Chapter 289: Chapter 275 – Cooks and Crooks VII

Chapter 275 - Cooks and Crooks VII

Lia silently crept through the underbrush at a fifth of her usual speed. She took care to exaggerate her movements so that the boy could learn them, but he still struggled to keep up. His body was much smaller and his steps were more hesitant. Even though he was more natural on four legs, he had to glance at his paws each time he moved, to ensure he wasn’t crushing some branch or other beneath his claws.

They hadn’t quite taken any jobs from the board, but Lia had put an imaginary objective into the kid’s mind. He would be eliminating goblins and carving out their hearts. In practice, not even the greenskins’ most vital organs were of any notable value. They were a poor catalyst at best, sometimes used in the training of alchemists and apothecaries not yet trusted with more expensive ingredients. On the market, they would cost maybe a copper piece fresh, and less than half that if dried or otherwise preserved.

It was precisely the monsters’ worthlessness that made them the perfect target for a newbie. Ruben had gotten the hang of basic sword fighting, and he had a few elementary spells under his belt, but he was still a kid without a class. That wasn’t to say he didn’t have any unlocked. It was more a matter of indecisiveness. A poor orphan like him hadn’t the funds to beseech Xekkur’s church to remove an unwanted choice at a later time.

They had decided that he would choose after he was done with his first round of training. In the meantime, he was mostly working on his fundamentals. Claire had refused to teach him per se, but she discussed basic magic theory with Sylvia in his presence. It was difficult to say exactly how much he picked up on, but Lia knew that the boy was sharper than the average. He wasn’t a genius—far from it—but he had taken to her lessons like a natural. Seeing his rapid progress warmed her heart. In a way, he almost reminded her of her sister, who had adapted to her master’s teachings with all the same ease.

“There they are. Three standard variants, and based on their equipment, they should be pretty low level.” She spoke in a whisper as she stopped in front of a clearing. She had been tempted to use a set of hand signals instead, but she gave up after failing to decide on a standard. As a former military woman, she was most well-versed in Paunsean orders, but they didn’t seem as useful given the Vel’khanese environment. The local signs would be useful for cooperating with other adventurers from the area, but they would also be the easiest for third parties to read.

That left the Cadrian signals. They were certainly useful to know, with the foreign force planning to establish a long-term presence, but they otherwise shared the same problem as their Paunsean counterparts. Lia had given the problem quite a fair bit of thought. She had even brought it up with her friends, but Sylvia was too confused to answer, while the moose had replied with a glare, a flick, and an accusation.

Natalya disagreed with the accompanying claim, of course. She wasn’t overthinking. It was her job as the child’s instructor to ensure the best possible outcome.

“Did you say three?” the boy stiffened up, his tiny brown tail trembling behind him.

“Don’t worry. Just stick to what I’ve taught you, and three will be easy.”

“O-okay.” Ruben slowly inched through the undergrowth, with a dagger in his trembling hand.

Lia frowned when she realised he was using the blade to pull himself along. She was going to have to lecture him once he was done.

The dulling of his weapon aside, Ruben was largely proceeding as instructed. He crept along the forest floor and circled around the group, springing only as he was perfectly positioned behind the largest and most threatening-looking goblin. The monster spun around when it heard all the rustling and spotted the boy in the middle of his charge. It didn’t manage to grab its weapon in time, nor did it leap out of his path, but it did at least raise its arms in a last-ditch effort to protect its vitals. The dagger aimed for his throat dug into his forelimb instead, tearing at its muscle, but failing to secure a kill.

Ruben immediately dug his feet into the ground and buried his knife deeper with a sickening twist. The howling goblin retaliated with a desperate overhead punch. It was a weak, powerless hit, even for the greenskin’s spindly arms. The pirates’ fists hurt a hundred times more. And yet, the cub felt a shudder run up his spine. A primal fear spread throughout his body. Because he could see it in the warped creature’s eyes. It wasn’t just trying to hurt him. It was trying to kill him.

He fought back the urge to run and stabbed the monster again. The second attack was not aimed as well. He found the creature’s gut when he was hoping to rip through its chest, but the end result was the same. With blood foaming from its lips, the biggest goblin spasmed one last time before losing strength and collapsing on top of him. He was almost about to cheer when he heard a sudden whoosh. He managed to duck out of the way as a fist flew over his head, only to be struck in the side.

There was a gut-wrenching crunch as something dug its way into his ribcage. He couldn’t stop a wailing scream from working its way up his throat. Waves of pain coursed through his body as he was sent tumbling to the ground. It was in that tumbling motion, as he was being thrown around, that he understood what had happened. A goblin had struck him with a club almost twice the size of its body.

The wooden weapon, likely scrounged from one tree or other, had been split in the attack. But even then, its durability was greater than the bear’s. His pelt had done nothing to protect him. Try as he might, he could hardly get to his feet. His vision was blurry, and his head was spinning. He almost wanted to give up. It hurt so badly that he didn’t think there was any point in struggling. Even as the two laughing greenskins closed in.

Natalya stepped out of the shrubbery only as the grip of death threatened to close. The reaper’s scythe—or rather the reaper’s stick—was kicked away from his neck right as it dug into his skin. The weapon’s wielder was launched alongside it, with both flying above the canopy. Goblin number three dashed in to seize the opening, but it too was repelled with a swipe of the catgirl’s feet.

She pressed a greave against its face and lightly booted it into a tree. It had looked like a casual, half-hearted motion, but the result spoke for anything but its gentleness. The ancient willow split in half, just like the goblin’s skull as its contents were permanently removed.

“So what do you think?” she spoke with a gentle smile in spite of the overwhelming brutality. “How was your first taste of combat?”

