The next month was a slog of recovery for me. The caravan dipped down from the hills out of the Barony and into the plains. There was some worry that we would be ambushed as we approached the plains, but those fears faded as we left the foothills. The rolling fields of grain stretched out before us and left few places to hide bandits. My recovery accelerated once we were walking on a mostly flat road, and in some ways, I was sad to see the change. Snowy spent more time with me during my rehabilitation. As my strength recovered, her excuses dried up, and she had to spend more hours at her lessons.

As my physique recovered, I spent additional time in my soul using [Meditation] to poke and prod at my Skills. Most of the slivers of Skills had dissolved and joined the fog of mana in my soul. A few connected with and enhanced my Skills. [Meditation] was one such Skill and gained a lesser effect called soul sight.

Meditation - Tier 2: 15

Meditation gives one insight into their own mind, how thoughts flow, and where the river of consciousness runs rough and where it becomes tranquil. Through a calm perception of the world, the arcane flows through your mind.

Passive Effect:

Lesser: Inner Stability - Slight resistance to effects that would alter your perceptions and actions.

Lesser: Mana Flow - Slight increase in mana recovery.

Active Trigger Effect:

Major: Improved perceptual effects.

Major: Improved mental effects.

Lesser: Mana Sense.

Lesser: Soul Sight - Slight reduction in strain from perceiving one’s soul.

Synergistic with other known mental & physical skills:

[Memorization], [Reading], [Teacher of Skills], [Focused Cut], [Unarmed Combat], [Short Blades], [Combat Awareness].

I was happy to see the new effect on my Skill, but it left me with more questions than answers. What exactly was a tier-one Skill versus a higher tier, and how did my soul sight represent it? Why did my [Meditation] not show a hidden effect like Snowy’s Skill before gaining this new effect? Why did some effects have descriptions and others not? So on, and so on. Some questions had been answered. A Skill’s level corresponded to the size of the crystal in some rough way. [Meditation] was small compared to some of the other Skill crystals, but even that wasn’t entirely correct. [Anatomy] was relatively tiny, but it was one of my highest leveled Skills! Effects were in some way the shapes, the structure, of the Skill crystals, and I could generally feel where the soul sight effect fit within the greater whole of [Meditation]. I hesitated to do more than gently touch upon [Meditation]. I was fearful that I would cause a repeat of [Alchemy’s] destruction and lose my view of my inner world.

When my body had fully recovered - to my satisfaction, if not Mother Tin’s - I returned to training with my apprentice and Snowy. To my pride and annoyance, Abby gained [Throwing]. Mason was overjoyed at her success and started in on his many odd and varied training practices. The first thing I gleaned from his training was that he would practice throwing just about everything he could. Rocks, wooden forks, clothing, lengths of rope - unwound and otherwise - and everything else Mason could get his hands on. He made games out of the training. Hoops were mounted on the wagons that my apprentice would have to lob objects through. He would toss rings into the air and require Abby to chuck knives through. His training went beyond just rote practice and included lengthy discussions about air movement as it passed over an object. Somehow, he understood how rotating items twisted and moved from the passage of air and how an object’s weight would make it tumble.

Academically, I was in heaven, as I filled my Skill book with notes to be organized later. Personally, I was frustrated with the knowledge that none of his words seemed to help me with my own performance. Not that I practiced throwing things often, but after a few hours of watching Abby practice and improve, I found it hard to not try my hand at Mason’s Skills.

Once Abby gained [Throwing], Mason added hints for Snowy and me as we worked knife work into our training. I was familiar with knives and their uses, or so I thought. I had gotten [Small Blades] with my father, but he hadn’t specialized with knives. Despite my familiarity with blades from my [Small Blades] and [Wood Working] Skills, I hadn’t fully grasped the tools’ intricacies. Mason had just as much to say about knives as he did about [Throwing]. His new favorite game for us was to flash a knife past us, thrown into the wood of the wagon as we trained, and then have us answer questions about the blade while we fought. Length, width, material, with a fuller or no, single or double-edged, dull or sharp, tip, saw edge, and on and on. Mason had hundreds of knives secreted upon his person and likely more in his wagon, and we were quizzed on all of them as we dueled. It was a strange game but was oddly entertaining once we grew familiar with blades flying past our bodies while fighting.

There were no further incidents like the would-be robbers, and I was glad for it. Snowy had been uncomfortable with the entire affair. Not, as I had first thought with the sentencing of the robbers. Instead, she took umbrage that they had been given any option but death for their acts. Their actions were worthy of death to Snowy’s mind, and no trial or discussion was needed. When I pointed out that a trial was useful when political conditions required freeing a criminal, she had been horrified. I found her position naive while she thought mine dishonorable and not bloodthirsty enough. The argument led to the first real test of our romance. With Snowy snubbing my efforts to talk to her, Abby was left as a go-between sending messages back and forth. Still, the uncomfortable chill only lasted a couple of days before Snowy returned to combat training, and our disagreement was quickly dropped. Neither of us changed our stances, but we didn’t argue with each other over it either.

