Two weeks passed quickly, and each day, Ezra grew more convinced that the old man had a pretty good idea about how to become a Knight. Well, he’d already thought that, but he was getting stronger by the day with the exercises the grizzled ghost gave him, and the food he was being pushed to purchase. It was almost uncomfortable to have his belly so full the first day or two, but after that, Ezra found that there wasn’t a better way to end the day than to sit in his bed and cultivate his inner world on a truly full belly.
You’re a damn fencepost. Eat more, and you’ll get bigger. If you don’t, then you won’t be able to do anything on a battlefield.
“You’re constantly talking about battlefields these days,” Ezra replied. “I guess they’re a better thing to talk about than demons, though. There are actual battles that happen around here, where there’s not any demons.”
Jormun didn’t give a real answer to that, but he continued grumbling at Ezra whenever he was exercising about form. On top of running and pushups, Jormun made Ezra do planks, a miserable exercise he’d never heard of until then. When Jormun explained it, Ezra couldn't think of the mere act of keeping his body straight while resting his weight on his elbows and feet as exercise. Very quickly, he’d learned how stupid that was.
You’re half done, Jormun’s voice cut in as Ezra nearly let his knees touch the floor of his room.
“Half?” he gasped out while sweat dripped into his eyes. He tried to glare up at his teacher, but couldn’t muster the energy as his back fought to dip towards the ground.
Could make it even longer.
Ezra didn’t say anything back in response to that, knowing that Jormun would make good on the threat. His arms shook and the sweat ran down his back, but he refused to give up. The seconds stretched, and just as Ezra was about to collapse, the old man grunted the end of the exercise. He fell to his belly on the wooden floor and groaned as he rolled over onto his back. He was so sweaty that he was particularly grateful he’d thought to remove his tunic before exercising.
Use aura to recover, Jormun commanded. Ezra didn’t say anything, just remaining on his back on the ground as he stretched his awareness out from himself. It came more easily to him by the day, and he could begin to pull the less specific ambient aura into his inner world now. It was much harder than standing right by or in the middle of a stronger aura source, like fire, ice, or the occasional windy bluster that screamed through the streets of the slums, but he was continuing to stretch the way that he could feel his surroundings and their aura.
Actually influencing the aura that made up the world, though? That was much harder.
As Jormun had commanded, Ezra could use the aura in the world to recover faster, but it was so hard! The aura didn’t want to listen to him anyways, and when it finally moved, he felt more mentally exhausted than before. Even so, he was making progress, and when he finally got a bit of the aura to flow into him, it was like someone had shoved a handful of snow down the back of his tunic, but pleasant instead of enraging.
Even as the aura helped him to recover, it was far from an immediate healing from the strain of his effort. It merely made it so that, instead of flopping to the ground and laying there uselessly, he could roll over, sit down, and meditate a bit more while sitting instead of immediately falling into sleep.
The meditation was nice, and served as a better opportunity for him to familiarize himself with feeling aura, though he was constantly doing it during the day now. In fact, he couldn’t help but notice surges of aura whenever he passed by something that was particularly aura dense. Surprisingly, he couldn’t always interact with it, but Jormun had laughed when he asked why.
Is it safe to touch a fire? Or to jump in a river full of ice? No. Aura’s a force of nature, I’d say it is nature, but that doesn’t matter. Aura’s everywhere, but sometimes, it’s inaccessible or dangerous, so for now, you only train and develop your inner world with simple, gentle aura. I’ll tell you if you’re getting close to aura that’ll be dangerous to interact with.
“Fires aren’t gentle,” Ezra protested. “You had me do that first, so could that have killed me?”
Nah, that isn’t dangerous aura, kid. Magic is dangerous aura, an attack strengthened by internal aura’s dangerous aura. Any aura you’re coming in contact with in the natural world’s not dangerous to strengthen yourself with. Even lightning isn’t so bad, but that’s mostly because the real danger is getting hit by the lightning instead of pulling only the aura into yourself.
Ezra cracked an eye open and looked at the old ghost. “What do you mean, pull only the aura?”
You’ve noticed how sometimes when you’re pulling icy aura in that you can get some frost on you, right?
Ezra nodded.
That isn’t because you’re cold, but because you’ve pulled the thing whose aura you’re manipulating towards yourself.
The tale has been stolen; if detected on Amazon, report the violation.
When Ezra cocked his head to the side at Jormun’s words, the old man sighed and asked, You need me to clarify what I was saying?
Ezra’s face was enough of an answer, and Jormun thought for a second before saying instead, Aura’s a part of the thing it’s a part of. That might sound stupid to say, but you’re pulling the physical thing towards you when you pull its aura. So, you pull some fire aura into yourself, the fire’ll lean towards you. You pull ice aura into yourself, some frost might collect on your shoulders. Got it?
“Yup.”
