B4 Chapter 427: Return to Deadacre, finale

Kaius suppressed a laugh as he watched the ratty urchin stare at him like he’d suggested the kid go kill a Guardian.

“Did I stutter, Niles? Pick up your stick.”

The boy leapt to obey, drawing a grin from Kaius. Teaching the kid a Skill was whimsical and reckless, but he didn’t care. For one, the risk was small. He’d had a thought on his mind for a while now — if the guild was already going through the effort of spreading the knowledge they had brought, he might as well add a little extra.

Dawntown was proof of its benefit, and the energy he’d seen in the city made him certain that if it was widely available, more than a few people would seek to better themselves. A single urchin wouldn’t stand out so much in a wave like that.

In the years to come people would need to fight, he was certain of it. To do that, they needed tools.

Besides, he was curious — with the right tutorship, the initial level of a mastery skill could come quickly. What would happen if he taught the boy the forms of his own skill, removing the elements that interwove stances with casting? Purely the sword, but in a Vesryn style.

At the very least it would be better than a basic sword mastery, that was for damned sure.

When Niles stood and held his blade so tightly his knuckles went white, Kaius stepped forward. “Relax, kid. You’re holding it all wrong. And no, there are no strings attached. Sometimes you just get lucky.”

Niles gulped and nodded.

“Why do you want to learn the blade anyway?” Kaius asked. “To fight?”

Kaius saw a flash of steel in Niles’s eyes, a familiar fire, and an even more familiar grief.

“To be a delver, sir.” Niles said with flinty conviction. “It used to be just me and me da, but he didn’t make it out of my village. Me cousin’s a hunter — a good enough one that he got picked up by a ranger. He’s apprenticing under him, learning to hunt beasts now. I wanted to help him — I’m not afraid! I know pain, but… if I can’t even get a blasted Uncommon sword mastery… I don’t suppose I’m a good fit.”

Kaius’s eyes softened. “Nonsense, kid. We’ll get you sorted. Now, bend your knees and loosen your grip.”

Niles crouched — too low.

“Not that much, and you want your grip firm but not tight. The muscles in your forearms and shoulders need to be ready but relaxed. Like this.”

Swiftly dropping into a mid-guard, Kaius ignored Niles’s gasp as he demonstrated the correct two-handed grip and the posture he should hold. He looked at the boy; saw him struggle to mirror the motions with his crude stick. Frowning Kaius flicked his attention to his storage ring. Among the artifacts they’d found in Old Yon’s vault were a few plain pieces — simple Uncommons with solid but basic enchantments. Worth a pretty penny to most, but gutter trash to a team with second-tier artifacts and a treasury’s worth of platinum in their rings.

Gauging the boy’s height and how much he’d likely grow, Kaius found a longsword that looked good enough and summoned it to hand.

“Take this.”

The boy gaped.

“Are you deaf? I said take it.”

Niles took the blade with shaking hands. It was a little long for him — he’d grow into it — but it had the balance and weight of a proper sword, important for anyone who wanted to learn the blade. He unsheathed it, staring at his dirty reflection in the gleaming steel.

“Why?” Niles croaked.

Kaius paused. Why did people always ask that? He wanted to, that was why. He drifted back to something Xenanra had said when he’d asked the same question.

“A few months ago I met someone vastly more powerful than myself — so strong they may as well have been a god, and the gap between me and them dwarves the difference between the two of us. When I asked her why she had decided to help those weaker than her, she told me, ‘Why not?’. She said that it’s the privilege and the curse of the strong to be beholden to their own whims alone. I do this because I want to. Nothing more, nothing less.”

Niles didn’t seem to know how to react to that. The boy blinked, before he gave Kaius a shaky and uncertain nod.

“Now, copy my stance and grip. Remember: stay ready but not tense — never tense.”

“Why is that so important?” Niles asked, then looked ready to bite off his tongue for asking.

“If you’re tense, your reactions are slow and your movements jerky. Both impede flow, and an impeded flow means you’ll struggle to transfer your weight behind your movements and strikes. Without weight transfer, you won’t be able to fight for shit.”

The boy nodded seriously.

“Remember: we start slow, and you practise slow. Speed comes with time. What matters now is being smooth and accurate.”

Kaius lunged. The movement felt glacially slow and exaggerated, as if he was fighting through molasses. A necessary thing: any faster and the boy wouldn’t have followed.

Slipping low under an imaginary high thrust, Kaius wove his blade to spear an opponent through the base of the jaw. He returned to stance a moment later.

“Now you try. I’ll correct your mistakes and explain what this stance and this strike are for — and when and why you move.”

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The boy gave it his best shot.

He was raw; untrained. Credit where credit was due — the kid was snappy, and he remembered to stay relaxed.

Kaius grinned: there was hope for the gutter rat yet.

…

A couple of hours later, as the sun dipped orange on the horizon, Niles let out a hoarse cry. Pivoting on his back foot, he drove the point of his weapon forward with full body weight — twisting just right to lance toward Kaius’s throat. The strike was clumsy, unrefined, and messy as hell — but it was a good strike compared to the flailing he’d been doing before.

Behind them, Kenva hooted.

“Yeah, get him!” she called, drawing a grin from Niles.

Porkchop’s amused snorts and Kenva’s good-natured heckling had finally gotten the boy to relax after Kaius’s first hour smacking him back into a correct stance with his scabbard.

Kaius moved agonisingly slowly, catching the blow with the strong of his sword.