Chef Wayland lamented, “Of course, it had to be a Wandering Lair, and one about food. However, it does give us a chance. You remember what the entrance to the Lair looked like, yes? Then we can catalogue it and notify the adventurers guild. I’ll even put a bounty on its location. With that, I can form an expedition. Yes, there is still hope.”

  Ben spent some time describing the entrance to the lair but fabricated a story about not knowing its exact location due to his father's secrecy, ensuring that no one could trace it back to him.

  When they were done obtaining the information they needed, Ben seized the opportunity. “Seeing as I cannot add the Magical Cooking class to my schedule, would one of you be able to tutor me on one of the rest days?”

  The three chefs exchanged glances, and Chef Wu and Chef Wayland focused on Chef Mustafa.

  Reluctantly, Chef Mustafa agreed, “Fine, fine. Consider it payment for information on the skill stone. However, we cannot use Academy resources. That means I’ll be coming to you, and you will need to supply the ingredients. I will give you a list of ingredients each week, and it is up to you to acquire the ingredients and infuse them with mana. Agreed?”

  Ben quickly agreed to Chef Mustafa's terms and glanced at the clock, realizing his lunch hour was nearly over. He hurried to the third floor where the cafeteria was and quickly finished his meal.

  Chapter 11 – Signore Barducci

  Beau was waiting for Ben and Al after lunch ended. The carriage was there with a long line of carriages waiting behind it. They climbed inside, and Beau joined them, quickly thumping his fist against the roof. There was a slight lurch, and the carriage began moving.

  They drove up the winding mountain path for about twenty minutes until they pulled through a second portcullis, with a larger archway that looked as though it had been carved out of the mountain and wasn't attached to the surrounding rock face at all. Beyond the gate, the vast expanse of leveled stone greeted them, with a few small structures scattered around. Ben squinted against the bright sunlight, trying to make out what these buildings were.

  The carriage stopped a couple of minutes later, and Beau opened the door, ordering, “Out.” Ben and Al didn’t look at each other as they exited the carriage.

  Ben pulled his glasses out of his satchel and slid them onto his face. He looked around at the great expanse of the plateau, more than he had seen from the carriage, wondering how the other students had reacted when they first set eyes on the flat, white plain. He breathed in deeply and coughed hard from the thinness of the air. After he caught his breath once more, he took a deep breath, but this one was much slower, as if breathing were a skill he needed to take up once again. There were close to a hundred unique scents on the air that were not there before—perfumes, colognes, cigars, and cooking smoke, scents from the plants and animals they'd passed on the way to the plateau. All of it came from the other students who milled about, if he had to guess. Then a familiar scent reached his nose, and he held back a smile. It seemed his Handler was nearby.

  “Martial Training, I’ll be back for you both,” Beau said, leaving Ben and Al to stare at the vista, then he turned sharply and climbed back aboard the carriage. It rolled away only to be replaced by another carriage dropping off more students. Just like that, they were left waiting with what Ben thought were other first-year students.

  None of them looked very prepared for martial training. They all wore thick coats and warm hats. Most of their boots were highly polished and looked stiff. If Ben's Handler was the teacher for this class, and his training was as Ben thought it might be, they were all going to regret wearing such footwear and heavy coats. As it was, Ben was already stripping off his warm woolen outer layers, shoving it all into his magic satchel.

  Ben was surprised when someone asked, “What are you doing?”

  He turned to the voice with an accent he couldn’t place. It was a young deergirl, lanky and lithe. She looked the same as everyone else, wearing a thick coat and a hat, but with a crest on the right side of her chest.

  “Getting ready for class,” Ben answered as he began to stretch.

  She gave him a strange look. “Aren’t you cold?”

  “I am freezing, comrade,” Ben answered, feeling the biting cold through his cotton shirt. “But this is Martial Training, no? I assume we will be made to do physical activities, and the coat and hat will just get in the way. Tomorrow, I will have to see about wearing a sweater. I should have thought of that sooner.”

