The Humble Life of a Skill Trainer

With an incoherent shout of agony, Private Baker threw himself away from the magical pain-inducing rod that struck him across the shin. The four soldiers surrounding him wore ugly smiles, Baker's agony inducing a rictus of joy from each strike. Passing the rod to his partner, the next soldier waited until Baker stood again, then silently touched the bulbous end of the rod to Baker's ear. Squealing like a stuck pig, Baker curled into a ball for a moment, his body twitching in agony before he resolutely climbed to his feet once more.

Blindfolded head whipping around, his nose twitching, he held his arms out as if to catch his balance. Baker did everything he could to find the direction of the next attack as he had for the last week. His training time in the circle of sadist soldiers was painful, but he was showing signs of progress. At first, Baker was unable to dodge any of the attacks, now the Private would catch one in ten or more. This still meant he found himself curled in a ball screaming in agony more often than not.

Leaning toward the Captain, I whispered while I let the screams cover my words from prying ears. "Just a suggestion, but I wouldn't let those four deal with civilians," I said while keeping one eye on the action. More than once, I'd had to warn the men to stop kicking Baker while he cringed in pain, rather than using the painful - but ultimately safe - magical prod.

The Captain gave me a look that clearly conveyed that he didn't need a youngster to tell him how to do his job. To which I could only shrug sheepishly. I had somehow gotten on the Captain's bad side somewhere during the last week of travel. He wasn't expressive with his displeasure, but I seemed to be rubbing him raw. Private Baker was probably one of the main reasons.

Shortly after we began traveling back on the roads toward the city, Private Baker pulled me aside and asked for specialized training to earn combat Skills different from the norm. Interestingly enough, he wanted me to pick what I thought would be useful rather than trying for whatever he had heard of from stories. Given his [Storytelling] Skill, I would have guessed he would want something out of legend. Never mind that most of those Skills were likely as mythical as the stories themselves.

My guess was that he was trying to avoid being part of the pike-men. If he could gain a few specialist combat Skills, he would be the core of a team that I was sure the Baron, or the Captain, would build. There was no sense in putting someone with enhanced senses on the pike line for the army. Maybe as a scout, but definitely not on the front-line. But Private Baker wanted a combat specific Skill, so just something like [Enhanced Hearing] was vetoed quickly. Finally, we settled on [Combat Awareness].

[Combat Awareness] was a niche Skill. It only worked when the user felt like they were in danger, meaning it wouldn't be useful for something like guard duty, but it was excellent once they knew they were in a fight. The specific way it manifested depended on the person. It was one of the few Skills with wildly varying manifestations even if the effects were pretty similar. Some had enhanced hearing, which made every movement sound like a clarion call. Others could simply feel the air around them and knew every action from that. One listing even mentioned a rare variant involving an enhanced sense of smell that worked better than sight. Each version of the Skill had a trade-off. But, the end result was always the same; the ability to know who and what was moving around you during combat.

Training for it was difficult and painful, so I hadn't expected Private Baker to last long. Especially when the Captain picked these four guards. These four were obviously going to be stationed where their…particular enthusiasm…would be helpful, possibly as prison guards. Still, I had been wrong about Private Baker's passion for training. He seemed to have intuited the concept of pain as a temporary and unimportant factor when it didn't include an injury. Many Skill Trainers had developed the same sense after experiencing multiple rounds of training first-hand. The real limit was the body's weakness to stress and the mind's threshold of agony and the psychological damage. Oddly, if you are in charge of the pain, if you can choose to quit but don't, the cost to the mind was less.

Though Private Baker was starting to push it with a session every evening. For a week.

I had returned to training Snowy, the afternoons giving her time away from her book study and a chance to move and stretch after each day's carriage ride. We were trying to focus on the elusive effect of the pulse she had described, but we couldn't isolate it. The best she could say was that it no longer felt like a single beat but was instead a storm of impacts coming from all directions.

Despite the lack of progress, she was still pushing forward with her training. Her body moving smoothly as she breathed, her training weapon swinging around her in even loops and sudden jabs. She was trying to concentrate on [Swordmanship] as well, so she was using her wooden training weapon. I felt the split focus was not doing her any favors, but she had refused to pick one or the other to focus on. I thought that all she really needed was to shift her trained responses to match a more traditional use of the sword. Instead of the hobbled tactical training that she had received. Then, she would earn the Skill.

Technically, the woman was a better swordsman than I was. Her problem was that she attacked when she should defend and charged when she needed to gain distance. It made her difficult to handle in a duel - simply because of her unusual reactions - but would get her quickly killed in the middle of a melee.

The Captain had set aside time for weapon practice during the evening while the men were as tired as possible. A further ten men (and one woman) had learned the [Pikemanship], or some other related Skill, during that time. This meant something like half of the guard force was without a combat Skill. I was unimpressed with the numbers who had learned Skills after the fight with the goblins. Some had taken the lack of gaining a Skill from the Culling poorly. They had curled inward and refused to train more than the minimum needed to keep the Captain from assigning them the worst duties. A few of the others took their lack as a personal failing and attacked their training with a passion. Those few had quickly earned combat Skills.

