The pounding at my front door was annoying. Still, I forced myself off the stool and moved to open the door. Beau was there waiting. “Morning Beau, I’ll be down in a minute.” I promised, moving over to grab the last bite of my buttered toast . . . magically enhanced buttered toast . . . well, the toast was enhanced. I didn’t have nearly enough time to churn butter with mana infused ingredients. But making a loaf of bread was easy enough, just flour, salt, sugar, yeast, oil, water and eggs, all of which I was able to infuse myself.
Falling asleep early meant I woke up much earlier than usual, it gave me more than enough time to bake a loaf of bread and work on the mana manipulation exercise Professor Siqueira gave us. My marble-sized orb of shadows had already grown to the size of a strawberry.
I turned around and found Beau was still standing in my doorway, his eyes were closed and his nostrils were flaring in and out as he sniffed at the air. Watching him for a moment, I wondered if that was what I looked like when I was trying to catch a scent? His voice broke me from my short daydream. He asked, “What . . . What is that smell?”
“Fresh bread,” I answered, worried he smelled the magical properties of the bread. “Um, would you like a slice?”
“With butter?” Beau asked hopefully.
I smiled, “Certainly, comrade.” I returned to the kitchen and cut a clean slice from the loaf I made that morning. The stove was still hot so I slipped it inside. It wouldn’t take long to toast. I just needed to keep an eye on it so it didn’t burn.
A minute later, I buttered the toast for Beau and handed it over to the waiting cattleman. “Enjoy, comrade.” I grabbed my satchel and heavy coat from the hooks near the door and donned the warm outerwear.
I took one last look at my schedule before I left.
Day 2
Time:
Location:
Lair Team
6:30-10:00
Room 1G
Cooking
10:30-11:55
Room B-Kitchen
Lunch
12:00-1:00
Cafeteria
Martial Skills
1:30-3:00
Stone Cut Training Field
Strength
3:05-3:30
Stone Cut Training Field
I looked up from my schedule and saw that Beau had devoured the slice of toast and was picking at a couple crumbs, pinching them between fingers and licking them off. He smiled at me and said, “Good bread, thank you.”
I smiled and nodded, glad to hear he enjoyed it. I was also glad to see him soften up a little toward me. So far, the cattleman had been very standoffish.
As if remembering where he was, Beau’s face turned stern and he tromped back out of my apartment and started up the stairs.
I closed my apartment behind me and locked it. I was eager to replace the lock when I had free time. Four tumblers was just not sufficient.
Esteban greeted me as soon as I got outside, “Morning, Burion. Are you feeling better?”
I nodded, “I am. Comrade Alphonse was kind enough to heal my ankle when he got home. Though I do fear he will make me pay for it in ways I cannot yet imagine.”
Esteban laughed then smiled fondly. “You two really are a lot alike.”
“You take that back. I am nothing like Comrade Alphonse,” I protested, a look of indignation on my face.
Esteban laughed again, “No, not Al . . . though you’re also a bit alike, I was talking about my friend, the badger-folk I mentioned before, and I’m not talking about looks.”
That was not good. Did he still suspect? I was supposed to be disassociating myself from . . . well . . . myself. “I suppose I shall have to take that as a compliment, Comrade Esteban.”
The door opened behind me, and I heard Al followed closely by Beau.
“Morning,” Al greeted through a yawn.
“Morning,” Esteban returned the greeting excitedly. “Ready for another fun and exciting day?”
Al snorted, seeming to have woken up some thanks to the smaller dogboy’s cheer. “Yeah, I think I am. Gotta keep Belov in line after all. Can’t keep letting him think he’s something special.”
So, it had already begun. I narrowed my eyes at the hero, “You know, Esteban, sometimes it amazes me how some kin will project themselves onto others, don’t you think?”
Esteban shook his head vigorously, “Oh no, don’t drag me into this. I want no part of your . . . rivalry or whatever it is.”
Al and I both laughed at that then quickly glared at each other.
Esteban shook his head and turned away, climbing quickly into the waiting carriage.
Beau also seemed to be at the end of his patience when he ordered, “In.”
