"You might want to pick out a new name, kid," said Morlekai with a smile, waving him over to the bemused-looking blacksmith and his associate, clearly having the same ideas Eric was. "One might actually start to think you were related to someone famous."

"Ha ha. Yeah, let's not mention that again. Ever."

Morlekai winked. "Sure, kid. Now let me introduce you to our smith who just happens to be a John Smith. What are the odds, right?”

“Better than you might think,” said John Smith, with a tolerant smile. “Pleasure to meet you, Eric Silver.”

“Likewise,” Eric said, taking his offered hand, just as strong as a smith’s should be.

“Call me Hobbs, everyone does,” said the man by Smith’s side. “Somehow a leatherworking hobby when I was an Eagle Scout turned into a class that lets me feel out the potential of pretty much any beast or bird. Not fish scales, though. I tried. Anyway, with the right ingredients, I can bring out pretty much any organic material's potential. The more magical the origins, the better!”

“Sounds pretty awesome!” Eric said with no small amount of enthusiasm. Because of course Hobbs was exactly what Eric had hoped he’d be.

The man smiled ruefully. “Of course, I got a ways to go before I can turn greater beast hide into a true masterwork… but damn if I’m not getting close! I can make serviceable armor that's at least as strong as it was on the beast in question at its prime. And normal cow leather I can transform to lacquered cuir bouilli lamellar that will stop most arrows, I promise you that, even if not your, ahem, crossbow bolts. Or make leather so plush and supple, you'll love wearing it like a second skin!"

Eric grinned. “Then you’re exactly the craftsmen I was looking for." He dipped his head and smiled. "Both of you. Because I'm a man in sore need of the strongest armor I can possibly get, and I think my greater beast hide is the key. Of course, I also wouldn’t mind getting my hands on the finest bardiche and spear I can find, in these parts.”

John grinned at that, showcasing white teeth in a crimson beard. “Well then, you came to the right pair of folk. Because my partner Hobbs has your beast hide needs covered, and bardiches are sort of my specialty. Only question is, what type of bardiche are you looking for?”

Eric blinked. “What kind?”

This earned a polite chuckle. “Let’s head over to the smithy. We’ll take a look at a selection of weapons I think you’ll appreciate, while getting you and your crew properly kitted out. Don’t worry, it’s all set up beside a proper air vent, so no fumes for the townsfolk, and my Profession keeps that to a minimum anyways. Best of all, no toxic runoff to taint our water supply either.”

“Sounds good,” said Eric, allowing himself to be led along while flashing Morlekai a sardonic grin. “Going to get our whole crew fitted, huh?”

“Damn right we are, kid,” Morlekai said with a smile. “Not every day a member of our crew stumbles upon even partially crossbow-proof lizard scales. Best we take advantage, don’t you think?”

Eric saw the challenge beneath the twinkle in the man’s gaze, and had no problem nodding his head. “Damn right. Our crewmen’s lives are worth more than the skin of any dumb lizard. Because the last thing I want to do is kiss Louie’s sorry breath again, pulling him back from the brink.”

Morlekai clapped Eric's shoulder while Drake’s laughter washed over them all. Even Louie was grinning by the time they reached a building made entirely of mortared stone, in sharp contrast to practically every other building in the town erected of wood planks and scrap, that seemed to serve as both forge and leatherworking area. Eric also saw several vats, in addition to an anvil, kiln, and what looked like several tools for cutting steel. But he didn’t pick up anywhere near the din of noise or stink that he would have expected at any sort of proper smithy.

Eric turned just in time for Alice’s arms to wrap tightly around him, her kiss sweet and smoky, luminous eyes bright with unshed tears. “Thank you, Eric. After what I… shit. I don’t know how I could have lived with myself, if you hadn’t saved Louie after what I did. You fucking saved me twice, over, Eric.”

She stepped back, cheeks flushing with bliss as the man by her side possessively grabbed her and held her close, flashing Eric a smile both challenging, and grateful.

“Thanks, kid. I fucking owe you big time.” The powerfully built Louie, now emitting a certain roguish charm with his rueful smile, took a deep breath and seemed to take in the grand cavern with its growing town, moss-covered ceiling, and lush, pondside crops all in, as if savoring life itself. “I thought you were an arrogant punk putting on airs you had no right to, but damn if the asshole today wasn’t me.”

He chuckled ruefully. “And damn if I didn’t think I was an absolute goner, and all I see is your ugly mug hovering over me, and I’m wondering what the fuck’s going on, why the hell you’re even botherin’ then it’s all darkness and sparkling light, and the next thing I know, the girl of my life is owing me some serious payback.”

