“Why are you always afraid to attack?” Rometo said with a frown as Zen pulled to a sudden stop.
Sighing, he rubbed his forehead with thumb and forefinger as Zen tried to analyze the situation he was currently finding himself in. Aiden did his best not to retain the memory he had of Zen from his past life, the jovial daredevil who danced into war with a smile on his face and death beside him.
Zen’s eyes darted to the die hanging far above Fjord’s head. The worry was clear for all to see, he didn’t know what to do. His uncertainty smiled and waved, siding with Fjord in this spar. Aiden closed his eyes and shook his head. His hesitation had lasted too long. The only reason he was still alive was because this was a spar.
“That’s enough,” Rometo announced, displeased. “We will continue on another day.”
“No,” Zen refused, voice determined. “I can still fight.”
Rometo was already walking into the combat zone. It was a small clearing in a sea of trees they had happened to find in the woods. It had enough space in between trees for amateurs like Zen and Fjord to spar without the risk of accidentally running into a tree. Still, there were enough trees to disqualify it from being called an actual clearing.
“You can no longer fight,” Rometo answered, disappointment hidden in his tone. “You have hesitated once more, leaving yourself uncertain of what you should do.” He pointed at Fjord who stood casually now. “He is very much aware of this fact. He could have attacked you at any point and won due to your confusion and fear. He chose not to, because now he is seeing your spar with him as training for you and not for him. He is giving you the time to think and decide.”
He came to a stop in front of Fjord, looking Fjord in the eyes.
“He,” he continued, addressing Zen but facing Fjord, “has forgotten that he is not the teacher here but a fellow student trying to learn.”
Standing next to him, Valdan looked at Aiden. Aiden read the look in the knight’s eyes. Valdan wondered if Rometo was taking it a little too far. It was funny considering Valdan had been something of a strict teacher back at the palace. Shaking his head subtly, Aiden let Valdan know that they were not to interfere.
He understood Valdan’s worry. Here Rometo was, scolding Zen in front of everyone. Telma stood resting against a tree, carving a piece of wood with a small knife. Melvet stood beside Valdan with a sad expression, sympathy for Zen’s current plight plain on her face. Ted watched the match lying down while Elami, for some reason, sat on a tree branch that looked sturdier than the tree it was on. As for Feira, Aiden could see her hands balled into fists. She was angry for her brother, angry at Rometo.
Rometo remained in front of Fjord, silent as the night. His eyes held neither anger nor hate. Even the displeasure that was in his voice was not on his face. It was an old Order trick, nothing truly special. If you wanted to hide your emotions, you did not mask it with another emotion. It was in the nature of people to mask—intentionally or not—one emotion with another. When they were sad, they tried to smile, masking their sadness with happiness. When they were angered, they tried to remain calm. It was often opposite emotions or what was believed to be the stronger alternative to the emotion they considered weak. These mistakes were one of the first things the Order trained out of its recruits.
Aiden had not been trained to mask his emotions with proper alternatives during his time in the Order. Instead, he had been taught how to mask all his emotions. Happiness, sadness, joy, hate, displeasure, pleasure. He had been taught to hide them all beneath a face that showed no expression every single day. In time, it became default. Most of his peers had assumed it to be a flawed teaching in the earlier days. They believed that it made no sense because all a person with any piece of their brain functioning needed to know you had a feeling you were hiding was to watch the emptiness of your face.
Until you were a spy that spent too much time with people.
The trick to the technique was not that it hid emotions properly, it was in its ability to confuse the watchers. Knowing that a person was hiding an emotion was far more confusing if you did not know what emotion was being hidden. When you knew a lack of an expression was his reaction in every situation, it became difficult to deduce what emotion was being hidden. And, with time, the expression became second nature. Only when that happened were they taught how to perform the next step.
Rometo’s gaze moved over to Aiden. “Do you want to learn, Zen of Dentis,” he continued, speaking only to Zen, “or do you want to try to learn.”
“Is there a difference?” Melvet asked. “To do something you must first try to do it.”
“Intent,” Rometo answered but did not look at her. “I do not want a student who intends to try.” Now he turned and looked at Zen. “I want a student who wants to do something. Tell me,” he continued, even though Melvet had opened her mouth to say more, “why did you stop?”
Zen’s eyes darted to the sky where Fjord’s die had already dissipated, slipping out of existence, and came back to Rometo.
Rometo cocked his head to the side in curiosity. “Fear?”
“Uncertainty,” Zen answered, his voice a little harsher than Aiden knew he had intended. It made the answer feel less like the truth and more like a diversion from the truth. Like a man who was sad but chose to be angry because it was supposed to be more befitting of him.
“Uncertainty,” Rometo repeated, obviously not in agreement. “Uncertainty of what?” He looked up at the missing die. “Of what would happen?”
“I can’t tell until it has happened,” Zen said, defending himself. “My interface does not show me. If it doesn’t show me, how can I—”
His voice seized in his throat, cut off by Rometo’s sudden presence in front of him, the man’s hand on his shoulder.
