The sling. An unassuming weapon, usually derided as archaic or outdated. The projectiles are slow and poorly aimed compared to those from a bow or crossbow. A shepherd's tool. Generally, even if they successfully hit their target, unless they hit a soldier in the head, they are not enough to take them out of the fight.
Unfortunately, there is a talent-crafted one in the enemy lines. The weapon and it’s weilder have slain no less than ten men, often officers, from ludicrous distances. As per usual, a bounty has been placed on both the man’s head and his weapon. A sketch is enclosed.
Note: There is no flee on sight order involved with this weapon, but where its wielder is seen, The First Blink is often nearby. If a patrol encounters unnaturally powerful rocks, exercise extreme caution. Arrows are typically quick to follow.
– Eschal War Council Minutes, Addendum H
***
Your Footwork skill has improved!
I was sweating. I was tired. I was gross. But gods, I was certainly reaping the rewards of my efforts.
Recruits were lined up in rows, dancing through squares on the ground. In April’s world, this would be the silliest exercise anyone could ever make military recruits do. It might’ve even been a punishment. Humiliating.
But the results spoke for themselves.
I was playing high-pace dodge-hopscotch while my fellow recruits threw mud at me.
I gained the Footwork skill on day one, and now that it was day four the skill had already reached level twelve. Other recruits, like my Dad, were right alongside me as footwork hadn’t been a particularly necessary skill for him in Farming.
Reid had the skill in the fifties and therefore barely worked on it at all. His focus was more on running. He was a methodical, quiet hunter, and typically slowly tracked his prey after a first shot. High endurance, low running. So he ended up doing more of the running drills.
That was all we did. Drills and food. Drills and Water. Drills and rest.
I ducked a particularly hard throw and stuck my tongue out at Mandek, who grinned back, only to get hit in the arm from the other side.
“Hit!” Called the proctor, and I grit my teeth and continued on, dodging two more clumps of mud from Uleno and Rugurt before getting hit by Mandek again. That guy’s aim was entirely too good.
At least Reid wasn’t with me today. The stupid boy never missed, but I made up for it by outrunning him.
There were a few tricks to make footwork improve faster. Dodging things, for example. Running didn’t have anything like that, though. It improved slowly and steadily. Scholars had actually guessed how many running steps were needed to reach level 100 in the skill. It was, predictably, a lot of running. Without free points, it was estimated that full lifetimes would be needed to reach such a level.
Another mud clod missed me, and I jumped as the sergeant suddenly started yelling.
“Private, if that were a spear, it would’ve hit her, and she’d be dead! I don’t care that she’s your daughter! Pelt that girl with every muscle in your body, and it might just save her life!”
Dad scowled. He didn’t like being berated by someone younger than him, but he nodded regardless and took aim.
I panicked and ducked before he threw his next shot, allowing him to adjust. The mud smashed directly into my chest, knocking me into the previous square, and almost knocking the wind out of me.
The second it delayed me was enough, and I screamed as I was showered in mud clods.
“Five hits! You’re dead private!”
“You all suck!” I screamed as I got up and continued the muddy game, bouncing between the squares. Dad was laughing, and so was everyone else as I reached the end and the next recruit started their run through the strange obstacle course.
A recruit with a talent for household cleaning magic – which was more prized by the military than any amount of fire magic – held up a hand when I exited the square. Glorious household magic washed over me, removing the mud from my clothes and body before I got back into line on the right. It wasn’t perfect but I could tell his household magic skill was improving by leaps and bounds.
Bless the man. His name was Vendretep, and he needed something to help him hide from War Trolls. I made sure to get to know him better so I could actually craft it for him.
“Hey, that was a pretty nice run until you got scared!” Mandek said.
“Thanks. Dad’s hits hurt!” I whined.
Mandek laughed. “You’re not wrong. Guy can throw like a truck. Do you know his strength stat?”
I wasn’t actually sure, but I knew it had to be a fair bit higher than mine. Actually, after killing so many goblins and trolls during his attack, I’d noticed him behaving gingerly around pretty much everything. I didn’t know how many levels he’d jumped from that experience, but it was enough to make him worry about hurting those around him until he got used to the improved base stats.
“Not sure, but he killed a lot of Trolls in the attack on Pemolar. He kind of saved the town,” I said softly.
