When I reached the Bessy Barstool, I was a bit surprised to see it quite empty. The tables were cleaned. The ceiling clear from its smoke. The air mellow, solemn, with the few patrons there focusing on their alcohol and not on making noise. As I moved, I noticed that I didn’t attract any attention. At all. Alraune Aura seemed off… or weak, so I just accepted the blessing and continued in, feeling relieved. I walked up to Croon who was again manning the bar.

“Mister Croon. What happened?” I asked with a wave toward the empty tables.

“News of…” he mumbled, his eyes distant. He looked up and I could see the sadness paining him. “Lonely Briar. Most be out near the lake in mourn’. Sending up offerings for the dead.”

I nodded slowly and dipped my head. “I am sorry.” Immediately I felt pity for him. It would be a painful thing to just abruptly discover your neighbors, whom you knew by name and face, were slaughtered over such a stupid infraction. Angering. But the knowledge that you could never get revenge for it would be the most painful aspect. That those wronged would never find justice. It would be a terribly dark emotion, and I could see it on his face.

He said, “Thanks… and thank ya for helping out the Larws.”

“It was my pleasure.” I thought of heading upstairs, but Croon’s pain weighed on me. I wanted to do something. But did I have the time? ‘I’ll make the time.’ But there were more important things to do. I had to potentially battle Kamra. Or flee. Plus, I didn’t even really know Croon… but then again, did that excuse me from being caring? Someone else could comfort him… but… I shunned the thoughts. I was Chaon. I could help who I wanted when I wanted.

I pointed toward one of the bottles of wine near the top shelves; those were the more expensive and thus more delectable ones. “Might I have that one? Two shot glasses.”

Croon nodded and grabbed and bottle and glasses. He set them before me as I took a seat. I set down the fifty Wood for it, uncorked it, and filled the two cups. Without a word, I pushed the second cup to the seat beside me and motioned him toward it.

“I shouldn’t…” he muttered.

“Mister Croon, there are times when the haze of a good cup and the moment of enjoying it with another are required. This is one of those times.”

He stared at the cup for a minute silently, till whispering, “Thank ya…” He walked over to the seat and sat down heavily. He immediately swigged down the entire shot. I filled it and he swigged it down again. On the third, he just stared at the light, reddish color of the wine. “People weren’t meant ta be cattle, Sir Chaon… ain’t meant to be chained like this by fear. Ta live like this. Ta be… murdered like this.”

I nodded, “It is an injustice of the highest degree, Mister Croon.”

“It is. It is…” a small choke rumbled in his throat. His hand gripped the glass, clenching till near white, shivering, with droplets of wine splashing onto the counter. I took a tiny sip of the wine; a rich and sweet taste flooding my mouth, and yet the solemn mood made it taste akin to ash. I pat his shoulder.

“If there is one thing I have learned, and one that the ancients have voiced… justice has fangs, Mister Croon. She may fall prey to the wicked for much time, but she shall return…” I took another light sip and finished with, “…when she does, those once damning her shall find themselves damned.”

Croon dipped his head and took a shaky sip of the wine. He calmed. Slightly. He spoke with melancholy and a hint of anticipation, “I hope I live to see that return, sir Chaon.”

“I would not be surprised if that occurs, Mister Croon. I would not be surprised at all.”

After Croon had calmed I headed upstairs; my shot of wine barely touched. I first went to Ivy and Ditto. When I opened the door, I found her sitting cross-legged on Ditto. Ditto was on the floor and slowly moving forward as Ivy pointed toward the far side of the room and clapped her hands, encouraging the slime to continue whilst carrying her. It was a snail’s pace, but Ditto was succeeding.

“Might I ask what you two are doing?” I asked. Ivy looked back at me and grinned. Bouncing off of Ditto she hurried over and grabbed my arm.

“Nnnn mmmn… tshra…!” She puffed out her chest a little in pride as she said it.

I chuckled a little, a smirk tugging on my face. “You are helping Ditto train?”

“Nnnn!”

“Strength training?”

“Nnn!” Nodding her head energetically, her eyes sparkled.

“What a nice friend you are to Ditto…” I pet the Alraune’s head and she hummed, a purring kind of humming, and pushed against my hand as if some kitten desiring its master’s attention. While enjoying her silky hair and blissful expression, I lowered my other arm and offered it to Ditto. The slime rolled over the floor to me and latched onto my hand. It worked its way up to my shoulder, taking its usual position.

Ivy pointed at Ditto, then at my other shoulder. “Nnnn?”

