The Humble Life of a Skill Trainer

“In. One-two-three-four. Out. One-two-three. Good, and again,” I said as I slowly walked around Snowy.

I had been maintaining the same cadence as Snowy while she was recovering from training. A slow count of four to inhale, a slightly shorter pace to exhale. We had been at it for days, and I could see the strain on Snowy’s face. She was becoming frustrated by the lack of progress, and my seeming calm was not helping the matter.

Keeping the same pace, I stopped when I was directly in front of the woman. Watching the grimace on her face as she tried to maintain her breathing, I decided to remain calm and focused.

The headache from trying to focus my skill on her breathing was taking a toll on me as well. Suddenly shouting to the woman, I said, “Alright. Take a break, walk around for a moment.”

Flashing me a frown, she said nothing as she began her now routine walk around the practice yard. Her giant stride ate away at the ground. Watching her move, I couldn’t help but think she was trying to resist the urge to run. Something about the slow and deep breathing seemed to trigger a manic kind of energy in the woman. I had first assumed that it was a part of the skill, but her skill listing said otherwise. When I questioned her about it, she said she had always been that way since she was a child. Unable to sit still and filled with energy. That explained her physical prowess, she did more training in a day while relaxing than I had when training with my father. The real question was how she was fueling her recovery.

Rubbing my brow, I tried to work through what was different. Besides the exhaustion, something changed between when she was breathing then and now. That, or I was entirely on the wrong path here. But I didn’t think so. Something about the odd breathing pattern stood out to me, especially so, since she maintained it even when a faster gasping pattern would have been more natural. I could have her test the link by having her intentionally break her breathing pattern while exhausted. Still, I was avoiding that plan for now. It was unlikely, but it was always possible to jinx her performance by trying to break it down.

Father mentioned a training story about an army buddy who was able to fire an arrow accurately without aiming, he would ‘feel’ the location. The moment that the army trainer tried to get him to break down the movements and explain what he was doing was the moment he stopped being able to fire by feel. He would get in his own way in his head and lose the ‘feel’ for the movements. This could turn into something similar.

Closing my eyes, I stood straight and mentally visualized Snowy’s movements as she was recovering. The cadence matched, but something about it was wrong. Trying to overlap my memory over her still form, the difference was clear. I could feel my teaching skill tugging at me in my mind, trying to point to something, but no matter how I tried, I couldn’t see what else was missing. Still, there was another thing to try.

“Snowy, I’ve got an idea,” I shouted without glancing at the woman. I was still scratching my chin and thinking about the new plan as she approached. Idly I noticed that I needed a shave. Keeping my chin free of whiskers was required to maintain my disguise. I was blessed with a young-looking face, but a beard ruined the illusion of my apprenticeship.

When Snow-in-Blood stopped in front of me, I began to focus on her with my skill. It was difficult to shift into the headspace where I consider the angles of movement, the focus on someone’s eyes, and the balance of their body. The moments where they would act, and when they would pause. Even with the mental strain, it had become routine with long practice. The real difficulty was to continue to use the skill, to focus my mind after it had reached the point of diminishing effort.

“Stand here for me, please,” I said, my voice slightly distant as I tried to recreate the image in my memories.

Without thinking, I reached out and turned Snowy, her body stiff at my touch. Placing one hand at her diaphragm and the other on her upper shoulders, I bent her slightly while keeping her abs mostly straight. It was only after she was fully lined up did I notice the sweat on my hands from the woman’s body. Wiping my hand on my pants, I then noticed her stare and my mannerless manipulation of the woman’s form.

“Ah, excuse me,” I said as I backed up a moment.

Nodding, she just waited.

Coughing once into my hand, I tried to reach out for my lost focus.

“Right. So, don’t stand up straight but keep that position. Hold your abs tight, but breath deep each time. Remember what you were feeling like when you are trying to recover. Think the same thoughts as you breathe,” I said as I watched my student close her eyes.

Before I could start counting, I knew that we had found the key. It wasn’t the position of Snowy’s abs, it was the mental component of needing to recover. She linked the sensation of recovery in her mind to avoiding stomach cramping during exhaustion. The last connection that was required was that mental component, and it came from the sensation of physical strain.

“In. One-two-three-four. Out. One-two-three,” I said, slowly walking around her body as something flowed through her. Even from where I stood, I could feel something ephemeral shifting within her body. Standing ten feet from the woman, I could feel the air shift and take on the scent of a summer storm.

Falling into our rhythm, I began to breathe in and out at the same rhythm. As I breathed deeply, my words drifted away from me as my focus dropped into the beat. I watched Snow-in-Blood’s shoulders as they rocked slowly up and down, her body remaining upright though tense. Distantly, I could feel skills updating within my mind. Still, I ignored them as I tried to focus on every movement, every action, watching for the small detail which would help me understand Snowy’s skill.

Eventually, the focus became too great to maintain, and I stopped, my body dripping sweat like I had run a marathon.

When I broke from my trance, I glanced at the waiting skill messages and froze.

Self Awareness has mutated.

Licking my suddenly dry lips, I called up the mutated skill.

Meditation - Tier 1: 14

Meditation gives one insight into their own mind, how thoughts flow, and where the river of consciousness runs rough and where it becomes tranquil.

Through a calm perception of the world, the arcane flows through your mind.

Passive Effect:

Lesser: Inner Stability - Slight resistance to effects that would alter your perceptions and actions.

