image [https://i.imgur.com/ihJ0ykt.jpg]

Building a manor preoccupied my thoughts. The temptation to upgrade the seat of government had been present for a while. After doubling our sleeping space with roundhouses, I might set that plan into motion. Unless another issue arose, we could get cracking on a manor within a week.

Fabulosa had never cared about the settlement’s progress. With Charitybelle gone, she’d be happier wandering the world, and it made me wonder if Dino and his battle college counted as the only things holding her back. She enjoyed my company, but after taking the purple core without telling her, I couldn’t be sure how loyal we’d remain to each other.

I opened up the interface religion tab and counted our favor. We gained a daily point of favor from each of Forren’s 90 followers. Tomorrow, we’ll have 481 favor points. Unfortunately, spending 481 favor to rush a construction project wouldn’t go far. A point of favor could speed up a project by only one second per worker. With only a few minutes’ worth of rushed construction in the bank, I couldn’t finish the first roundhouse and surprise everyone. Reserving favor for blessings made more sense.

The manor unlocked a blueprint for a temple. The structure’s blessing, Holy Smoke, gave me a gaseous form ability within the settlement’s boundaries. Fabulosa and I needed 2,000 favor points each to acquire it, roughly 40 days of saving.

The ability to assume gaseous form might be a game-saver, especially since I had no plans to leave the settlement soon. Lots of training awaited, as I had yet to take full advantage of the magnificent arena or its flamboyant instructor, Dino.

After closing my interface, I returned to my conversation, which veered into topics like prioritizing crops, tools, and supplies. The details of the town’s logistics bored me so much that I entertained myself with speculation about Winterbyte’s rune notebook. I could Read Magic and Inscribe Runes, so anything she jotted down could be mine. By the time Greenie finished talking, dinner approached, which meant the town hall would soon grow loud.

I’d already eaten so much that I wasn’t hungry. As much as I wanted to rest, I forced myself to stay awake during the meal. With Fabulosa gone, my absence after our return wouldn’t sit well with the community.

As people milled in, I received them and assured them we’d settled things with the gnolls, vargs, and kobolds. Yula and Rachel joined us last, and the orc huntress surprised me by kicking off a formal address to the town.

When she approached the podium, Bernard and Blane shushed everyone as if they’d done it several times before, a routine developed in our absence. Fabulosa and I had only been in the Highwall Mountains for a few days, so curiosity got the better of me, and I let her kick off the show.

Despite the occupants filling the space, the town hall quieted. It didn’t provide enough seating for everyone, but the leftovers contentedly leaned along the wall.

Yula spoke with no preamble. “Ze scouting report! No sign of vargs. New berries sighted on western meadow—ees good for eating. Otters say reever is quiet—no green devil patrols. We see stomping dinosaurs and scatter zem like leettle squirrels. Best news ees last—Great Governor Apache and most excellent Lieutenant Governor Fabulosa return een glorious order!”

Yula flattened her palm and gestured in my direction, and I responded with what felt like an awkward wave.

Fabulosa’s conspicuous absence needed no explanation, for town gossip moved quickly. She enjoyed her alone time with Dino—who couldn’t leave the battle college.

Yula shook her fist at the audience, who listened with rapt attention. “Zey defeat gnoll and teach kobold who ees boss. Never to defy us again!”

The town cheered while the orc made a strange tooth-pulling gesture to emphasize her disgust over our vanquished foes. She pretended to throw the imaginary tooth, curtly nodded, and stepped away from the podium with the implicit indication I should speak.

Yula pounded a table as I approached, and the audience did the same. The dwarves enjoyed any excuse to pound tables.

Beaker opened his mouth and cocked his head at the commotion. He fluffed up his feathers and raised his wings to exaggerate his size. While he couldn’t understand spoken language, he seemed to understand occasions for swaggering.

A security chief staying in touch with everyone probably stabilized morale. After recent events, it made sense that everyone would want an update on “ze scouting report!”