The third group was more interesting.

They decided for whatever reason that they wanted nothing to do with combat. This group had a sample of the blood and the sweat, the knowledge that the creature in front of them wanted them dead, and then decided that they would rather not experience more of that. I couldn't blame them. I had found myself in the same camp as them, though I had still trained my combat Skills in other ways. I even went out of my way to focus on crafting Skills that would enhance my combat Skills. I just couldn't see my life not having combat in it, so it behooved me to be prepared for those moments.

I wasn't sure how this third group would be handled. Some could be absorbed into maintenance and support groups for the Baron's military, but that was a rather low skilled and low wage area. There would only be so many positions to fill. Likely, many would be forced to fight on the front line despite their lack of Skills. They had been hired for combat, and there was little chance of them escaping that fate.

Shrugging, I turned back to Private Baker and his four friends. It wasn't likely I could do anything for those that feared combat and didn't want to make it the focus of their life, even if I was sympathetic to their plight.

Scratching at my chin, I watched as Private Baker twitched to the side to avoid another sly kick. I was keeping Private Baker's Skill list in my sight as he trained so I couldn't help shouting in joy for the boy when he finally gained his Skill. My outburst caused the four sadists to step back. Baker swayed as he levered himself onto all fours. His body jerked around in confusion from the input of his new Skill.

Seismic Awareness - Tier 2: 3

The ground speaks to you. The call of the land is yours to hear.

Passive Effect:

+15% Resistance to Stun.

Lesser: Vitality of the Land - Sense the vitality and health of the land.

Major: Awareness of movement while in contact with the ground.

Unlocks the Landsense Resource.

Active Trigger Effect:

Costs Landsense while in use.

+20% to Sense of Balance.

Minor: Walk the Land - Movement on rocks, soil, or dirt leaves no trace.

Lesser: ?

After Effect:

Lesser Pain and disorientation if not on bare earth when Active Effect ends.

Well, that's not a traditional combat Skill - it's even a tier two! - but I was sure it was going to be useful. The moment Private Baker tried to stand, he windmilled his arms and turned an unhealthy green shade. The four bullies surrounding him were slow to move. Baker punished that failure when he violently discharged his unhappy stomach on one of them. Returning to the ground, Private Baker made a miserable sound while he turned his face away from his sickness.

The Captain reached Baker first but smartly didn't try to move him. He just helped hold him in position, away from his erstwhile meal, and asked him questions about what he was experiencing.

"Just hold still. I've read your Skill. I know what the issue is," I said while I untied Private Baker's boots. The Captain gave me an odd look at my comment and my actions but didn't comment as he held Baker still. When I finally got his feet clear, Baker gave a sigh of relief when his toes touched the ground. Carefully, both of us on either side of him and making sure not to be directly in front of his mouth, we removed the blindfold and helped him to his feet.

"Baker, can you feel the land? Do you feel it filling you up?" I asked, being sure to keep my voice low, though the Captain was obviously listening in.

Tilting his head slightly, Baker nodded, his eyes focusing into the distance as he slowly straightened. Both of us stepped back and watched as Baker wiggled his toes while a smile spread across his face. Blinking, he looked to both of us, then scanned his eyes across the camp, seeming to see it with a new set of eyes.

"I'm not sure. Uh," Baker said before shaking his head and staring at his feet in confusion.

Waving away some of the approaching men, the Captain pulled the cork from his water pouch and passed it to Baker. Taking a gulp, Baker swished for a second then spit the water away. The impact of the water on the ground made him flinch, his body reacting, but he recovered himself quickly.

"Landsense. Sorry Baker, but you're going to have to go without boots for the next few weeks, or at least until we get to the fort and can get you some specially made boots," I said.

"It's like, I see the whole camp, only not? It's odd. Some of it is really odd. The latrine is both good for the soil and not at the same time, and I can feel something ahead that's leeching from the soil. It's bad. Very bad," Baker said, then closed his eyes and turned to stare toward the destination of our march.

"Tastes like wet bones and screams? I…uh," Baker said, before shaking his head, confusion clear across his face. Whatever he had tasted was deeply disturbing to the young man. In fact, it was disturbing to me as well. Nothing described as wet bones and screams would ever be a good thing in my book. I nodded my head toward Snowy when the Captain glanced my way. Snowy was still diligently moving through her forms, having become used to Baker's screams over the last week.

We were heading toward a fort in the deeper woods. Its main job was to watch for bandits and large movements of goblins or orcs. I hadn't even known it existed before the Captain mentioned it. Still, it made sense that such outposts would be necessary. The rich mines and trade were the Barony's primary resources, and those required the trade routes to be clear of bandits and the monstrous races both. Minor forts, at least to keep watch for massive tribal migrations, had to be stationed in the forest.

I stared at Snowy as she stopped her movements, her face flushed with her exercise, her smile fading at my concerned look.

I wonder what we will find when we reach the fort?