When we arrived at the academy the three of us split up, Esteban heading off on his own and Al taking off into the academy ahead of me. I briefly wondered where he was going as we should have both had the same Lair Team. Still, I took my time, wandering through the hall, taking in the various scents, languages and accents. The classroom for the Lair Team was smaller, considerably smaller than the classroom for Mysticism. There were just nine chairs and a lectern tucked into one corner. The chairs were arrayed in a circle, so I had no idea if I was supposed to sit anywhere I wanted or if I should wait for the professor. And despite having run ahead of me, Al was not there waiting.
“Oh, you’re here too,” the familiar voice of Al complained from the doorway.
I turned swiftly to see the hero standing just inside the door, “Ah, Comrade Alphonse, you must have some amazing luck to have been put on my lair team.”
Al groaned, “Sure, amazing luck . . . more like amazing bad luck.” He came the rest of the way into the room and sat on one of the chairs. Seeing him sit, I followed suit, sitting almost directly opposite of him. Al glared at me for a moment longer before he leaned back with his arms crossed and closed his eyes.
It wasn’t long before two more students entered, a pair of snake-folk.
“Sam, I really hope this class is better than Mysticism,” complained one of the snakeboys. His accent was Alhashasan, kind of hissing with an emphasis on the ‘s’ in every word. I also recognized his voice from the last class. It belonged to the one that asked about Fire and Ice specific exercises. He was tall, lean, and lanky. He had long dark hair and his skin was mottle green, brown, and black scales. I couldn’t speak the language, at least not yet, but I did recognize the accent from an Alhashasan trader that came through the place I grew up, Puerto Manada, once and never came again.
“She wasn’t all bad, Seth,” said Sam. His scales were more of a solid copper colour, and he spoke with the same accent as the other snakeboy.
The first of the two rolled his eyes. “You would say that, Samuel.”
Behind the chatting pair came Lulu, the nervous looking mousegirl I recognized from Martial Training. I gave her a wave and she gave a nervous one in return before quickly skirting the two snake-folk and finding a seat by herself. I was a little disappointed she didn’t sit with me as it would have been nice to sit with someone I knew.
Seth continued, “I thought I asked a reasonable question. My father says there are specialised exercises for Fire and Ice. He said he learned specialised exercises when he was my age.”
“Yeah, but he didn’t attend the Royal Mancer Academy, did he?” Sam asked.
Seth snorted, “No, I suppose he didn’t. But don’t ever let him hear you say that. He’ll think you’re insulting Twin Rivers Martial Academy. My father might just fire your father for saying it.”
Sam rolled his eyes. “I’m not that stupid. Still, he’s got to know Twin Rivers is for paupers compared to Mancer. And you really think your father would fire his favourite cousin?”
“Still wouldn’t recommend saying that,” Seth said, taking a seat while Sam sat down next to him.
Three more students entered a minute later, a pigboy . . . maybe a boarboy, a mouseboy, and a beargirl.
The mouseboy focused immediately on Lulu and moved to sit next to her. I could almost smell the mouseboy’s lust as he immediately started chatting her up. “Name’s Leonardo,” he said with an Abbaion accent and a lot of bravado. “And might I have your name, lovely?”
“L-L-Lulu,” she answered with an accent I still couldn’t place, though that might have been due to the stutter.
The pig, or boar, boy sat next to me with the beargirl next to him.
The boy next to me snorted and held out a hand. He was thick and stocky like me but more muscular. Two large tusks jutting from his lower lips that made me think boar-folk was more likely than pig-folk. With a thick Strinen accent, he introduced himself, “I’m Liam Pennyworth, nice to meet you.”
I gave him a polite bow and shook his hand. “Burion Belov, nice to meet you as well, Comrade Liam.”
“Hey, that’s a funny accent. Where are you from?” Liam asked, all decorum forgotten.
Still, I answered, “I am a proud son of Rychania.”
And just like that, Liam scooted his chair away from me and closer to the beargirl, where he introduced himself again.
“Svetlana. Pleased to meet you, Comrade Liam,” she replied, with a poor imitation of a Rychanian accent. I held back a laugh as the boarboy blanched. He looked between me and her then picked up his chair and moved it entirely to sit next to Al.
The beargirl giggled and scooted her chair closer to mine. The blonde beargirl was taller than me and much more thickly muscled, but there was a lithe quality about her that I hadn’t seen in other bear-folk. She also smelled of honey and a flowery perfume. The former suggested she had a sweet tooth. She introduced herself, “My name is Robin Dubois. Nice to meet you.” She was Rugirian, or her accent was at least.