Yula thumped me on the chest, and I returned the orcish ritual. I turned to the podium and held up my hands. It took a lot longer for me to quiet everyone down, and I wasn’t sure if that counted as a good or bad thing—so I just went with it.

“Um, thank you for that, Commander Yula. Fabulosa and I secured our southern borders. The gnolls who attacked us are dead, and we have a treaty with the kobolds. Fabulosa and I overthrew their wererat overlords, so the ratfolk recognize our claim to Hawkhurst meadow and the valley to Basilborough.” I highlighted our adventures, culminating with assurances that I queued roundhouses for our next two projects.

Citizens erupted in cheers, pounded the table, and shouted. “Greenie! Greenie!”

It amused me that the human contingent from Arlington had joined the fervor over the poor goblin. The dwarves had been influential in this respect, and the room had gotten so unruly I didn’t even try to quiet them down.

Beaker beat his wings and screamed at the jubilation. He relished the opportunity to make noise indoors with impunity.

Greenie looked befuddled at the display.

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Yula’s stern gaze remained typically hard to read, but her slightly raised chin marked a tacit approval for the clamor. The town wanted to blow off steam, so I stepped down. How could I object if a bit of revelry improved morale? A wise commander picked their battles.

Over the next few days, the town settled into a routine. While the work crew erected more roundhouses, the arena stood almost empty.

At first, we thought we’d alternate between training and working citizens during the daylight hours, but we needed more sleeping quarters as fast as possible. We could relax work schedules for training after we resolved overcrowding and stabilized morale.

The only NPCs to attend Dino’s training sessions included Bernard and Blane, and they only appeared when they weren’t active in Yula’s scouting rotation.

Dino Marcello de Piane greeted me with a deep bow when I entered his abode. “Greetings, Governor Apache! Diplomats seeking to perfect their plenipotentiary powers must seek so elsewhere. Our practice instruments do not include ink quills.”

My manuscript creation skill rank stood at 14, so I estimated my penmanship surpassed even Dino’s scrutiny, but I doubted saying so would win any points. Nevertheless, I took the bait. “You disapprove of my treaty with the ratfolk?”

Dino gesticulated like an orchestra conductor as if his answers deserved emphasis. “Not at all. I merely surmise you’ve superseded your martial skills for—how do they say—chinwagging?”

“First of all, no one says chinwagging. And my attendance to your facility should make my intentions self-evident.”

Dino raised his head at the mention of his facility. Despite my capitulation, I enjoyed his hesitation. The master recovered himself, raising his eyebrows in approval. “It is a wise governor who embraces battle preparedness.”

“Speak softly and carry a big stick.”

Dino smiled at the proverb. “That is a clever way to put it. But first, one must learn how to use a big stick, no?”

Beaker followed behind. As my constant companion, the more I kept him summoned, the faster he grew—especially with Forren’s fertility buff. The griffon pumped his wings and opened his mouth to catch Fabulosa’s attention while she busied herself with weight tests of practice swords.

I gently admonished him to settle down until she finished her routine.

“Does the governor remember his points?”

I groaned inwardly at his use of the third-person when talking to me. I only grunted to convey that I remembered my points.

Dino defined turning and movement in terms of points. Ankle and leg positions changed depending on a person’s right-left dominance, whether they carried a shield, and the direction of their enemy.

I’d learned how to shift in clockwise and counterclockwise directions around a circle that Dino dubbed the eight points of the compass rose.

I practiced until my brain numbed and performed it automatically. Moving on the balls of my feet felt natural, which Dino called demi-pointe, and I learned to transfer my weight while masking the supporting leg.

Before Dino’s classes, I’d never considered the mechanics of movement. At any point in motion, a person was off balance, whether walking or running. Even standing, people tended to support themselves with a dominant leg, using the other for balance and stability.

We learned to recognize which of an opponent’s legs bore their weight. However, we hadn’t yet learned to exploit this since we hadn’t wielded so much as a big stick.