“Nooo… I’m afraid carrying you on my shoulder is not an option,” I said with another chuckle. Again, the depressed puppy look took over her features. ‘How adorable can she be?’ My hand cupped the back of her head. She looked up at me, curious for a moment, and her expression softened as realization hit her. She leaned forward as I pulled her into a kiss. A tender kiss. Her petal-soft lips pressed against mine. Her scent enraptured me.

I pulled back slowly and smiled. “But that is the alternative that Ditto does not get to enjoy.”

She smiled back, nodding, “Nnnn!”

Looping my hand around her waist, I guided her out and headed toward Macsen’s room. “I have some training of my own to do. After, we will be getting you some better clothes.”

“Nnn?!” Her eyes grew large.

“Yes. Far better. More comfortable and soft. Made special just for you,” I said with a wink. She winked back, a skip appearing in her gait as excitement swelled within her. She wanted to get special clothes just for her. She couldn’t wait. I couldn’t wait either.

I knocked on Macsen’s door lightly, “Macsen?”

“Batten down… the hatches… the storm is a feisty one… battered this ship…” he wailed from within. “It was… was good meeting ya buddy… but I’ll be heading to the gates of Tartarus soon… farewell.”

“That bad?” I wanted to feel sorry for him, but his antics amused both Ivy and I far too much. Ivy pressed both her hands over her mouth to try and cover the giggles threatening to burst from her.

“Like I swallowed a live mule that’s still kicking all my innards…” A large ‘thunk’ sounded as he flopped off his bed. I could hear him crawling on the ground. “Must… must tell… family I love them… and Chaos… my darling… Chaos…”

I sighed a little. Training would have to be self-taught today. “Well, since you are quite busy at the moment, I suppose I shan’t ask.”

Immediately he asked, “Shan’t ask what?” I could hear his curiosity.

“For combat training. I am ill used to melee combat and wish to learn.”

“Sure thing, buddy!” he shouted, the agony up and vanishing. A series of thunks and noises followed before the door flew open, revealing Macsen holding several wooden swords. A wave of sour, alcoholic odors streamed from the room and clung to him. His hair sprang out like a springy bush after a storm. Accompanied by the ear-splitting grin on his face, anyone would think him to be a madman; or some lab promised a fetching stick. Though, he basically was. “Let’s go, buddy!”

I stepped back and out of the way as he slipped out and closed the door. I couldn’t help but ask, “What about you dying from the hangover?”

“Aaaah, pumpkin pies and algso fruit,” he waved it off, “That wasn’t anything much at all. Dwarven grog and stout… now that hits ya like a nail to the head. This stuff here packs a kick, but not like that. I’m fine.” He flexed his muscles and pat them happily. “See?”

“Of course… of course…” I turned and headed toward the stairs, still leading Ivy. This guy was as over-dramatic as they came. He and Chaos would make an amazing, if not utterly terrifying couple if it ever came to that. “I appreciate your help.”

“O’ course, good buddy! What are friends for? So, first things first. The most important part of the sword…” and as we walked out and to a secluded part of town, he babbled my ear off with the importance of a good blade; balance, metal, its edge, the strength, and so on. I had to really focus to understand him. He spoke a thousand miles a minute, with such enthusiasm that he had Ivy even skipping and bouncing whenever he got especially excited.

‘Am I the student… or the babysitter?’ I wondered as we walked.

When we reached the spot, I set Ditto and Ivy off to the side. Instantly the two began exploring a patch of clover.

I headed over to Macsen who thrust a sword into my hands with such force that I reeled back in surprise, my skin slightly complaining at the wood buffeting my skin. I looked at the sword, then at him.

“Try holding it,” He held out the sword clasped within his hand. “Like this.”

Nodding, I mimicked the hold. The wood sword stood three feet in length, roughly, and weighed only half a dozen pounds at most. Well made. Solid and balanced, as far as I could tell. The leather encasing the handle offered a tight, solid grip and my youthful prime offered made it feel as though a feather. My hand clenched the grip and turned the sword from side to side, feeling the shifting weight now attached to my hand.

It felt good. I quickly took a few rapid swipes through the air to test it. It hissed. The wood blurred as it zipped from the top of my shoulder to my opposite leg in a second’s fraction. If the blade had hit someone… it would have hurt.

I looked up a bit smugly. This was going to be easy.

“Terrible.” Macsen shook his head. My elation dropped, plunking into some ethereal well and drowning.

“Terrible? Why?” I took a few more swings to show him.

Macsen pointed at me and wagged his finger, “Zero balance or stance. You swing with the gracefulness of a drunken ogre whose got a thorn stuck in its bum. Your power is misaligned and you have no control. You aren’t swinging the sword, buddy… you’re tossing it and just not letting go.”