As a courtesy, I reintroduced myself in Rugirian, “I’m pleased to meet you, Comrade Robin. I am Burion Belov.”
Robin smiled brightly. “At last, someone who speaks my language. I cannot tell you how much speaking Blokena has hurt both my tongue and my ears. Thank the gods. I can even endure that accent if it means I have someone to talk to.”
I chuckled. “My Rugirian is so-so,” I said with a side-to-side hand motion. “Still, I will endeavour to improve for the sake of your ears. And please, forgive my accent, I do not think I could get rid of it if I wanted to.”
Robin laughed. “Oh, that is fine. Like I said, I’m just happy to speak my native tongue with someone. I can help you practise any time we have class together.”
I wasn’t sure how much time I would get to spend with the beargirl, but I wasn’t going to complain. It was good to have an acquaintance.
This story has been stolen from Royal Road. If you read it on Amazon, please report it
Finally, a large bearman with a long, flowing white beard entered the room. He wore a simple, white robe with a golden medallion hanging from his chest. His face was like a leather saddle, worn down by years of weathering. He closed the door behind him. “Alright, I’m your coach, Livio Meier. You can just call me Coach Liv because I’m here to keep you alive. Get it?” He finished with a snort of laughter.
There was a collective groan from the students.
Coach Liv chuckled. “Alright, enough of the funny stuff. We’ve got serious work to do. Lair Team is all about preparing you to enter the fixed lairs that surround Mancer. I plan for us to enter a lair every four weeks. And don’t worry, I am more than able to clear every lair we might enter by myself. I have yet to let anyone die on my watch, and I don’t intend for any of you to be first. That said, lairs are dangerous, even the ones that are well mapped. Injuries do occur. We’ve done our best to balance all of the teams. The eight of you are Lair Team Three of sixteen first year teams. You’ve each been chosen to fulfil a specific role.”
Coach Liv looked at each of us in turn before focusing on me. “Burion Belov, you’ve been selected to fill the role of scout,” he paused and cast his gaze over the mouseboy, “Leonardo Michalini, you’ve also been selected to fill the role of scout.” His gaze moved again, “Liam Pennyworth, defender. Robin Dubois, defender. Lulu Tidus, healer. Alphonse Romano, healer. Seth Sarong, damage dealer. Samuel Sarang, damage dealer. Now, just because these are your roles does not mean you are unable to assist in other roles. All of you are capable of dealing damage to beasts or you wouldn’t have been accepted into Mancer. Most of you are able to scout ahead, but might not be very good at it, we’ll work on that. Most of you won’t be able to take the hits our defenders can, but you can take some damage. We’ll work on your tactics so you can distract an enemy if one of the defenders is getting overwhelmed. We’ll work on strategies for each of you.
“But before we work on any of those other things, you need to learn a little about healing, not attunement-based healing, but first-aid-based healing. It’s an easy skill to learn, and it might save your life or the life of someone close to you. As a rule, and I really want you to hear me when I say this, FAFHL. It’s an acronym for First-Aid First, Healer Last. Healers, just like the rest of you, have a finite amount of mana. That mana needs to be saved for the truly bad injuries. If you have a scratch or a bruise, First-Aid will take care of it just fine. If you are cut open and your guts are spilling out, then you’ll get a healer. We will not step into a lair until you have all learned the skill. So, that’s where we’re starting. And lucky me, one of you already has an Intermediate Rank in First-Aid, so you get to be my teaching assistant. Congratulations, Mister Belov.”
I adjusted myself even higher and sent an exaggerated wink to Al, revelling in the look of annoyance that blossomed on his face. “Truly, I am very happy to be able to assist, Comrade Coach Liv!”
Coach Liv grinned. He reached for a small drawstring bag hanging from his belt and started taking out supplies. Bandages, salves, and even potions. With these kinds of items, teaching First-Aid should be a breeze. “Let’s get started. First, we go over the supplies. Memorise these, it is very important that you know what everything is and what it is to be used for.