Dino clapped his hands. “Pas!” The “pah” command indicated when he wanted me to step, and I performed the circular points in the direction as instructed. Then, he repeated the order in the reverse direction. I executed my points along the eight points of the compass.

Thus, we practiced weight transfers, standing, and stepping over the next few days.

Fabulosa often watched me whenever she finished her exercises. Once, she clapped when I finished. “Wow, you’re a natural at this. I’m still stuck on widdershins.”

“Widdershins? What the heck is that?”

Fabulosa gestured to the dwarves. “It’s their word for counterclockwise.”

Bernard tried and failed to clarify her meaning. “Widdershins is bad luck! Not natural to move as such. It’s best to avoid.”

Dino shook his head. “Moving in retrograde is perfectly natural for any warrior wishing to remain upright.”

The dwarven brothers shared a disagreeable look but neither objected. Backing dwarves out of an argument stood no ordinary feat, raising my estimation of Dino’s teaching skills.

Ignoring the debate, Fabulosa turned back to me. “Regardless, you’re good at this.”

Dino shook his finger at this. “Not so, studentessa! The governor’s transfer on pique is quite visible. He is contrapposto as a statue, broadcasting his movements as if to say, ‘My left knee is wooden and in no position to dodge, should you wish to strike.’ Attend!” Dino clapped and positioned his feet with the implicit instruction to do the same. I repeated his movements. My efforts satisfied him more than the results.

We practiced switching between the clockwise and counterclockwise directions between all the point positions. “Pas! And pas! And pas! Pas! Pas!” Each time Dino enunciated, he snapped his fingers to either the left or right side. Sometimes, he faked the direction to trip me up.

I tried to react while hiding my supportive leg. Between Dino’s commands, he would say, “Bien!” or “No!” and tap the leg that bore my weight.

For a long time, I tripped over my clumsy transitions. Eventually, my ankles, hips, and knees untangled, and I got the hang of it. I couldn’t believe how fluid it felt. A warrior could change directions of their legs at any moment without broadcasting their intentions.

Fabulosa watched with her arms crossed, her expression a mask of concentration, as she tried to determine my dominant leg.

Switching directions while performing my points offered the first stimulating exercise in the arena, and the challenge elated me. Exhaustion debuffs sometimes appeared in my interface, but I ignored them, practicing until I grew too tired to focus.

I often collapsed onto the floor next to Beaker, who conspicuously moved close enough for me to scratch him. These silly exertions inconvenienced my griffon, who couldn’t stand not being the center of attention.

One day, I performed without corrective taps. Knowing that I’d perfected my form was its own reward. I didn’t need or receive praise from Dino. I’d crossed a milestone.

Fabulosa shook her head. “That’s downright inspiring. I’m laying into practice time from now on.”

As I recovered my breath, I enjoyed Dino’s expression. He hid his smile at Fabulosa’s remarks by smoothing over his mustache, ruining the moment by speaking. “Indeed, it seems I have been too critical. I am a much better teacher than I credit myself.”

We hadn’t come close to learning things like this in Belden. Sure, we memorized forms that played to weapon strengths. We studied the basics of combat. Compared to Dino’s philosophy, they seemed like shortcuts that failed outside perfect conditions. After all those hours in the academy, it seemed a shame that I would never use them again.

I recalled RIP’s natural grace when we squared off against each other in the practice arena. Dino’s techniques reminded me of his footwork, although RIP had no formal training. RIP wasn’t the sort to practice points.

I took a break from the clockwise and counterclockwise exercises and walked through serpente, the aggressive short swords stance I’d learned in Belden. It mirrored the alternating footwork I’d been practicing in the arena. Serpente amounted to a canned derivative of what Dino taught us. Knowing this, I could modify serpente, improvise it to situations, and create derivative stances. Testing the movements, it felt natural. I progressed beyond what we covered in class.

Dino worked with Fabulosa on counterclockwise points, tutting or tapping her leg every time she messed up. She’d been practicing this longer than me, and I’d already passed her.

Applied Knowledge remained as potent as in Belden, and I’d already moved to the head of the class.