Paragon of Skills

Chapter 273

Jacob and Lancelot look at Korim, and Korim stares right back at them.

They are back at the Sleeping Goose Inn, standing in the backyard of the inn, which has a small garden.

“So, master, how many—”

“Just call me…” Jacob is about to say ‘Mr. Cabbage’ and then sighs. “Alright, nothing. Master’s fine. Anyway, the damage you caused yourself is not permanent. I would advise you to rest for a few days. Before then, do you have Skills that don’t involve activating the Anvil Vein?”

Korim nods and says, “my Movement Skill, Feathered Step.”

“Show it to me,” Jacob says.

Korim nods, steps away from the garden bed, and lowers his center of gravity. Mana gathers around his calves in a faint silver shimmer.

Then he moves.

He skims across the packed earth of the backyard in three quick bursts, light enough that the gravel barely crunches under his boots. The first two steps are clean. On the third, his left hip turns a fraction too far outward and the landing comes a touch heavier than it should.

Jacob narrows his eyes.

[Grimoire Analysis.]

[Korim. Silver Rank. Feathered Step.]

[5 Flaws detected. 1 Major Flaw detected.]

[Major Flaw: Burst circulation through the Left Main Femoral Mana Vein is mistimed by 0.12 seconds at step initiation. Subject is forcing the entire release through the vein instead of distributing the flow through the surrounding branches. Result: false lightness on the first two steps, stability loss on the third, and a visible outward hip rotation to conceal the drag.]

“Well,” Jacob says. “Here’s what you need to do.”

He proceeds to explain what the Grimoire has just relayed to him and Korim’s eyes widen like two big saucers. The young man, who is actually a couple years older than Jacob, immediately puts the corrections in place and almost starts crying on the spot.

“I can’t believe it! Master Cabbage, I’ve gained twenty levels!”

“Master alone is fine,” Jacob cringes.

“Master Cabbage, I pledge my life to you and—”

Jacob facepalms and stops listening, incinerating a sneering Lancelot with his gaze.

“Anyway, let me give you a couple more pointers and then I’ll see you again in a few days.”

Korim nods eagerly and listens to everything Jacob has to explain to him. By the time he leaves, he is crying profusely, not believing his own luck.

“Boss,” Lancelot says once they go back to the room alone. “Why are you putting so much effort into this? Isn’t this going to blow our cover?”

“We just need the cover to get to whoever Dark Champion is here. This kid… we destroyed his relationship with his Tutor. I’ll give him enough to jump at least several years of training. After what happened at the Tutoring Guild, this is the minimum I can do, Lancelot.”

“Understandable,” Lancelot says, taking out of his pocket a ham sandwich and starting to chomp with a big smile on his face.

“What are you smiling for?” Jacob asks.

“Nothing, Boss, nothing.”

Lancelot had been not only fat for most of his life before Jacob, but also a loser. Before becoming this person’s Squire, he had nothing to his name if not shame. If even that.

Now, with his constitution awakened and trained properly, he is stronger than virtually any normal student, with only the Champions themselves standing above him. When someone asks him why he doesn’t resign from his Squireship to attempt to become a full-fledged Knight, no one understands his explanation. Many see being the tail of a dragon way more shameful than being the head of a dog. Him?

Lancelot chomps happily on his sandwich, in front of the man he has to thank for everything he has.

* * *

The knock on the warped door comes a few minutes later.

Jacob looks up from where he is sitting on the edge of the bed. Lancelot, still chewing, opens the door without bothering to swallow first.

Korim stands outside, looking apologetic.

Behind him are Doran and Maelin, Thalric’s friend, and a tall dark-haired girl whose clothes alone probably cost more than the Sleeping Goose makes in a year.

Korim flinches when Jacob looks at him from inside the room.

“Master,” he says quickly. “I am sorry. They asked me to bring them to you.”

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The girl brushes past Lancelot before Jacob can answer.

She steps into the room, looks at the crooked furniture, the chipped basin, the half-eaten sandwich in Lancelot’s hand, and then at Jacob himself.

Disappointment crosses her face so fast that it is almost funny.

“You are Mr. Cabbage,” she says.

“Yes,” Jacob says, feeling another headache about to come up.

“I am Lyssaena Ashenmere.”

“Huh… congrats?” Jacob raises an eyebrow.

Maelin makes a strangled sound. Doran looks at the ceiling.

Lyssaena’s eyes narrow.

“I came because I heard of your deeds.”

Lancelot takes another bite of his sandwich and nods as if this is a perfectly normal introduction.

Jacob looks at Korim.

“Why are you still here?” he asks. “Go practice.”

Korim blinks.