“Did your interface tell you that I was coming?” Rometo asked. “Does your interface tell you when your opponent is about to throw a punch or bite your head off. Fjord might be the [Gambler], boy, but life is always one big gamble. Allowing me to teach you is a gamble you made with yourself, trusting that for some reason I will not kill you while you train. The difference is not even the stakes, but the urgency. In combat, if you are slow to decide—to make the gamble—you will die trying to decide. It is better to act and die than to die without acting. You may be too young to know this, but a man would rather regret what he did than regret what he did not do.”
On the other side of the grounds, Fjord was beginning to look as if he felt bad, as if what was happening was somehow his fault. Aiden did not blame him; it was in fact somehow his fault. If he had not waited for Zen to make a decision and had simply wiped the floor with him, this conversation would’ve been a teaching conversation instead of a rebuking one.
Rometo’s grip on Zen’s shoulder tightened, and Zen winced. Feira looked like she was about to step in and protect her brother, but she did not.
“Fight, Zen,” Rometo said, his voice now intentionally bland. “It is combat, think but do not hesitate. Thinking might get you killed, but hesitation will get you killed.”
“And what if my opponent is far beyond me?” Zen asked, his voice growing hard, choosing anger over shame and pain.
“Fjord is not far beyond you,” Rometo corrected.
Zen’s expression hardened. “But what if my opponent is?”
Rometo’s lips pressed into a thin line. Back in the Order, questions that came at the wrong time were handled according to the instructor’s discretion. A lot of instructors would’ve chosen this moment to punish Zen for repeating a question he had chosen to ignore. The Rometo Aiden knew would definitely have done that. But the Rometo in front of him did not.
“And what if your opponent is stronger than you?” Rometo asked back. “What of it? Hesitation would still not help you. After all, you’ve already made the first and biggest mistake.”
Zen’s eyes narrowed a bit, his mind taking a second to figure out what the first mistake was.
“The first mistake was allowing yourself to get in a fight with an opponent far beyond you,” Aiden said. “And since you’ve already made the mistake, there’s nothing you can do about it. There’s no need to make another with hesitation.”
Rometo’s gaze moved over to Aiden very slowly. “It seems you are wise beyond your years, Lord Lacheart.” He looked at Valdan. “Or is the palace of King Brandis more effective than I have been led to believe.”
“Definitely more effective,” Ted said from where he was, clearly bored. He sighed, then got up and dusted off dried grass and dead leaves from his pants. “I understand all this, but it’s not very fun.”
All eyes moved to Ted. Aiden wondered if he was the only one who knew what Ted was about to do.
“No offense but watching level twenties fight wasn’t how I wanted to spend my day,” Ted continued. “I mean, I’ve been lying down with nothing to do, watching them move. Come on,” he looked around, “I can’t be the only one that feels like he’s watching children fight.”
Telma raised her hand, the one with the knife in it. “I, too, feel like the children are trying their best. Boring, though it may be.” Her eyes glanced over to Aiden and back to Rometo very quickly. “It would be better for others to practice. I have not been in a fight for forever.”
“Because you are not allowed to be in one that is not necessary,” Ted scowled.
Even after weeks of traveling with her, his dislike for her only continued to grow. Aiden could understand it. He would find it nigh impossible to forgive someone if he heard that they tried to kill Ted. As for Telma’s complaint. It was agreed that if she truly wanted to guide him under the command of her god, then she would not be allowed a chance to level up unless it was from a fight that was absolutely necessary.
“A spar is not a fight,” Telma pointed out. “And while I would be more than happy to be in a fight, I will settle for a spar.”
“Which you will not get,” Ted said firmly, not looking at her.
Telma grinned. “Why? Scared?”
Everyone froze.
“Ted,” Aiden said in a calm voice as everyone except Rometo grew suddenly alert and Telma’s breath seized in her lungs, “control yourself, brother.”
A serpentine familiar as thin as Aiden’s smallest finger and as long as his wingspan had curled itself around Telma’s neck in the blink of an eye with its fangs resting gently on the skin of her neck. It had happened so fast that Aiden was sure even Valdan hadn’t caught it.
“She continues to test the grace of her god,” Ted growled finally facing her, his hatred clear in his eyes. “I would like to test it, too. To see how long he is willing to keep her alive to fulfil her task.”
“None of the gods work that way,” Melvet offered, her voice cautious, as if she did not want to rile him up any more than he already was. “They are more apathetic to people.”
Eyes moved over to her, Feira’s to be more precise was wide and shocked. Aiden had often wondered if in teaching Feira she would impart some religious wisdom unto her—show her the true ways of the church. Feira’s expression told him otherwise.
Melvet looked around. “What?”
“Mel,” Valdan sighed, “remember what I said about your personal opinions on the church and gods versus the general populace’s opinions on the church?”
“Not to voice them out in public,” Melvet answered.