  She now gave him an incredulous look. “You think . . . you think we’ll be expected to . . . exercise?”

  Ben nodded, “Yes.”

  “We’re nobles, we do not . . . exercise,” she stated haughtily.

  Alphonse, who stood nearby, chuckled and shook his head as he started to take off his own coat.

  Ben shrugged at the deergirl. “Then, comrade, you will prove weak, probably fail this course and be sent home at the end of the year.”

  Now she seemed absolutely appalled. “They cannot do that. I am a noble of House Mizrahi. My father would burn this place to the ground.”

  “Doubtful,” Alphonse chimed in as he pushed his coat and hat into a magic bag. “Too many political implications. Your father will more likely punish you for failing. No one, and I mean no one, messes with Bloken. You should know that as well as anyone if you are from a noble house.”

  The girl looked dumbstruck then slightly panicked and began whispering in a language Ben didn’t recognize to one of her friends who’d been looking on, a liongirl with a different crest but similar style coat.

  Ben looked around and saw a few others take notice of him and Al, and followed their lead. Shedding their coats and hats, he heard and smelled panic arise in many of the nobles. Had no one warned them? Being from a noble house, one would expect that they had more information than him.

  There was a sudden order barked from a familiar voice, though with an Abbaion accent, “Warm up, two laps!”

  Ben looked for a track but saw nothing and cursed his poor eyesight. Instead, he turned to Al and followed him to a path that had been cleared of most of the heavy snow.

  The teacher’s voice barked out again, “What are you waiting for? I said two laps!”

  Ben followed Al to a wide gravel path that seemed to have been cut into the ground, similar to what his master sometimes used at his home.

  “Which way do we run?” Al asked loudly as he looked around for the voice that had given the order.

  Ben didn’t think it mattered and started to run, Al following behind. He shook his head as he watched Al dash by, the wind pulling at his shirt as he raced forward. Ben knew he had no idea how long the track was, and that the thin air of the mountain would make it difficult to keep up that kind of pace. Despite this, other students were joining him in his sprint, trying to match or beat him. The professor had called it a warm-up, so Ben set his own pace, a steady jog, and focused on his breathing. He ignored the complaints and moans of those overdressed nobles, pushing himself to do his best.

  As he continued around the track, Ben began passing those who had sprinted ahead of him earlier. They had exhausted themselves while he stayed focused on his pace, and although the thin air made it hard, he eventually managed to finish the first lap while many others had already collapsed.

  As he pushed through to the second lap, not too far ahead of him, he saw Al starting to flag. He’d slowed down considerably and was starting to breathe heavily, almost panting. Then he stumbled and nearly fell. Still, Ben kept his pace, slowly gaining on him. Twenty meters. Fifteen meters. Ten meters. Then he caught his Handler’s scent again. He was directly ahead of them, two hundred more meters. It was the finish line. It had to be.

  At five meters from catching up to Al, Ben started running harder for the finish line. He knew he might regret it later, but beating Al now would do a lot to humble the dogboy.

  As he passed Al, he forced a condescending chuckle and said, "The training in Rychania clearly surpasses whatever pitiful standards there are in your land, doesn't it, Comrade Alphonse?"

  He heard a curse and grunt of effort from behind him and heard the dogboy trying to pick up his pace. He didn’t want to lose to Ben, and that was good. So, Ben ran harder. He sprinted for that finish line. He couldn’t let him beat him. He eventually saw his Handler’s outline. He stood tall with his arms crossed. It was an imposing stance, but he couldn’t read his body language from this distance to know if he was angry or happy. Ben imagined he was very displeased given the poor showing from the students.

  Ben heard Al catching up behind him and pushed himself just a little harder.

  His Handler’s face came into view. It was stern, definitely more on the angry side. And yet, Ben saw something in his face that indicated he was pleased. He hoped it meant he was pleased with him. It sparked him to dig deeper and push harder.

  Ben ran past the professor and let go of the hard push, slowing down and breathing heavily. He smiled a little as Al came in just behind him. Ben beat him. He won. And then Al puked all over his boots.

