The Village Elder - Part 8

Beam nodded slowly, still having no idea what the Favour system was, but not wanting to show weakness in front of Greeves. "So, you knew from the start that Ferdinand's request would mean going against the village Elder. Yet you saddled me with it anyway."

"Heh," Greeves shrugged again. "Such is the situation. A different kind of trouble to Goblins, but still trouble, mm? And we've a deal for you to sort it all out for me. As a merchant, I find that highly agreeable. That's why you might find that your worth to me is rather high. Take from that what you will."

A long sigh escaped Beam, as a weight left his shoulders. He rubbed his eyes in annoyance, but somehow couldn't help smiling. As annoying as it was, if this was all within the merchant's calculations, then he had nothing to worry about. "So all you're saying is you want me to be a meat shield for the Elder's animosity? Well, I think you've got that in spades. The old man freaked out on me. I must have offended him beyond the wood."

"Oh?" Greeves' head tilted in interest at those words and he put his pipe into his mouth and laced his hands as though preparing for a good story. "Do share."

"Hah, nah. That's punishment for using me," Beam said. "So, back to this firewood business. You'll get me a list of the families that the Elder refuses to help, I'll sort them out with wood, and then you'll consider this quest done?"

Although quite obviously disappointed about not hearing Beam's story – Judas seemed to be too – Greeves answered his question with his usual merchantisms. "That'll be right. I'd wager these'll be the same families that need helping with food, so that should narrow down your effort somewhat. Still, the hard part will definitely be the Elder getting in your way – if he does. I quite like you. I'd rather not see you crumble to that freak of an old man before I get to crush you myself." He said such ominous words with a true smile on his face, as though that was his mode of affection.

"Well, I'll deal with that when it comes," Beam said, not too worried about it, not yet. He stood to his feet, having concluded his business. "Get me that list, Greeves. I want to get started on it tomorrow."

Greeves glanced at Judas, who was standing in the corner on guard. "Look at that. Imagine me getting ordered around by a little runt of a kid."

Beam shot him a sharp look, causing Greeves to put his hands up. "Fuckin' cool it lad. You've got such a temper on ya. You'd be a lot cuter if you'd roll with the jokes a bit more."

"Tomorrow," Beam said again, nodding at him, before making his way back through the house and leaving out through the front door.

Judas closed it after him, but not before offering him a few words. "If I was you, I'd be taking this business with the Elder more seriously, boy. He's got more power than you might think."

…

…

Later that day, Beam was back training, working off his unease as he sparred with his master in the mountains.

He tried to kick at his master's legs, knowing that he'd dodge, but wanting to at least distract him. His kick hit the air harmlessly, as he knew it would, but he was already swinging down with his stick towards his master's shoulder, imitating the killing blow that Dominus had delivered to the Hobgoblin.

But with a single motion, Dominus parried it and flowed seamlessly into an attack, pointing the end of his stick at Beam's throat.

"Dead again," he said. "You're still wasting too much movement. You're training both your speed and your strength – you also need to train your efficiency. That's what technique is. That's what martial arts are. It's the attempt at perfect translation of your physical attributes into the most potent weapon you can muster."

Beam twisted his lips in annoyance. He'd heard the same lesson before, though in different words. Still, it had yet to transform the way he was moving. There were improvements each day, even though they were slight, but when he fought against Dominus, it felt like nothing was changing. There was still an overwhelming gulf of ability between them. One that seemed like it would never narrow, no matter how much effort he put in.

"And now you're feeling sorry for yourself. You're getting weaker at this rate," Dominus pointed out. "Those Goblins would have ended you if you fought them like this."

"I know that," Beam snapped. He was still thinking of the Hobgoblin that bested him. And now he was thinking about the village Elder too, as an unsettling bit of unease in the back of his mind, the promise of future issues.

"Then stop thinking about unnecessary things and concentrate," Dominus said.

Beam felt a stick hit him in the back of his head as they talked.

"Oww," he complained, rubbing his head and turning around just in time to see a small stick fall to the floor.

"And your awareness is still lacking," Dominus murmured. He'd started including this in his training because of Beam's failure against the Hobgoblin. The aim was to have him spare a part of his concentration for his surroundings even as he dedicated most of it to dealing with what was in front of him. But Beam hadn't shown any signs of improvement in several hours, and he was feeling hopeless.

Dominus sighed, looking at him. "…I suppose you've got questions. Ask them," he said, with more than a little irritation.