Liv moved around the classroom with ease, his hands never still. He deftly showed us how to tie a tourniquet from a ripped shirt and how to close a wound with a curved needle and beastgut thread. He moved his hands in intricate patterns as he explained the principles of cauterization, how to make a pressure bandage with a scarf and a stick, and every tool and improvised device we might need if we were ever forced to do First-Aid in a lair.
Most of the class had difficulty grasping some of the more complicated techniques. Coach Liv patiently worked with them as they fumbled through their practises, trying to remember every turn of the knot or twist of the thread. But even with his kindness and patience, neither Liam nor Alphonse seemed to make much progress.
"You cannot always depend on your healing magic, Comrade Alphonse. Here, let me show you again," I said as I went over each step with Al about wound care. He frowned, annoyance clear on his face, but stayed silent as he watched me work and explain.
Finally, after many attempts and much frustration, Liam was able to tie a secure tourniquet using only two strips of fabric while Alphonse stumbled over one step after another until he could finally close a wound properly. There were cheers from our classmates as both Liam and Alphonse succeeded in their tasks. Coach Liv smiled warmly at them both before taking them through yet another exercise, this time involving making splints from sticks for broken limbs. Liam and Alphonse followed his instructions closely this time, determined not to fail.
After a couple hours, no one had managed to learn the skill but it seemed Coach Liv was satisfied with the day’s progress. “Good work, I think that’s enough First-Aid training for today. Now, let’s talk about tactics.
“We are a small group and should be able to split up into fours, with one scout, one healer, one defender, and a damage dealer. As we all become familiar with each other's capabilities and methods in battle, we will create a team within the team. I am not going to tell you how to go about this, but it should happen. Equally, your own group will choose its own leader.”
Seth interrupted, “That’s easy, me and Sam can lead the groups. We’re both ranged damage dealers, we can see the whole field.”
Coach Liv growled and Seth shut up. “You don’t speak when I’m speaking, is that clear?”
Seth swallowed thickly and nodded.
Coach Liv grunted. “Good. Where was I? Right, you’ll pick your own leaders as you fight together. Leadership roles can change over time. Declaring yourself the leader is likely to build animosity and distrust from your teammates. I don’t recommend it. That will all shake out eventually.”
“As an eight kin team, there are many ways to approach a fight. Let’s start with mob tactics.” Coach Liv's voice was a deep rumble as he spoke, and his long fingers flew as he picked up a piece of chalk and drew out figures and a battle plan on a chalkboard. He broke down how a group of eight mancers with our configuration could approach a fight with two beasts, then four, then ten, and so on. He narrated and pointed at drawn diagrams for each step of the tactics—how the defenders should be positioned in a defensive formation to prevent the beasts from swarming their party, how the damage dealers could use their weapons to pick off the beasts one by one, and how the scouts should move ahead and split up the enemy forces. He explained each individual strategy and then how they would all meld together to form a cohesive whole.
“There are dozens, if not hundreds, of other strategies for dealing with groups of beasts. For the next four weeks, we’ll be focusing on how this group, with the skills you currently possess, can do this. Next class, we’ll continue with First-Aid practise and then try some scenarios and you all can put your minds to work,” Coach Liv declared, a tone of finality in his voice. “But that is all the time we have for today. See you in two days.”
After class ended, my mind was abuzz with all the strategies and methodologies for dealing with small and large groups of beasts. I let myself think about it until I got to Cooking class then turned my focus to it and the dessert we were making that day, strudel where I rolled dough with a wooden pin until it was paper thin and spread the buttery apples throughout it. With Chef Wu's guidance, I carefully wove the dough around the filling and tucked in the ends. I smiled as I watched it and the dozen others that my class made baked in the oven. The aroma of cinnamon and nutmeg filled the room. My mouth watered as Chef Wu allowed us to serve ourselves a warm piece as a reward, and we savoured every bite of the homemade strudel for lunch.
Martial Training was a repeat of the previous day. We trudged out to the training ground, our tired muscles aching from the previous day's activities. The cool morning air was biting as we jogged around the track. After, we stretched out our muscles, each person trying to increase the range of their movements.
As our group finished their stretches Signore Barducci announced, "Today, I'll be going through unarmed techniques. Even if you use daggers or other close weapons, these techniques can give you more options when dealing with an opponent. Now I just need an assistant." His piercing glare told me that he expected me to volunteer.
