TALENT BEYOND LIMIT: Stacking Many Talents

Simon’s training changed the household more than Joe had expected.

Before entering the Talent Hall, Simon had already become useful around the farm. At six, he could pull weeds, scare birds away from grain, gather vegetables, collect fallen branches and carry smaller bundles without needing someone to watch him.

None of it was adult labor, but it still saved time.

Now he spends most of the day away from home.

The work did not disappear with him.

Mike and Joseph absorbed most of it. Lily took on more around the house and garden, usually while reminding everyone that Simon was doing something more important. Joe inherited only the smaller tasks his size allowed him to manage.

Lily made that distinction particularly clear whenever Mike complained.

”Simon could help with this in half the time,” Mike said one afternoon while moving cut branches toward the house.

Lily did not look up from sorting vegetables.

”Then take him out of the Hall.”

Mike frowned. ”I didn’t say that.”

”You’ve said his name four times.”

”I’m saying he used to help.”

”And now he trains.”

”I know.”

”Then why are we still talking?”

Mike muttered something under his breath and picked up another bundle.

Joe kept carrying kindling.

The family tolerated the lost labor because Simon’s training might eventually be worth considerably more than anything he could contribute to six strips of farmland as a child.

Even so, not everyone thought about that sacrifice in the same way.

Mike saw opportunity first and cost second. Simon had passed the test, therefore Simon might become someone important. That possibility alone was enough to make Mike optimistic about almost every inconvenience caused by the Hall.

Lily was even more committed, though for different reasons. Simon had become the household’s best visible chance at improving its position, and once Lily decided something mattered, she had little patience for anyone treating it casually.

Joseph rarely joined those arguments for long.

Joe overheard one while Mike and his father repaired a cracked tool handle outside.

”We give grain to the Hall every year, and now I lose Simon for most of the day,” Mike said.

Joseph tightened the cord around the handle.

”He eats there.”

”That’s not the point.”

”Breakfast and lunch.”

”I know he eats there.”

Joseph looked up.

”Then what’s the problem?”

”The work.”

Joseph stared at the handle for a moment, apparently reconsidering the entire conversation.

”Simon?”

Mike closed his eyes.

”Yes, Father. Simon.”

”Right.”

Joseph pulled the cord tighter.

”If he does well, he won’t spend his whole life behind a plow.”

Mike stopped complaining after that.

Joe, sorting dried beans beside Pam, considered the exchange.

The village was not feeding children simply because everyone admired martial arts. Green Hollow was investing in them. Grain went into the Talent Hall, children disappeared from farm work for most of the day, and older trainees spent time teaching younger ones instead of working for their own households.

The village accepted those costs because a successful trainee could eventually become something other than a farmer.

For a family with six strips of land, that possibility mattered enormously.

It also explained Lily.

One morning, Simon almost reached the door before she called after him.

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”Your board.”

Simon stopped.

”What?”

”Your writing board.”

He looked around the room.

Lily pointed toward his bedding.

Simon ran back and pulled the wooden board from underneath it.

”I knew where it was.”

”You were already outside.”

”I was coming back.”

”No, you weren’t.”

Simon held the board against his chest. ”I remembered.”

Lily gave him a long look.

”If Mr. Hall ever tells me you’re wasting this opportunity because you couldn’t remember your own things, I’ll drag you back to the fields myself.”

”I’m not wasting it.”

”Then stop making me remind you.”

Simon hurried toward the door.

Mike waited until he was outside before saying, ”He’s seven.”

Lily turned toward him.

”We own six strips.”

Mike immediately became interested in his breakfast.

Joe almost smiled.

His mother did not need long speeches when she believed the obvious answer was already on her side.

She also had considerably more patience for Simon’s mistakes than she did for Joe’s questions.

Joe discovered that gradually.

When Simon forgot something, Lily usually complained and then fixed the problem.

When Joe asked why something had to be done a certain way, she sometimes took the question as an argument.

”Because that’s how it’s done,” she told him once while salting vegetables for storage.

Joe watched how much salt she added.

”Wouldn’t they keep longer with more?”

Lily stopped.

”Do you want to buy the salt?”

”No.”

”Then that’s enough.”

Joe nodded.

Lily resumed working, then glanced at him.

”And stop looking at me like that.”

”Like what?”

”Like you’re about to explain my own vegetables to me.”

Joe wisely moved away.

Pam laughed from the other side of the room.

”He’s been doing that since he learned to talk.”

Lily pointed the spoon at her.

”You encourage him.”

Pam looked pleased by the accusation.

Joe suspected she did.

Theodere remained more difficult to evaluate.

Simon worshipped him, which made Simon a terrible source whenever Joe wanted anything resembling an objective description.

