Gifted

I moved my feet, the soles of my boots grinding against the rocks and hard packed dirt of our backyard. The only nearby greenery was my mother’s garden from which she watched me like a… I winced. I couldn’t think of something not avian. A mother duck would’ve been the best comparison, I decided. Ducks were friendly, right?

Next to me, in her loose pants, with her hair tied up in a crown, Etta held out her own wooden sword. Her father, George, walked around us slowly in a circle with his own wooden blade which he used to subtly nudge us to correct our stances.

“I want to make this fun for you both,” George explained. “So, I thought we would start out with practising a few basic movements. Like, how to step when you’re moving forward or backward and judging distance. That way we can get a bit of a workout in for you both. Then we’ll work on some different slashes and we can finish up with some sparring. You two against me, of course.”

The last words were said to my mother more than us and I glanced back to catch her frown.

Understandable, I thought. I wouldn’t trust me or Etta to swing at each other either. Even with blunted wooden swords. Not yet, anyway.

The sun was already past its zenith when we started, and I had expected Mister Miller’s lackadaisical approach to mean he didn’t work us hard. I was wrong. The movements of stepping back and forth quickly had left my legs cramping. If I was faring badly, Etta was worse. My friend and rival had fallen over in the dirt at least ten times. Each time, her father had helped her back up, patted her down, and then encouraged her to keep going. By the time we got to sparring, my arms were filled with lead and I struggled to lift my wooden blade.

“Perhaps we can save sparring for tomorrow?” suggested my mother, though her tone belied the intent behind her words.

George didn’t respond right away, instead assessing Etta and I. While I was still able to get my practice blade off the ground, Etta’s was already showing damage at the tip from being used as a walking stick.

“Perhaps you’re right, Penelope,” George agreed. “They do look like they have had enough for one day. Come on, Etta. You did really well.”

George scooped his tired daughter up into his arms, wooden blade and all, before sparing me a curious glance.

“You as well, Bastian. Rest up and stretch before bed. We’ll continue at the same time tomorrow.”

I tried not to groan and failed. I was carried inside by my mum and managed to shovel down some food before being wiped down with a rag. By the time Mum was done washing me, the tub of steaming water, thank you very much grandpa, had gone cold and looked more like mud. I did as George suggested, stretching my sore and aching muscles before bed, and then fell asleep with ease.

And just like that, a new routine was established. Every morning I would wake and do a simple bodyweight workout before eating a hearty breakfast with my portions growing to match my new energy expenditure. Sometimes the Millers joined us, bringing their own food, which was laden with more spices than my mother’s cooking. Something about the cuisine of Ajinar versus Meravia. I liked their spicy food, as long as it wasn’t a Scar Rejuvenation Potion morning. The sweet berry flavour did not mix well in my stomach with whatever they spiced their eggs with, as I learned one fateful morning.

Then, Etta and I would continue our aethersensing lessons with grandpa. My friend and rival continued to outperform me to the point where I asked the old codger why she was so much better than me. The answer was as simple as it was obvious. Etta had a larger Aether Core. Grandpa thought, based on her performance, that it might be more developed than my mother’s as well, making Etta more sensitive to the aether around her.

Was I envious? A little. Okay, a lot! But I still had advantages Etta didn’t and they showed in all other aspects of our lessons. In reading, writing, and mathematics I continued to improve by leaps and bounds, only overshadowed by my swordsmanship. At first, during our lessons with George, the man had favoured his daughter. The time he spent on her was almost twice the time he spent correcting and helping me. But that began to change, as day after day, Etta struggled to last into the tail end of our lessons. More often than not, for the last thirty minutes, Etta would sit off to the side with Grandma Lucille or my mother, and George would train me one on one. I couldn’t call the look he had in his eyes one of respect, as how could he, a grown man, respect the sword skills of a three year old. But he definitely spent more and more time with me which was showing in my burgeoning capability.

Then, the evening would be spent with my family, enjoying dinner and stories around the fireplace. The old codger had finally relaxed a little, enjoying a nightcap of some amber liquid as he regaled me with tales of his time in Helenica and my mum’s childhood. I knew what he was doing, and I wasn’t the only one. My mother always gave him a side-eye at his choice of stories, but even I could see that she was softening to the idea of returning to Helenica when the time came for me to attend an academy.

While my training regime had gotten even more full, the traffic through our pass had begun to quiet down with winter beginning to reach out its cold tendrils. Soon we would be snowed in. On those last few caravans we finally started to receive a little more information about the increased traffic. It had been known that more smaller traders had chosen the northern pass through the Horndales rather than the southern due to House Fenrith raising the tolls they charged for keeping their pass safe and using their roads.

What hadn’t been known was the reason for the increase. It had finally come out that orc tribes of the Ravi Plains to the east of Ajinar were stirring. The tribes of the Ravi Plains were known for raiding eastern Ajinar for slaves, though apparently it mostly occurred in cycles. The current slave population held by the orc tribes was apparently either growing too old or had died. No one knew which. What was known was that after the coming winter the orcs would begin raiding to refresh their slave population and House Fenrith had been called to provide coins and warriors to help repel the worst of the orc raids.