I stepped onto the padded mat he’d placed on the ground, and the professor came close to me. He firmly grabbed me around the waist, one arm under my armpit, the other gripping the back of my neck. With a quick twist, I found myself pinned to the ground in a vulnerable position. He smiled, looking down at me, and spoke in a comforting yet authoritative tone about proper body alignment. He repeated the drill several times, bringing me swiftly down each time with a few subtle variations here and there.
Afterward he pinned me down with a well-timed sweep, lifting me off my feet and slamming me onto the mat. His strong arms pinned my shoulders to the floor, making it impossible for me to move.
When the demonstrations were done, we paired off to spar and I found myself standing opposite a wide-eyed, mousegirl Lulu. She was short and wiry, but deceptively powerful. As I lunged to grab her, she spun away, her arms and legs moving in a blur. I managed to catch her twice, using a swift sweep of my foot followed by a tight grip to bring her down. But each time she retaliated with a quick twist and throw that upended me in an instant. She seemed to use the momentum of my own movement against me as she used gravity and sudden shifts to take me unawares and fling me over her shoulder.
By the end of the session I was sweaty, tired, and sore in places that I didn't know existed but was smiling as I read the notification that appeared.
Congratulations! You have learned to sweep, throw, and pin your opponent. The Uncommon Skill Wrestling has been added to your skill list.
It was a delightful reward for the intense bouts and I was starting to look forward to practising my new skill and getting Grappling to Intermediate Rank. Wouldn’t they all be surprised when I went with knives in class one day?
I was slightly surprised to see no one of my group or Lair Team stay for Strength class. I would have thought both Liam and Robin would have been here, but then I supposed they both had high strength stats already if they were defenders. I followed my nose to my Handler and found he was answering a few questions from a student near the carriages. So I closed my eyes and sought out any students congregating near one of the sheds and found them relatively quickly. I didn’t recognize anyone there. In fact, it was a very small group. Just me and two rabbitmen that looked nearly identical.
The rabbitmen introduced themselves as Jack and Eddie. They were archers and wanted to be able to use bows that required more strength to be able to draw them. They barely introduced themselves when my Handler started his lecture on the difference between max strength, enduring strength, and static strength. He then put us through a number of physical tests and designed a routine for each of us, explaining to the rabbitmen how their routine would improve their draw and ability to fire their bows over a longer period before he ushered the two brothers out of the way and sent them home. As soon as they were gone, Signore Barducci closed the door.
“We should be free to talk now,” my Handler said, his posture and accent both shifting back to what I knew from our time in his home. “I’ll tell you this, be careful what roles you become comfortable filling. I cannot tell you how tired I am of being the strict, disciplined soldier,” he finished with a sigh as he rummaged unnecessarily through his magic satchel to procure a bottle of wine and glass. “Ah, much better, and a good vintage, and don’t look at me like that. Being a teacher is very stressful, and don’t even get me started on the advanced class students. I have earned this.”
I didn’t know what look he was talking about. I didn’t give him any look.
My Handler ignored my non-look as he pulled the cork from the bottle with his teeth and spit it aside. He poured himself a healthy amount of the ruby liquid and took a drink, sighing in relief after swallowing a large portion of it. “Okay, I suppose we should get down to business. How has your mission gone so far? And be honest. I’ll know if you’re lying.”
I didn’t doubt he could tell if I was lying. It was an uncanny ability he had. “It’s going well, I think. I’ve got Alphonse pushing himself to outdo me. I'm fairly certain I’ve got him utterly repulsed by the idea of going somewhere like Rychania. Though it helps that his sister has been telling him the same thing.”
“Sister?” my Handler questioned, “Explain.”
“So, I broke into Al’s apartment, “ I started, then proceeded to tell him everything I discovered.
When I finished my Handler looked positively beaming with pride, “Very well done, you’re proving to be quite the Asset indeed. Fantastic initiative in going through his apartment. And those leads on the death threats, very nice. I’ll find a way to inform the dean about the gifts sent to the hero. She’ll confiscate them for the Academy or tell him to send them back with a letter of gratitude and apology. I know you were already planning on how to acquire them for yourself, but don’t. Those skill stones are most likely Rare at a minimum and Legendary at the highest, and all very likely unique. If any nation finds out you have one of them or sold one of them . . . well, first, Al would be in grave danger. Second, you’d be in grave danger, and third, most importantly, the agency would be in grave danger. We do not need any country actively hunting Shadow Agents, understand?”
