They gathered around a long, wooden table, its surface worn to a smoothness after years of use. Chef Mustafa began, “We will be preparing four side dishes, each a staple in the countries they originated from. You should take careful note of the different spices used and the special combination of other ingredients.”

  Chef Mustafa started by showing them how to prepare a high-end Abbaio sauce, called Pomodoro, that was often used with certain cheese and hard meats. He carefully weighed out equal portions of parsley, oregano, salt, pepper, diced tomatoes, celery, and carrots. After chopping up the ingredients and adding them to a large pot, he set the stove to simmer. “In about an hour, it will be ready to serve over fresh mozzarella.”

  Moving on to the fennel and orange salad, he taught them how to make a quick vinaigrette of orange juice and apple cider and then detailed how to prepare the fennel and orange. The instructor noted that this light, fresh salad from the Aulido Empire was perfect for a busy weeknight in the winter and paired well with many traditional winter meats like sausage and meatballs.

  “Last, we will be preparing a couple of vegetables. They will be glazed carrots and broccoli au gratin. We will start with the carrots as they need the most time in the oven,” Chef Mustafa ordered, starting them through the process of washing and cutting the vegetable spears. They prepared several massive trays with the vegetables. Then it was on to the au gratin. Broccoli florets had to be cut and washed before they went into a dozen or more ceramic dishes. They poured heavy cream and grated parmesan over the top, and then they too went into the oven.

  Chef Mustafa seemed pleased with their work as they were putting the last of the ceramic dishes into the oven, “Side dishes are more about preparation and timing. They can be simple or complex, but if you don’t time it just right, nothing will come out at the right time. Speaking of the right time, it’s time to start plating the pomodoro and mozzarella. We will be using the small round ramekins.”

  They barely finished the first side dish, and they were on to the next, getting the salad from the cold box and plating it. Then the au gratin had to be removed from the oven. Thankfully, it was sent up to the cafeteria in the dishes it was cooked in. Last were the glazed carrots, which were plated into individual servings.

  By the time they finished, Ben was starting to miss desserts class. There was something to be said for the simple monotony of making one thing repeatedly. After class ended, he wondered what, if any, changes Signore Barducci would be making.

  “Time for the martial part of training,” the professor announced as Ben's class finished their last set of wind sprints, the newest addition to the fitness side of the class. “Today, things get mixed up a bit. You get to try your hand at fighting against a different weapons group. Now doesn’t that sound fun? This is an opportunity to practice against different types of weapons. Don’t waste it. Every week, we will change up the pairings, I can’t have you getting too comfortable. Close quarters and spears and staves, shed one. Swords and maces, shed three. Shields and archers, shed five.”

  That did not sound like fun to Ben. It sounded like a lot of pain and suffering. He didn’t like the idea of fighting someone that had range on him, not even a meter. That was a lot of distance to cover without any reach of his own.

  Ben decided right then that Signore Barducci, his esteemed and respected Handler, was the worst kin to ever exist. As soon as the group split up as instructed, he shouted, “Round one! Fight!” He didn’t even give them an opportunity to meet the spear and stave wielders.

  On the practice field, the clang of blunted metal and thud of wooden shafts connected with flesh sounded like a symphony of destruction. Ben was among the close quarter fighters, and as they clashed against the spear and stave users, he realized that the key to victory was in getting in close before they could mount an effective defense against them. He felt his Footwork, Dodge, and Wrestling skills put to the test as he darted forward to avoid spears and staves thrust in his direction. The impacts jarred his body and made bones break, joints dislocate, and caused him to suffer concussions. But he also learned how to fight back, slipping beneath over-extended strikes and redirecting probes away from him and towards their owners.

  Once they were able to take down the stave and spear users, it was only natural that they turned on each other, and with every man for himself in round two of the fight, the intensity of the combat increased even more. The healers were kept busy from then on, tending to wounds that could range from mild to debilitating.

  Days quickly started to blur as Ben fell into a routine. The daily Martial Training course made sure of that.

  Coach Liv entered the Lair Team classroom more excited than usual. “Next week marks our fourth week of class, and you all know what that means.”