“And what did you just do?”
Melvet shrugged. “But it’s true.”
Valdan sighed, giving up. Without missing a beat, he turned to Aiden and said, “Don’t fall in love. You’ll get to deal with things like this.”
Aiden smiled. He knew. In fact, Valdan had it good if this was the kind of problem he had to deal with when it came to Melvet. Shewa, his ex in his last life, had been a problem to him and the world around them—a problem that extended to being a physical problem.
Then again, he couldn’t say that what he’d had for her was love. He’d definitely liked her and had definitely been fond of her. But love was probably a stretch.
Do you even still know how to feel love?
“Anyway,” Melvet continued, returning her attention to Ted, “that’s the story of it all. If you kill her, her god will just find someone else to take Aiden to wherever she’s supposed to take him to.”
“I am not a weak tool that I will easily be broken,” Telma snarled. “I have been chosen for my strength. I am—”
A fraction of an inch of the snake’s fang sang into her neck. It was a clear threat, Ted would not hesitate to fight to win. A stab wound might not be all that was needed to kill a person, but a venomous bite would do the ttrick. For some reason , Telma was still feeling fiery.
You feel strong, don’t you?” she said, her voice careful but taunting. “You hide behind your familiars, making them do the work, unwilling to stand at the front lines. All you [summoner]s are the same. And when it’s not your familiars,” her eyes slid over from Ted to Aiden, “then it’s your brother.” She returned her eyes to Ted. “You don’t have the balls to be a man. You don’t have what it takes to face me.”
Everyone stood in silence. Aiden saw displeasure on Elami’s face. Since learning of Valdan’s secret, he had returned his suspicions to the [Healer]. He had an idea of what the man could be, he’d always had an idea of what the man could be. But something had made him rethink the idea, then Valdan’s health had made him put his suspicions aside.
Ted showed no displeasure or anger at Telma’s words. Instead, he looked at Aiden. There was something in his eyes. He was scolding Aiden, telling him that it was his fault. Aiden would’ve liked to argue, but he could not. This entire thing was his fault. There was a reason Telma had issues with no one else.
Aiden sighed in resignation, and Ted saw it as his response. The serpent disappeared from Telma’s neck, evaporating like smoke, and Ted started walking towards her.
“We [Summoner]s are all the same,” he said. “So, please, defend yourself.”
Telma’s knife went flying in the blink of an eye. Ted moved his hand, slapping the knife away before it hit his shoulder.
“You should not be underestimating a man just given permission to kill you,” Ted said simply, mow halfway to her. “Your puny god would be disappointed.”
Telma leaped at him at his words, and Ted met her in combat. She struck twice, and he slapped each punch aside as if they were a waste of his time. Then he kicked her in the stomach with enough force to throw her back against the tree she had been standing at.
The girl bounced off the tree and Ted was on her, crossing the distance in the blink of an eye. He punched her in the stomach, and she doubled over his fist.
“No,” he said, pushing her head up with his other hand. “You’ve got to stand and fight, Telma.”
When her head was up, he cracked her in the jaw with another well-placed punch. It staggered her to the side. Valdan sighed and Aiden knew why. One did not need to be versed in that art of combat to know that the fight was over. Telma’s eyes were practically glazed over. Standing, she seemed to teeter, her legs threatening to buckle beneath her. It did not please Ted.
Ted swung his leg at her. His foot slammed into her face, drove it into the tree, and shattered a chunk of the tree as large as her head. Blood splashed and Telma went spinning. When she hit the ground, she was already unconscious, at Ted’s mercy.
Valdan pressed his lips into a thin line of discomfort, and Aiden placed a hand on his shoulder to stop him. Valdan looked at him, and he shook his head. Ted already had permission. So the world waited and watched—the world wanted to know.
Ted stood over Telma’s body, looking down at her. The world waited and continued to wait. Aiden realized that he didn’t care what decision Ted made.
You’re worse than you thought.
When Ted sighed, Aiden noted collective sighs as well, the sounds of people releasing breaths they had not realized that they were holding. It was a while before Ted’s shoulders finally relaxed, and he turned away from Telma’s body.
He walked straight up to Aiden and looked him in the eye. “Your fault,” he said, then pointed at the unconscious Telma, “she does not fear me because of you.”
“I’m sorry,” Aiden apologized, knowing that Ted had spoken nothing but the truth.
Ted’s eyes were hard, he had more to say, but he didn’t. Instead, he let out one calming breath and said, “Those giants better be worth it.”
“I hope so,” Aiden answered, “I really do.”
Ted nodded once and walked past him, heading for the jepats. “Everybody mount up. I’m tired of the shitty forest. We’re finding civilization. And someone get that garbage on a jepat.”
No one hesitated, no one looked at Aiden. In the blink of an eye, jepats were prepared and mounted, Aiden’s included.
No one knew what would happen tomorrow or next week or next month. But the one thing everyone knew was this; nobody would be disobeying Ted today.