I frowned in disappointment as I had planned to scoop up the treasure trove of skill stones after Al emptied his trash can. I didn’t like it, but I accepted it with a reluctant nod.
“Anything else I should know?” my Handler asked.
I nodded, “Just one thing, the dean, she knows I’m a Shadow Agent. Her analyse magic told her as much, but she said she’s going to be looking for you.”
My Handler nodded. “I assumed as much already. You don’t yet have the skill to hide such things. Thankfully, I do. She might still find me out, but I doubt she’ll do anything as long as you told her we are here to protect the hero. You did, didn’t you?”
I nodded. “I did. She even agreed to help me out. Apparently she has a vested interest in the hero. She wants to study him.”
The wolfman barked out a laugh. “That old goatwoman is as crazy as I heard. That’s good. Again, good work.”
“Thank you,” I replied, feeling proud of my accomplishment.
My Handler quickly squashed that feeling, “Don’t let it get your head. You’ve got a lot of missions ahead of you. Don’t get sloppy just because you’ve had some success.”
“Yes sir,” I intoned automatically.
“Alright, I suppose we should get your strength evaluation and get you back down to the academy.”
His posture changed, and his accent reverted to that of Signore Barducci, “Your maximum strength is decent. However, your enduring strength could use some work. At the same time, based on what I saw of your fighting style earlier, improving your static strength would be even more beneficial. I need to know which you want before I can give you instruction.”
I frowned. It felt like a trap. My Handler never gave me a choice. But then again, was I even speaking to my Handler right now? What was Signore Barducci’s personality? How different was he from my Handler? I decided to do what was best for my fighting style so I chose, “Static Strength.”
Signore Barducci nodded. “Okay then, we’re going to focus on three exercises to start with. First, plank.” The professor went down on all fours with his feet together then straightened his body to his full length. He put his elbows to the ground and pushed his body into the air, carrying all the weight on his elbows and toes. He straightened his back and clenched his body tightly in position. “You hold this position until fatigued. Do this at least three times a day. I recommend morning, evening, and before sleep.”
He broke the position and stood back up. “Second, wall sit.” He put his back to the wall and lowered until his knees were bent as if he was sitting in a chair. “Hold this until fatigued. Same as before, morning, evening, and before sleep.”
“Third, Flexed-arm hang,” the professor grabbed the eaves of the shed overhang and pulled up slightly, just enough to get a slight bend in his arms and he held it there. “Hold until fatigued. Three times a day. A door frame also works well for this exercise.”
“Now you, and I’ll correct your position as needed,” Signore Barducci said, motioning for me to follow suit.
I went through each exercise, feeling the burn in my muscles as I held each position. My calves, back, shoulders, and neck felt the plank most while my quads got the most impact of the wall sit. My arms and chest suffered the brunt of the arm hang. They were three relatively simple exercises and yet, my body felt it. All of it.
“We’ll add one exercise with each strength class,” Signore Barducci said. “Now, I promised to get you back to the academy to meet your carriage. It’s about a thirty minute run from here, so we’d best get moving.”
I wanted to complain and yell that it was unfair, but I knew it would fall on deaf ears. Instead, I followed the demon . . . err, wolfman down the mountain at a pace that probably should have killed me.
We entered the academy ground about thirty minutes later and saw my carriage was the only one left waiting.
“Good run,” Signore Barducci said, not sounding even a little winded. “It’s great extra training if you want to add this as part of your daily training regime.”
I knew it sounded like a suggestion, but I could read between the lines. It was definitely required. I mentally cursed my Handler.
“Until next time,” the professor said, then turned around and began running back up the mountain. I watched him go for a moment in utter disbelief. I wanted to know just how high his physical stats were. I shook the thought away and wearily made my way over to the carriage. I climbed inside wordlessly and sat on the bench with a bored looking Al and a sleeping Esteban.
“Took you long enough,” Al complained.
I was too tired to argue with him. Instead, I chose to close my eyes and rest. Beau had to shake me awake when we got back to the apartments.
Inside, I ate a quick meal, bathed, and went to bed early.