Great. Now, lightning. Can you see what the problem might be with pulling lightning aura into yourself? Cause it ain’t the aura.
Ezra only took a few seconds before he felt his eyes widen and “Oh, shit.”
Yeah, Jormun agreed. I’ve seen a couple of dumbasses that see lightning aura strikes and start to think they need to pull lightning into their inner worlds to be able to do the same thing. They don’t talk to their masters before they walk out into a thunderstorm and literally call lightning onto their own brainless heads.
“Not going to do that,” Ezra answered with a nod, mentally discarding his plans to do just that. Instead, he asked for the dozenth time over the past two weeks, “What kind of aura do you think that I’ll wield?”
Not gonna answer the same stupid question again, Jormun grunted. For now, get some rest. You’ve got work in just a little bit. These days won’t last forever.
Ezra didn’t argue with that, foreboding as it was, and sat pulling as much of the aura as he could manage from the surroundings to help himself recover. His bare chest was covered with drying sweat, but the aura burning in his chest kept him from getting too cold while he recovered. Even if it didn’t end up letting him become a Knight, that part of training under Jormun was worth it, just so he could survive through the winters more easily.
That said, each day he became more convinced that this was a solid path to strength, strength enough to protect his friends and pay back those who’d saved his life.
The minutes passed quickly, and it wasn’t long before Ezra stood and made his way out of his room, grabbing his tunic from where it hung on his cane as he strode through the door.
“Ezz, it’s—”
Matilda’s words were cut off as she walked into his chest, bouncing off and rubbing her nose. She scowled up at him, but he did notice her glancing down at his chest as she said, “Ow! Watch where you’re going!”
“I walked out of my room,” he protested softly, trying to subtly flex his newfound abs and chest as he pulled his tunic on. “I’d say it’s your fault for not listening as I was opening the door and walking around.”
“You walk like a damn cat! How’s it my fault when nobody can hear you walking around?”
The two continued their comfortable bickering as they made their way down the stairs. It was always arguments with them two, and just as Matilda turned to go into the kitchens, Ezra reached out, pinched a lock of her straight, dark brown hair, and gave it a little tug.
“See you, Tilly,” he grinned over at her as he jogged away from her. The light dusting of freckles on her face stood out darker as she flushed, but she held back from snapping back in front of the few customers that were already here before the dinner rush began. Ezra took up his place near the fire as he looked over the room, watching for any trouble brewing before it was forced to come to his attention.
The night started slow, but before too long, most every seat of the room was full, the allure of cheap beer and ale mixed with reasonably priced and filling stew filling most seats. Like most slum-dwellers, the people here were rough, accustomed to difficult life among the rough hills in the center of the Kingdom. Here in the warm inn, they softened, but only enough to keep their rough conversations low instead of shouted.
As most nights, Ezra kept an eye out on the most notable troublemakers, those men that often forgot how to hold their drink. There was a troublesome woman or two as well, but they weren’t here. Looking at the tables with the usual offenders, Ezra began to try to strengthen his inner world, but a conversation nearby caught his attention.
“— the Count is setting a draft.”
“It can’t be that serious. We’re too far from the fucking Wilds for that to be something that Villy’s gotta deal with.”
“Sure,” the first man said, someone Ezra vaguely recognized. The second voice was Tomas, the drunk whose nose he’d cracked just a few weeks earlier. His face was healing up pretty good, and the gossip was interesting enough that Ezra pulled himself back into the real world to listen to what they had to say.
“Sure,” the stranger repeated, scoffing as he lowered his mug from his mouth. “That’s why I made enough to drink tonight by setting up some tables for some uptown dickhead this morning. All that talking about a dragonkin leading a buncha kobolds somewhere nearby was a fucking lie.”
“Fuck, why didn’t you tell me about that?” Tomas complained, no longer asking about the thing that actually mattered. “The mines are too cold to work in these days!”
The conversation derailed there, complaining about the cold and snow, and Ezra nearly jumped in to demand more information, but held himself back. Over the last two years of working for the Madam, there were lessons he’d learned about what to do and not to do as the guard, and interrupt regular conversations wasn’t one of them. Instead, he continued to keep an eye out for any other interesting conversations, but got nothing. When the bar was closing for the night and he went to retire to the kitchens to have his dinner, the Madam stepped out of her office.
“Come here when you have a moment, Ezra.”
Her voice wasn’t harsh, but she was someone accustomed to being obeyed, and though Ezra’s stomach growled in protest as he turned away from his dinner, he didn’t begin eating before he went to the office. As he walked through the door, the Madam was sitting at her desk, and she looked up at him as he walked in.
“Prompt, I see,” she said drily.
“No reason to sit around,” Ezra replied. “What can I do for you?”
“I’ll speak honestly, then,” the Madam said with a nod. “You, and possibly Adam, will be conscripted into a military expedition this next week, and I believe it is in your best interest to sign up for the draft instead of being collected by the Count’s men.”