Chapter 9

“Before I can instruct you on how to refine your core,” Emma began, “I need to know what exactly you know everything you already know with regards to your core and mana.”

I grit my teeth in frustration, wanting to get on with the damn lesson already, but after a moment, decided to oblige. Emma had the upper hand here, and I knew, if she was going to teach me, I should do as she asked. Still, I’d already waited so long for this, that now that it was so close, every little extra delay stung more and more.

“Every person is born with an affinity for mana,” I said slowly, recalling everything Randal had taught me. “By the age of eight, a person’s mana affinity manifests within them, and their core is created. At this point, a person can begin Soul-Breathing, that is, drawing in the mana of the world around them, and storing it within themselves.”

Emma nodded and motioned for me to continue.

“When a person Soul-Breathes,” I said, watching Emma as I spoke, “the mana they draw into their core is at its strongest. However, at the same time, it is also the hardest to use, to impose our wills upon, and to create, well, anything with. The longer mana has been within our bodies, the more pliable it becomes.”

“Elaborate.” Emma said simply.

“Elaborate?” I asked, somewhat dumbfounded. That was pretty straight forward. It was one of the first things Randal had taught me.

“What do you mean when you say it’s the strongest? Elaborate, on the difference in the mana you speak of.” Emma had an air to her. In another life, I’m sure she could have been a strict, teacher. Right now, it just irritated me.

“It’s stronger,” I said, raising my hands in frustration. “If I use mana that I’ve freshly taken into my core through Soul-Breathing to craft a fire round, it’s going to burn hotter, than if I use mana that’s been in my core for a couple of days. However, it takes a lot more willpower to craft that brand new mana into a fire bullet, while mana that’s been in my body for a prolonged period of time, answers my call almost instantaneously.”

“Almost like it’s a part of you?” Emma asked with a slightly raised eyebrow.

“Well, yeah,” I said. Where was she going with this. “But that’s a no brainer, ain’t it? The mana is a part of us.”

She smiled, and I felt like I’d just walked into her trap. She shook her head slightly, before beginning to speak. “The way I was taught, the way to use mana, to refine it, to grow our grows, and climb past the most basic of cores, that is, an iron core, is called cultivation.”

“Cultivation?” I’d never heard the term before. “What’s that?”

“It’s partly what you’ve been doing. What you were just describing. It means taking something, and growing it over time.”

“Is that some special government secret word for it?”

“The word itself isn’t special, no. Cultivation is a term often used in farming.” She eyed me, “you really didn’t receive much of a proper education, did you?”

You might be reading a pirated copy. Look for the official release to support the author.

I felt tense, suddenly defensive. “It’s hard to get a proper education when you’re constantly on the run for your life.” Flames licked my fingers, “sorry I didn’t have the luxury to sit in school and learn.”

She eyed my flames, and made a clicking sound with her tongue. As quickly as my anger flared, it subsided. I felt guilty, as she watched me cooly, giving me time to collect my emotions. I knew my anger was misplaced. I wasn’t mad at her. I was mad at myself. Mad at my life. Mad at the world in general. Besides, I knew of all the people I should get mad at, Emma wasn’t one of them.

“Sorry,” I grumbled, “I, I didn’t mean that. I know you’ve had a hard life too.” I hadn’t had the pleasure of learning about her life, especially her childhood. However, considering what I knew about her mother, and how she’d died, and then how Emma’s father had been potentially murdered by her uncle… well those facts alone spoke of a life that wasn’t easy. And that was before she’d just had to burn the last thing her father had given her, before heading on the run, with me.

“Apology accepted,” she said curtly, “and I suppose I should apologize for my words. I know you’ve had a rough life Mr. Jones, and I am not trying to be insensitive, nor pry unnecessarily. I was merely making an observation. The more I know about your education, and your life experiences, the better I can try and teach you, after all.”

“Well, let’s just say, my life’s been a rough one.” I laughed, but it was a dry, hollow sound. “My parents were murdered when I was eight, and since then I was on the run with my mentor, Randal. He died when I was fourteen, and since then, well, you know the rest.”

“What about before your parents died?” She asked, “did you receive any education then? What type of family did you come from?”

My lips pursed, as I eyed Emma. How much should I tell her? How much could I tell her? Had she done enough to earn my full trust? Considering Holiday knew my truth, it was only a matter of time before others learned it as well. And yet, even though my parents murder was a decade ago, the time before then… it felt distant, hazy. More a dream than real life.

“My family was well enough when I was a kid,” I said, deciding to give her a few truths, without overly revealing my hand. “I learned to read and write, learned etiquette and proper customs and courtesies for certain aspects of society.”

“I find the latter hard to believe,” she said with a coy smile, “either that, or you were quick to forget those teachings. A refined individual is now how I’d describe you, Mr. Jones.”

It was my turn to grin. I took my hat off my had and held it against my chest, bowing my head slightly towards her. “My apologies lady,” I said, trying my best to remember my mother’s lessons from a lifetime ago. “I pray my previous actions will not cause one of such a standing as yours to lower her opinion of me. I am but a humble man, blessed indeed to be in the presence of a woman as elegant and sophisticated as you.”

I looked up as I finished speaking, but my hand froze before it could put my hat back atop my head. Emma’s face was a mix of emotions, and I couldn’t help but wonder if I’d overstepped somehow. My mother had always claimed the appropriate way to interact, in proper society, with a woman of class was with polite words, and sincere compliments. Though, I’d never attempted such things in my life, and I had no idea if I’d done something wrong. Being a gunslinger, hunting down low life’s, and spending most of my time alone meant I’d had little need for such things.

“Let’s,” Emma said after another moment of silence, a slight pink in her cheeks fading as she continued, “let’s continue with the lessons proper, shall we?” She fixed her lips into a smile again, as she fixed her gaze on me. “And, how about you stick to acting how you’ve always done around me? I’ve decided hearing you speak and act in such a way as you just did, is, too…” she paused, as if searching for the right words, “unnecessary, for our relationship.”

“Fine by me,” I said, “talking pretty was never something I much fancied. However,” it was my turn to grin, “are you sure? After all, you said part of what you were going to teach me, was proper etiquette on how I should act as a bodyguard to one of your station.”

“And I’ve decided for now, we’ll put those lessons on hold.” She fixed her gaze on, her hands folding calmly atop her lap. “Now then, back to cultivation.”