Dexter

I was back in the Foaming Flagon, sitting at the bar, mug in my hand. The mug was half full, with a foaming golden-brown liquid swirling inside. The room was teeming with orcs in towel loincloths. I brought the mug to my lips as one of the orcs stood. He raised his mug and said in a booming voice. “To Dexter, the Breaker of Elves. When the world was on fire you stepped forth and showed us your true colors. May the odds be ever in your favor, and your foes tremble before you.” There was a resounding Hear! Hear! as the orc lowered the flagon to his lips. I smirked as the other orcs began to break out in chorus. A band materialized in a corner of the room and began playing. I recognized the song. I sang along with myself as the orcs went through the song.

“Let's see How Far We've Come.” I finally shouted, standing up to join the chorus of orcs. Their deep booming voices distorted the music as we wove through the lyrics. But I was determined to contribute to this sudden burst of song. I strolled through the bar as the song progressed, getting more and more wild with each step I took. The orcs gestured with their flagons in time with the song. As we neared the end a thought suddenly crossed my mind. “If you're almost done basking in self-admiration, there's something you should know.” The room flickered as I recognized the voice. “Don't falter, don't react, just keep singing.” I followed its advice as the room stabilized. We finally reached the end of the song and I brought the chalice of water to my lips. “We're being watched.” The thought said. I turned my eyes to try and see. “Don't look, you'll just alert him. Keep following the dream. I'll see what he's doing here. . . This is a dream?” The room began to flicker again. “Yes, but don't panic. He doesn't know we've noticed him yet. We need to keep up the charade.” The room stabilized again as I lowered the chalice. The orcs were staring at me, seeming to wait for me to say something.

One of the orcs spoke as I continued to smile and appear oblivious. “What's your story on the battle?” He asked. I faltered for a second. “Answer him. It'll give me some time.” I resigned to trust the voice. I began telling the bar about my experience. As I spoke a corner of the room flickered into a display of my memory. I watched as I spoke to Dubak, climbed the scaffolds, and gazed at the army marching towards Snakhagr. I moved through the battle as I started speaking on auto-pilot. The words seemed to fade as the memories play out in the corner of the bar. “Good, keep distracting him. Just got to find out who's the ugly duckling.” The orcs around me slowly froze in place, one by one, as the memories grew violent. Blood, screams, blades filled the corner of the room. “Not him. Not her. Definitely not him.”

With each one the thought dismissed another orc froze and faded to black and white. I watched as the room gradually faded from the bright colors of the orcs to the dull grey of ancient film. “Fascinating.” An orc suddenly said. I turned to him. Unlike the frozen orcs around him, he was gazing at the corner. He watched the fight with rapt attention. “A visual memory with typographical notes.” I turned to the corner. I saw the memory of me slamming the war hammer into the elf's head. “The hell is he talking about? There aren't any notations there. . . I'll show you.” Suddenly the imagery was accompanied by text boxes, each pointing to an aspect or item in the scene. I watched as one of them pointed to the chest plate the elf was wearing and tried to determine what it was made of.

Can't withstand a sword point. Metal quality poor. Unlikely to be simple iron. (Leroy's presence) Likely cheap/bad steel or pig-iron. (Fifty years, chance unlikely)

The text boxes appeared and disappeared as the items and aspects entered and exited the scene. It analyzed my own as well as the elves’ movements, determining what could be improved and what should be prepared against.

Too impatient: learn greater control during outbursts. Elf armor weighed down attacks: caution advised on stronger or lesser protected opponents.

