I didn't know if it was the bath's heat, and the soothing of my muscles or the time in [Meditation], but I was calm and relaxed on my walk home. That is until I reached it and thought about what might reside inside. I was only mildly in worry for my life. I considered myself to have enough martial acumen to handle one slip of a girl as long as I had some notion that she was coming for me. A knife in the throat at night being a danger to anyone. No, I was concerned about the level of annoyance and disruption this would bring to my life. Still, I noticed that Sir Wincome was relaxing on the front porch. He was early for his shift, replacing Private Filt who had been left to guard my apprentice. I was glad to see the stoic knight instead. Private Filt was one of the guards who had cursed me roundly when we met to discuss his training. We had not spoken to each other since then. Still, at the edge of my hearing, I had heard more than one disparaging comment and been the recipient of several dirty looks. This hadn't improved as the Baron raised me through the nobility.

Luckily, there was no further the Baron could raise me without the King being involved, and there was little risk of that.

Tromping through the front door, I kicked free the mud from my boots and set down the few supplies I had snagged from my shop on the way home. Interestingly, Abby was focused on my price guide, the fingers of her right hand slipped between the sheets to bookmark her selections. I wasn't surprised by her continued perusal; instead, I was encouraged by it. Selecting a Skill to work towards was a significant commitment of time and effort, and gaining the right Skill could expand her future options. While she was held fast by the Baron because of her [Poison Fount], who knew what the future offered?

No, what drew my eye and held my attention was her idle right hand. The gem was gently held by two fingers as she rolled it back and forth, her touch never leaving the gem. It was a unique attempt at freedom. As she became more involved with her reading, there was a small but real chance the gem would slip from her unfocused fiddling. Her escape wouldn't offer her a Skill, but it would mean she was free from the gem for a session.

"Good evening, my Apprentice," I said.

Glancing at me from the corner of her eye, Abby returned to her reading. Her attempted snub was ruined when she grasped the gem and held it still—the fascination enchantment forcing her to hold it tight lest I take the treasure from her.

Ignoring her game, I chose my own seat and relaxed, crossing one leg over the other as I leaned back and rested. I was loose and comfortable from the heated bath, the long soak leaving a gentle scent on my skin and my lungs clear from the road dust. Combined with the positive aspects of the day - the potential negatives resolutely ignored - I found myself in an oddly peaceful place.

"Evening," Abby said after deciding that her gambit to annoy me had failed.

Slowly blinking my eyes, I turned to look at the gem she held tight. Bending forward, I tapped the fingers she had wrapped around the gemstone. Glancing at the orb for a moment, her gaze starting to defocus before she looked away, she held the gem out and waited. Gently, I pulled her fingers free. When the jewel was safely out of her possession, I slipped it into a pocket. I tried to avoid chuckling when Abby rushed to use the water closet. Half of the hardtack had been eaten, and I noticed the wineskin was still mostly full. She had thought ahead and avoided drinking when she wasn't thirsty; forethought was a good sign.

Clasping my hands together, I leaned back further in my chair, legs still crossed, and tapped my fingers against my lips in thought. There were many ways this could go, many options for this conversation. I felt I knew enough from my apprentice's reactions that I had a rough picture of her. Now, I needed to understand why she was reacting as she was. Why was she so angry? What were her goals? She was able to chain her anger and direct it, and her spirit remained unbroken. She had laughed more than once, laughter containing more joy than I expected, instead of a broken woman's laugh. I had heard the other kind from more than one female trainer growing up; the difference was stark. I had reached the limits of what I could discover from prodding her. I would have to simply ask her for her story and hope she would share it.

I did not like these kinds of discussions. Socially, I was adroit enough within a framework of professionalism or during manipulation. An honest conversation was far more difficult for me.

When the door to the water closet opened, I unfolded from my hunched posture of thought. My sudden movement - feet to the floor, hands unclasping - made Abigail pause for a moment. My apprentice returned to her chair, once again studying the price guide. Before she could start her questioning, I cleared my throat. Counter-intuitively, I would avoid using [Acting] to be sure that she knew I was sincere in our discussion. If things went to plan, she would quickly recognize my use of [Acting]. It was subtle, but there was a shift as I activated it and deactivated it. Honest sincerity would be necessary for our relationship as Master and Apprentice moving forward. At least, faking it successfully.

"I owe you an apology," I said.

Abby paused at my declaration, it obviously not being what she had expected me to say. The confusion quickly faded, and a look of righteous indignation came over her face during my pause. It took an effort not to activate [Acting], but I managed.

"Yes," I said while nodding, "I shouldn't have given you the fascination gem as I did. I was angry at the Baron, and I took it out on you," I said while earnestly holding my hands together resting in my lap.

Before Abby could respond, I continued, "There was almost no chance of you earning a Skill from this training. With you having so little experience, it was far too difficult. Worse, I hobbled your training by giving you water and medicine to dull the strain. There was no chance you could work through both difficulties and earn a Skill for yourself."