I wanted to retort. To bite back in defense. But, that was stupid. He was right. I had no idea what I was doing, so trying to deny that or justify that would just be a waste of time… and would constitute whining. I had whined to Chaos. No, Andy had whined to Chaos when things got rough. I was Chaon, and Chaon didn’t whine. He just did.

“Okay. Then from the basics up?” I asked.

Macsen smiled and nodded, “From the baby basics and up.”

By the time dinnertime rolled around, I was exhausted. Sweat clung to me like the heat that tore at my body. It threatened to cook me. It had already roasted my throat that was hoarse and pained, making every breath an unpleasant cacophony of sensations that shuddered through me. My muscles squealed at me as they too burned and threatened to spasm to death. However, I stood in a battle stance that Macsen actually approved of. Finally.

My right foot stood in front of the other, the two propped almost shoulder-length apart. Knees bent. One hand held the sword before me, the other held a small dagger close to my chest. Sweat rolled down my brow but I was motionless. Still as a statue. The only movement came from the rising and falling of every breath.

“Good,” Macsen gave me a thumb’s up as he walked around me, looking me over. “Remember, no unnecessary movement. No anxious shifting or swaying. Be stone. Be like a guy looking into a Medusa’s eyes. The stiller you are, the less your opponent can read. The less they can read, the less they can do.”

“Understood. No unnecessary movements,” I offered a curt nod and returned to the stillness.

“Nice on ya, buddy. Now, I’m going to swat your sword. Keep it absolutely, positively, stiff as a metal board used for cutters… yeah, just keep it still.” With one hand he swung his own sword into mine. The wood clacked. A violent force traveled through my arm as my hand lost its grip. My sword fell to the ground. My arm vibrated with pain.

I hissed, “…freakin… that hurts.” It was surprising. Movies made it look so easy. But, actually holding onto the sword when taking a blow was painful, and hard.

“Yeah. It’s wood, so it’s harder than actual metal.” He picked up my sword and offered it to me, “But that’s why it’s great for training. Makes you a lot tougher.”

I accepted it and sighed, “That wasn’t your serious strike, was it?”

He grinned and just shrugged, “Maaaaybe.”

“Dangit…” I shook my arm to try and regain feeling again. Salt flooded my mouth so I spit it to the side. I had thought myself strong… but only in the magical sense, and only when I had weaker opponents. If I was actually taking on someone who knew what they were doing… I would die. Probably faster than I could hope to respond. I looked at Macsen, “How strong are you, compared to the average… swordsman?”

He tossed his blade up and the pummel landed on his finger. He began balancing the sword while he thought aloud. “Mmmm… well, it depends. If we’re only talking humans here, then I’m above average for the typical adventurer. Way above average for most soldiers. But, if we’re talking about all races, then I’m about average to below average. I’m strong, but since I have to use runes for my magics, I’m a lot weaker than I should be. Since most other races have innate spells and abilities that they can use to help them… I got the short end of the dragon’s tail.”

I internally moaned in frustration. Being a human wasn’t the best thing, by a long shot from the sound of it.

“So a sword fight is really a magic fight with swords?”

“Yep. You could be a sword-master and still get your butt whooped if you don’t have any magic to accompany it. The best fighters are both masters of the blade and masters of their spells.”

“Of course… and, from your professional opinion, how long would it take for me to acquire the skills needed to actually survive a sword fight with you? Not win, per se, but just avoid dying right off?” I dreaded the answer, but I needed to know how much time it would take.

He smiled and offered, “Since you learn pretty quick, buddy, it’ll only take ya about three years. Two if you do some really hard training.”

“Three… three years…” I choked. That was far worse than I had hoped! I wouldn’t survive that long with Chaos causing all sorts of trouble for me! I didn’t have that kind of time! I flopped onto the grass and let out a hearty sigh. “That… is most unfortunate.”

Macsen sat down in front of me and gave me a thumb’s up. “Don’t worry about it, buddy. I can help teach ya. And until you’re ready, I can be the damage sponge… probably. You got this.”

I offered a little smile, “Thank you, Macsen.”

“Sure thing!” He grinned.

Internally, I was panicking. There was no way I could survive long enough to become that strong. Worse still, if Macsen really was just average… then even if I reached his level, someone of a higher skill could wipe the floor with me. I was doomed. There was no hope… my magic couldn’t make up for my lack of skill. Experience.