I suddenly heard a throat clear and I turned back to the orc. He was staring at me intently. “If you don't mind me interrupting,” He said slowly. The scene froze, me mid-way through wrenching an elf in a deadly arch. “But how do you plan to keep your promise? Your vow to end Adympia?” I opened my mouth to speak, but the thought interrupted. “Don't answer that. He's our odd man out.” I stared at the orc as I tried to process this. The orc smirked as he saw me frozen there. “Surely you don't expect us to believe you haven't got a plan? An endeavor like that would take a degree of planning, especially with the meager resources of Gashur.” “Don't answer him, he's trying to find out our plan. . . He's one of those fucking elves isn't he?” I clenched my fist as I stared at him. As he talked a slit appear on his forehead. “A plan like yours must take months, if not a year, to come to fruition.” His voice changed, going from the deep boom of an orc to the odd slur an elf makes. As I watched the slit suddenly opened, revealing a single demonic blue eye. I was suddenly staring at an orc with three eyes, one of them oddly familiar. I grew angrier as I started making connections. “You'll need time to create your own outsider weapons. Something the orcs can use to fruitlessly attack Nione.” His face suddenly started morphing, growing dark and becoming featureless, like a black egg in place of a face. The only thing that remained was the single demonic eye. I gritted my teeth as I realized I was being deceived. His next words sent me over the edge. “If you wish for the orcs to help you fight Adympia, you'll have to tell me your plan. I want to fight.” I suddenly threw the chalice to the floor and it shattered into pieces. The pieces froze in place as I started charging the imposter. “No, DON'T!” The thought interrupted, but it was too late.

I quickly closed the gap between me and him as I bellowed. “YOU WANT ME TO TELL YOU MY PLAN??” I shouted. The figure's eye seemed to widen. The orc body faded and compressed into a pure black figure, significantly smaller than the orc form it used to be.

The figure’s body language screamed confusion.”Impossible.” It muttered softly.

I grabbed at his throat as I bellowed more. “I'LL TELL YOU MY PLAN! I'M GOING TO MARCH INTO NIONE IN TWO WEEKS TIME AND LAY WASTE TO THAT PATHETIC EXCUSE OF A CITY!! THEN I'LL MOVE ON TO THE NEXT CITY AND THE NEXT ONE AND THE NEXT ONE UNTIL ALL OF ADYMPIA IS A SMOULDERING HUSK!! OH HO, YOU'LL BE FIGHTING ALRIGHT, JUST NOT ON MY SIDE!! I'LL KILL EVERY SINGLE ELF THAT STANDS IN MY WAY, INCLUDING YOU!!” “You idiot, now we can't find out who he is.” I turned to the side. “SHUT THE FUCK UP, YOU BITCH. I HAVE HIM NOW, AND I DON'T NEED HELP FROM YOU!” I felt an internal facepalm. “It's a dream, you idiot. He can just do-” The black figure suddenly dissolved into a cloud of smoke and quickly slipped through my fingers. The cloud began floating away from me as the eye kept itself fixed on me. “THAT.” “Not Helping,” I shouted. I started chasing the cloud. I could still see the featureless mask within the cloud with its demonic eye staring at me. The cloud tried to flee through a group of frozen orcs, but they dissipated as I made contact. “GET THE FUCK BACK HERE YOU COWARD!” I shouted. “He's not running you idiot, not yet at least” “Then what the fuck is he doing?” I asked out loud. “He's observing us, gauging how we're reacting.” I suddenly pounced forward, trying to grab the cloud. “Shut Up, I Don't Need Your Input!” I shouted as I reached out. The cloud merely dodged my desperate fingers.

The mask seemed to tilt in the mist as its eye continued to study me. “Interesting.” It muttered. “He seems to be having a conversation with himself. And his emotional state just performed a complete reversal. . . Perhaps the spell wasn't so useless.”

I continued to chase the cloud as we wove through the bar. “YOUR SPELL IS FUCKING BULLSHIT!” I shouted. “I'M STILL HERE, AND I'M COMING FOR YOUR ASS!”

The cloud flickered slightly. “Impossible.” It said again. “He shouldn't be able to read my mind. . . . I'll need to consult the tomes.” It began retreating towards the door.

I charged after it as more orcs dissipated. “I'M NOT DONE WITH YOU YET!” I shouted angrily. The rest of the orcs dissolved as I sprinted after the cloud. It retreated through the doorway and turned out of my sight. I sprinted through the door and turned after the cloud, expecting it to be a short way down the hall. Instead, I saw a familiar demonic door, with a single red eye staring at me. “YOU'RE NOT GETTING AWAY THAT EASILY!” I shouted. I charged the door and began trying to kick it down. But it was like kicking a stone, each impact reverberating up my leg and into my spine. I wasn’t to be perturbed and continued my assault. “Stop, Stop, He's GONE” “Shut up, Shut Up, SHUT UP” I shouted. I was angry, angry beyond compare. Something had invaded me and was now cowering behind a door. I suddenly changed tactics. I pointed my hands, fingers preparing to stab, at the door. I shoved them into the wall surrounding the door and grabbed hold. I pulled with all my might and the door came ripping from the wall. I turned to gaze at what was beyond the door, but there was nothing. Instead, I saw a bare stretch of wall. I turned to the door in my hand as I realized I grabbed the frame as well as the door. The eye seemed to stare at me in shock.