I hurriedly grabbed a clump of mud from the pile behind me and lobbed it at the next recruit. I grinned when I smacked her directly in the shoulder, and the sergeant shouted, “Hit!”
The girl moved with grace and only got hit by one more dirt clod on her way through the hopscotch lines, grinning as she reached the last square. She wasn’t part of my squad. I didn’t know her name so she didn’t have a need bubble, but I was impressed that she’d made it through before taking five hits. Almost none of us had so far, and I wondered what her footwork skill was.
“Heard about that,” he said. “Hey, Elmerina. I’ve also heard a rumor going around about you. Do you mind if I ask?”
We both paused and chucked mud at the next recruit, both of us missing, but Dad managed to pelt the soldier in the back a few moments later. I winced as he toppled forward to his knees. The recruits rained mud on him, good-naturedly, while the sergeant, ever serious, called out “Dead!” Come on Teskin, you can do this!”
I chuckled. Teskin’s need bubble was greyed out. He’d managed to bring me what he needed, and sure enough, they had been knee guards. When he fell, the man popped right back up now. But he still fell a lot. The footwork drills had been working wonders for him, but the sergeant had picked up on his clumsiness to the point where he was never even allowed to work on the other two drills.
It seemed we’d had the right of it when Mom and I had been talking about where my points should go. The military even had a name for them. The core three. Footwork, Endurance, and Running.
Combat, amusingly enough, was a distant fourth.
“I’m an open book! Ask away,” I said.
He smiled. “People are saying your talent is elite. Is that really true?”
I nodded. Sometimes, even I believed it was true. I rarely looked at my talent screen and among all these people that I didn’t know very well, it was difficult to even gain all that many free points.
Not impossible, though. The gut instinct granted by my level one hundred and eleven Networking skill told me that a humble attitude would be the best way to improve my relationship with the man.
“I’ve got the best Elite talent you’ve ever seen!” I exclaimed.
Humble… wasn’t really my strong suit.
It wasn’t as if he was going to immediately hate me if I didn’t trust the feelings I was getting from Networking, but honestly, it felt a little too much like manipulation. I could certainly act the part. I had a skill for that, too, but if I developed a bond that wasn’t genuine, then would I really be growing closer to the person I was talking to?
Maybe? They might grow closer to me, but a bond was a two-way street. I didn’t want people to get to know an illusion of who I was.
He laughed, amused. We both grabbed more mud, ready to aim the next hopscotchee.
It seemed that being a total braggart worked decently well, too. Perhaps it helped that he’d just seen me covered in mud.
“What can you do?” he asked as Tesken stepped beside me and our sideways line moved a step toward the front again.
“I can craft what you need, if I become good enough friends with you!” I said.
“Huh. Okay, I’ll bite. What do I need?”
I winced. Mandek worried me, just a little. It had to happen sooner or later, but Mandek was the very first person I’d met whose need directly involved fighting other people. He needed to kill humans.
The need bubble didn’t tell me who. My talent didn’t seem to differentiate between nationalities. I didn’t know for certain if he needed to kill Eschal soldiers, or Tacurians, or some other people. Only that he would need something to kill other humans.
I liked to think my need bubbles took the path of least resistance. If there was a way for him to get away from enemies without killing them, I thought his need might reflect that. Since there wasn’t, it told me he needed to kill, and the item I made could help with that.
“Something with about eight-hundred feet of rope, a half a ton of leather, and about a gallon of ether dust,” I said with a shrug. “The requirements lower the better we get to know each other.”
He blinked.
“Well, it sounds like it might be a good idea to get to know you then!” he exclaimed.
I gave him the side eye. “Were you one of the people who stuffed mud in my tent two nights ago?”
He flinched. Hah. Caught.
“Well. The wagons smelled really bad,” he said.
I sighed. The honest truth of the matter was that the whole town smelled awful. We’d been here giving burial rites to dead townsfolk and sending out squads to take care of small patches of rift monsters for days now. Originally, I think the general had intended for us to leave quickly, but I’d seen no sign of it yet. At a certain point, my little prank had become irrelevant. Everything stank.
It was getting better, day by day, as more bodies were removed and buried and more fallen structures were washed with water magic. A small group, maybe thirty or so, of former Mitoras residents had followed the army, and they were working madly to try to rebuild some portion of what they’d lost.
