The next few weeks were surprisingly calm. My new apprentice continued her personal training with the fascination gem while I spent my time working with the guards. Her favorite part of the day was when we trained with Snowy. She took particular joy in watching me get my ass handed to me by the larger woman. She didn’t see me as the cause of her problems, but I was definitely adjacent to the cause of her difficulties in her mind. That lasted right up until I volunteered her for Snowy’s training.

Bent over with sweat pouring from her body, Abby gasped as Snowy casually swished her sword around while waiting for her to recover. Abby was practicing with a dagger and was mostly toyed with as Snowy warmed up. Sitting against the wall, I tried to work out what to do to help Snowy. We had reached a bit of an impasse for her earning [Swordsmanship]. She had been practicing consistently, she was now easily beating me and even holding her own against my father. Her growth had slowed, and it seemed that she had reached a stable level of skill. I had spent hours pondering what her problem could be.

My current idea was that she was simply too strong. Typically, when someone learned a weapon, they would be put through their paces with a specific routine, a weapon form. The idea was to ingrain a particular pattern of movements and attacks that would later be modified during bouts and fighting so the attacks and defense would meet their need during a fight. My worry now was that Snowy was so strong that she hadn’t ingrained those movements and was simply moving the weapon in attack and defense. It was like the difference between walking across a stage so delicately that it seemed like dancing versus actually dancing - a subtle distinction, but possibly an important one where Skills were concerned. There had been a few moments while she fought Abby, where she had been slower than I expected. Her strength allowed her to overcome the delay and still bring her weapon to bear. Even slowing at the end of her strike to keep from harming the other woman hadn’t noticeably hindered her ability to fight. When we had dueled, I had been too involved to notice. But watching from the outside as Abby flailed away in her crude and disjointed attacks had suggested this was Snowy’s problem. She was so powerful and fast that she was essentially attacking with incorrect form and using her strength to counter her lack of accuracy and style. Snowy was brute-forcing swordsmanship and was still performing to a level that it was hard to notice!

“Alright, I think I’ve figured out the problem. I’m not certain, but I think I’ve got it,” I said as Abby finally moved to continue her fight. At my words, the younger woman collapsed to the sands.

Chuckling at Abby, I gestured her up as Snowy casually strode toward me.

“So, what am I doing wrong?” Snowy asked with a controlled tone.

I could understand her frustration, she had been working harder lately than anyone I had recently been training, Abby included.

“Nothing. You’re arguably doing it right. That’s the problem,” I said to Snowy’s confused and frustrated look.

I couldn’t resist chuckling at her expression. She knew that I took a curiously sick enjoyment in being cryptic during training.

Moving over to the weapon rack, I grabbed a pair of round shields and passed one to Abby while Snowy silently watched while we approached.

“Abby, I want you to stand on Snowy’s other side,” I said, pointing her to the spot where I wanted her.

“Alright, I’ll be on this side. Snowy, I want you to close your eyes, turn to Abby, and stab - with as little force as possible - at the shield’s dead center. Then, close your eyes, turn to me, and repeat. Doing so as fast as you can. Feel free to use your Skill to keep from being tired,” I said, watching Abby frown again at Snowy’s Skill. Earlier in the week, her discovery that Snowy had a Skill for strength and one that made her nearly tireless had led to an epic outburst of anger and jealousy. She somehow found it unfair that I had her training against Snowy. I found this laughable since I had been trained almost exclusively by people far more talented with their Skills than I could ever be.

The first few minutes were telling. Snowy would explode into motion and then slow before each impact, her movements were awkward at the start and controlled at the end. As we practiced, Snowy’s movements smoothed out, her strikes streamlining into proper lunges as we moved the shields back or to the side. As we incorporated our movement into the practice, Snowy was turning her steps into thrusts. Instead of stepping forward like she was stalking prey, then stabbing, she was lunging. The movement was a coherent whole instead of a series of disconnected actions. The difficulty increased when Abby began to angle her shield to deflect Snowy’s sword at each stab. For Abby, it was an attempt to reduce the stress of holding her shield and moving while tired. Since it worked both for her own training and for Snowy’s, I made no comment. Given her reliable performance with the shield, I was honestly considering if we should switch Abby’s practice to using a shield since she was showing actual talent with it.

I paid for my distraction when Snowy turned and lunged, the tip of the sword seeming to explode forward and into my shield, exiting inches away from my arm.

The sudden destruction of the shield caused a pause in our practice. Then, Snowy’s eyes lost focus as she stared at her Skill listing. Seconds later, her smile blossomed, and she repeated her earlier charge. This time she picked me up and spun me around. With both of my feet off the ground and held in Snowy’s arms, I wasn’t surprised that she immediately dragged me into a passionate lip lock.

Our daily training had routinely devolved into rather tame kissing sessions, but this was something different entirely. I was gasping after her rather aggressive mauling, and I couldn’t help but laugh at Snowy’s antics. My laughter left her blushing before she set me down. I continued to chuckle when I noticed that Abby was very carefully looking away. Luckily, I never sensed any interest from Abby - instead, she seemed utterly fascinated with my budding relationship with Snowy. She hadn’t said anything or misbehaved, but I noticed that she spent time whispering with Snowy when I was busy dealing with some of my other trainees. My initial concerns for the Baron’s response to our actions had been central in my mind. Still, his continued silence had left me more confused than anything else. By the time I finally considered the possible ramifications of Abby and Snowy plotting together at my expense, I had already grown comfortable with their forming friendship.