I heard the elf's voice ring through my dream again. “Impossible,” I said. “That's Just Not Possible.”

I let out a growl as I glared at the door. A rage burned within me. A rage I had never felt before. “I'LL SHOW YOU WHAT'S NOT POSSIBLE!” I shouted. I blinked and suddenly I wasn't in a hallway anymore. I was on the battlefield. Bodies and blood littered the streets. Blades were sticking from corpses and organs sat separated from their owners. The sky was blood red and a large dark figure on the horizon was gazing at me from the west. My own hands were covered in blood as I scowled angrily at the door. “HERE'S WHAT'S NOT POSSIBLE!” I shouted. I slammed the bottom of the door into the ground. The charred wood splintered slightly. I brought the door up and slammed it back down again and again. The blackened wood gradually split. I suddenly turned and began slamming the side of the door into a nearby building. With each impact, the door cracked more and more. I suddenly turned and began charging forward, the door held out in front of me.

The elf's voice spoke again. “What are you hoping to accompli-” But it was interrupted as we slammed into a pole and it punched through the door. The door was now close to breaking apart. Only a few inches of wood were keeping it from splitting completely.

I let go of the door and reach down for a discarded war hammer. “EAT SHIT!” I shouted, bringing the Warhammer up and slamming it down on top of the door. The door finally splintered enough and blew apart into three pieces. I growled and pounced after one of them. “FUCK YOU!” I shouted, bringing the hammer slamming onto the piece. It splintered and blew apart, scattering the fragments in all directions. I trudged over to another piece. “FUCK YOUR CITY!” I shouted, slamming the hammer down onto it. It too blew apart as I made contact. I moved swiftly to the final piece, the one that held the eye. I raised the hammer up. “AND FUCK YOUR KINGDOM!” I shouted, driving the hammer straight into the eye. The door let out a cry as I made contact. The wood glowed briefly then blew apart. I took a step back as I finally became aware of my pounding heart. I let out a deep bellowing roar as rage continued to wash over me. I took a few breaths as my heart continued to burn. “And what have you accomplished?” The thought asked. “We've no idea how he got in, or even who he is. All that we've done is tell him we can detect his clumsy intrusions.” “Fuck you,” I muttered angrily. “I destroyed his means of entrance. He can't bother us.” “Except that's not his only entrance. If you haven't noticed, that eye was red, the last door we saw didn't have a red eye.” I looked down at the splinters. They lay inert as rage continued to course through my veins. “I'll handle them if I see any more,” I growled. “And how are you going to handle that?” The thought asked. “Handle what?” I retorted angrily, turning in the spot. A resounding boooom suddenly echoed through the battlefield and I turned towards the source. The dark figure was now accompanied by a black circle that was rapidly getting larger. I heard a gradually increasing zzzzzvvvvvvvveeeeeeeerrrrr sound fill the air. “Shit,” I muttered.

I sat bolt upright in my hammock, heart pounding in my ears as the dream quickly faded. I ran my fingers through my hair as I took deep breaths. “Calm down, it was just a dream,” I assured myself. “A dream that had dark implications, but a dream nonetheless.” I breathed hard as my heart rate finally slowed. I lowered my hand and glanced at my watch, 5:45. “Not getting back to sleep after that.” I thought. I looked down at the table that held the spellbook. “Might as well get back to it. . . Just so long as we don't start experiencing sleep deprivation.” I thought as I dropped down from my hammock. “The plural is really starting to get annoying.” I donned my glasses as I stretched my various muscles. “Need to find a solution soon.”