Within his first month at the Hall, Simon announced that he would eventually become stronger than Theodere.

A week later, he added killing a bear to his future achievements.

”With a spear?” Joe asked.

Simon looked offended.

”Why would I need a spear if I’m stronger than Master Theodere by then?”

Joe decided not to explore the logic further.

Pam was not much better when stories about Theodere began.

”Theodere killed a tiger,” she said one evening while threading a needle.

Mike groaned.

”Mother.”

”What?”

”You tell that story differently every time.”

”The tiger remains dead every time.”

Simon immediately leaned forward.

”Did he kill it with his bare hands? Victor said Master Theodere once killed a forest cat without a weapon, but Thomas said there was a spear, and Thomas lies whenever he doesn’t know something.”

Pam looked at him.

”Do you breathe between sentences?”

Simon ignored that.

”Did he?”

Pam continued threading the needle.

”I wasn’t there.”

”But what did you hear?”

”The hunters went out with him. Theodere came back covered in blood, and the tiger came back dead.”

”That doesn’t answer the question.”

”It answers the part I know.”

Simon frowned, dissatisfied.

Joe was not.

Pam had carefully avoided claiming anything she could not confirm, which made her version more believable than the story itself.

Simon also insisted Theodere could break stone.

Joe considered that much less likely.

He had seen enough martial arts demonstrations in his previous life to know how easily stories grew around feats of strength, especially once nobody remembered exactly what had happened.

Then the subject came up while Mike was repairing part of the fence.

Joe was handing him short pieces of cord.

”Simon says Theodere can break stone with his hand.”

Mike grunted.

”He can.”

Joe waited.

Mike continued working.

”With his bare hand?”

”Sometimes.”

Joe looked at him more carefully.

Mike had no reason to impress him. He also showed no surprise at the question.

That changed the probability considerably.

”What kind of stone?”

Mike paused.

”I don’t know. Stone.”

”Large?”

Mike looked at Joe.

”Why do you always need the next question?”

Joe considered that fair.

”I want to know.”

”I noticed.”

Mike returned to the fence.

Joe left the matter open.

Several weeks later, Simon came home from one of Theodere’s inspections barely able to finish removing his shoes before he began talking.

”He broke the practice stone today. I was standing close enough to see the crack start from the middle, and Victor said that’s because Master Theodere sent his force through it instead of just hitting the outside.”

Lily pushed a bowl toward him.

”Eat first.”

Simon sat down.

”He only hit it once. Not even his hardest either, because Victor said if he really struck it—”

”Simon.”

”I’m eating.”

He took one spoonful and continued.

”The whole side split. Thomas said he’d seen it before, but he looked just as surprised as everyone else, so I don’t believe him.”

Joe looked around the room.

Mike showed no surprise.

Joseph was staring into his bowl and seemed to have missed half the conversation.

Pam kept sewing.

Nobody questioned whether Theodere had actually cracked the stone.

That was still not direct evidence, but it was enough to make outright disbelief unreasonable.

”What kind of stone?” Joe asked.

Simon immediately began describing it with both hands.

”It was about this wide, maybe wider, and it comes up almost to Victor’s knee. They’ve had it beside the training ground since before I joined. Master Theodere stepped up, struck once, and there was this sound—”

Pam sighed.

”He’s going to tell this story until winter.”

Simon turned toward her.

”You didn’t see it.”

”I’ve heard enough that I nearly did.”

”It was Master Theodere.”

”Yes, Simon. I know who broke the stone.”

Lily glanced at Pam.

”Let him talk.”

Pam looked at her.

”He has been talking since he came through the door.”

”He’s excited.”

”He is always excited.”

Simon looked toward Lily with the expression of someone who knew exactly which side had won.

Pam saw it.

”Don’t smile at me like that.”

Simon immediately concentrated on his food.

Joe lowered his head to hide his own smile.

Pam loved having someone listen to her stories, but Simon had become increasingly capable of occupying every conversation himself. Joe suspected that was why his grandmother found him more exhausting than the rest of the family did.

Later that night, after Simon had finally run out of new details about the broken stone, Joe considered what he had learned.

Theodere was around fifty and had apparently practiced martial arts for decades. People from several villages recognized him as a genuine martial artist, hunters sought his help, Blackwood sent messengers for him, and nobody in Joe’s household found the idea of him breaking stone unbelievable.

Simon exaggerated.

Pam repeated gossip.

Mike accepted strange things too easily.

None of them were individually reliable enough for Joe to treat their words as proof.

Together, however, they were beginning to form a pattern.

Martial arts in this world might involve considerably more than physical conditioning and practiced technique.

Joe still had years before his own Starlight test.

For now, there was nothing he could do with that possibility except remember it.

Fortunately, remembering things was becoming one of his specialties.