Northern Styles

Foster woke up early in the morning, even before sunrise. He was already used to that at this point though. It's been a bit more than half a week since this trip started, and it's been like this every single day. The good thing was that no matter when he needed to wake up in the morning, he could keep sleeping in the carriage if he was tired. Not like there was much else to do anyway.

After waking up, Foster got some breakfast, just some oatmeal that had been prepared in a big pot for everyone, and after he was done he helped clean the campsite up. And just like that, it was already time to continue traveling.

Lynol climbed into the carriage, following Foster, and slowly took off his mask. It seemed like he wasn't particularly comfortable taking it off around the others, so the two of them would usually eat together away from the others.

While Lynol's voice was rather monotone, and he generally seemed somewhat unenergetic, the more time Foster spent with him, the more he loosened up, even starting to fully smile around him.

"Yo, you sleep well?" Foster asked, and Lynol slowly shook his head, "I was the night guard. I barely slept, actually."

"Huh? Why didn't you tell me, I could've stayed up with you a while longer."

"That is exactly why. I was doing my job, and the lives of everyone in this group could have depended on how much attention I could pay to the surroundings." Lynol explained, and Foster stayed silent for a few moments. He was right, although it still seemed unreal.

Foster hadn't seen any monsters at all ever since this trip started, so maybe he just forgot about the situation they were in a little bit.

"Eh, right, sorry. Well, just sleep for now, I guess. We're meeting up with the rest of the caravan later today. I think George told me that they have a ton of other adventurers with them, so maybe you can relax a bit?" Foster suggested, and Lynol lightly shrugged as he closed his eyes, "Maybe. We will see."

"Yep, sure will." Foster closed his eyes for a moment, thinking about what those other adventurers could possibly be like. Lynol showed him some really impressive stuff already, things that seemed like they would be impossible anywhere but in a world like this.

Maybe he would be able to see some other really cool things from those adventurers. Foster felt like a little kid, but he kind of hoped that they were fun people to be around, like Lynol was.

---

And of course, despite Foster's hopes, the other adventurers weren't anything but 'fun' to be around.

"Oi, you there, bring us some more mead, will ya?!" With a loud laugh, one of the adventurers ordered Foster around once more. He was a big guy, apparently the leader of one of the parties that were accompanying the other part of the caravan, and acted like the king of the world.

While most other people were still busy working, actually organizing things in the different carriages and protecting the caravan out here on this large camp, this guy and some of his party members were just sitting around a campfire someone else had to make for them, enjoying alcohol.

Of course, since George told Foster to just do what they said so that they wouldn't cause any trouble, Foster had been acting as their servant for the past couple of days. And they were really starting to piss him off.

He filled up another stein with mead, and brought it over to the leading adventurers, "There you go, Octer." Foster said with a blank, annoyed expression, holding the stein over toward him.

Octer grinned a bit and locked eyes with Foster, "What, d'ya have something to say?"

"Of course, but I won't say it to your face. I'm considerate like that." Foster replied as he turned around without a moment's hesitation. From behind him, he could hear Octer and his adventuring party laughing at Foster, but he really didn't care. They seemed happy for now, and Foster was done with his work, so he swiftly made his way over to the spot where he and Lynol would end up training together.

Or rather, where Foster trained while Lynol hit him with judging stares.

"Show me your stance again. I think I know what might be off with it." Lynol said immediately.

"Yes, hello to you too, my dear friend. My evening has been absolute shit, thank you for asking."

"I didn't ask. Now show me the basic stance again." Without even reacting to what Foster said, Lynol started instructing him again. With a wry smile, Foster took a step forward.

---

[Legacy training mode has been activated]

---

Foster concentrated on one specific part of the Argomna style, the basic stance, and swiftly slid right into position.

"I was right. I know what the issue is." Lynol said, and immediately proceeded to take out his sword. It was quite large, it seemed far, far too large for his body. It seemed to be some kind of special item as well, though, since Lynol was able to make it shrink down to just the handle. Even the weight changed, which was both weird and straight-up impossible. Apparently it used some kind of magic to make it weigh less in this form, and although Foster didn't understand how it worked, the fact that there was magic like that made him somewhat excited.

He was clearly able to use spells as well, right? His class gave him a spell to use already, and he even had some mana. Just the idea of being able to manipulate gravity like that made Foster's space-nerd heart go wild.

Either way, what Lynol did then was quite surprising. He put some cloth around the sword, and proceeded to wrap some of that cloth around his body so that Foster was practically wearing the sword on his back for extra weight.

And it seemed nearly impossible for him to stand up the moment Lynol let go of the handle, "Dude, what the fuck..." Foster let out, "You trying to kill me or something?"

"Not particularly, but..."

"Did you just say 'not particularly'..?"

"More importantly, I think was right. This style really seems to be a northern kind. I basically already knew, but I didn't connect everything together. Up north in my home, we always need to wear layers upon layers. Even for a short trip, we need to bring much more provisions than we normally would, sinec it often happens for a path to be blocked by a mountain of snow, or for another path's ice to crack apart. And of course, the beasts we encounter are different as well. Many are quite a bit larger and bulkier, so we need thicker armor as well." Lynol explained, but Foster didn't know exactly what he was trying to say, until Lynol explained it in a more direct way.

"The weight we have to carry around is much higher than normal. We can't move as fast as in other regions of this world, so our fighting styles rely on power, control, and planning instead of fast reactiveness like you are treating this style. Your body was focusing on the wrong muscles for the stance this whole time. While the form is correct, the final stance is not."

"...So I'm supposed to fight with a shitton of stuff on me?" Foster asked with a wry smile, but Lynol quickly shook his head, "Of course not. Once your body is used to the motions in the correct way, which should happen rather quickly, we can either reduce the extra weight or get rid of it altogether. You just need to make sure you train the proper muscles in your body. Northern styles rely on a sturdy base, exchanging mobility for power."

"Ah, so that's why you carry such a huge, practically unusable sword around with you?"

"...Something like that." Lynol replied, and Foster squinted as he glared back, "What do you mean exactly?"

"...I chose this sword because I thought it looked cool."