I spent the next hour and a half working on Levitate. I managed to work the spell down to a single step. This time I kept the Illuminate orb down low so as not to disturb Amelia. I read through the entry as a textbook vibrated slightly next to me as if suspended by rubbery tethers.“Nothing on why this happens. . . one mana for ten pounds over a minute. Not very useful in a combat situation. It'd take at least ten mana to lift someone, assuming they were severely underfed and underequipped.” I rubbed the bleariness out of my eyes as I tried to think. “After I learn the defensive spells, I'll need to see just how offensive the orc's offensive spells are. . . After we learn how to heal right? We don't want another Shel to happen. . . Of course, of course, don't want that to happen again. But again with the plural? It's singular, one person, me, myself and I. . . I'm aware of that, we've been over this. It's just that you always seem to forget the perspective of the situation. You're more concerned with good standings with the orcs than heading out and destroying Adympia.” I let out a sigh. “Because we can't just march into Adympia and start taking cities,” I muttered. “We need a plan, resources. This isn't something where we can just wing it. Having the orcs on our side is one step closer to our end goal.” “Well, it's not fast enough.” The thought retorted. “You always want to take a slow way. I'm tired of having to bend to your will. You said it yourself, logic isn't going to get us out of this.”

I let out another sigh. “The situation was completely different,” I whispered. “We had just enough strength to make it through the battle, especially after what happened to Shel. But we don't have the strength to take on an entire empire, not by ourselves.” “You underestimate how far my rage can carry me. You've always underestimated my emotions.” I scoffed. “Because emotions have no purpose without a plan. Without me, you'd run headlong into a spear or sword or something. Don't forget, I was the one that kept track of the people you were fighting.” “And a fat lot of good that did. Three stab wounds and several broken bones. You call that a warning?” “No one told you to punch the masks.” I hissed. The book started to vibrate faster. “And in case you don't remember, you were starting to run on fumes when the lacerations occurred. Not much you can do when it takes us half a second to react.” I felt the anger rising within me. “If you'd just let me train in peace I can grow past that.” I shook my head. “You're too hot-headed.” I retorted. “You'll just waste all your energy in the first swing. You're an idiot who never thinks past the next five minutes.” The anger continued to bubble. The book started to shake violently. I remained stone-faced. “Don't call me an idiot.” The thought growled. “In case you've forgotten, I'm the one that got us through the battle.” “Oh yes,” I whispered coldly. “I so looked forward to that knife in our back. Face it, you're just an immature child that refuses to learn from his mistakes.” “Shut up.” “Make me,” I growled. I suddenly heard a clatter and I turned to the source.

Amelia

I stirred slightly. A noise penetrated my slumber as the blankets slipped slightly. “Blankets? I don't remember going to bed.” I opened my eyes slowly as I looked around. I was in the bed, blanket insulating me from the outside world. My hair was still in a ponytail from yesterday, I usually take it out to sleep. “I could've sworn I was practicing Levitate. I guess that's what happens when you overdraw from stamina.” I suddenly became aware of a voice floating from the other side of the car. I sat up as I strained to hear. “Because emotions have no purpose without a plan. Without me, you'd run headlong into a spear or sword or something. Don't forget, I was the one that kept track of the people you were fighting.” I slowly slipped the covers off and lowered my feet to the floor. The cool air was a sharp contrast to the warmth under the blanket. “No one told you to punch the masks. And in case you don't remember, you were starting to run on fumes when the lacerations occurred. Not much you can do when it takes us half a second to react.” I stood up and slowly crept around the car. “You're too hot-headed. You'll just waste all your energy in the first swing. You're an idiot who never thinks past the next five minutes.” I peeked around the corner of the car as the voice paused. I saw Dexter staring forward, seeming unfocused on anything. There was a softly glowing orb hovering a few inches above the table. A book vibrated violently next to him. “Oh yes,” He suddenly said sarcastically. “I so looked forward to that knife in our back. Face it, you're just an immature child that refuses to learn from his mistakes.” He paused, then leaned forward slightly. “Make me.” He growled. I took a hesitant step forward. I felt my knee tap something and I heard a clatter at my feet. I looked down and saw a box of books sitting sideways on the ground, contents spilling out onto the floor. I look up and saw Dexter staring wide-eyed at me. He seemed to relax as he saw me and what had created the noise. I noticed the textbook slow its vibrations.

I covered my mouth in surprise. “Sorry,” I whispered. “I didn't mean to startle you.”

Dexter let out a sigh. “It's okay, I didn't mean to wake you again.” He replied. He turned back to the book as he repositioned the orb higher. “Did you sleep well?” He asked.