“Did the army do the same to your town? Take nearly all of your food and then draft you?” I asked.
He hesitated. We shuffled forward another spot as I threw more mud.
“Yeah. We were pretty pissed about it. I’m from Tornet’s Reach,” he said. He fell silent, contemplating.
“It wasn’t directed at you. It was directed at the draft. The military in general. Haven’t we sent enough family to the rift? I get that the invasion sucks, but to be starting a draft so soon? We’re Tacuria! We have the strongest Military in the five nations, and our fire magic schools are supposed to be the best! Where are all those students at? This seems like the sort of thing they’ve been training for, so why is the army here?”
I blinked at my own tirade. Perhaps I was angrier than I’d realized.
“We unlucky grunts just got caught in the crossfire then?”
I shrugged. “If it's any consolation, I made the suggestion with actual good intentions for the army. That skin will make great armor. Then again, the rift is probably swimming in Troll leather, so maybe that’s a wash too. I also got dragged into the joke myself. My only consolation is that it did actually piss off the General. He should at least face some sort of repercussion for this.”
He snickered, but didn’t say anything else. Afraid of openly contradicting the general, or perhaps just uncomfortable around the topic.
The requirements did lower, but not by much.
This… it just wasn’t working. I wasn’t making friends, and I wasn’t integrating like I should be. Like I needed to be. If I wanted to help this army – hell, if I wanted to help anyone! – I needed to know them.
I’d only managed to make two new items since leaving, both for Oxana and Teskin. No one else had managed to get anything from me, and I only had seventeen free points from Oxana’s Tracking and Teskin’s Animal Husbandry.
My talent started to feel less effective than even an elite one when I wasn’t around people I knew. A bone-deep sadness was beginning to settle in my gut.
The fury from a few days ago guttered quickly. I hadn’t lost anyone I’d known personally. Sure, I wanted Eschal gone and the rift fixed as much as anyone, but I couldn’t keep that anger going. I couldn’t feed it like others did. Maybe I should’ve. I was pissed, but my thoughts drifted more toward wondering why and wishing we could reach a peaceful arrangement, rather than righteous fury.
Why did Eschal invade? No one knew. But we all had to face that.
Honestly, I thought I just missed home. At least there, I’d had some agency. Here I trained all day, ate my fill, and was told when to wait, when to sleep, when to run, and when to live.
It felt so… stifling.
The exercise wrapped up. My footwork hit level thirteen, and I was excited to get it to a level that I could feel good about putting free points in it. At this rate, it wouldn’t take very long to get it over level thirty.
We gathered around a fire to eat. The food wasn’t the best, but the drinks were certainly good. Slightly stale bread, soup, some carrots, and watered-down wine that actually added a small Vitality buff.
We were all just sitting there. New recruits one and all. Tired as hell, not talking. We only had a few hours of free time before we’d need to go to sleep, and get up to repeat the grueling day all over again. After we finally got the core three up to acceptable levels we’d start working on combat.
Nothing to look forward to. At least the exercises were kind of fun, but… had I made a terrible mistake?
Reid suddenly tapped me on the shoulder. I looked up at him, but he sat down on the ground beside me, ignoring the log benches most of us were using.
“So…” he asked, awkwardly, glancing at everyone. “Anyone here know any good stories?”
My eyes widened. I turned to him, and he smirked.
Nobody volunteered. That was normal. Most people didn’t want to be the center of attention.
“Uhm… I do… if any of you want to hear it?”
I saw the other soldiers perk up a little as I volunteered. Uleno was one of the few girls in the army smaller than me, and I thought she hadn’t yet reached her eighteenth nameday. A genuine volunteer.
Mandek lifted tired eyes curiously, glancing at me through his curly black hair.
Tesken, the only other person from Pemolar’s Hill with us, beamed. After four days of drudgery, he knew how entertaining my stories could be.
Dad was at another cookfire with other older recruits, but I could swear he stopped midsentence and looked over toward us, the second Reid said ‘story.’
There were about ten of us all told. The nights were getting colder, and the fire’s warmth couldn’t reach quite as far as it had only a few nights ago.
Regardless of the weather, fireflies began to dance.
I stood, a smile on my face, and I began to tell a story.