, people are going to start asking questions I can’t answer.”

“Why don’t you want the lord to find out about me?”

“Because I’m going to depose him,” Will said with a wry grin, “and you’re my secret weapon.”