I knelt to put the books back as I replied. “About as well as one would expect. I didn't realize just how draining drawing from the stamina pool is.”

Dexter looked back at me curiously. “You drew from your stamina pool?” He asked. I nodded. “What was it like?”

I shrugged guiltily. “It felt draining,” I replied. “like an hour or two had passed as opposed to two minutes. I guess the drain can be mental as well as physical.”

Dexter nodded as he turned back to the book. “Sounds about right.” He said. “Maybe you need to specify which aspects of your stamina to draw from.”

I nodded, recalling my lessons on stamina pools. “Brokil mentioned that could happen if I did it incorrectly,” I explained. Dexter said nothing as he read through the page. I walked slowly over to him. “Do you want to talk?” I asked cautiously.

Dexter paused as he considered my question. “I guess so.” He finally replied. I stopped at his side as I looked down at the book. “Levitate, at least he's not trying to learn a dangerous spell yet.”

I looked up at him as he continued to read. “Are you doing alright?” I asked him. “You seem pretty agitated.”

Dexter didn't answer for a minute. “I'm okay.” He finally replied. “Talking just helps to . . . center myself, get my priorities straightened out.” I stared at him as he tried to explain himself. His face didn't betray any emotions. I couldn't see any evidence of tears. “He seems . . . detached.”

I placed my hand on his as I tried to console him. “Are you still thinking about Shel?” I asked gently. Again, Dexter paused.

He finally sighed as he looked down. “I'm still angry about her. . . And I still intend to keep my promise, no one else.” I stared at him. “Of course, what other answers would he give?”

I leaned my head on his arm as I gently stroked his hand. “I'm sure you will,” I said softly. “but don't do anything rash.”

Dexter nodded solemnly. “Everything will be meticulously planned out.” He promised. “I'll consider every variable and every possibility.” I stared off as I stood there, comforting him. “Please let that be the truth.”

This time, Brokil was the first to arrive. He carried his usual bag into the barn and immediately turned to us. “I have completed the method to measure your mana pools.” He cried happily. “It shall take me another day to prepare the device, but after that, I shall be able to measure just how much mana you have.” He set the bag down on the table and pulled out a book. “For now, let us move on to spells that can be useful in combat.” He turned to Dexter directly. “I shall instruct you on how to draw from your stamina pool in due time. Because of your interest in defense, we shall begin with a barrier spell.” Dexter nodded affirmatively. Brokil opened the book and turned to a page. He set the book down and motioned us over to it as he because explaining. “There are two types of attack spells; energy spells and physical spells. There are barrier spells that specialize against each of them, but for now, you can learn this one. It is able to protect against both. It is weaker than most, but it shall block most basic spells.” I nodded as I read the entry. It showed an illustration of a barrier in front of a green stick figure. I began devoting the words and gestures to memory. Brokil suddenly spoke and I looked up. “Work on just creating the barrier first. We shall demonstrate its strength once you are experienced with it.” I nodded as I turned back to the book and began studying. It seemed pretty simple for its purpose. Given the time it took for us to learn basic light, I expected this to be more complicated. Instead, it seemed like it wouldn’t take much longer to learn.

I spent an hour learning the spell, memorizing the steps of the gestures and words like before. I finally took a step back and began casting. When I finished a blue barrier flickered into existence in front of me. It looked like a sci-fi forcefield you'd expect to see on a spaceship, smooth and elliptical. Brokil nodded as he looked at the field. “Excellent.” He said. “A nice strong barrier,”

I smirked as Dexter glanced up at it. “Good job.” He said flatly. I let go of the spell and began recasting, practicing the incantation. After another minute or two Dexter took a step back and started his own attempt. When he was done another blue barrier popped into existence in front of him. He growled as he noticed the differences. The edges weren't neat and smooth, more jagged and rough. The surface wasn't flat and still. Rather, it was roiling and jagged, like a mountain range that was constantly changing.

