Author's Nightmare: Chapter 137 (Patreon)

Beam POV: Day 112

Current Wealth: 233 gold 47 silver 16 copper

A week of healing wasn’t really that much in the grand scheme of things, even in combat sports with gloves and health-preserving rules I’d frequently needed several times that between matches. But Corvan made it go a lot farther. By the seventh day since Solitaire’s return, I felt like most of my strength was back. 

Of course feelings could be deceptive- if they weren’t then Solitaire’s feelings would add up to a literal apocalypse every week- so I put that to the test too. Fortunately, I had as big an abundance of sparring partners as ever. 

Argar’s improvement had started to slow somewhat, but the big guy was still formidable. It just didn’t help him much. He was slower than me obviously, he’d always been, and though he’d gotten a lot more technically sound, reading space better and telegraphing less than even a week before, there was no comparing us. None of that was a surprise. What was surprising was that I was stronger than him now. Much stronger. 

His swings didn’t even register to me as testing, and I smacked axes aside like they were feathers. Argar was soon panting, sweating, swearing, but I was just barely warming up when he finally called it quits. It was a good moment, satisfying after a week of infirmity. 

Then Arthur kicked the crap out of me. Well, some things didn’t change so easily.

Fortunately, my embarrassment didn’t last for long. I’d gotten closer to Arthur’s sheer physicality than I expected to, but even with that the gap between us was insurmountable. Whatever I’d done to fight the King- and I barely even remembered that- it apparently wouldn’t be done again. And my little helper had been silent about it ever since, to boot. 

Well that much was typical. I’d learned a long time ago not to rely on the voice for…Much of anything, really. They apparently had the ability to deny me access to my powers, but they sure as shit didn’t care much about speeding up their growth. In fact…I was beginning to wonder if they even could. 

I wasn’t given long to continue testing myself of course, that would’ve been too pleasant. It was Solitaire who called me up and I hurried as best as I could, finding Helena already there with him when I arrived. She was looking much better, healthier and more mobile of course, but mentally too. There had been a weight to her that wasn’t there anymore, a weakness which had been displaced by something of her previous strength. 

The actual strength I could see demonstrated by how easily she was moving around the solid tool-steel spear went a long ways to conveying it all, I had to admit. I almost didn’t see the new faces behind her and Solitaire.

“Took you long enough.” My brother grunted, gesturing to them. “Beam, these are the new recruits. New recruits, this is Beam. He’s going to be teaching you how to fight alongside Helena.”

Neither me, nor Helena looked particularly happy about this. I reckoned my reasons were a good deal stronger than hers.

“Solitaire, a word?” I asked. He smiled.

“No. I’ve got to go and do something, have fun kids.” Before I could so much as protest, he was gone. Asshole. I turned to Helena, questioningly, silently pleading for her to take the lead. Thankfully, she’d always had a knack for other people’s discomfort and realized how lost I was before the recruits did. 

“Line up!” She barked. All of them froze, and didn’t move. I realised about when Helena did that, evidently, she was used to training people at a different stage of the process than completely raw new-joins. I spoke before anything else could wrong. 

“Form ranks in a straight line, one next to the other, shoulder to shoulder and facing us.”

Thankfully, that seemed to be enough clarification that they’d done as told within a few moments more. It gave me a good chance to count them, too. 

Fourteen men. All of them were short and wiry, as people tended to be in Redacle, and half looked like they’d been homeless the day before. As far as starts went for a new personal army…We’d had better. 

Then again, we’d had worse too. Fourteen men was still fourteen men. Particularly when we outfitted them in the way Solitaire’s laboratory made possible. 

“You’re all lucky enough to be joining the Belahont Company.” Helena said, speaking with the confidence of someone who was near-certain she’d not be interrupted, and the aggression of one who almost hoped she was. “Here, you will be changed from the pitiable, mewling wretches I now look over and turned into hardened killers. This will not be easy, and it will not be quick, but I will see to it personally, and anyone who drags this journey of yours down will have to answer to me personally.”

