🎵: Dash of the Daring, Rise of the Iron Will, Babel's Harmony, Whispers of the Unseen
During supper, the dining hall buzzed with excitement about tomorrow's dodge training. The knowing looks, the exchanged whispers, and the poorly hidden grins from the other trainees were making me nervous. Some nudged each other, others pointed in my direction, and a few just smirked openly, their eyes glinting with mischief. Whatever they knew, it would end badly for me. I could hear whispers about the "special training" that had been set up, and the more I listened, the more I felt like I was about to be a part of something more sinister than just dodge training. My stomach churned, and I tried to focus on my meal, but it was hard to ignore the gleeful looks from the others.
Later, in the kitchen, Jay greeted me with his usual deadpan expression. "Heard about your punishment detail with the Beastmovers. Seems harsh. I'll have to have words with Captain Reed about proportional responses..." I couldn't tell if he was serious or just messing with me, but the way his eyes twinkled made me suspect the latter. A mix of frustration and helplessness bubbled up inside me. Jay always had a way of making me feel like a pawn in some larger game that only he and Reed truly understood.
While scrubbing pots with Jay, I couldn't help but notice his barely concealed amusement at my situation. His eyes crinkled at the corners, and his lips twitched as if he were holding back a full-blown grin. He seemed to take glee in my predicament, occasionally letting out a low hum of satisfaction. "Quite the punishment." The slight twitch at the corner of his mouth told me he was enjoying this far too much. Almost confirming my feeling that he and Captain Reed came up with the punishment together. Trust no one! The more I thought about it, the more I could picture the two of them sitting together, plotting ways to make my life miserable. Jay's humour was always subtle, but this felt like a grand joke at my expense.
Between pots, I practiced detecting the various mechanisms Jay used to keep the kitchen stores secure. The grain storage had a clever trap - a simple tripwire connected to a flour bag that would coat any would-be thief in white powder. That made four simple traps detected. Each trap was different, each one more creative than the last. Jay had clearly put thought into making sure no one could sneak anything past him, and I admired his craftsmanship, even if it was annoying to deal with.
"Going to check the spice cabinet," I called to Jay during a break. The lock was trickier than expected - the fifth different simple lock I'd encountered. The satisfying click of success came just as Jay walked by, pretending not to notice. I knew he noticed, though. The slight pause in his step gave him away. He was testing me, seeing if I could keep up with his minor challenges.
Lock-picking Reached (Common 2)
Lock-picking (Common 2)
Effects:
* Success Rate: 45% on simple locks, 20% on moderate locks
* Detection: -10% chance of being detected
Requirements for Common 3:
* EXP Requirement: Gain an additional 100 EXP in lock-picking.
* Skill Usage Requirements: Successfully pick 3 moderate locks.
But the real fun came during our longer break. I had a score to settle with Guard Lok. Sure, he'd gotten a berry pie from Jay for letting him into my room earlier, but turnabout was fair play. The trap I set up in the guards' washroom was inspired - a carefully balanced bucket of water, but with a twist. I'd "borrowed" some of the kitchen's honey and mixed it in. Sticky and wet was far worse than just wet. I imagined Lok's reaction, and it was enough to make me grin while setting everything up.
"Interesting modification," Jay commented, supposedly focused on his inventory list, but clearly watching my work. "The honey will make cleanup... challenging."
"That's the point," I muttered, carefully positioning the bucket. The image of Lok struggling to get the sticky mess off his uniform was too satisfying to resist.
The fifth simple trap detection came from spotting a nasty little mechanism on the wine cellar door - someone trying to catch the kitchen staff sneaking drinks, no doubt. The mechanism was cleverly hidden, almost blending into the woodwork, but I glimpsed the tension wire that gave it away.
Find/Create Trap Reached (Common 2)
Find/Create Trap (Common 2)
Effects:
* Detection Range: 7 metres
* Success Rate: 45% chance to detect simple mechanical traps, 20% for moderately complex traps
Requirements for Common 3:
* Successfully detect 3 moderately complex traps.
* Attempt to disarm a simple trap.
Just before returning to pot duty, I heard a magnificent yell followed by cursing from the guards' washroom. Lok's voice carried clearly: "Who in the- I'm STUCK to my uniform!" The echoes of his frustration filled the hall, and I could hear a few of the other guards laughing in response.
Jay's expression didn't change, but his shoulders shook slightly. "Remarkable how honey can do that," he said blandly. "Almost as remarkable as someone letting strangers into other people's rooms for pie."
While scrubbing a stubborn pot, inspiration struck. "Jay, where do you store the spices that aren't used often?"
His raised eyebrow told me he knew I was up to something, but he pointed to a far cabinet, anyway. He didn't even ask what I was planning this time. Maybe he trusted me. Or maybe he just wanted to see what chaos I could create.
