When a horn blared, signaling the end to the amateur hours, Oscar and Sten both sank down to roll off their soaked platform. They had been going at it hard with only a few short breaks after rounds ended with Oscar having sprinted for too long, once to where he almost fell straight off the edge, and even had to haul himself back up.

Oscar was looking down for the count, but Sten would recover in a bit and be ready to go just as hard again by tonight.

Although even with all his experience fighting, Sten had not yet gotten fully used to his Skills. And not this strange, new magic fatigue that came with using his Skills either.

Of course Sten had fought the duel under restrictions. But even then, he had not expected to need to find new ways of using his Skills, but there had been no choice when Oscar kept pushing like that. At least I avoided getting hurt, heh. And I got him good. Nothing better to find your weaknesses, And that whole family seems born to take a beating, might as well help them turn it into an advantage.

And that was just an expression, but hell in some people it rings true. Oscar had shrugged off some serious blows. Even the upside-down thing had been a spur of the moment and just a new way to apply his [Weighted Footwork], or else Sten would have had to practice it first to get that kind of force.

The [Sentinel Squire] had been ready to go again in two minutes on the dot after that one. It reminded Sten of, well... At least half his siblings.

They would need to make the time to do this again, while they were in town. And bring the others along too.

For now they sidled out with all the other amateurs and parents that had been using the platforms or the obstacle course.

Some were not leaving yet though, you could stand along the walls to watch in case you were curious of how the professional training of the militias went down. It was a must to witness at least once for anybody considering signing up as a recruit.

They were not interested before your first capstone either way, it was not an organization where you went to decide on your Class; they wanted dedicated warriors only. Even then you had to make it through bootcamp, to ensure you were not all Skills and hot air. Only then did you join the regular squad's training here, for now the recruits were here training alone with their instructors, but they would be delegated to a small square in another hour when the regulars showed up.

Only during wars were the floodgates opened to the public at large for the entirety of the day, that was when you might find yourself an instructor a week into bootcamp; ready to be considered a veteran well-prepared to teach others.

Sten and Oscar had nowhere to be yet, so they hung around for a bit.

But there was a pair from the amateur hours sticking out like a sore thumb. The two were still hanging around their octagon, despite how a trainer had approached with two of his charges and taken the platform to clean up and start training.

The pair consisted of a young woman and her father, and it looked to Oscar like the girl was insisting that her custodian acquiesce to something.

Letting his curiosity get the better of him, Oscar asked Sten if he could hear them, but he had to ask twice before Sten noticed, so it must be good.

“Oh, well. Yes…” He hesitated over relaying what he heard for some reason, but Oscar had been working hard so it felt right to reward him for staying attentive despite being so spent. “She has just gotten her Class, and she insists he let her spar kumite, with no System supervision.”

Oscar eyed the two again, and she looked like she'd been working hard the previous hours. “Why wouldn’t he let her, do you think she’s not ready? If she has a Class then isn’t that all she should needs, besides a fair opponent, to find out where she's at?” Oscar was just mildly curious, but Sten knew what he was thinking. Oscar wasn't considering the watching crowd, he thought only of personal development.

“That’s what she argues, but her father seems like some big shot, likely one of the mercenary families trying to get in on the militia contract game. That’s how to turn from a gang of [Guild] members into something legit. Something with professionals on a level to turn the tide in war... So he wants her to only fight battles she can crush, I guess. He just isn’t saying as much, and she doesn’t seem to get it,”

“So what, she wants to fight the trainer or something? I guess someone who has been trained from childhood in a military family like that will always be wanting to bite off more than they can chew, heh.”

“No, just one of the youngest militia recruits, but they are talents, or they would not have been accepted before their first capstone; she wants to see how she measures up. He’s not willing to pay the price in notoriety in the likely event that she fails, that’s all… And I doubt she’s been trained from childhood.”

Sten had been smart enough to whisper this whole time, he knew he was not the only one with Skills to enhance the senses.