  “Gross!” someone screamed nearby.

  Ben nearly vomited himself after smelling the contents of Al’s lunch and probably some of his breakfast. Hard-boiled eggs did not smell appetizing the second time around.

  Unfortunately, the dogboy wasn’t the only one who lost their lunch. Some due to being just as tired and overworked as Al and some in response to the puking.

  “Well, looks like I have my work cut out for me,” his Handler’s voice boomed, amplified and projected. “I am Signore Barducci, your Martial Training and physical status instructor. My task is twofold. First, I am to see all of you gain a stable level of physical fitness. Second, I am to help you improve your fighting abilities.”

  “For the fitness side of things, I hope to bring all of your physical stats up at least one rank before the end of the year. However, if this is really the best you have to offer, most of you won’t gain one rank in any of your statuses. Most of you failed class this afternoon. In fact, only five of you earned a passing mark for today.” He paused to look around then pointed at Ben, “You, name?”

  The badgerman stood tall and straightened his clothes, “Burion Belov, pleased to meet you, Comrade Teacher Barducci.”

  “You can call me Signore Barducci or sir,” he retorted then pointed to another student who was apparently smart enough to pace himself, “You.”

  It was a lionman, tall and muscular, “Heinrich von Trussel, pleased to meet you, Signore Barducci.”

  Signore Barducci repeated it three more times allowing a lionwoman named Wilhelmina von Trussel, a weaselman named Gustavo Gutierrez, and a rabbitman named Frank Smith to introduce themselves. Ben shouldn’t have been surprised when the wolfman made all five of them targets.

  “The rest of you are not yet worth knowing. The rest of you do not even know how to do a basic warmup run. Everyone, up, back on your feet. Get your breathing under control. Long slow breaths in and out. Get your heartrate under control, good.”

  While he was coaching everyone on breathing, Ben was repeating in his head to start referring to his Handler by his cover. He needed to think of him that way, or he risked blowing his cover by accident, something that might be unrecoverable on this mission, especially with the dean looking for him.

  Eventually, Ben felt satisfied that he wouldn’t slip and started looking around. He could see those close to him getting their breathing under control with Barducci’s instruction, but not everyone. Al leaned over with his hands on his knees, spitting at the ground and taking in great big heaving breaths of air, which was doing him no good. Ben wasn’t sure how to help him without seeming like he was helping him. Thankfully the instructor stepped in.

  “Come on, up, stand tall,” Barducci said, using a gentle hand to guide the dogboy upright. “Put your hands on your head and just focus on breathing. Breath into your diaphragm and exhale slowly. Slow steady breaths, there you go, good. Keep doing that.”

  Signore Barducci moved on to the next student and the next after that. He didn’t get to everyone before the majority were back on their feet.

  “Good, now, we’re going to do that run again. But you’re going to learn to pace yourselves. You’re going to learn how to breathe while you run. And you’re going to learn what it means to warm up properly. After that, we’ll do some stretching. Tomorrow, hopefully, you will come better prepared for this class. Dress appropriately. This warm up run and stretching will be a daily occurrence. Any questions before we learn to run properly?”

  The wolfman ignored every hand that raised into the air, “Good, then follow me, we’ll go slow, just try to keep pace. Breathe in through the nose and out through the mouth. Count your steps on the breath in, you should take the same number of steps on the breath out.”

  Ben really wished his Handler had been so helpful when he started to train him.

  The second run ended, and the stretching began. It was apparent that some students had never stretched out before, so the professor took a bit longer to explain and guide everyone through them.

  “Alright, enough of that,” Signore instructed. “Let’s move on to the martial section of today’s class. The goal is to help you develop your ability to fight, either unarmed or with a weapon. Ideally, you have all learned the best martial skill for you already, but I understand that some of you will have not. Luckily, the Dean will have informed you where your fighting talent really lies. So, time to break out. Ah, but one more note, regardless of your talent, whatever you work on today does not have to be what you work on tomorrow.

  Just understand, if you do not focus your training, you may fail to develop any of your fighting skills.”