He flashed a wicked smile. “And I aim to collect.” The kiss he gave Alice had her melting in his arms. She shuddered, after stepping back, tears in her eyes as she smiled.

“And you better believe I’m paying you back in full, just as soon as we’re done here,” she whispered.

“Yeah, get a room you too,” Drake snarked, flashing them both an almost brotherly grin, earning a throaty chuckle from one, and a positively wicked smile from the other.

“Good thing we got two weeks downtime,” said Louie, earning a bit lip and a throaty laugh from Alice.

Drake smirked. “So, you gonna name your firstborn Eric? Because sure as shit, you’re going to have one soon, the way you two are going at it.”

Alice’s eyes widened. “Shit. He better not!”

“Neither the time, nor the place,” said Morlekai, instantly chilling the atmosphere as he turned to Eric, Smith behind him with notepad, pencil, and measuring tape, now gazing at Eric with a critical eye.

“Strip!” Morlekai commanded.

Eric blinked, as everyone turned to stare. “Excuse me?”

"You heard me. Down to the skivvies. And if post-apocalyptic has you riding loose and free, it's nothing we haven't seen before."

Alice smirked. “Show us what you got, Cowboy.”

Eric winced, feeling a hot flush creep up his scarred cheeks. “You know what, I think I’ll pass.”

“I need measurements for your armor, kid,” Smith said in a no-nonsense tone. “Me and Hobbs both. If you’re not into the perfect fit? That’s cool. But I don’t have changing rooms, and good as I think I’m getting, I’m not some fucking master who’s going to guestimate success. Unless you’re a chick, and your boyfriend’s already taken your measurements...”

“Done,” Louise cut in with a smirk, earning a smack from a blushing Alice.

“…You get to strip down like everyone else.”

“And the data helps us figure growth projections in other adventurers, so we can better design not just what they need now, but what they will need for the future,” Hobbs explained helpfully.

“Now’s not the time for bullshit, Eric,” Morlekai snapped.

Eric sighed, giving an angry shake of his head, under the weight of far too many stares. He remembered all too well scenes of a certain movie he’d rather forget, with absolutely everyone gazing at him and his smiling co-star.

And Eric didn’t even know why he was trembling, taking off his hat, leather jacket, mail hauberk and several layers of denim shirts, then his workboots, that didn’t look nearly as worn as they should have, then several pairs of jeans, and finally his t-shirt.

But that was bullshit. Of course he knew why he was close to leaking big fat pathetic tears, trembling with shame.

“Shit, kid,” said Louise at last. “You really have been through hell and back.”

“Kid's a fighter," Drake said in the same voice you use to encourage a child or a puppy whose injuries fill you with instant pity.

“Yeah, tell me about it,” Eric said in a dry, raspy voice, as he determinedly gazed out at the bucolic gardens by the lake, not even jerking his head when John Smith quickly and professionally took all sorts of measurements, and faster than he would have thought, the man said. “All done, kid.”

And Eric dressed himself with relief, 17 Finesse meaning his hands certainly were not fucking shaking from nerve damage that damned pod had inflicted, though he still refused to turn around till he was fully kitted up, his tricorn hat at an angle that kept others from even seeing the heat in his cheeks.

His too sharp nose immediately caught the familiar scent of menthol and Lilac perfume, Alice’s husky voice soothing and consoling all at once.

“You okay?” Alice gently squeezed his hand.

Eric forced a nod. “I’m good,” he said. “I’m just going to sit here and chill for a bit. Let me know when it’s time to purchase some fucking weapons.” He then sat down on his crossed legs and embraced the same technique he used to push away a certain rat queen's compulsion, imagining taking all his fear, worry, anger, all the energies swirling in his body, and feeding it into the tiny flickering flame in his core, watching it grow bright and strong as he found his center once more.

When next Alice tapped his shoulder, he opened his eyes, feeling remarkably refreshed and clear-headed as he turned around to face her, and the others, noting their looks of concern.

“How you feeling, boy scout?” Alice asked with a gentle smile.

Eric smirked. "Couldn’t be better," he said, turning to face John the smith. "Now I'd love to see whatever you have in the way of spears and bardiches. I can only hope it's better than what I've been rat hunting with for more weeks than I care to admit."

In the blink of an eye, his bayonet-tipped staff manifested, definitely showing signs of hard use.

“Time to level up that toy!” Drake said with a pumped fist showing his absurdly well developed forearm, just one of the virtues of a 19 Strength.

Smith frowned consideringly, before nodding. “Show me your form?”

And, after taking a moment to step back and focus, Eric did so.