Brokil examined the field before turning to Dexter. “Concentrate,” Brokil encouraged. “It should look like Amelia's.” I turned to Dexter as I waited for a possible outburst, but there wasn't any. Instead Dexter let out a calming sigh as he stared at his barrier. He suddenly raised his hand and slowly clenched his fist. The barrier gradually flattened out, it's edges starting to smooth into a surface like mine. Brokil nodded as he watched. “Excellent.” He said again. “Precisely the outcome you desire.” Dexter let out a breath and dropped his hand. His barrier held its shape. Brokil clapped briefly as he examined the barrier. “Marvelous.” He exclaimed. Continue practicing, you might have found some control over your instability,” Dexter said nothing as his barrier dissipated and he began casting again.

We practiced like this for another hour. I eventually felt confident enough to have Brokil test its strength. We moved outside to practice. “Safer to do this in an open area,” Brokil explained. I cast the spell as Brokil stood in front of me. Dexter stood next to the door as he watched us. A small flame appeared in his hand as the barrier materialized between us. “This is a low-level spell. If it hits, at most it shall hurt for a moment. However, the damage would not be permanent, not with my healing spells.” I nodded as I prepared myself. Brokil brought his arm back, preparing to throw. “Ready?” He asked. I nodded again. Brokil waited for a moment the swiftly brought his arm forward and threw the spell. A ball of flame, disproportionate to the one in his hand, started hurtling towards me. My eyes went wide as a moment of panic ran through me. The ball slammed into the barrier and dissipated. The sensation that ran through was beyond strange; an unnerving chill that permeated my skull. I was like something had attacked my brain. I maintained concentration on the spell and the barrier held. I took a deep breath as I tried to calm down.

Dexter suddenly spoke up, summarizing my thoughts. “Holy shit.” He remarked. “That was bigger than expected.”

Brokil nodded affirmatively. “Combat spells, in their preparatory state, do not do themselves justice.” He explained. “You shall learn more once you begin practicing them.”

Another voice suddenly chimed in. “I hope you are not attempting to kill them.” It said. I turned to the source. Bulak was walking up the hill. “Because Dexter still has a rite to attempt.”

Brokil waved a greeting her way. “Worry not, I am merely testing their defensive abilities.” He replied. “It is better to know what it is like when you are safe than to learn on the battlefield.”

Bulak nodded at his words. “I have other news.” She said. We all turned to her. Her face held a solemn expression. “The funeral has been arranged. It shall be on Feastday, with the procession leading down to Lake Diroz.” I looked down slightly as I took in her words. “Right, they'd have to handle the dead.” I glanced at Dexter. His face betrayed no emotions, but he nodded grimly. “The procession shall begin in the Great Hall shortly before midday.” Bulak continued. I nodded again.

Dexter took a step forward. “Thank you for telling us, but if I might ask, what and when is Feastday?” I looked up as I realized his question. “Do they have a different name for the days of the week?”

Bulak stared curiously at Dexter. “It is three days hence.” She replied. “Do you not have a Feastday?” She asked.

Dexter shook his head. “If that's a day of the week, then no.” He replied flatly. “We don't have one called Feastday.” Bulak continued to stare at him, confused. Dexter continued in the hopes of clarifying the matter. “What do you guys call the days of the week?” He asked.

Bulak seemed to consider for a minute. “In order,” She finally replied. “Motday, then Touday, then Woodsday, Thosday, Freeday, Sayday, and finally Feastday. Today is Thosday.”

Dexter nodded as he listened. “Similar names, but still distinctive.” He said flatly, glancing at his watch. “Thanks again, should we go ahead and get started?”

Bulak raised an eyebrow at him, then shrugged. “Since you are so eager, we might as well.” She turned to me as she tossed a piece of animal skin at me. I caught and examined it. It was made from a dark-haired animal, tailored similar to a short sleeve tunic, long enough to stop just above my navel. I looked up at Bulak questioningly. “That is the undershirt you requested.” She explained. I nodded as I felt the thin fur covering the skin.

Dexter turned to Brokil. “I'll hold you to that Stamina thing.” He said, pointing at Brokil.

Brokil nodded as he motioned for me to follow him a short way off. “We shall practice your barrier over here.” He said. “We do not wish to interrupt their training.” I nodded at the logic, glancing back. I watched as Bulak handed Dexter a practice sword and shield and began instructing him. “I just hope he's at least being honest with his emotions.”