  The professor clapped his hands, “But enough about that. Close quarters fighters meet at shed one. Swords meet at shed two. Blunt weapons, shed three. Spears and staves, shed four. Shields, shed five. Archers, shed six.” No one moved until Teacher clapped sharply twice and yelled, “Move!”

  Like the others, Ben ran for the closest of the sheds, looking for a marker that indicated which shed it was. He felt kind of stupid when he reached the first of the sheds and on the door of which was a large ‘1’ painted white, he just couldn’t see it from where he’d been standing during the professor’s instruction.

  He waited patiently for anyone to join him. He started to get worried when just about everyone ran past until a small mousegirl joined him.

  “H-h-h-hi,” she stuttered and then went silent as a bearman, turtleman, and raccoonman joined them. All three wore similar outfits that looked more like expensive sleep clothes.

  As one, all three put their fists together, and bowed respectfully, then stood ramrod straight, and rested their hands behind their backs.

  The turtleman stepped forward first, “Greetings. We are students from the Shao Kin temple. I am Lee Ma.” He motioned to his right where the raccoonman stood and introduced, “This is Chen Dao.” Then motioning to the bearman to the right he introduced the last of his group, “And this is Pong Ren.”

  “Pleased to meet you comrades. I am Burion Belov,” Ben said, giving them a formal Rychanian bow.

  The mousegirl looked nervous to introduce herself. Her stutter agreed. “L-l-l-lulu T-t-t-tidus.”

  The three all bowed again then finally relaxed, losing some of the discipline Ben first saw from them.

  Further conversation ended when Signore Barducci’s voice carried across the field of stone, “Inside the sheds you will find equipment related to your chosen martial skills. Wooden swords, maces, knives, shields and the like. You will also find padded clothing if you are afraid of gaining a few bruises. You have five minutes to collect what you need then let the martial training begin.”

  If Ben understood what the professor was suggesting, it meant that a brawl was about to begin and he only had five minutes to arm and armor himself. He wanted to work on his Grappling seeing as his Knife Fighting was already at Intermediate rank. The skill required neither weapons nor armor.

  Lulu nervously approached the shed, standing on her tiptoes to reach the doorknob. With a deep breath and a forceful push, she managed to get the door open just enough to squeeze through. She reappeared a few minutes later wearing an outfit of thick padding – chest plate, shin guards and a pair of reinforced gloves. In her hands she held two plain-looking wooden knives. As she weighed each weapon in her hands, her face seemed to transform – gaining a newfound intensity that unsettled him.

  “No weapon, brother Burion?” Shao asked.

  Ben shook his head. “Maybe next time, but for today, I’m good. Thank you for your concern, Comrade Lee.”

  “First round!” Barducci bellowed loudly. “Ten minutes, starting now!”

  Ben felt a searing pain at his jaw, and it snapped shut as Lee’s foot connected with it. He crashed onto the ground, his vision blurring as he was flung back. He groaned and tried to sit up, his jaw throbbing. When his vision cleared, he saw that Pong and Shen were both down, while Lee Ma and Lulu were locked in a heated battle.

  Lee's movements were lightning-fast, but he was struggling to keep up with petite Lulu, who was spinning and twirling her daggers with incredible grace and speed. The turtleman grunted whenever her blades parried his strikes, and if they had been real knives rather than practice weapons, she would have already won the fight.

  Ben rubbed his jaw one more time and hopped to his feet. He’d made a bad showing of things thus far. He couldn’t let that continue. He crossed the distance between them quickly, earning a brief glance from the pair, but they basically ignored him as the two exchanged blows again. He didn't like the feeling of being dismissed like that. It was time to take control of this fight.

  He leapt at Lee, dodging a desperate swing from the turtleman as he tried to keep Ben away. Lee's wild swing left his arm exposed, and Ben shot forward, catching his wrist and wrenching it painfully behind his back.

  Lulu took advantage of the opening Ben created and slammed her fist into the side of Lee’s head, knocking him out cold.