For the psychological trap, I carefully rearranged several spice jars, switching their positions ever so slightly. Then I rigged a small mechanism that would, over the next few days, gradually move one particular jar a few millimetres each night. Nothing dramatic - just enough to make people question their sanity. The cook's assistant who managed inventory would slowly become convinced the oregano was walking across the shelf. It was a slow-burn prank, but I knew it would be effective.
"Subtle," Jay commented, watching me work. "Paranoia is indeed a powerful spice."
"Just thought I'd add a little flavour to their day," I replied, grinning. Jay shook his head, but I could tell he was impressed.
But for Jay's approval, I needed something special. During our next break, I set up what I considered my masterpiece in the kitchen's side storage room. A triple-layered trap that started with an obvious tripwire (which any decent trap-spotter would step over), followed by a pressure plate they'd be focusing too hard to notice (which would trigger a small flour puff as misdirection), and finally the real trap. The random flour cloud would mask the fact that the "victim" was now covered in tiny spots of honey. Throughout the day, they'd slowly collect bits of debris without realizing why.
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Jay actually stopped pretending to work to watch me set this one up. When I finished, he studied it for a long moment before nodding once. "Elegant. Simple components creating complex results. Well done."
Tricky Business Quest Completed!
"Now," Jay said, turning back to his inventory list, "about those pots..."
The rest of the evening was spent working on more advanced mechanisms. The lock on the preserved meat storage had unusual tumblers - ideal practice for moderate difficulty locks. And Jay's personal cabinet had what I was pretty sure qualified as a moderately complex trap, though I decided not to test that theory. I wasn't quite ready to face Jay's wrath if I accidentally triggered it.
By evening's end, my skills had improved significantly, and somewhere in the keep, Lok was probably still trying to unstick himself from his clothes. The thought brought a sense of satisfaction, a sweet revenge after a day of relentless work. Despite the exhaustion that weighed heavily on my limbs, there was a contentment that came from knowing I'd made progress, even if it was just a little. The thought of him struggling made the tedious pot-scrubbing more bearable.
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The morning translation session with Myra started normally enough, though I noticed she kept glancing at me with an odd mix of pity and amusement. It was as if she knew something I didn't, and that was never a comforting feeling.
"I'll be at the dodge training this afternoon," she mentioned casually.
"Really? To cheer us on?"
She snorted, quickly covering it with a cough. "Something like that. Let's just say some of us have... invested interests in your performance."
"What's that supposed to mean?"
"Nothing," she said, suddenly passionately interested in her translations. She buried herself in her work, shoulders shaking with what I hoped was suppressed laughter rather than sobs of sympathy. I couldn't shake the feeling that everyone knew something I didn't, and it was making me increasingly anxious.
After lunch, I was headed to the training grounds when the same boy who'd asked about my Beastmover ordeal came running up.
"Mister! Mister! I bet my entire month's allowance on you!"
"You what?"
"After seeing how you handled those Beastmovers yesterday, I figure you can handle anything!" He darted off, shouting over his shoulder, "Don't let me down!"
Just what I needed. No pressure. The weight of his words settled in my stomach, adding to the growing sense of dread.
As I approached the training area, I noticed something was... different. A massive crowd had gathered around what looked like a makeshift arena roughly ten feet in diametre. People were actually standing on the city walls to get a better view. Was that the cook perched on someone's shoulders? The entire scene felt surreal, like I was walking into a festival rather than a training exercise.
The crowd parted like water, creating a path to the arena. Inside, I found my fellow trainees looking as confused as I felt. But what really caught my attention was Koren.
Sweet merciful gods, Koren.
He stood shirtless in the centre and apparently had been hiding the fact that he was carved from marble under those loose training clothes. He held what appeared to be an eight-foot practice staff with the casual ease of someone holding a dinner fork. Muscles rippled as he moved, and I could hear a few gasps from the audience. Great, as if this wasn't intimidating enough already.
"What in the seventeen hells..." I muttered, noticing a large board covered in what were definitely betting odds. Money and whispers were exchanging hands faster than cards in a tavern gambling den. I caught a glimpse of some odds - my name was at the bottom, with a ridiculously high payout. Fantastic. No one believed I could do this.
"QUIET!" Koren's voice cracked like thunder across the arena. "Today, these brave–or foolish–trainees will attempt to improve their dodge ability." He grinned, and I swear his teeth actually gleamed. "We'll start slow. This is called 'Whirlwind.'"
He began twirling the staff in a lazy circle. I dodged the first swing easily, feeling a surge of confidence. Maybe this wouldn't be so bad after all.
You dodged an AOE attack!
