Suddenly the blows stopped and the weight of the man was gone. As the blackness receded Niall remain curled up. It was only when he was sure that the beating was over that he cautiously moved his arms away and raised his head.

A crowd had gathered, but no one seemed minded to intervene. There were wary looks on the faces of the bystanders, particularly as they glanced towards the man that had attacked Niall.

The man himself was sprawled at the foot of a tree on one side of the square. There was a bruise, rapidly reddening along one arm and blood now poured from a cut on his scalp. He jumped to his feet, and immediately staggered. With a furious look on his face, he shook his head and glared around at the crowd. “Who did that?”

Devon moved between the man and Niall. “That would be me, Stefan.”

The man, Stefan, stepped forward. In one fluid movement he scooped his sword up from the ground and ran towards Devon. It was clear from the way that he moved that Stefan knew how to wield the weapon. Niall watched in horror. In his mind was the memory of Devon’s knife cutting into his palm. While the Smith was able to heal a cut from a knife, an injury from a sword was an entirely different matter.

Before Niall could call out a warning, Stefan swung his sword towards Devon. Without looking, his eyes trained on Stefan’s face, Devon caught the blade with one hand. Niall let out a gasp that died in his throat. The edge of the sword did nothing against Devon’s skin. Stefan struggled with both hands to remove it but Devon’s hand did not budge. Then, with a small, almost contemptuous, gesture, Devon pulled the sword away from Stefan.

“You know Stefan, I told you when you asked me that you didn’t have the temperament to be blacksmith. I thought that joining the army would calm you down. Teach you some restraint. But it doesn’t look like that happened. You have a reputation in this town, but I’m afraid that your reputation cuts no ice with me.”

While Devon spoke, his hands had been busy. He threw the sword at Stefan’s feet. It was bent in two. “I’m a decent Smith, but it pains me to inform you that there’s nothing that I can do for your sword. It looks ruined to me. You should have taken better care of it.”

Stefan picked up the ruined sword and looked at it helplessly. “Wait until my father hears about this.”

“Good point,” said Devon. “Come on then.”

Devon grabbed Stefan by the arm and started to drag him across the town square. Stefan squirmed but Devon’s iron grip did not waver. Without knowing what else to do, Niall dragged himself to his feet and trailed after them. By this time a crowd had gathered and, as the three men headed across the square, many of them followed.

Devon did not lead them far. He stopped outside the inn that stood prominently on the far side of the square. An older man, clean-shaven with blond hair, sat drinking ale with a couple of others at an outdoor table. He stood as they approached. “Now then, Devon. What’s all this?”

Devon flung Stefan towards the man. “Your son has something that he wants to say to you, Lars. I thought I would make sure that he did not get lost on the way.”

Lars looked at Stefan who was rubbing his arm where Devon had gripped it. “Stefan-lad. What’s the bother?”

Stefan looked at the ground, the bully from earlier reduced to a child. “Nothing, Father.”

“Are you certain?” Devon asked. “You seemed sure earlier. Don’t want to say anything about attacking an unarmed man with a sword? This is your chance.”

Stefan stayed silent.

“In which case,” Devon said. “You should probably get someone to fix your weapon. Can’t use something like that in the army.”

Lars stared at the crumpled sword that Stefan still clutched in his hands for a long moment. A grim look spread across his face. “Attacking an unarmed man with a sword? And by all markers it seems you even lost. It looks like you and I need to have a talk ourselves.” He looked over at Devon “If it’s acceptable to you Devon, I will deal with this. Whatever happened I can assure you that this nonsense will go no further.” With that, the father and son left.

The fun over, the crowd dispersed. Devon and Niall walked back to their sharpening stall. Niall moved slowly. The beating he had taken racked every part of his body with aches.

“I’m sorry.” Niall said. “I don’t know what that was all about. All I did was say that I didn’t know how to sharpen his sword.”

“Nothing to apologise for. It wasn’t your fault.” Devon said. “Do you want me to heal you up?”