  “More First-Aid practice,” Liam volunteered, earning a couple of looks of incredulity and several shakes of the head.

  “First lair,” Al informed Liam helpfully.

  “Oh,” Liam said dumbly. Then it registered, and he jumped up excitedly. “Finally! Oh gods, I’ve been waiting for this. No more of this lame First-Aid nonsense, no offense healers.”

  There were loud protests from Al, while Lulu gave him the darkest look the usually timid girl could muster.

  Unfortunately, Liam just continued to blather on, “I can’t wait to get to bashing some skulls. What have you got for us, coach?”

  Coach Liv sighed, his excitement petering out. “For those of you who have learned First-Aid, we’ll be traveling just outside of the city to the Bog Rodent Lair on the morning of your first rest day. It’s a two-hour carriage ride there and back, so report to the academy by 5:00 AM if you want to go. Anyone who hasn’t learned First-Aid will be staying home.”

  “That’s not fair!” Liam and Seth protested loudly.

  “You have had almost a month to learn First-Aid, a common skill that children learn by accident,” Coach Liv pointed out, giving the two an admonishing look. “And you still have a week to learn it. I suggest you both take this very seriously, or you will fall behind the rest of your team. Also, be very aware, next week we begin learning Traps. If you have not learned First-Aid by then, you will need to learn it on your own time. And if you haven’t learned it by the next lair, you’ll be staying home again. If you miss two lairs, you will fail this course.”

  Seth and Liam both looked slightly stunned by the information. Ben wasn’t exactly surprised that those two hadn’t learned it yet. Seth thought he was too good for a common skill like First-Aid while Liam . . . well, Liam was not the sharpest arrow in the quiver. Having fought against him all week, Ben would believe it if someone had said he took a few too many strikes to the head and hadn’t been properly healed afterward. That said, the boarman could take a beating but couldn't really dish it out, not like Robin and her brother, Rober.

  After Coach’s announcement, Seth and Liam seemed to finally comprehend that the Academy considered the skill important and put in a lot more effort. Unfortunately, that meant they monopolized Coach Liv, who in turn set Ben to the task of helping as he still had the highest rank of First Aid on the team.

  “Gods, this is so stupid,” Seth complained, clearly dissatisfied with having Ben teach him the skill. “We have healers for a reason.”

  Ben was tempted to remind him of Coach’s FAFHL rule but instead focused on helping the snakeboy tie a bandage tight enough to stop bleeding but not so tight as to cut off circulation. “If you see discoloration like that, it means it’s too tight,” he coached.

  Seth grumbled, “Coach’s pet merc and a Rychanian necro-scumbag. I bet you just love bossing around your betters like this, eh?”

  Ben held back a sigh. “No, I don’t particularly like helping you with this.”

  Seth looked affronted, “Why not? Not enough extra credit with Coach Liv? Or would you rather be chatting up that abominable beargirl? You do seem the sort? Rychanian freak.”

  Ben's fists clenched involuntarily as his temper flared, and he forced himself not to lash out at Seth for his statement.

  Something must have shown on Ben's face though because the snob smirked, “Did I finally strike a nerve? Don’t like being called a freak, freak?”

  “Please, just focus on the work,” Ben replied through gritted teeth.

  Seth sighed disappointedly. “You’re rather pathetic, freak. I hope you don’t get us killed in the lair. But don’t worry, I’m sure your beargirl brute will keep you safe.”

  “Seth, give me your hand,” Ben insisted, ignoring his comment.

  Seth rolled his eyes and held out his hand for Ben to demonstrate. “Just be quick about it. It looks like Coach Liv is almost done with that other brute.”

  A feral smirk crept across Ben's face as he grabbed Seth's wrist, yanking it with all his might until an audible crack vibrated through the room. Seth screamed at the top of his lungs, and Ben felt an immense satisfaction wash over him. “You should be more careful. Attacking me for trying to show you the proper way to bandage a wound. But don’t worry, I can put your wrist back in place and splint your broken fingers.” Ben relocated Seth's wrist with a hard tug and even more screaming from him. “Alright, we have the perfect opportunity to practice splinting a broken bone. Aren’t you fortunate?”