I spent six hours practicing and testing the barrier spell. I got more confident as I gradually whittled down the steps I needed to cast the spell. I got to see a few more basic combat spells, including Lightning, Water Jet, and Mudball, all of which were exactly what they sounded like. Each of them bounced harmlessly off my barrier. After a while, Brokil challenged me to cast the barrier as he cast his spell. “I shall only cast Mudball for this but try your best to block it.” I nodded, widening my stance slightly as I prepared myself again. Brokil stood there for a moment then suddenly cast the spell, hurtling the ball of mud at me. I tried to cast the spell as quickly as I could but was half a second too late. The barrier materialized just as the mudball passed by and nailed me in the face. I slowly wiped the mud off as I let the barrier dematerialize. I suddenly heard a short laugh as I cleared the soil from my vision.

I turned to see Dexter smiling at me from behind Bulak. “I know that's eventually going to happen to me, but that was hilarious to watch. I am so glad we took a break.” He chuckled.

I smirked as I realized that was the first time in a while I'd seen him smile. “I hope you're happy,” I said, mockingly with a faceful of dirt. “cause it's your clothes that get dirty around here.”

Dexter shrugged at the notion. “You're more than welcome to help me clean them once I decide on a method.” He retorted cheerily. “Water Jet definitely seems like a potential method. I'll need to eventually learn that one.” I nodded as I turned back to Brokil.

He had his eyebrow raised at me. “You outsiders are very open about sharing clothes.” He said cautiously.

I shrugged. “Not necessarily,” I countered. “I doubt Dexter would do the same if the roles were reversed. At most he'd wear a single pair of sweatpants and the same tunic he was given. Besides, I doubt someone his size would find any of my clothes comfortable. I, on the other hand, find his cotton T-shirts very comfortable if a bit lacking in terms of support.”

Brokil continued to stare at me. “Cotton?” He asked. “What is cotton?” It was my turn to stare at him. “Cotton wasn't widely available until recently. They don't even seem to have wool.”

I pinched the shirt I was wearing and showed the fabric to him. “It's the fiber used to make the clothes,” I explained. “Cotton is grown from a certain plant. It grows, gets harvested, then refined until it gets woven into a fabric.” I held up a part of the shirt as I explained. “From there it's a matter of cutting and sewing the fabric into clothes.”

Brokil gave me a curious look. “Is that how all your clothes are created?” He asked.

I tilted my hand back and forth at the question. “Partially. If you mean all our clothes are made from cotton, no. We have other materials and even some synthetic ones that work just as well. Although, the synthetic one isn't as widespread at the moment. If you mean all of our clothes are woven, then yes. Other than, ironically, some of the synthetic materials.”

Brokil’s brow furrowed at the idea. “Are these woven fabrics that comfortable?” He asked.

I nodded. “It's not just that,” I explained. “There's an advantage to not having to kill another animal for more material.” I gestured at the shawl. “The animal skins are quick, easy and durable if treated right, but cost more resources in the long run. If you wanted more clothes, you'd have to kill another animal. The woven material just cost the source's continued existence. In terms of wool, it's the sheep. For cotton, it's the plant. For silk, it's the survival of the silkworm.” I began staring off as I realized the missing potential. “If I can get figure out how to mass-produce the fabrics, that would cut into the cost of living tremendously. The animal skins could be put to better use. . . and on the list that goes.” I turned back to Brokil as I realized he was still staring at me. “I might be able to bring the fabrics to the orcs,” I probed gently. “but it'll take some time.”

Brokil considered for a moment, then shrugged. “It makes no difference to me. If you hold as high regard to this material as you claim, then perhaps the orcs will benefit from it. However, for now, I think we are content with our shawls.”

I nodded as I stared off again and started planning. “You might not be when you can see just how great the fabric is. It's just a matter of creating it.” “If I want wool, I'll need to breed sheep. The cotton will need the right strain of plants. Silk is out of the question right now. . I can do that when I have time, for right now let's just practice magic. . . Although that might be able to help me mass produce. . It's on the list.” I turned back to Brokil as I prepared myself again. “Let's get back to it,” I encouraged. Brokil nodded as he suddenly cast the spell again.

I got hit three more times before Dexter decided he was done working on combat. My front was caked in dried dirt as he walked over. “I think my muscles have taken as much as they could.” He remarked. “It's time for me to learn a bit more about my stamina pool.”