Oscar was far less considerate though, and as it turns out the young scion heard his next words. “Well, if he wants her to be a can crusher then I guess he better stay just like that, in between her and any danger, I’ll happily take the chance to level right past, hah.”

She wasted no time turning around and glowering across the hundred meters between them. Yeah, Oscar had not been quiet. Now the two militia apprentices that she’d been asking to face were seemingly forgotten as she marched closer. “You. Do you usually let your tongue pick battles you cannot hope to win?”

Her father looked entirely fed up behind her, knowing that they had no right to remain there while the professionals practiced. Certainly not without a donation.

When Oscar looked surprised to have been caught out and did not have an immediate response she kept right on going. “Level right past me you said, a bumpkin like you?” She was a Finn, and taller than Oscar by a couple of inches, and she was clearly spoiling for a fight.

“Sorry, I didn’t mean it as an insult, I’m just happy I can do as I please, okay?” Wrong thing to say, twerp. Was what her expression told him.

“You think I need such challenges to stay ahead, because you’re fighting your [Pugilist] friend here? Hah. He looked to have some Skill, I will grant you. It is nothing next to a [Weaponmaster], not even one of lower level, so watch your tongue,”

Oscar would not, despite Sten’s calming hand on his shoulder. “I’ve fought a more varied lot than that, including Casters, I even killed in battle once already, that’s a fact,” A partial truth, but go on, sell it. “I may be from a village but it doesn’t mean we don’t fight just as hard as you do here in the capital,”

Now he got looks from the other by-standers too, it was turning into something with more and more pride at stake.

“Father, I accept your declining my fighting the real opponents so soon, but do not deny me this warm up, I will crush this, this sandy-haired bug!”

Her father looked more inclined to start dragging her away, clearly this was not why he had brought her here. “Have I taught you so little of propriety? Either you aim too high or too low, these are [Farmer]s, not even [Guild] members, just listen to their accents? They are likely here to find work. Do you know what they stand to gain from doing well against you, and you stand to gain what exactly, a few minutes of fun? Grow up. We are not here to play. You have done your repetitions, now reclaim your poise. Let’s go.”

Oscar was about to interrupt, they had the perfect retort. But he was evidently maturing, because he only looked to Sten and left it up to his more level-headed senior.

But there was one thing even Sten had a weakness for; and that was levels. And for the first time since he’d gotten it, he felt not just that he could possibly use his Skill, but he was itching to. [Cerebral Negotiations] activated fully with the most minor of prompting.

The Skill gave him a path forward, it was a Skill meant for dominating an interaction based on the wielders personal ability, his awareness of an opponents weaknesses and their needs in terms of considering a negotiation a victory.

What the Skill told him was strange, perhaps this was not the girl's father after all, but simply a caretaker. At least it gave a cold image of the relationship between the two–but then that was no sure sign of anything–as his own paternal relationship could attest.

Sten decided to take a risk. “We are a [Guild] actually. Based out of Salcret currently, but looking to expand beyond it,”

That made the father turn back around, like maybe Sten was suddenly worth looking at. “And what is this [Guild] called then, are you a fighter’s [Guild]?”

“We primarily recruit fighters, yes. Just the Salcret [Guild], no specific branch name yet. The project is a mere six months old, consisting of Salcret’s best,” Which did mean something, if not a lot. A lone frontier town was considered tough, but was too small to matter as Sten understood it from his visits here with Birgir.

But he could tell the man did not recognise the name, which made it insignificant. Luckily his daughter did not look like she agreed. “I will crush them, and that will be the proof you need that I am prepared for more father,“

He still wasn’t biting, so Sten added on: “Do not presume us to be middling, you do not survive the southern frontier by being soft-handed.”

It was obvious the mercenary man was used to higher stakes than this, with the way he still looked bored, but he gave the crowd around them a glance. This was not your average [Mercenary Warrior] you picked off of the street, and it was evident how he cared a great deal for the crowd watching, consisting of both high level fighters and children and friends of several renowned factions.

That’s when the man surprised them all.

“A contract then,“