Stepping back, I watched Snowy as she practiced her routine, the movements fluid and sharp. While she tested her new Skill, I brought the listing forward.

Swordsmanship of the North - Tier 2: 15

The Northern warriors are known for their ferocity and strength. The Northern sword style emphasizes the brutal dominance of the field of battle.

Passive Effect:

+5% improved accuracy with swords.

Minor: Steady Cut - When wielding a sword, the hand remains steady even under pressure.

Active Trigger Effect:

Minor: Deeper Cut - The blade cuts beyond its edge.

Major: Swift Blade - Blade moves significantly faster with no loss of accuracy.

Lesser: Jagged Cut - Wounds continue to bleed.

Synergistic with known weapon Skills:

[Improvised Weaponry]

Another tier two Skill, and it was already at a high level. Snowy had few Skills for the child of a noble. Still, they synergized and were all exceedingly dangerous. Watching her perform her movements, it was apparent when she had activated the Skill. Her sword would accelerate beyond even her already frankly astounding speed, the slab of metal punching through the air. I was left flabbergasted, but my slack jaw slowly drew up into a massive grin as Snowy continuously activated her Skill. Her attacks fell into a rhythm (something we would have to work to correct) of blistering speed where it would whistle as she sliced and stabbed. Five, ten, and then fifteen minutes of continuous attack passed as she would activate her Skill at a regular pace. She was clearly using her breathing pattern to keep the exhaustion from the Skill’s active use at bay. She was able to repeatedly use it while performing at full speed - even after an hour of hard practice! - which said how truly frightening she had become. I was sickly curious about how far the cutting edge extended and the way bleed effect worked. I wouldn’t volunteer to test it, though I would discuss with the kitchen about procuring a pig for her to butcher. If we were lucky, she would be able to use the effect even with a small blade, though it likely couldn’t be used to full effect without a sword.

While Snowy played with her new toy and Abby played at practice, I moved to one of the courtyard walls to sit. I had taken to using the courtyard after training with Snowy as a relatively secure place to mess with [Meditation]. I was not eager to experience another period of lost time as I had in the bath. Sir Wincome was fine with gently kicking me to get my attention. Arranging myself so that I was in the shade, I tried to find a comfortable resting position as I began my slow regular breathing. I discovered that Snowy’s kisses were a significant distraction to the careful focus required to activate [Meditation]. Oddly, it seemed to only be that specific form of distraction that caused any issues with [Meditation]. Even a racing heart from combat practice was only a mild disturbance in comparison.

Eventually, I fell into the silent inner world of [Meditation] and watched the weird mana that swirled within me. I had focused outward when I first earned my Skill and used it to slow time and increase my combat performance - an excellent use for the Skill. But it was obviously the wrong way to look at it. It was only when I metaphorically looked inward that [Meditation] had shown its, admittedly lackluster in power so far, complexity. I was convinced that this inner world was where [Meditation] would truly shine, and I had recently thought of how I could test it. At first, I had been fascinated by the crystallized lumps of mana that somehow represented my Skills. How those jagged and branching things were both Skills and made of mana, I couldn’t guess, but everything I saw in my mind said it was so. The real clue had come from gaining my Skill point. The sudden burst of potential came with a corresponding blob of thick and dense mana that seemed to scream for me to decide its shape. It was the potential to transform and become. It nearly reverberated from that bubble of thick mana, which seemed to plead in a soundless way, asking that I simply choose.

I had spent countless hours lost in [Meditation] trying to understand what that thick mana blob was. Touching it threw concepts and ideas at me, feelings, and impressions. While studying the list of Skills, I realized that I was feeling all the potential Skills that blob of mana could become, directly and unfiltered. This was the raw potential of magic, the possibilities without the words between me and the mana. I had spent long hours poking at the magic, knowing that the mana would coalesce into a Skill with a flick of my will, but resisting the urge to do so. Despite my nearly obsessive study, I had learned nothing further.

So, instead of wasting hours fixated on something I couldn’t understand, I turned my mind to my newest project. Trying to map out the edges of this bubble of mana filled with magic Skill crystals. It quickly became apparent that the bubble was not uniform and that it was, in fact, deeply distorted by two significant bulges that narrowed into infinity. Simultaneously, the flattest parts of the surface were riddled by small punctures that expanded sharply outward. Slowly, I inched along the inner surface, counting these disturbances and trying to understand them. Placing my metaphorical hands on the perforations, I was startled to feel a connection to something familiar. A familiar experience of something unfamiliar was a distinctly odd sensation. Abandoning the oddity, I continued, trying to map out the entire surface of my inner world.

Eventually, I concluded two large bulges sloped off into nowhere, and thirty-three tiny punctures invaded into my Skill space. It was this number, thirty-three, that gave me the clue of what I was touching. I had been given access to thirty-three people’s Skill lists. This was an unprecedented number, and the sudden influx had come mostly from training the Baron’s men. Still, I imagined this was where the sense of familiarity came from. That meant that the two bulges that stretched outward were likely my connection to my parents. The link stretching into infinity was to them on the other side.

Without considering the consequences, I grabbed one of these long stretched out connections and gently pulled on it. My intent was to see if my parents would experience some kind of disturbance from my action. If - whichever one was connected to the other end - would notice. My only excuse was that I was eager for anything to corroborate that the inner-world of [Meditation] reflected something in the real world. To my surprise and horror, the tunnel snapped and retracted at my gentle pull. The tube quickly reforming into the uniform structure of [Meditation].

Pulling out of [Meditation], I wasn’t even able to rise before yelling filled the castle.