I had an uncomfortable feeling that this would be something that could come back to bite Snowy once she replaced her father. Still, it wasn’t something for me to deal with. Having Snowy known as a bloodthirsty but honorable ruler could only help when Snowy’s word was my protection instead of her father’s.

When the capital came into view over the rolling fields, it was breathtaking. Large thick white walls surrounded the city, overlooked by a gigantic castle of dark grey stone. The castle was built on one of the few hills on the plains, and it loomed over the city. Basking in the shade of the castle were the mansions of merchant Houses, Nobles’ estates, and the soaring edifice of the Mage Guild tower. Below the sprawling estates were the Guild Halls. Advertising their economic power, the Guild Halls were decked with glass, stone mosaics, and slate roofs. Spreading out beyond the Guild Halls were the homes of the actual guild members, the trade houses, and the craft buildings formed the Crafter’s Way - the most outstanding collection of crafters on one street in the Kingdom. Sprawling even further out were the houses, rental homes, apartments, inns, and lastly, the slums, the edge of which was only barely visible beyond the walls.

The sprawling cone shape of the capital made the walls nearly useless defending against siege weapons. But they were more than capable of stopping the occasional horde of goblins, orcs, centaurs, or other monsters. The tiered structure, each surrounded by an outer wall, also stopped those of the previous layer from encroaching further up the hill. Running through the city were inner walls that could further sub-divide the city. The gates of the inner wall would only close during a reanimation outbreak or if the outer wall was penetrated when the sections had to be isolated from each other.

We pulled through the city’s gate, continued down the main street, and slowly edged up the hill towards the highest mansions. We eventually turned through the wrought iron gates of an estate smaller than many of those surrounding it. Even with it being smaller, the wealth on display was overwhelming. Beyond the gate was a paving stone pathway that meandered through the grounds, through gardens with high hedges and a glass greenhouse stuffed with alchemy herbs. Once we were on the estate grounds, the wagon train slowed while the attendants organized and unhooked each animal. Snowy gestured Abby and me forward from her spot near the front of the caravan. As we approached, she turned and walked to the open doors of the grand entrance hall.

Inside the greeting hall, the Baron spoke to a collection of servants standing at attention.

“Ah, here they are,” the Baron said while gesturing to the three of us to approach.

“This is,” the Baron said, then glanced to the maid who answered, “Mila, my Lord.”

“Right, Mila. She’s the head maid in charge of the family hall. She will be in charge of your attendants Alexis, Abigail.” The Baron said, then turned to me and draped one of his massive arms over my shoulder. Gesturing the two ladies away, he directed me to a dour-looking man in a butler uniform.

“This is Marcus. He is my personal butler, but I’ve put him in charge of your suite while we are here. Your suite is straight across from my daughter's,” the Baron said.

Almost gently, he pulled me along in his wake, away from the servants, and into another room. After we entered, he released me and opened a cabinet, and pulled free a large corked glass bottle. Lifting the glass for a second, he raised an eyebrow at me, but at my head shake, he shrugged and grabbed a single wine glass for himself. Pouring himself some of the wine, he relaxed into one of the chairs and gestured me to the other chair before sipping his wine. Flopping down in the chair, I stared at the Baron while he sipped his wine and scrutinized me.

The silence dragged out as the Baron swigged his wine and then sneered at the glass.

“I hate wine—terrible stuff. But, if you want to deal with the other nobles, you have to do as they do. Wine, dances, parties, buying idiotic trinkets, and cavorting about like morons,” The Baron said with a frown.

Glaring at his empty wine glass, the Baron dropped into silence. The Baron was oddly distant during our trip, and we hadn’t said more than a handful of words to each other the entire trip. I spent most of my time training Snowy and some of the soldiers, but it was still odd to have said more words with the caravan’s cooks than the Baron during that time. He had obviously been avoiding me. Eventually, the Baron glanced up at me and put his glass down. It was strange to see the Baron gathering himself to speak. It was the first time I had really seen him hesitant.

“My girl loves you. I don’t know if she’s said it to you yet, but I can see it,” the Baron began in a subdued tone.

“I missed my little girl’s childhood. When she was banished, I wanted to kill them all. Every last one of them.”

I waited, watching as the Baron’s large hands flexed for a moment, his eyes drifting away before his knuckles popped, and his hands opened wide.

“But, politics says otherwise, and it would hurt my little girl. That’s the last thing I want. I can’t kill those assholes, I can’t even punish them,” he said before raising his eyes to my own.

“She wants you. So I’m going to throw my support behind you. I have a duty to my King, and you’ve blundered into that, but it’s fine,” he said, then grabbed his glass and stood to pour himself a refill. Filling his glass with a generous red, he took a quick swig and frowned at the results before he repeated, “It’s fine, and for her, I’ll do more than just protect you. I’ll talk to the King and see what I can do to have him protect you. Don’t hurt my little girl.”

With that, the Baron finished his glass and walked out. His words could have been taken as a threat, but his voice held a different tone. It was the sound of a tired man who had suffered and was afraid of further pain.