As far as naming conventions went, Squad Nine rang entirely too ordinary when measured against my expectations. There was no… fantasy to it. In truth, it was less my expectations that were betrayed as opposed to my hopes; one cannot blame the idle flight of fancy when confronted with a group of monster hunters with the audacity to refer to themselves as Slayers.

  Alas, elaborate epithets and sobriquets remained in the domain of memory and fiction.

  Engel was quick to entrust me into Mira’s care for an orientation, of sorts.

  “Show the kid where to put his stuff,” were his exact words; I chose a generous interpretation. Mira gave a quick voice to the affirmative and Engel departed in much the same way he arrived, bounding over the wall in a feat I couldn’t fathom replicating. I took a moment to inspect the stonework of the road and, sure enough, there was nary a speck, smudge nor subtle dusting of damage despite the forces it was forced to endure.

  Is it the work of Engel’s Skill? The Skill of the person who built the road? The person who processed the stone? All? None? Not for the first time, I found myself frustrated by the prospect that Skills and The System could undermine any attempts to gain a universal understanding of things. There were more exceptions than rules.

  “Drop something?” Mira’s voice pulled me from my examination, brief though it had been. I liked Mira. The memories I had of the muscular woman were brief and dusted with age, but she’d left a positive impression.

  That and she used a rock to detonate a chunk of the treeline near my house, I thought grimly. That particular memory remained sharp by comparison, a common quality of events that adjust one’s sense of scope.

  “Just admiring the workmanship,” I replied idly. In turning my attention back towards Mira, I noticed she was rather openly scrutinizing me. “Do I have something on my face?”

  Mira’s narrowed eyes relaxed and she sighed softly.

  “You do not.” She moved her hands to her hips. “What you do have is a question to answer and an explanation to listen to. Clear?”

  “Was that the qu-” I coughed, catching myself before the unwise habits I’d fallen into with Lionel got me in trouble. “Clear.”

  Mira nodded, kind enough to ignore my slip of the tongue.

  “Good. I want clarification. You were already under the influence of your Core Skill when we first met, correct?”

  “You know about that?” I’d assumed Lionel revealed some details regarding my Build, I just never took the time to dig into the specifics. A mistake, in hindsight.

  “Answer the question first, recruit.” Mira’s tone was encouraging, yet still left no room for confusion regarding her authority.

  “Yeah, even then,” I admitted.

  Mira nodded.

  “Thank you.” She smiled then, a warm, earnest thing. “I had been wondering. It is good to have my suspicions confirmed. Now, an explanation: The squad knows about you.” She held up a hand to forestall the obvious question. “They do not know all the details - those are for you to share - but they needed an explanation to justify your presence.”

  I frowned.

  “That…” The objection died off before I could voice it.

  Huh. I realized something, then. My secrecy regarding Perseverance was rooted in caution, in efforts to delay discovery. With concerns of The Crown largely behind me, those strict precautions were no longer necessary.

  “That… what?” Again, I’d drifted off into thought in front of Mira, whose brow had furrowed in budding agitation. A quick pulse of Perseverance banished distraction beneath a cool wave of mana. It did not take a genius to know building a poor reputation with one’s superior was largely ill-advised.

  “That… is fine,” I replied, having wrangled my composure. I meant it, too. “If I am going to trust anyone with my secrets, who better than my new squad?” Not all my secrets, of course; I dared not tempt that particular strand of fate.

  Besides, I reasoned, presumably I’ll eventually be entrusting my life to Squad Nine. Lionel touched upon group tactics in his lesson-turned-execution when we hunted down the tehon. When considered through that lens, any secrecy regarding my capabilities had an expiration date.

  Mira’s nod of approval affirmed my choice.

  “Good,” she said before her lips grew thin. “Just… be patient with people.”

  I raised an eyebrow.

  “Hmm?”

  Mira chuckled nervously and took a moment to consider her response. A hand raised to her mouth and she idly chewed at one of her fingernails while she did so until, finally, she spoke.

  “I do not want to colour your perceptions.” She frowned, tilting her head in thought as if one side of her lips were weighing it down. “I probably have already. Now I regret it.”

  I could see where the conversation was headed.

  “Not everyone is thrilled by my recruitment?”

  “Something like that. It might be a non-issue. Again, I feel I have erred. Are you thirsty? You have travelled a long way. We could- oh!” She gently smacked the side of the fist of one hand into the palm of another. “You can meet Palo.” She turned back to the still-open gate. “Palo! We are coming in to say hello.”

  It wasn’t the most subtle attempt at changing a subject, but I was wise enough to know pointing that out would do me no good.

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  “Come on, Fudge,” I called as I moved to follow Mira who had already pivoted to lead me into the grounds. With a quick, slobbery shake of his head he bounded back to my side, the small shrub he’d wandered off to investigate almost immediately forgotten.

  -0-0-0-0-0-

  Palo was a gangly lad, just past his adolescence and a member of the ancillary staff who worked at the fort. Palo was the gatesman. Rather, he was one of three gatesmen; Palo’s brother worked the night shift.

  A large pile of wool kept Palo company in the gatehouse, and I made the mistake of commenting on its quality. While my family wasn’t directly involved in the sheep trade, enough people in Elbura were that I’d learned a few things.

  It immediately became apparent that Palo knew more than me when it came to that particular topic. With much enthusiasm and poor volume modulation, he was exceedingly willing to discuss it at length. It was only thanks to Mira’s rescue that I was able to escape the conversation when he started referencing some apparent feud between breeds of sheep and their value as producers of the best wool for socks.

