LIGHTNOVELONLINE Chapter 3: Motivation?
Mara's incredible tenacity prevented her from stuttering or losing her calm, But she still paused several times. Choosing her words carefully. It was one of the many things I actually admired about her.
“Well… so long as you're not dead… You might as well try your hardest… I know you're tired, but you have to…”
“To get stronger, right…” ‘I hate that phrase so much. If she would just give me a reasonable weapon. A dagger, or even a sword, something I could wield. I could at least work on my skills, if I could meet the minimum requirements of strength I could learn technique and still be capable, instead, I'm stuck trying to swing this oversized stick around.’
I glared at the greatsword, now racked on the wall. “You need me to get stronger so that our noble status isn't taken away, but it makes no difference to me if that happens or not. Honestly, I'd probably prefer it that way, so why should I try my hardest…”
Without realizing it I had been speaking out loud. Letting my thoughts out carelessly as I lost control of my tongue. I yelped, covering my mouth with my hands as I looked over to Mara.
“Siya…” her eyes almost began to glow and her tone changed, becoming deadly serious. “I will continue doing my best as your instructor. But if you cannot at least pass the test that commoners have to take in order to get into the academy by the time we enroll your sister… You will die.”
“Right… Sorry. I shouldn't have said that…” ‘Maybe I was more emotional than I thought. Of course… She knows as well as I do that at this point punishing me would only make the issue worse.’
I was already threatened with death, and if that's the case there is no point in hitting me or not hitting me. Either I want to live or I don't. ‘I'm not even sure if I know the real answer to that question, but one thing's for sure.’ “If I die… you know I'm coming back to haunt you right?” I said, only partially joking
She rolled her eyes and smirked, her serious tone vanishing. “You really are an evil child, you'd make the woman that gave birth to you kill you twice?”
‘Even now she won’t call herself my mother…’ I couldn't help but chuckle at how casually she said she would kill me more than once. “Nah, you can have Father kill me the second time. With how messed up the whole idea of Honor is, it's probably his responsibility anyway. Of course, he couldn't do it the first time, so it'll still be your job the first time. And when I'm just a vengeful spirit, then he can kill me.”
Mara shook her head. Maybe it was because she was a knight and an adventurer before she had children, but she enjoyed dark humor. When I saw her smile it filled me with relief. It usually meant I wasn't going to be punished for anything I said. On the other hand, I could feel a deep pit in my stomach, and I couldn't help but lower my gaze. I couldn't explain how I felt, but I knew there was something wrong about her being able to joke about me dying, even if I was the one who started it. I may have made her smile, but it ate away at me.
There was no affection between us despite our shared blood, and to be honest, I was fine with that, I didn't need a loving or caring mother, I had my memories of my mom from my past life and they were more than enough to fill that need. Even so, I wished that I could find just one person who wouldn't laugh when I made a joke about myself. Someone who would tell me it wasn't funny. Every time I made a joke like that I secretly hoped someone would respond in that way.
“Just… keep trying, please… I'd hate to have wasted so much time on you.” All the anger inside of her had left, at least, I thought it had. She had always been so hard to read it was hard to tell sometimes. She was being kind of rude, sure, but no more than I was. “Instead of drills and sparring, go to the river and back. Bring me a bucket of water as proof. There will be some food ready when you get back. You WILL eat all of it this time.”
Her orders always amde her feel distant, like she was talking at me more than anything else. Her drill sergeant-like voice left little room to start a conversation, she didn't even connect her sentences properly when telling me what to do, making them sound even more like individual orders.
‘It’s always the same, either she tries to brainwash me towards her line of thinking, and her values of honor and glory, or she tries to order me around. Whenever I do speak my mind I get a hard smack to the face…’ To be fair she only ever hit me while we were both holding swords, but that fact brought little comfort.
‘Somehow I got away with it this time though. Although to be fair, when I was younger I was a lot mouthier too. It helped me handle this harsh new reality.’ She turned and walked away without another word. ‘I guess she said everything she needed to.’
I understood her perfectly. She told me to go to the river and not to run, this meant that I could get there and back however I wanted. If she had said run, she would have started a timer the second she said the word run, and if I wasn’t back fast enough I'd have to do it all again.
The phrase “Instead of drills and sparring,” implied that I would be taking the rest of the day off from training with her specifically, but that I would still be expected to practice my archery and other activities that weren’t usually supervised by her.
Finally, bringing back the bucket as proof was only because there had been times in the past when I was caught cheating. Somehow the river water tasted different from the well and spring water. That in mind, I couldn't come up with a good way to get out of it.
I stared blankly across the open courtyard, dreading the task. It was roughly 2 kilometers away and would probably take me just under an hour of walking to get there. My clothes were less than fit for cold weather as I had no coat, or even shoes for that matter. It may not have snowed yet but I could feel the chilling wind picking up.
Everything in life had to be earned through physical strength, that was the law. Because of that, my only possessions were the thin sackcloth shirt that didn’t even cover my stomach, and a similar pair of pants that hardly even reached my knees, held up by a single thick string of roughspun twine.
The only thing that mattered was strength, and the longer I lived, the more apparent that became. My siblings, even my younger sister, all had custom clothes made from fine materials. They had beds, and blankets, and were even allowed to buy almost anything they wanted. I wasn't even allowed to go to the city so, you know, forget about shoping.