“”Five cords of wood, one of which is pine. Around 40 kilograms of unused nails, with another 20 in various toolboxes. 18 barrels of smoked meats, 3 barrels of salted; 8 bags of oats and three bags of flour remain intact.12 jars of Callus Ointment, 38 doses remaining. An overabundance of timber…” Imira continued listing what she had found, slightly surprised by how well she could remember. In fact, come to think of it, perhaps drilling hundreds of lessons into her head improved her ability to memorize. The more esoteric ‘culture lessons’ might actually be for that purpose; far-flung lands should be much lower on the priority list.

Alric took a moment to kneel down on the floorboards. At this point, Imira already realized she missed something; she could only try to figure out the secret before he revealed it. There were scuff marks, but nothing to indicate a loose board. Permanently sealed, only for truly dire emergencies?

Alric got up and sat down in one of the heavy ornate chairs in the room, resting a horseshoe he’d acquired from nowhere on the table, rocking it back and forth playfully.

Then…

“It does put me in a difficult spot, to try and teach suspicion when I also need to be someone you can trust. I must at least reiterate— don’t let others lead your thoughts astray. Hold at least some doubt, even if it is far-fetched.” Picking it up, with what looked like a gentle toss from him sent the lump of iron whizzing across the room until it landed on a protruding nail in the wall. “In regards to your ordering, sort the list as you go. Ascending or descending— it helps keep the numbers in check if you forget some. Feel free to round, and trim details. The area you could improve on most is identification. While there might be surprises, it isn’t strictly necessary to check every single object to confirm its identity. Especially since this was a simple village.”

Her heart sank as Alric stood up and made for the door. Indicating they were about to move on, Imira realized what it represented.

“Look down the main street. By looking at the wider intersections, you can tell the junctions it was built around. These would be the heart of operations. Take note of the ruts in particular…” He animatedly gestured with his oddly fluid movements, but though it bore almost no resemblance, it brought to mind another memory.

Back in the forest, Imira had been tasked with collecting a sample of a variety of herbs to prove her knowledge. The sound of a sizeable river played on repeat, its waters feeding denser underbrush than usual. Between the rustling of bushes and leaves, nothing seemed amiss as she located a cluster of Jovial Cap mushrooms.

She couldn’t recall hearing any twigs snap in those moments prior, only that moment when adrenaline coursed through her as Alric grabbed her, rolling across the ground. A jungle cat had been stalking her, only to be thwarted after it jumped and dispatched before hitting the ground.

He gave some token comforting words, aware she’d not been shaken. However oddity presented itself in further consideration.

Alric could not possibly miss such a creature, and his actions were like those of someone lying in wait. Yet he did not drill into her the mistakes she made in not remaining alert. So the cat was not a lesson, yet he let it interfere.

Imira eventually realized that in his make-up review later that day, they carefully went over mushrooms again. One of which being Thornbalm; toxic to the touch— and visually similar to Jovial Caps.

Similar, but possessing definitive black stripes, and commonly grew in clusters; while a Jovial Cap had a plain stem and only ever grew in troops. She had made an almost certainly fatal mistake and there could be no misattribution to chance, or a lack of time to think.

So now that Alric seemed intent on describing the edges of the furrows and their relation to the load a cart carried bore more than a passing similarity to how he attempted to capture her attention after she made a mistake.

As if she could remain unaware of her misstep, that she should…

“You’re distracting yourself from the lesson it seems. Can you repeat where I said the logging carts are coming from?” Raising his volume he patted the ground, sending up a cloud of dirt. Coughing, Imira was forced back into the present.

“The north…”

“That’s where they actually come from, yes, but I said east. If you’re going to dwell on the mistakes you make, practice multitasking first. But it doesn’t help. Especially when you know what you’ve done already. It will come in time.”

Alric stood up and folded his arms, staring off towards the sky. She tried to guess at what he was thinking, but it didn’t seem as though he’d left any clues. Normally he’d slightly hint at something, so she wouldn’t be left with nothing to contemplate.

The mildly dilapidated houses stood stoically by the roadside, there were no threats incoming to be a surprise combat evaluation. Wind rustled the branches of the odd tree left standing, just as dull as those back near the village.

Imira knew she was making progress, so why did it feel so… lacking? She wanted to leave the village, and she’d gone much further than she thought possible in this short span of time. Yet after leaving the forest, it seemed things felt too similar to the Salt Village.

When you go new places, there’s supposed to be wonderment and awe. Alric clearly knew of this, even his lessons tended to be framed in stories— pursuit of the unknown being exceptionally common. So was he purposefully limiting her experience at the moment? Or had they simply not travelled far enough away?

“Perhaps this quest was ill-suited for the moment. After all, only you can pressure yourself.”

“Is that not correct?”

“Yes, it is. However I think you’ve known for some time now that a satisfied life doesn’t push boundaries.” Alric gave an approving smile, before the hair on the back of her neck began to stand up. Instinctively looking up, Imira could hear a part of the sky begin to fall apart. “What use does this incantation have in such a small place? Perhaps those of scholarly persuasions could tread new ground by standing still, but for most, you can only progress by moving. Remember not to activate your eyes.”