Niall gave a start as he realised that he could fix his own hurts. Although he knew how to heal, it was not yet instinctive. He concentrated and felt a healing warmth run though him as the pain began to ease. The cuts and bruises slowly disappeared but his side still troubled him. He stopped walking for a moment and concentrated harder. Something inside him moved and, with a gentle pop, he felt a rib ease back into place. He exhaled with relief.

“No, I’ve done it. It’s good practice. But why did that guy - Stefan was it? - have such a problem with me?”

Devon sighed. “A few years back he wanted to apprentice with me. Back then I just took him on. No three-month trial, like I’m doing with you. Without going into detail, let’s just say that it didn’t work out. I gave him back the apprentice fee that his family had paid and I even paid him full journeyman wages for the two months that he had been apprenticing with me. Wanted to avoid any hard feelings, like.

“He didn’t take the rejection well and turned into an angry young man. Or, an angrier young man I suppose I should say. Eventually he joined the army.

Alana told me that he was back on leave. I was hoping to clear the air with him while he was here. Get rid of any bad blood. I shouldn’t have left you alone with him.” Devon shook his head. “Never thought he’d do anything like this though.”

The rest of the day passed without incident but with a steady flow of customers. As he worked, Niall replayed the incident in his head. It had destroyed the gentle contentment that he had felt while working that morning. He realised that he had become complacent in the secure bubble that was Devon and Alana’s smallholding.

This was not a safe world. Just like every other time he had encountered people outside of their home, this experience had, yet again, ended in violence. Without Devon’s intervention it could have been a lot worse than just a few cuts and a broken rib.

Late afternoon, the two of them packed up and headed back home. Sat in a chair by the fire that evening Niall slumped and stared into the flames. The cheerful flickers and crackles were at odds with his mood. If he wanted to get back to earth, he would need to go out into that dangerous world. However, he felt entirely unprepared to be able to deal with it.

“Is Niall feeling sorry for himself?” Pobble said in Niall’s head.

“I was just beaten up because I got the wrong job. I think that I have the right to feel a little put out.”

“Why does Niall not just get some levels and fix it?”

“Just get some levels? It’s not as easy as that.”

“Yes, it is. Look at your Testimony.”

Niall called it up

TESTIMONY: Niall Vendra

ABILITIES

Strength: 11

Endurance: 11

Agility: 5

Will: 8

Perception: 4

CLASSES:

Junior Smallholder 1

Apprentice Blacksmith 1: +2 Strength, +2 Endurance. You have the skills to be able to assist a Blacksmith. You are a very clever boy.

- Fire management 1

- Sharpening 1

- Tool maintenance 1

- Forge care 1

- Horse care 1

Acolyte Healer 1: +3 Will, +1 Perception. You can heal yourself of many day-to-day injuries. No more boo boos for you!

- Minor Healing: 4

UNALLOCATED SKILLS:

- Flow 3

- Steelmind 12

- Telepathy 1

“Hold on. Where have all the skills gone for my Smallholder class? Have I lost them?”

“No. There were no changes to that so I just reorganised it so that Niall can focus on the important stuff. Niall can just focus on any of the classes to see the skills beneath them. In fact, I can set it up however Niall likes. But I feel like, as always, stupid Niall is focussing on the wrong thing. Niall has two new classes.”

“What?” Niall sat up and looked at his Testimony more closely. “You’re right. The Apprentice Blacksmith makes sense I guess. I just needed to learn how to sharpen. But how did I get a Healer class?”

“Well, obviously, that was coming eventually. Most people have one or two levels as an Acolyte Healer. The small nicks and burns Niall had to heal in the forge clearing were not quite enough to get him the Acolyte Healer class by themselves. But, because Niall healed himself after the fight, it was enough to push him over the edge.”

“But this is great. You’re right. If I can just get more classes and levels then people won’t be able to push me around like that.”

“Just remember it is easier to get any class and add levels to it in the early stages. Also, Niall has to keep using them if he does not want to lose them. Niall is lazy though so Pobble does not have much hope.”

“Got it. But at least I’ve got a way forward. It’s just a matter of time before I can get out there safely to find a way home and save my family.”