  Ben could feel the eyes of everyone in the room on him, but no one moved to help Seth, not even his cousin Sam. It seemed they all thought he probably deserved whatever happened to him. Sadly, by the end of class, Coach grew tired of his bellyaching and asked Al to heal him.

  Chapter 20 – The Long-Awaited Match

  “Beau, you’re not leaving?” Ben asked, confused by the cattleman following Alphonse and him across the stone-cut field where their Martial Training class was to be held.

  “No, I think I’d like to watch today,” Beau replied with a knowing smirk.

  Week four started about as expected. They ran an extra lap more than usual, bringing them up to six laps. After, they did their usual push-ups, sit-ups, burpees, jumping jacks, and stretching, increasing the number of each by two. Then came the announcement Ben had been looking forward to. “Close range and swords, shed one.” The rest of what the instructor had to say didn’t matter as Al and Ben locked eyes.

  Ben felt a thrill of excitement at the prospect of matching up against the dogboy. He hadn’t had any opportunity to observe him fight during class. So, other than his weapons of choice, Ben didn’t know what exactly to expect from him. But Al was the Hero, so he had to be good, right?

  “After you,” Al said, motioning for Ben to go ahead of him toward the shed.

  Ben grinned, “Thank you, comrade.”

  The badgerman went ahead to the shed and opened the door, getting a few looks of confusion from the other close-range fighters. What they didn’t know, and what Ben had barely managed to keep secret when it happened, was that he had recently gotten Grappling up to Intermediate Rank. It was time to mix it up a bit. He wanted to see if he could incorporate his Grappling skill with Knife Fighting.

  He took a single wooden practice knife and tucked it into the back of his belt. He also put on a padded brigandine, something he’d gotten into the habit of doing after the first time he fought someone with a spear.

  He passed Lulu on his way out and gave her a little grin and a wink, which she frowned at. “What are you up to?” she asked, her voice barely a whisper.

  “Just . . . do me a favor. Tell everyone to let comrade Alphonse and me have it out. It’s been a long time coming,” Ben said.

  Lulu looked at him with wide nervous eyes, “You want me to . . . o-order them around?”

  Ben nodded and gave the mousegirl a kind smile, “I would very much appreciate it.”

  “I’ll t-try,” Lulu promised.

  Al came in right behind her to get his own things. Outside the shed was a long line of swordkin waiting to collect their own practice weapons.

  Ben moved away from the shed and started stretching lightly while he waited for the first round to begin.

  “Ready to put your money where your mouth is, Belov?” Al asked as he started his own light stretching, just a meter away from Ben.

  Ben quirked an eyebrow, “A bet?”

  Al grinned and nodded as he suggested, “Loser wears a dress to the next Charisma Class?”

  That was just mean of him. Was he hoping to embarrass Ben in front of Bella? That didn’t seem very fair. Still, Ben didn’t plan to lose. “And make-up?”

  “Naturally,” Al agreed.

  “You know this is lopsided in your favor, yes?” Ben asked.

  Al seemed to consider that and then added, “Fine, then if you win, I’ll toss in a favor.”

  That favor could be very useful if Ben ever needed Al to do something, no questions asked. “Alright, you have a deal.”

  Al grinned, and they shook hands.

  “Round one, begin!” Signore Barducci yelled.

  Ben could feel pure adrenaline coursing through his veins as he clasped Al's arm in his grip. The dogboy’s eyes shot open in surprise as Ben yanked him forward to unbalance him and twisted his arm behind his back, ready to pop the joint out of place if he resisted too much. With a sudden burst of strength, Al twisted out of Ben's grasp and used the momentum to drive a powerful kick at his head. Ben staggered back instinctively and released his grip on Al's arm.