Dodge Reached (Common 3)
Dodge (Common 3)
Effects:Evasion:
* +6% chance to dodge physical attacks
* Finesse: +3 to initiative rolls
Special Move Upgrade:
* Sidestep now lasts for 2 turns.
Requirements for Uncommon 4:
* EXP Requirement: Gain 300 EXP using Dodge.
* Skill Usage Requirements:
* Successfully dodge attacks in 5 consecutive battles.
* Use Sidestep to avoid a critical hit at least 3 times.
* Dodge attacks from 5 different types of enemies.
"Ha!" I turned to high-five, the nearest trainee. "That wasn't so ba-"
THWACK!
The staff's second rotation caught me squarely in the ribs. "Koren! We got the skill! You can stop now!"
His grin widened. "Stop? Oh no. Now the fun begins."
The third rotation came faster. I jumped. The fourth, I attempted what could generously be called a mambo. By the fifth, I was hugging the ground like it was my long-lost love. Each swing came with a force that made my bones rattle, and the crowd's cheers only seemed to spur Koren on.
Somewhere around the seventh or eighth rotation, the staff caught me perfectly and sent me flying into the crowd. Mac caught me like a sack of potatoes.
"Harder than it looks, eh?" he chuckled.
"You think?!"
"Still conscious though!" He bellowed to the crowd. "BACK YOU GO!"
"Wait, what? No, no, NO-" But I was already airborne again, sailing back into the arena. The crowd roared with laughter, and I felt my face flush with a mix of embarrassment and frustration.
I noticed two recruits being dragged out, clearly having achieved peaceful unconsciousness. Lucky bastards. At least they were out of this nightmare.
The next hit caught me mid-torso. My body wrapped around the staff like a wet towel, and suddenly I was one with the weapon. Round and round we went, my breakfast making an unwelcome reappearance somewhere during revolution twelve. Shortly after, my dignity (and bowels) followed suit. I could hear the crowd's mixed reactions - laughter, gasps, and even a few cheers. Myra's voice stood out, shouting something I couldn't quite make out.
Time became meaningless. I think I saw through dimensions. Was that my grandfather waving from the afterlife? His disapproving expression seemed to say, "Really? This is what you're doing with your life?"
From what I deduced afterwards, his maximum speed would cause someone, if dumb enough to be attached to his staff, to experience 5Gs. Which was the G-Force most fighter pilots would black out at. I, not being a fighter pilot, blacked out well before this.
When Koren finally stopped, physics took over. I shot off the staff like a stone from a catapult, at which time I regained my wits. Immediately noticing my predicament, I did what any sane 17-year-old male would do.
"MOMMY MAKE THE SPINNING STOPPPPpppp..." My scream faded as I reached the apex, followed by a slightly quieter "I want to get off this rideeeee..." that echoed into the distance. The crowd's laughter echoed with me, and I could only hope that my suffering was at least entertaining for them.
Meanwhile, Koren noticed the last trainee curled up by his feet, having avoided the entire ordeal through superior positioning. A quick flick of the wrist solved that problem with a resounding THUNK. The poor guy crumpled to the ground, joining the ranks of the unconscious.
My return to earth involved crashing through a building's roof, smashing through the second floor, splintering the first floor, before finally meeting the ground. The last thing I saw before darkness claimed me was Captain Reed, completely nude, standing over me with an expression that somehow combined exasperation, amusement, and murderous intent. "You just couldn't stay out of trouble, could you?" she seemed to say without words.
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Hours later, I woke in the infirmary alongside my fellow survivors. The room smelled of antiseptic, and the soft glow of lanterns illuminated the bandages that covered most of my body. Mac sat nearby, grinning like a cat who'd found the cream.
"Congratulations!" he said cheerfully. "You won!"
"I... what?" My voice was barely a croak, my throat raw from screaming.
"Well, technically blacking out from excessive spinning doesn't count as being knocked unconscious. Plus, your impressive flight time gave Koren the chance to deal with our ground-hugging friend. The judges ruled in your favour!"
"Just... brilliant. Exactly how I planned it. What's my prize?" I wasn't sure I wanted to know, but it felt like the right thing to ask.
"Ah, about that..." Mac scratched his head. "Captain Reed confiscated your winnings to pay for the bathhouse repairs. Oh, and she wants to see you first thing tomorrow morning."
"Wonderful." I lay back down, already dreading tomorrow. "Mac?"
"Yes?"
"Is the room still spinning, or is that just me?"
"Both, probably. Try not to throw up on the new sheets." He chuckled, and I couldn't help but groan. It was going to be a long recovery.
As I closed my eyes, I could still hear the distant echoes of the crowd, the laughter, and Koren's booming voice. Tomorrow was going to be another adventure, and I wasn't sure if I was ready for it. But for now, I just needed the world to stop spinning.