  It was the first of many such meetings. There were groundsmen, cleaners, cooks - not to the point of excess, mind, but enough that it quickly became apparent that I’d be living in relative luxury.

  One of the cooks was busy preparing for the evening meal when Mira showed me the kitchens. Busy as he was, we didn’t overstay our welcome beyond brief introductions. It was just long enough for him to tell us that said evening meal would be a stew.

  I’d always found it strange how such simple reminders could completely sour a person’s mood. That casual revelation was enough to remind me of Jusep and the state I’d left him in. His Core Skill was Cooking [Stews] and I doubted it had made much progress given his condition.

  Not that I am completely aware as to what exactly that is anymore. Another grim thought, for even when I was still at Elbura news of his recovery was denied me.

  It probably should have come as no surprise that I struggled to let things go, but thoughts of Jusep had grown especially vexing as of late. More often than not, I found myself caring more about my failure to help him as opposed to the reality of his condition. A truth I loathed but could not allow myself to ignore.

  But I can dwell on that later. I broke one of my rules and invoked Perseverance to restrain the complicated thoughts, pushing through the disruptive influence of Recovery to do so.

  Fudge was curled up outside waiting for us. Sensibly, dogs were not welcome in the kitchens. He greeted us with an enthusiastic few wags of his tail before trotting over to fall into step beside me.

  “I almost doubted the reports,” Mira commented. I tilted my head slightly, and she was quick to answer the silent question. “The Taming Skill - I did not expect a child to have it.” I had wondered why she’d seemed so unbothered by Fudge’s presence and appearance.

  “My mom had it as a child,” I said, baiting a more thorough explanation.

  “Well, unless Taming is her Core Skill then she, too, is an unusual case.” We left the high-ceilinged halls of the manor and stepped back onto the grounds. “I imagine your own Core Skill was also a factor.”

  “It was,” I confirmed, pleased to hear that only my Skills were shared. I never doubted Lionel’s integrity, per se, but was pleased to have confirmation all the same.

  “You also bonded to an animal as opposed to a Beast, which I have heard can be a mitigating factor.” It felt like she was musing to herself and I was just along for the ride. “Even so…”

  “Even so?” Understanding of the precise difference between an animal and a Beast continued to elude me. I was almost convinced that the terminology was about as useful as ‘fish’ in that it was largely an arbitrary classification.

  “It still seems irresponsible,” she said bluntly. “Frankly, I think there are grounds for Taming to become a restricted Skill.” She sighed. “Such things are not for me to decide, though, and I know why they have to keep it around…” There was a bitterness to her words I could practically taste on the wind.

  I frowned.

  “I know about the Beast High, it seems manageable, though.”

  “It is what happens when a person fails to manage it that worries me, you-” Mira cut herself off, tilting her head down to study me through narrowed eyes. “You do not know what I am talking about, though,” she stated.

  I was so caught up by curiosity that I failed to school my expression.

  “Should I?” I tried to sound nonchalant.

  “Definitely, but it is not urgent and I am not in charge of your education.”

  Before responding, I sniffed at the air, momentarily overwhelmed by the arrival of a scent I could only describe as chemical-y. It grew stronger as we approached a small, secondary building well away from the main one.

  “Well then, who is in charge of my education?” I eventually asked.

  “The last stop of the tour.” The edge of agitation was back. I couldn’t decide if it was born from the questions themselves or their subject matter.

  The smell grew increasingly potent. I sensed through the Tamer Bond that it was making Fudge especially uncomfortable.

  Go ahead and explore, Fudge, I thought before whistling his release command. Without missing a step, Fudge veered away from us to indulge in his free time. That is to say, he bent over to rub his snout against the grass in an effort to scrub out the offending offalactory intruder.

  “The smell was bothering Fudge so he is going to wait around here,” I noted for Mira’s benefit. She stopped walking and reached down to signal for me to pause as well.

  “Understood, but you will need to call him back for a moment. We need the tehon claws.”

  A flush of embarrassment briefly coloured my cheeks.

  Obviously that smell is somehow related to the processing of materials. Berating myself aside, another quick whistle and a brief tussle with Fudge’s impromptu harness saw it transferred to Mira’s hands. Unburdened, Fudge returned to his play with an excited gallop and we left him to it.

  “Oi, Ohchio!” Mira bellowed when we approached the stone building that resembled a warehouse more than a residence but was probably a workshop. A forge of sorts was tacked on to one side but it wasn’t in use when we arrived.

  Mira addressed me in a softer tone.

  “If you ever need to visit Ohchio, always call him out. If he does not answer, leave a note.” It was not a suggestion. We waited in silence for a few minutes, during which time Mira called for Ohchio twice more without getting a response.

  Eventually, she shrugged.

  “See, he is busy.” A large wooden box had been placed near the front door. Mira deposited the tehon claws into it before withdrawing a cylinder of wood painted bright yellow. It slotted easily into a section of the lid and stood vertical, reminding me of the flag on a letterbox.

  “Is this Ohchio person okay?”

  “Probably. If we do not hear from him after more than a week someone will have to risk checking on him.”

  I gulped.

  “Risk?”

  “There is a reason we leave a note if he does not answer,” was all Mira said to explain before ushering me away. “I am sure you will meet him eventually.”

  “So, what now?” I asked, happy to leave the harsh odours behind me.

  “The last stop.”

  Palo is somewhat of a cinnamon roll.

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