A series of brief blue flashes sparked across the sky like a lit trail of gunpowder. It didn’t finish with any explosion, however a strange gust blew past, and Imira could make out areas where notes of dust plummeted.

“Ah, why develop such a majestic spell in a place like your old village? In fact I dared not even try it there— that which can kill the air itself. Yet I invented this because I know what I want.” Alric kept his eyes trained on the sky. “Don’t look at me. Ahh, it is always tempting to guide a true pupil. However Kat is right, it is best when you find your own path instead of following mine. There are still things to show you, quite a lot really.”

Then, a terrifying snap rattled the nearby buildings. Imira felt a wave of force pull her up towards the disturbance in the sky rolling up from her feet to her head. Even Alric seemed as though he was attempting to puzzle out the phenomenon.

“Curious, curious. There’s always something to learn. And I’m always willing to teach, but you’re no puppet. Please keep that in mind. I won’t be disappointed. Now, why not take a quick break and sing a song before continuing the lesson? Ucat udir, ucat umom, otin neták otin nashon!”

Imira had no time to think if this was a distraction for him, her, or if he just wanted to sing.

“Ór deb avuz, råsh numot libash thol…” Alric’s hand gestured by his throat, indicating her mistake. She tried to burn it into her memory, but it wasn’t as though he was going to slow down for her. Imira just needed to file away the thought for later, and hope she remembered the next time.

***

Night fell across the remnants of the village with haste, and Imira once again found herself in the small room with a sleeping Ria and Alric. As usual, Alric made sure to place himself somewhere in the room between Ria and herself. In the modest room, it looked as though he might stretch from wall to wall— actually given his towering stature it would be possible if not for the fact he was propped up against the wall.

Imira wondered if Alric was even sleeping. His arms were folded across his chest as though simply waiting with his eyes closed. Given that she never noticed him sleep two days in a row, was it possible he simply didn’t need to? Be it the result of magic or something else, not needing sleep would be one of the less absurd facts about him.

‘Be twice as cautious as you should be’... Alric never dissuaded her from second guessing, but as she watched his breathing, she thought just maybe she was getting a little paranoid.

Then again, she was never supposed to ignore instinct. Evaluate and weigh its importance, never simply ignore that feeling.

Even had she been advised otherwise, Imira couldn’t help but feel wary of a creeping chill in the air. The windows of the workshop had been boarded up securely, hardly a millimeter gap between planks. One could only do so much by hand, and something felt unnatural about the flicker of shadow in the faint moonlight that streamed through.

Awareness of surroundings- there were no plants near the window. Knowledge of patterns- the changes were too rapid to be caused by clouds.

Evidence to the contrary- It was indeed silent. Not the sound of grass or gravel stirring, nor any rustle of gear, nor the long, low breath many goblins had. Nothing to indicate anything sat just outside the window, other than those wavering shadows. Nothing Imira could properly describe, just a feeling.

She shouldn’t wake Alric up just for this, should she? He gave so many lessons, but they applied in so many ways. To be bold and determined, yet cautious and willing to accept change; to be self-reliant, yet able to rely on others. All of these wrapped up in the fact that Alric gave these choices so she could have independence in her views without pressuring her.

That all just made him more inscrutable, and her all the more uncertain when it came down to what he wanted. How could she accommodate him like that?

Imira took out a simple silver stake and approached the window quietly. If this was a threat, when prepared she should be able to hold on until Alric woke up. If not, it would be best to be silent and not rock the boat.

In her hands, the silver stake glowed with moonlight upon its dull luster. Roughly forged from a few dozen argent, Alric shrugged when she asked him if it would truly be effective against the supernatural. His only words on the matter were the hopes one of the dozens of gods he sent a prayer to were feeling benevolent, just in case the purity of the silver was too low- it was better than not having anything at all.

Slowly approaching the shadows, once within arms length, Imira quickly thrust her arm out. The stake made contact with only a dull thud, leaving behind a small dent. Nothing cried out in pain or leapt at her. However her breathing quickened as she noticed the shadows decided to still.

Did it leave?

She tried scanning the room, yet it was too dark for her to discern any detail away from the window. Just the vague outlines of shapes. Her eyes might let her look for whatever it was, but she’d been told to let them rest.

Only Alric’s and Ria’s vague silhouettes shifted in the darkness, their faint breathing the only noise. Imira futilely looked over the room and back over her shoulder. The window gave no more indication anything was wrong, yet Imira’s instinct still would not back down.

No one kept track of the time she stood there, waiting patiently in an eternal standoff against the shadows.

But she was still young and couldn’t stay awake forever. Backing against a wall, slightly closer to Alric this time, Imira slid down, hoping to stay up for a little while longer, in case… whatever it was thought she let her guard down

Alas, her tactic was for naught, as she fell asleep within moments.