The confused look was back. Abby had clearly thought I was apologizing for the harsh training. The idea that I purposely created a situation too easy - and so it was useless - realigned her perception of the day. Before Abby could recover from my manipulation - and it was a manipulation just as the initial training was - I dropped my hands and locked gazes with her.

"My only excuse is that I am new to being a Master, and I am at odds with the Baron, just as you are. In the future, I will not allow my feelings to hinder the small chance you have to succeed," I said. Simultaneously implying our togetherness against the Baron and my low estimation of her potential. A double blow of support and insult.

That was the last of the manipulation I had planned for the evening. From here, I would only be able to move with the flow of the conversation. I hoped to continue to align my apprentice's emotions toward focus and effort and away from rebelling against my management. I wanted her focused and working to improve. If she planned to let her anger drive her, I would have it driving her forward and not directing it my way.

There was a pregnant pause while Abigail digested my comment. Her left hand tapped on the price guide while she considered my words. I simply sat and waited, trying to use the silence as a prod as much as my original words.

"Alright," Abby said, the word drawn out as she tried to come to terms with my statement.

The moment I had her acceptance, tacit as it was, I straightened.

Coughing into my hand, not needing [Acting] to convey my genuine embarrassment, I gave her an awkward smile and continued.

"Very well. Thank you for moving past my mistake. Now, have you selected your first Skill to learn from the price guide?" I asked while blatantly attempting to move forward past the apology. My mother had used this ploy on my younger self more than once. Guilting me into taking an action that I had been initially opposed too. It was a classic manipulation known to all mothers. Still, it worked with anyone in a position of authority, if they played the gambit correctly.

My redirection was apparent but fruitful. At my question, Abby smiled wildly and began to flip through the guide, stopping on the back half where the weapon Skills resided.

"Here!" she said as she flattened the folio and pointed to [Swordsmanship].

Nodding, I activated [Acting] to keep from sighing in annoyance. I had hoped that she wouldn't select [Swordsmanship], but it had been a fleeting hope.

"Why do you want [Swordsmanship]?" I asked, trying to keep the annoyance out of my voice.

"Well, uh," Abby said, the answer's seeming obviousness making it hard for her to convey her thoughts.

"Imagining yourself as the daring Dame, sword slashing, and fighting? A heroine from a bard's tale? Killing bands of goblins while riding a white steed?" I asked, trying to keep my smile friendly instead of condescending. I had once shared similar childhood dreams.

Looking down at the price guide, she failed to hide her blush.

"Yeah, me too," I said, meeting her look with a smile, though I turned it into a frown.

"Sadly, that is for the stories," and at her own frown, one that clearly said she would become obstinate, I continued, "oh, no. You can learn [Swordsmanship] if you want. Eventually. It's just it would be an abysmal first choice."

Before she could respond, I held up a finger for a second then let it drop when she closed her mouth and waited for my comment.

"[Swordsmanship] is a much in demand Skill from the nobility. Which is good. But, unfortunately, there is also an excess supply of trainers. Swordsman, House guards, retired officers, mercenaries, and each House likely has their own martial trainer specifically for the sword. No, a Skill Trainer can not make a living as a swordsman alone. Not unless they already have a name that they can use to barter for better terms or are known for their mastery of multiple weapons like my father. Worse, you do not own a sword, so it would be a waste for your defense," I said to Abby's growing frustration.

"A combat-related Skill is vital for a Skill Trainer - I would argue for anyone - but it is rarely the bread and butter of a Trainer's daily work."

It was apparent that Abby had forgotten somewhere during the day that this wasn't just a chance to learn a Skill. Instead, this was a chance to learn a Skill so she could be a Skill Trainer.

"Anything else that has caught your eye?" I asked.

She flipped through the book, slightly sullen, but without the petulance I had been half expecting, then said, "how about [Singing]?"

"Hmm, there is little extra to that training that I can offer that a trainer of Ladies can't, but the next Skill down would be something I promise they won't offer," I said. I tapped lower down the page on [Perfect Pitch]'s description.

"I don't have either Skill myself, but [Singing] can be trained by any bard you can find, assuming you have the aptitude. [Perfect Pitch] requires special equipment. You can go through my training guide later and work on [Singing] if you want."

As Abby read through the description of [Perfect Pitch], I watched her face to see what she thought. The Skill was impressive in how it made it possible to innately know which note or chord was performed by merely listening. Combined with [Musical Memory], it offered the potential to hear and then recall any song when heard even once. [Musical Memory] alone would allow someone to become a decent bard. With a bit of paper and ink and those two Skills, someone could create musical compendiums that other bards would spend gold to obtain. Such musical compilations were vital for a bard to move from vagabond musician to steady employment.

She had spent all day reading the Skills and their descriptions. She knew what it said. She just needed the time to consider her answer. My goal for this entire discussion was to leave her off balance for my next question.

Trying for a gentle tone, I drew my apprentice out of her deliberations.

"Abby. Before we can go any further, I need full access to your Skills," this made her eyes widen, but I ignored her reaction as I continued, "but before that, I need to ask. Why are you angry?"