The boy could feel his nose trembling as he was made the subject of the catgirl’s attention. He turned his eyes away before he lost the rest of his composure and spoke in a grumble. “Three was too many.” It hurt to speak, but his shame dulled the pain.

To listen to the laugh that ensued was nothing short of disheartening. The boy had meant his words, and for them to be shrugged off so casually left him wondering if seeking her tutelage had been the right choice to begin with.

“If you’re hunting monsters, then you can almost always expect to be outnumbered,” she said, with a small smile. “Sometimes, it’s a hundred to one, and it can get even worse. You’ll just have to get used to it.”

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“Does that mean I’ll be fighting three again next time?” he asked.

“I was thinking five, now that you know what to watch out for,” she said. His otherwise kind teacher pulled him to his feet with no regard for his injury and returned his fallen weapon to his hand. “Follow me. Try to keep up.”

He almost wanted to voice a complaint, but the boy eventually tightened his grip on his weapon and followed the catgirl deeper into the forest.

___

Three hours later, the master and disciple returned to town, the former all smiles and the latter beaten ragged. The very temporary equipment that Natalya had procured for him had been completely obliterated three times over. The leather breastplate was turned to scrap, the boots were worn and torn, and the dagger was without its edge. Evidence that the exhausted, freshly traumatized youth had survived his first session.

Her methods were questionable, but the results spoke for themselves. His level had more than doubled, going from six to fourteen over the course of roughly ten different encounters. By the end of it all, he had found himself capable of taking five goblins on at once. Not that such an ability meant much in the face of the thirty-strong hordes that had been forced upon him.

Lia knew that the cub was skeptical, but there was a certain method to her madness. Her own teacher had guided both the Vernelle sisters through the exact same process, and according to the famous Paunsean swordsman, it was one of the few ways for a teacher without an instructor class to effectively pass their mastery onto another. The more common method was to spar, and Natalya was planning on doing just that in due time, but it was important for him to tackle the goblins first. The mock battles would only be even more brutal.

“I can’t believe you made me do that. I thought I was going to die.” The orphan grumbled as he bit large chunks of meat off a hearty skewer. Perhaps because she was also somewhat peckish, his master had grabbed him a quick meal on their way back to the shop. But while land meat was a rare treat—almost everything he normally ate came from the sea—the boy found that he was struggling to enjoy it. His mouth still stung; he had been slugged in the face at least a couple hundred times, and though mostly closed, the cuts came with a strange phantom pain.

“I was expecting it to go a little bit smoother,” said Natalya, with an apologetic smile. “We can give it another go once you’ve picked your class.”

The cusp of the problem was that he was being made to bite off far more than he could have possibly chewed, and he had raised that exact argument after his third battle, but she had shrugged it right off with a lecture on the relationship between risk and reward. Ruben understood the explanation, of course. It was practically common knowledge that danger was the key to power. What he didn’t understand was why she had gone out of her way to raise the stakes each time, when he hadn’t so much as a single triumph.

When they arrived at the store, they each entered a private room and washed off their bodies. The water was a little cold; the showers drew their water directly from the canals, but they were happier with the blood and guts rinsed off regardless. Ruben was quick about it—the salt in the water clawed at his still-open wounds and left him teary—while Natalya took her time and carefully washed every nook and cranny. She would be going home right after, and the last thing she wanted was for her roommates to wrinkle their noses. Assuming they were still awake to begin with.

She had laid out a change of clothes for the boy, but she emerged from her room to find him in his usual rags. He was already asleep, his head against the counter and a line of drool dribbling down the side of his cheek. Though she suspected that it would be for the better, she decided not to wake him. He was clearly exhausted from all the near-death experiences.

“This must be how my master felt.” She closed her eyes as she recalled the aging man’s face and pressed her fingers to her own matching smile. “I wonder how he’s doing.” Her other hand moved to the blade on her waist, the handle of which she tightly gripped. “Maybe I should be giving this back.” She immediately began to recall her sister, but she shook her head clear of the thought and lifted the boy onto her back.

She moved him to one of the private rooms and set him down in the bed. Taking him home wasn’t an option. She hadn’t the slightest clue where he lived. And regardless of where it was, the shop was no doubt at least ten times as comfortable.

Giving her back a stretch, the cat closed the door behind her and climbed up onto the roof. The streets were nearly devoid of life. The road would have had hundreds of people walking down each side in the daytime, but in the dead of the night, there were only three. The canals were a little less lifeless. She could see at least a dozen glowing creatures slowly swimming about, but they carried themselves with far more lethargy than they did during the usual waking hours.

It was a scene of peace, tranquility. And that was precisely why her mind began to wander.

When she looked upon the castle, whose otherwise perfect white was still marred from the coup, she found herself recalling the witch’s invitation. Her face went red and her heart sped up as well. Arciel had used their familiarity as an excuse, and while it was certainly an undeniable factor, the cat knew better than to assume that it was the whole truth. She had been too disappointed, following the rejections, for someone that was simply seeking comfort.

To be the target of the queen’s affections was like something out of a fairytale. But as much as Natalya would have liked to live that life, she found it impossible to convince herself to accept. Ciel was by no means the problem. The imperial bloodkraken was a lovely young lady with a beautiful smile and a gravity-defying chest. She was kind as well, and incredibly sweet on those that were close to her. If the others had accepted, Lia would have happily followed suit. But given the status quo, she had chosen to remain exactly where she was. On the wrong side of the fence.

“I’ll have to try a little harder.” She hugged her tail to her chest as she closed her eyes and turned onto her side. It was so quiet that she could hear her heart beating against her rib cage and begging to be set free.

Pressing a hand to it, and curving her lips into a gentle smile, she took a deep breath and continued on her way.

They were already living together. She had already stopped her from running off.

One last push was all she needed to break down the walls that still remained.

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