And so, with a renewed sense of purpose, Niall’s days fell into a pattern. His jobs around the smallholding first thing every morning, then late mornings and the afternoons helping Devon out in the forge.

To his surprise, given his first experience, the fortnightly trip into town on market day with Devon soon became one of his highlights. Although there was nothing stopping him walking in at other times, the sleepy town transformed when it was filled with people and Niall preferred the relative anonymity of the crowds.

Fortunately, there was no more sign of Stefan when they went in. Niall cautiously asked after him the first time they went back and found out that he had returned to the army shortly after the altercation. Niall even started to recognise, and be recognised by, a few people as he sharpened knives for them.

While it had not seemed appropriate that first time, after they had finished for the day Devon would insist on buying them both a few pints in The Lion and Flag before they went home. As the local Smith Devon knew a lot of people so they were never short of company. Niall was mostly content to listen to the chatter. The whole thing started to make him feel part of the community in a way that he had never experienced before.

And so, the weeks passed. Niall’s Apprentice Blacksmith and Smallholder Classes each levelled up twice more. At the same time, while his Minor Healing Skill increased by a level, his Acolyte Healer Class stayed at Level one. However, the evening that Alana found out that he had achieved his Acolyte Healer Class she immediately insisted that he spend some time in meditation.

She dragged him over to a chair and sat him down. “Right,” she said. “Forget all of that hitting metal stuff, this is the most important thing you are going to learn.”

There was a snort from Devon who sat reading in an armchair. At a hard stare from Alana, he slumped down and buried himself deeper in the book. Alana glared at his bowed head for a moment then turned back to Niall. “Shut your eyes and find that sense of warmth you have when you are healing. Got it?”

Niall did as he was told and nodded.

“Good. When you breath in, imagine more Spirit being pulled into your body. When you breath out, push it in a loop around your body. Just concentrate on moving it. Don’t think about anything else, just that feeling of warmth circulating in and out.”

As Niall followed Alana’s instructions, he could feel himself calming down. The first few times he circulated that warmth, he realised that it was actually repairing some of the minor aches that he had picked up over the course of the day without realising it. After that, however, it was simply relaxing.

He opened his eyes. “That was amazing.”

Devon looked up from his book. “It’s the ambient Spirit. I’m no scholar, but apparently, actively drawing it in and moving it around changes your body and your mind in a good way. Most people don’t make the time for it, but those who do never seem to regret it.”

With memories of the irritating South African from his podcast still fresh in his mind Niall had been avoiding starting meditation. However, he was an immediate convert. The first few times he tried by himself, he found that his mind would wander after a short time. The sense of flow that he now easily fell into when he was working did not translate to more direct meditation. Under Alana’s guidance though, he improved quickly.

Eventually he found that even a few minutes of meditation in the morning would, somehow, make the whole day easier. The longer that he meditated, the calmer his thoughts would get. After a few days of practice, the Meditation Skill appeared and Niall found that he was able to meditate more easily. As a by-product, he found he was able to heal for longer when he needed to, but that was not why he made time for meditation every day. A few moments of thought-free peace were invaluable.

***

It was another crisp late autumn morning and Niall was watering the plants in the kitchen garden. That was not his favourite task, as it involved getting water from the well and carrying it over. After the first few times he had gently protested that the garden would get enough water from the rain, but Alana insisted that watering was important so he shut up and got on with it. As he headed over to draw yet another bucket up from the well, he saw five horsemen turning off the main road to take the path that led to the forge.

People and horses coming to the forge was a common occurrence. Not only was Devon the only blacksmith for many miles, Niall also quickly realised that he was regarded at being particularly skilled at his craft. It meant that he had more work than he could handle. In some ways Niall found that a relief as it meant that Devon accepting him as an apprentice was not out of pity, or a ploy to keep him busy. With Niall’s help, Devon was able to significantly increase the number of jobs that he could take on.

However, the majority of those who came to the smithy were farmers or townsfolk. They would come as individuals or, at most in pairs. Five horsemen with watchful, wary eyes were unusual. When those wore well used armour, and held their hands ready to draw their weapons at a moment’s notice, that was a matter of concern.