“I…”

Lyssaena stares at Jacob and stomps her foot.

“Are you ignoring me?” she asks.

“No,” Jacob says. “I am trying to do my job here. Why did you drag my student with you? Who do you think you are?”

That seems to offend her more than if he had insulted her family.

Korim opens his eyes wide.

“Master, it—”

“Don’t worry,” Jacob cuts him off. “Just go. I’ll take care of this.”

Korim bows fast enough to look painful.

“Yes, Master.”

He starts to back away, but Lyssaena lifts one hand without taking her eyes off Jacob.

“Stay,” she says.

Korim freezes.

Jacob notices that. He notices the authority in her tone, too. So does Lancelot.

Interesting.

Lyssaena steps farther into the room.

“Now,” she says, “guide me on a technique. If you are a real Tutor, prove it.”

Jacob rubs a hand over his face.

“Why does every nutjob in this town barge into my room?” he mutters.

Lancelot snorts into his sandwich.

“What did you call me?!” Lyssaena shouts. “I am here to judge whether you are worth anything at all or whether you’re just scamming people!”

“I’m not taking any more applications. Scram.”

Lyssaena stares at him, putting her hand on top of the hilt of the rapier she has at her side.

Doran clears his throat.

“Lyssaena is a friend of Thalric’s,” he says carefully. “He spoke very highly of you.”

Lancelot raises an eyebrow but says nothing.

Jacob sighs.

“Fine,” he says. “If she is going to make a ruckus anyway, she might as well do something useful. Show me the technique you are most proud of.”

Lyssaena smiles without warmth.

“Gladly.”

The room is too small, so they go back down to the yard.

Korim stands near the wall. Doran and Maelin stay by the door. Lancelot leans against the frame and keeps eating as if he has paid for this entertainment.

Lyssaena steps into the middle of the packed earth and takes one slow breath.

“This is the Ashen Swallow Step.”

Then she moves.

The Ashen Swallow Step is in a league of its own compared to the Feathered Step of Korim. She cuts through the air in three crisp pivots.

She is very good.

Korim stares openly. Maelin looks satisfied. Even Doran has the expression of a man waiting for a fraud to finally understand the gap between rumor and reality.

Jacob’s eyes sharpen.

[Grimoire Analysis.]

[Ashen Swallow Step (Diamond Rank)]

[9 Flaws detected. 1 Critical Flaw detected.]

[Critical Flaw: Ashen Swallow Step’s third pivot is being driven through the Wave Veins instead of the Echo Stream Veins. Result: unstable directional shift, force bleed on the last transition.]

[The Fix: Route the third pivot through the Echo Stream Veins, not the Wave Veins. Delay release until heel settlement. Remove the finishing half-turn.]

Lyssaena looks at him with open challenge.

“Well?” she asks.

Jacob shrugs.

“Do it again,” Jacob says. “But stop driving the third pivot through the Wave Veins. Load the burst through the Echo Stream Veins in the outer thighs instead. Keep your left hip closed for one more heartbeat, let the heel settle before you release, and cut the extra turn at the end. That half-spin is not part of the Skill. It is just you hiding the flaw.”

Maelin actually laughs at the overly complicated explanation. How can Mr. Cabbage understand so much just from looking at the technique once?

Lyssaena, however, unlike Maelin does not laugh.

Jacob keeps going.

“You guessed,” she says.

Jacob shakes his head.

“No. If I were guessing, I would not have known the half-turn was there to hide the hitch.”

That lands.

Lyssaena’s composure cracks for less than a second, but it is enough.

“Show me,” she says.

Jacob nods toward the yard.

“Again. Stop driving the third pivot through the Wave Veins. Load it through the Echo Stream Veins instead. Keep the left hip closed for one more heartbeat, let the heel settle before you release, and cut the half-turn. That is not part of the Skill. It is just you hiding the flaw.”

Lyssaena stares at him for a long moment, then steps back into position.

She moves.

The first two pivots are as sharp as before. The third changes so little that Korim probably cannot even see it.

The ending changes anyway.

This time the last transition does not bleed force. Lyssaena stops cleanly, without the extra turn, with her weight settling right under her instead of slipping off to the side. Her left foot does not drag. More telling still, the brief flicker of irritation that usually shadows the end of the movement never comes.

Lyssaena looks down at her own leg.

Then she does it again.

The second pass is smoother, faster, and suddenly more dangerous, because now the final transition carries a clean snap that has been missing before.

Lyssaena turns around.

Something has changed in her face. The pride is still there. The confidence, too. But now there is hunger under both of them.

“Take me under your wing,” she says, extremely serious and bowing.

Everybody is flabbergasted.

What kind of change of heart is that?!