All his earlier awkwardness faded as he became one with his weapon, flowing from high to low to and mid guard, striking out at all angles while positioning his weapon to mime shifting opposing spears or swords aside before snapping his hips and plunging forward, or winding his spear around an imaginary foe’s blade before jerking it off line and plunging his spear tip into the throat of an enemy he could see so clearly in his mind’s eye.

He felt as serene, focused, and at peace as he ever did, sensing his Journeyman tier skill tick up ever closer to Rank 11 as he flowed into the forms he had spent so many hours mastering by himself, in the crucible of combat, and under the drill-sergeant like tones of a man who at times had seemed as much father figure as trainer, and all-around asshole.

“Well damn, the kid actually knows how to use a spear,” said Drake with an approving grin.

“That he does,” Morlekai allowed with a nod, eyes fixated intently upon a smiling Eric’s own. “And he’s hit Journeyman rank. You can see it in his eyes.” He then turned to stare intently at a suddenly pale-faced Drake. “How long have you two been stuck as Apprentice bardichemen? Despite training every day, making all your kills with those weapons?”

He glared at the suddenly sheepish-looking pair, for all that his sister hugged her Louie and snapped, "What the hell, Morlekai!? It's not like you're any better. Last I checked, you had a rank of 5 or 6 with spear and bardiche both, and you sweated to earn it! Hell, almost everyone who wasn’t an Olympian, or an instructor for decades, is classified as an Apprentice by the System! A Journeyman by their interfucking galactic standards is like a wandering badass in the movies, kicking ass all over the world while looking for fresh challenges. And you’re expecting us to just jump up to Olympian levels in a handful of months?”

Morlekai nodded, flashing a determined smile as he did so. “We'll hit Olympian levels, and we'll surpass them." He turned away before his flushed sister could respond, tapping the saber hilt at his waist. “What I want to know is, can Eric use the sword at his hip as well as he does the spear in his hand?”

Eric chuckled. “Only one way to find out,” he said, his blood singing with the rush of battle to come as he pulled his two sparring swords from storage, tossing one the man’s way.

It was an act that caught even Morlekai off guard before he tilted back his head and chuckled, eyes twinkling with a certain mad glint Eric recognized whenever he looked at his reflection after blood was spilled.

“You’re on, kid.”

And in the blink of an eye, with three breathless spectators and a hawk-eyed John Smith looking on, Eric and his nominal captain were circling each other with eerily mirrored stances, blades raised in high hanging guards.

Morlekai struck first, a slow, lazy downwards angled cut from left shoulder to right hip, easily parried. A blow Eric forced off line with his own blade before following up with a double Zwerch to his opponent’s throat, Morlekai effortlessly arching back to avoid.

“Good,” he said in a lazy drawl. “Not completely pathetic.”

Before sweeping his blade to force Eric's aside as he followed up with a fast, snapping kick to Eric's knee.

Which Eric avoided with a smile and a dip of his tricorn hat, the mirror of Morlekai's own.

“Like you said, not completely pathetic,” said Eric, not breathless at all, as Morlekai chuckled softly.

“Very good. Shall we begin in earnest then?”

The tiniest of nods, and suddenly the air was alive with the ring of flashing steel. The sparks of eyes of grey and arctic ice looking for any advantage as their weapons danced and spun.

A darting slash, narrowly voided.

A whipping cut, transferred to a lunge.

And in the blink of an eye, Morlekai was in Eric’s space, binding his blade, booted heel stomping down upon Eric’s instep.

Before he lurched back with a snarl, eyes alight with crimson death when Eric’s elbow cracked against his eye socket, and they sprang apart once more.

"Morlekai!" Alice screamed, and Eric felt his blood run cold at the look in his opponent's eyes. Seeing more clearly than ever the twin pair of crows upon the man's shoulders, gazing upon Eric with their beady red eyes.

Eric’s heart began to pound. Tasting the specter of death, just a single wrong move away.

Morlekai tilted his head and laughed, the gimlet glint in his gaze turning to a bemused wink as he saluted Eric with the training blade, tossing it in the air for Eric to catch. “Nice fight, kid.”

Eric flashed a relieved smile. “Likewise.”

You continue to blossom in the crucible of combat! Journeyman Saber is now at Rank 11!

You’re no expert, but your instructor did teach you how to incorporate the most basic wrist locks, foot stomps, elbow strikes, and grapples into your weapons training. He didn’t bother with kicks, though. Instead, he taught you how to cripple a kicker’s most vulnerable limbs with both hilt and blade!

Unarmed Combat has been successfully quantized at Rank 2!