Lesser: Mana Flow - Slight increase in mana recovery.

Active Trigger Effect:

Lesser: Improved perceptual effects.

Lesser: Improved mental effects.

Lesser: Mana Sense.

Synergistic with other known mental & physical skills:

[Memorization], [Reading], [Teacher of Skills], [Focused Cut].

Staring at my new skill, I tried to calm my now pounding heart. The Skill Trainers had known for years that the Mages had a skill that increased mana regeneration and allowed them to sense magic. If it had ever been recorded, the Mages had destroyed all who had the knowledge.

Now I knew the skill and how it was created. It was a mutation of the [Self Awareness] skill, still tier 1, but powerful all the same. This was likely the root of the Mage Guild’s animosity with the Skill Trainers. One of our primary skills was shared with what was likely part of their core training. My [Teaching] skill was itching at the edge of my perception, daring me to reach out for magic. I could taste a plan forming at the razor’s edge of my mind, just out of reach. Instead of jumping headfirst into this new skill, I tried to bring my thoughts back to the current focus. Later I could decide if this was something I was willing to pursue or if it was a trap that I would leave alone. Either way, this new skill would instantly cause the Mage Guild to issue an assassination order if they ever discovered I had it. Likely, for everyone around me as well.

I knew that Snowy would be risking the Mage Guild’s ire with her skill, but her noble lineage would protect her to some degree.

Turning to my trainee’s skill, I broke out into a wicked grin that Snowy shared with me.

Arcanum of the Blood - Tier 1: 7

The power of the unseen world courses through your blood.

Passive Effect:

Minor: Stamina Recovery - Stamina recovers faster than usual at the cost of mana.

Active Trigger Effect:

Minor: Reinforcement of Blood - Through focus, heal the body with mana.

Minor: ?

Lesser: ?

A Minor scaled healing effect that used mana instead of stamina was huge. Typically, healing required a healer or priest who would apply a blessing that drained stamina. With [Arcanum of the Blood], Snowy would be able to heal herself. Given her experience of using the passive effect during combat, she was likely to be able to use the active effect as well. Even more, a priest’s blessing was usually a Lesser effect!

We would have to test out how quickly her healing worked, how much mana it drained, and what kind of focus was required. My guess was this would significantly increase Snowy’s combat capabilities. Healing wasn’t the same as stamina recovery, but it was strongly related. She would likely be able to take injuries and continue fighting, all while fighting longer and harder than her enemies. With that capability, the Baron should easily be able to petition the King to approve her as his heir. Women usually didn’t inherit, but with her training and that skill, no one could argue she was unsuited for warfare. Personal combat capability wasn’t the primary qualifier for a Baroness, but it was a factor.

“Snowy, I think we are done for the night. I’ll let you clean up in the washroom first,” I said to the large woman’s nod and smile.

Trudging back into the hunting manor, I relaxed in the lounge as the sound of the runic water pump, and heating device thumped through the wall. One of the oddities of Snow-in-Blood that I noticed was that she was remarkably stoic and silent, but was generally friendly. She didn’t shy away from an innocent smile like a blushing maiden, and she hadn’t reacted badly to my absent-minded manhandling of her into position. The smile and brilliant eyes were easy to appreciate, as well.

Shaking my head, I levered my sweaty body off the lumpy recliner and moved toward the bath. Snowy had finished her bath while I absently considered the nature of her skill and my newly mutated one. I could hear her moving around upstairs in her room, which meant the bath was free.

I didn’t bother to empty the tub, the water was relatively clean, warm, and had a lovely film of suds from the harsh soap. The facilities were significantly better than what was available in all but the wealthiest bathhouses. It was unlikely I would get to enjoy the Baron’s hunting manor much longer. What a noble would consider lesser accommodations, I thought of as luxuries, so I was eager to enjoy while I could. Once the dried sweat was scrubbed from my body I took a few minutes to close my eyes and just enjoy the heat of the water as it infused into my body.

Levering myself out of the water, I toweled off and made a mental note to wash and air out my used clothes in the morning. I only had a few changes of clothes, and I could use the bathwater for the wash. Wrapping the towel around my waist for the walk to my room, I bundled up my clothes and stepped out of the warm washing room. Ignoring the sudden chill, I climbed the stairs and entered my room, dumping my clothes to the side.

Grabbing the shallow bowl of water generally used for morning ablutions, I rifled through my pack to find my shaving gear. Tapping the small glass bottle of shaving liquid, I grunted when I remembered that I had used the last a few days before we had left. Shaving with only water was less than pleasant, but I needed to maintain my appearance so I would suffer through.

Shortly after I began to shave, there was a knock at the door which opened before I could request a moment.

“Oh! Sorry.” Came the muffled apology through the suddenly closed door.

I couldn’t help but grin at the instant blush and exit of Snow-in-Blood. That had been the first time I had seen the woman in anything resembling a moment of uncertainty. I doubted my less than imposing physique was the cause of her blush as much as my partial nudity and her rude entrance. Still, her blush had been oddly charming. Grabbing a shirt, I threw it on and sat on the bed to make my towel-covered waist less noticeable.

“I’m decent now. What do you need?” I asked while trying to keep the humor of the situation out of my voice.

To my surprise, Snowy opened the door and stepped into my room, her face still slightly flushed in embarrassment.

“My father left a message on the communication scroll. He just survived an assassination attempt. He wants us to return to the castle.”