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Hearing this news made me understand a little more about why Griselda was hiding up in the Horndales with us. I could imagine that many of those affected by the orc raids wouldn’t be able to see past her appearance, holding her accountable for things that she had nothing to do with. It just made me certain that I would never mention the kind and strong half orc woman around those not of our community.

As the days grew longer over the following month, I finally started to notice the effects of the Scar Rejuvenation Potion. The smallest of my scars were already gone, and while I knew I had another year to go before they would be completely healed, I at least had confidence that I would be made whole.

Which led me to today. Today was it. The day. One I had been waiting for for so long. I hid inside of a cupboard in the kitchen, waiting with more patience than any three year old should possess, for the moment I knew was coming. It was the one day a week I had off from lessons and outside the first snowflakes had started to fall, not yet enough to drape the world in white but more than enough to see my breath frosting the glass windows.

Over the past month I had noted something during breakfast. On the days where the old man had tea with his lunch, he would often excuse himself to go to the bathroom during our aethersensing lessons. Today was just such a day, courtesy of my own suggestion as we got ready to have lunch about how nice a warm juice would be on such a cold day. The old man lacked my sweet tooth, but he had taken the hint and asked Mum to brew him a tea. So now, I just had to wait, knowing that soon the call of nature would take hold and the old codger’s office would be empty.

I didn’t have to wait too long, hearing the office door open and grandpa stomp through the kitchen and out the backdoor to relieve himself. The moment I heard the back door swing I crept out, relying on my physical talents and avoiding using any aether that might trigger the old man’s aethersense. Rounding the corner quick as a whip I bolted into his office and headed straight for one of his display shelves. My target was an old enemy, or at least, what remained of him. Snatching up the crow’s claw I replaced it with a little piece of brown paper that had the drawing of a stick figure holding a sword. Because what was the point in a well executed heist if you didn’t get to gloat about it?

Then I was out the door again and heading upstairs quickly but quietly. I was on the third landing before I heard the kitchen door bang closed as grandpa came back inside, then a second, quieter bump as he closed his office door.

I waited patiently, counting the seconds, before the notification pinged in the corner of my vision, immediately followed by a second notification. I narrowed my eyes out of curiosity and focused on the first message.

You have Completed your Path! Path of Stealth V (1000/1000)

Reward: 5 Unallocated Stats, Advanced Attribute Unlocked: Stealth, Elite Path Unlocked

Free Advanced Attribute Slot available. Would you like to select Stealth as an Advanced Attribute?

Elite Path available. Please select a single Elite Path from the following:

Path of InfiltrationPath of ShadowingPath of ThieveryI would have liked to claim that I knew exactly what I wanted, and in part, I did. The five Unallocated Stats were immediately applied to Talented, as why wouldn’t I get the most out of my biggest advantage. But that was where my ‘knowing’ ended. The offer of Stealth as an Advanced Attribute was oh so tempting, except I was holding that slot open for Aethersensing.

Then there were the three Elite Paths on offer. I had no idea what any of them would provide. Thievery sounded a little dodgy, though I supposed that I had been stealing stuff from the old codger’s office for a while now, even if I always ended up returning them later. Infiltration made perfect sense, because what had I just done, if not infiltrated his office? Only Shadowing left me a little confused. Did it mean, like following someone secretly? Or did it refer to my Affinity? Or was it something else entirely?

I found choice paralysis creeping in and instead opened the second notification.

Achievement Acquired! Complete three non-rudimentary Paths before the age of six.

Reward: Path of Exceptionalism!

Error. User already has the Path of Exceptionalism unlocked.

Checking details.

Assessing…

Assessing…

User has previous achievement to unlock Path of Exceptionalism. Changing reward. Achievement deemed to be assisted by Talented Advanced Attribute. Reward reduced.

New Reward: 10 Steps on Path of Exceptionalism

Path of Exceptionalism I (90/100)

I smiled at the bonus even as I grimaced at the reduction. It seemed that the Achievement was being penalised slightly because I already had the Talented attribute. It made sense if this particular Achievement was meant to unlock access to the Path of Exceptionalism but it still stung a little that I wasn’t able to double dip, so to speak.

Doing some quick math I glanced at my Path of the Completionist. Normally, when I completed a Path, Path of the Completionist would increase by twelve. Ten normally, plus an extra two from my Talented Advanced Attribute. Path of Exceptionalism conversely would go up by five. This time, they both increased by a little more than double that amount. I chalked up the extra improvement to the fact that this was the first Advanced Path I had completed, plus the extra ten in Exceptionalism from the Achievement. The numbers were going up once more and I pumped my little fist in excitement.

However, that still left me with a decision to make about the Stealth Advanced Attribute and my Elite Path options. With no better choice available I opened my mouth and yelled at the top of my lungs.

“GRANDPA!”