  Seizing the opportunity, Ben lunged forward and wrapped his arms around Al's waist then hoisted him straight up into the air. With all the force he could muster, he slammed Al onto the ground and heard the air rush from his lungs with a painful gasp. The badgerman wasted no time in shifting his weight to pin him down beneath him as he rained blows onto Al's ribs and stomach. Suddenly, Ben caught the scent of sweat, pine, and freshly-minted coins that hadn't been there before.

  Ben rolled off Al, only to be met by the sight of another person standing over them brandishing a wooden sword. Seth's long, greasy hair and reptilian eyes were contorted into an expression of rage as he pointed a wooden blade at Ben. “You’re going to pay for what you did to my wrist,” he growled. The sight of this scrawny Mancer wielding a sword was so comical that Ben couldn’t help but taunt him. “Do you even know how to use that thing?”

  Before he could blink, Seth let out a guttural yell and charged forward, bringing the sword down in an immense arc aimed for Ben's side. Using a combination of Footwork and Dodge, Ben leaned into the attack and ducked beneath the blade, quickly spinning around behind him and securing his waist in a tight lock with both arms. With all his might, he heaved him up high in one powerful motion and dropped him head first onto the ground with a satisfying thud.

  Ben quickly scrambled away, checking to make sure Seth still had a pulse before rushing to search for Al. As he looked around with desperation, he caught a faint whiff of the hero’s scent on a gentle breeze. Suddenly, he heard the sound of rocks crunching underfoot and instinctively dived to the side. He landed with a thud but managed to quickly get back on his feet. In front of him stood the dogboy, looking battered and winded. His right arm hung limp by his side, but he managed to keep a firm grip on his rapier with his left.

  “Ready to give up?” Ben quipped, giving him a cheeky grin.

  “Never,” Al growled, charging at him in a straight line, his rapier out in front like a lance.

  Ben saw the speed of his thrust, heard the wind rush before it, and reacted instinctively. His right hand reached behind his back for his knife and came back up just in time to meet Al’s blade and direct it aside. His left fist shot forward and connected with Al’s stomach, forcing a loud gasp from Al’s lips. Ben dropped his knife as Al’s rapier clattered to the ground. He heard the breath rush out of Al as he stepped around his legs and pushed his arm into the dogboy’s throat, driving him back and tripping him over his leg.

  Alphonse hit the ground with a loud thud and gasped with pain. He surprised Ben by not passing out. Ben had knocked Robin out with that same move, and Al earned some of his respect there. But he was no match for Ben; he wrapped his arms around the dogboy’s neck in a chokehold and put him to sleep.

  It was Ben's win. Now Al owed him a favor. That the arrogant dogboy got embarrassed too . . . well, that was a really nice bonus.

  Chapter 21 – Bog Rodent Lair

  The sharp sound of a hand slapping against skin echoed over the grassy hillock, and Ben felt an excruciating sting on his exposed arm. He cursed himself for not wearing a long-sleeved shirt as he had originally planned; although it would have been unbearably hot in the swamp, it would have kept the bugs away. Instead, he had opted for a combination of a short-sleeved shirt and leather armor that only partially covered his arms, leaving them vulnerable to the attacking insects.

  “Did you get it?” Robin asked him, slapping her own forearm before the words even finished leaving her mouth. It was the first time he’d seen her in her full armor. The tall beargirl wore a simple metal helm, a boiled leather chest armor, a thick leather skirt, and metal-shod gauntlets and boots. For a defender, she wasn’t very well-armored. At least, not compared to Liam. The boarman was covered from head to toe in expensive-looking chainmail armor.

  Ben took another step up the hill, the ground soft like a sponge and squishy, releasing thick mud that stuck to his legs and clothes as he walked. He lifted his hand away from his forearm and frowned at the lack of dead bugs. It seemed the insect yet lived, ruddy little bloodsucker that it was. He shook his head.

  Robin growled and looked up to the lair entrance where Coach Liv stood, covered in his own thick leather armor, with his arms crossed. The lair was set back from the path, barely visible. A cloud of inky darkness seemed to swirl just beyond two ancient trees, their knotted branches forming an imposing archway at the entrance. The hair rose on Ben’s arms as he stepped closer, feeling the mystery and power emanating from within.