Brokil nodded as I let my barrier dissipate. “We can move back inside for this.” He stated. Dexter nodded as he began walking back towards the barn. I turned to Bulak as I tried to wipe as much dirt off as possible.

She waved me over with the battleaxe in her hand. “Shall we continue your training?” She asked.

I nodded as I spat a bit of dirt out. “Give me a minute to put that undershirt on,” I replied, holding up a finger. I picked it up off the ground as I turned my back to her. “How was Dexter today?” I asked, lifting my shirt to put the animal skin on.

I heard Bulak shuffle slightly. “He is much more receptive of my advice.” She replied. “I do not know what you said to him last night, but it seems to have motivated him to improve.” There was a pause as I donned the undershirt. The animal skin weighed significantly more than the T-shirt. It pressed into my front, but I could tell it would prevent my chest from flopping uncomfortably in front of me.

I adjusted the undershirt as I felt a sense of hesitation in Bulak. “I'm sensing a ‘but',” I remarked, pulling the T-shirt on over the undershirt.

I turned back to Bulak as she stared off guiltily. “He does not seem as devoted to it.” She finally admitted. “It is as if he has become detached. He still learns from my advice, but his actions seem . . . unnatural.”

I nodded as I stretched, preparing for the inevitable sparring session. “I noticed that too,” I remarked. “but I don't think what I said changed his attitude. It seems more like he's decided to take another approach. Before he was emotionally driven, but now it's like he's completely detached from them.”

Bulak nodded as she considered my words. “Perhaps you should speak to him again, try and figure out what is going through his mind.”

I nodded as I glanced at the barn. “I'll try, but it's up to him to open up,” I replied. “I just hope he's not trying to hide anything from me.”

Bulak nodded as she motioned me over again. “We can concern yourself with Dexter later. For now, I shall teach you soft points on the body.” I nodded as Bulak began her lesson.

We spent three more hours outside. I learned a bit more about the body as Bulak instructed me on the various bodily weak points. We didn't spar this time, but she did focus heavily on the ways to target the weak points. “This knowledge shall help you greatly if you ever find yourself without magic.” She said as she pressed one of the weak points on my body.

I nodded as I winced at the pain and took note of the location. “If Dexter is going to move forward with his plan, I might end up encountering a situation like that,” I remarked. I paused as I considered something. “Thank you for helping us. I know we sometimes rub you the wrong way, but we both appreciate what you've done for us.” Bulak paused as she took in my words.

She stood up to her full height as she stared at me. She hesitated for a minute before speaking. “Not many orcs believe this,” She began. “But despite my experience, I believe you outsiders have an ability for compassion. After what happened with Him, I thought I could predict Dexter's next actions, but he goes against my judgment every time. He became enraged when I threatened to send you to the mines. He threatened to escape and go after an army if my father turned you over. He slaughtered dozens of elves over the life of a single orc. Every time, he went against everything I learned from Him, and showed how much he cares about the lives of those around him, even if they weren't part of his family. . . . And I think my people could benefit greatly by learning from him.”

I smiled and nodded as I took in her words. “Dexter seems passionate about a lot of things,” I replied. “Sometimes that passion seems to get in his own way, but deep down I think he cares about the people around him and wants to see their lives improve. . . . So long as you're not being a blatant asshole.” I finished, smirking. Bulak nodded as she stared off. I followed her gaze as I let recent events play out in my mind. “So, where is that passion now? Did he have an epiphany about something? Is this just how he grieves? Hopefully, he’ll be able to find closure soon.”

Bulak's voice interrupted my train of thought. “I hope you are correct.” She remarked. I turned to her. She continued to stare off with a solemn expression as she spoke. “I hope your notions of him are not misplaced. I do not wish for another one of Him plotting against the orcs.” My face went slack as I realized what she meant. She'd gone through this before. He had played with her emotions, tricking her into trusting him and then betraying her.

I put my hand on her shoulder as I tried to comfort her. “Dexter is nothing like that,” I assured her. “He's devoted himself to this. He lost someone he cares about. . He's going to see this through to the end.” Bulak thought for a moment and nodded as she took in my words. “I just hope he's able to finish grieving. People can become unstable if they can't move on.”

Bulak turned to me as she cleared her throat. “Enough about my concerns.” She said flatly. “Let us return to your lessons.” I nodded as Bulak continued to explain the fighting techniques.