Ivy couldn’t fight. Ditto couldn’t. Macsen could, but there was only so much he could do. And I was useless outside of my spells that drained me quickly, were at times impossible to control, and caused me to faint.

‘Sounds like some dumb movie where the writer forgot to give the protagonist some type of godlike power…’ I looked down at the sweaty bandages hiding my Thalwesse mark. ‘Wait… I do have a godlike power.’

“What’s up, buddy?” Macsen asked, worried.

“Macsen, when a business wishes to penetrate new markets, they have several options,” I said. He cocked his head in confusion as I continued to think aloud. “First, they can expand. Acquire more allies to assist in their expansion. However, if the business is inefficient, that is only expanding the inefficiency. Eventually it will break.”

I held up two fingers, “The second option is evolution. Advancement. Acquire new technology or new resources in order to assist in the business’ step to the next level. However, this can be costly and time-consuming. When both these options are not viable, what is left?”

Macsen shrugged and said, “Ummm… finding a new business?”

“That is a choice, certainly, but not what I am thinking of.” I raised another finger, “Three, refine. Leverage. Grease the cogs and reshape it to be more efficient. It is the intelligent step, where the other two are the brute force options. The business analyzes itself and asks how to improve itself with what it currently has. A personal betterment or evolution…”

I stood and used my knife to knick my finger. With a sweep of the blood, the crimson droplets spraying on the ground, I attached my mind to nature as its master and friend. I quickly summoned a vine tentacle to my side. I instructed it to pick up the sword and wield it for me. I made it mimic my movements. When I sliced, it sliced.

“That’s pretty neat there, buddy… but that doesn’t help with your own sword style.”

“Yet…” I took the sword from the vine. I willed the greenish gray mass to wrap around my arm, loosely, nearly covering it but still leaving me room to move. It kissed my skin. Laced around my fingers and covered them. With a little bit of shifting, a smooth, green-ridged natural gauntlet covered my arm from shoulder to fingernails. It fit nicely and when I swung, the vine pulled like an exposed muscle, hastening my movement and strengthening it. I added a few extra vines here and there to create a more efficient and structurally sound mass, with different muscle groups within the vines surrounding harder, solid ones designed like bones.

Macsen clapped, “Nice one, buddy! I like it. Though…” he pointed toward where the vine was connected with the ground. “That might be a problem. And dispel would still shatter it. Unless you can… like ingrain it into your skin, like my Mana stones here, dispel is always going to be a problem.” He tapped the stones.

“Unless I can ingrain it… I can’t do that, but I can graft it in…” I said, earning another confused look from Macsen.

‘This is gonna hurt a little…’ I knew that the vine fed off my blood. Or at least that’s what seemed to happen. So, why couldn’t I just let it directly drink from me to sustain itself?

Bracing myself, I imagined tiny roots to grow within the gauntlet and dive into my veins. It obeyed. Tiny needles stabbed into me and caused me to jerk in the sudden pain from the dozen roots grasping. I breathed in deeply and calmed myself. It didn’t hurt. Not much.

“Now for you…” I willed the tentacle to disconnect from the ground and it obeyed, leaving me with an odd, grassy green gauntlet that pulsed and moved with my heartbeat. I offered a grin to Macsen, who was dully impressed. “And there, now it feeds directly from me.”

He nodded dumbly, “That’d… that’d make dispel rather useless…” He lightly poked the gauntlet and jerked his hand back when it vibrated from the touch.

Chuckling, I said, “Hopefully so. I will have to test that later.” I shifted into the combat stance. I held the sword effortlessly, the second being now cradling my arm increasing my strength exponentially. I was hopeful. This felt like it would work. I really hoped it did. “Now use all your strength, Macsen. I want to see if this will work.”

“You sure?” He asked.

“Absolutely.” I nodded.

Swallowing a bit, he prepared. A blink. A flash. I couldn’t explain the movement as it was too quick to see clearly. The sword was by his shoulder, and then next second I heard a loud cracking sound. Something tugged on my hand, trying to turn it, but the vine held me in place. It rippled and absorbed the shock.

Looking at the sword, I saw a stub had replaced it. A wooden stub cut cleanly in half.

Macsen and I both stared at it.

“You know… buddy, that was really good wood. Strong.”

Joy began bubbling inside me. “Yeah?”

“Yeah…” He looked at me with a growing smile, “You would have to be tougher than rock to hold it still enough for me to cut.”

“So then it worked, I guess?” I felt like jumping, dancing, or something like that.

“I guess so.” He said, his stupid grin matching the one sealed on my face. “You know what? That ability is stupid strong.”

I nodded and pat the gauntlet, “I know.”