They looked awed and terrified. More terrified than awed, it had to be said, but both could bring about obedience, and Helena was the expert. I remained silent. 

“Now to start with, we’re going to go over some spear-fighting.” She continued. “I’m a spear fighter, as you’ve all probably noticed, and there’s no better weapon for fighting in formation. In the corner you’ll find a row of practice spears with blunted heads, as well as some actual shields. All of you will take one of each, then assemble back into your ranks and await further instruction.”

And so they did, and so she gave it, and so the training began. It was a dull affair, at least at first, but as it progressed I started to appreciate the differences between training one person and training an entire class. More, I appreciated the gap between simply teaching a group to fight, and teaching that group how to fight as a group. It made me realize how flimsy my own tutelage in Rinchester had been. 

For a while I just watched as they ran laps, practiced thrusts, obeyed everything Helena said as if they were sheep and her the shepherd. I actually started to wonder about what purpose I was even meant to be serving there, but that was put to an end when the first break came about. A short one, just a few minutes as men panted, cooled down and desperately guzzled the free drinking water we’d lured them into training by providing. Helena took the chance to take me aside and speak.

“What do you think?” She asked, throwing me for a loop.

“Your training is very impressive.” I replied, flashing a smile which withered, died and decomposed into rotten sludge with a single raised eyebrow from Helena. 

“About the recruits.” She clarified. “What are your thoughts?”

It was an embarrassing question to be asked, as would any other question coming from an expert and aimed at a layman.

“I don’t know.” I shrugged. “I’m not a trainer, the only reason I even had a go at it at Rinchester was because-”

“You have a way of moving, and watching movement.” Helena cut in. “I’ve seen it. I don’t know how you do it, but it’s like watching a snake coiling, and sometimes you’ll be avoiding an attack before it’s even come. So don’t tell me you have no insight about what you’ve been watching.”

It was a slap to the face, but it got me thinking at least. She had a point. I couldn’t; know which direction their training needed going, but I could certainly identify where they were going wrong. 

“That tall, thin one.” I began. “He needs to try gripping his spear a hand lower down than the others, his body is weirdly shaped and doing it the standard way is screwing up his control. The one on the far right has something off with one of his ankles that makes his footwork clumsier, teaching him to move more from his knees and focus on faster, shorter steps will do a world of good. And-”

I continued, prattling away about every minor and major problem that came to my mind until Helena stopped me.

“Don’t tell me.” She cut in, sounding suddenly rather impressed, “Break’s about to end. Tell them.”

And so I did, learning names and faces, discussing styles and tweaking techniques. I was surprised to receive an incredibly warm- even enthusiastic- welcome when I injected my input into things, and Helena picked up on that near instantly. Soon enough I was more involved, repeating orders I had whispered to me from the Vit and watching as men scrambled to obey.

Half the day went by before we were finally finished with the training, and I almost felt fatigued for just having watched it. As the men began filing out, heading to their new sleeping quarters in the mansion to enjoy the luxuries of insulated shelter and actual bedding, my new instruction partner turned to me. She looked pleased. 

“You did well.”

I wasn’t sure how to reply, so just shrugged. Helena grinned.

“God you really are different from your brothers, Shango and Solitaire eat up compliments like they’re starving for them.” I cracked a smile at that.

“They’re not as different from each other as either of them thinks.”

She looked thoughtful at that, and it made room for a question of my own.

“Why me?” I asked. Helena caught my meaning fast. She seemed surprised to even be asked.

“Isn’t it obvious? “

I looked at her in a way I hoped conveyed that it was, in fact, not obvious, and Helena continued.

“Beam, you fought the King of Blades and wounded him. You’ve killed enemies by the dozen within individual fights, the whole world watched you go from near the middle to second in the entire tourney over a few weeks. You’re famous. Why wouldn’t they be thrilled to learn fighting from the city’s best fighter?”

I felt like I’d just been gutted.