Chương 16: Slave Driver

True to his word, Cliff took him to Tallos Foundry, one of the most prestigious emporiums for weapons and artefacts, after they returned from hunting. But when it came to buying him a wand, though, he didn't get him one with a powerful spell like Fire Blast or Wind Blade. The one he received was just as expensive, priced at eighty iron chips, though it could only manipulate the earth beneath his feet. It was fascinating, nonetheless.

Ember was already content with it when his father bought him something even more expensive: a protective amulet like Rain's, but this one was in the form of a bronze bracelet. By channelling a small amount of mana into it, Ember could create a powerful shield similar to his sister's amulet. It could form a true Tier 6 protective shield, which also made its price tens of times that of the wand, coming at a whopping seventy-five Silver crowns.

With one silver crown making thirty iron chips, that bronze bracelet alone costs as many as twenty-eight Tier 3 wands. After the ordeal with the bandits, his father did not hesitate to pay up. Perhaps they could have got it cheaper, but his father didn't haggle at all. Finally, when they came to the matter of the construct, it proved to be a dead end, as the Foundry did not take repair work if the item didn't come from their own stores. They would have to find an independent Manasmith if they wanted to repair it.

Moreover, they needed to be proficient in construct crafting, which almost made the search as difficult as finding a needle in a haystack.

"Honestly, fixing it would likely cost more than its worth," the wizened shopkeeper had said.

"Why not buy a newer one, with more functions?" Ember didn't want that, as he had already grown quite attached to the spider. Cliff promised to find him someone who could repair it anew. Even if he couldn't find one, Ember was satisfied with the promise alone. How could the man manage to be so compassionate? Ember would never know. Then one particular morning, after Ember had just finished his meditation, Cliff handed him a wooden training cane. He looked up at him in inquiry.

The impish grin Rain was shooting towards him was answer enough.

"Didn't you want to learn swordsmanship?" Cliff asked. Ember looked around to find the best route to dash off. But the slave driver was surely fast enough to catch him before he even attempted to flee. Under his gaze, even all the excuses Ember had thought of before seemed to escape him.

"I wanted to," he said, "but I want to learn cooking from mom as well."

"Cooking?" The knight cocked his head.

"Don't you know it's a notoriously hard skill to master?" Ember nodded heavily.

"But I still want to try." Although this world had its variation of sandwiches, Ember hadn't gotten anything like pizza, noodles, ramen, or the like. He couldn't let such delightful foods die with him.

"Well, you can learn to cook without getting a skill," Cliff said. Ember was fearing exactly that. He should have already gotten the skill by buttering up his mother, but there was no remedy for regret right now.

"No dilly-dallying anymore." The knight slapped his cane lightly against his backside, just enough to startle him out of his stupor.

"First, I will teach you the basic stances and movements for the first few days, then we will begin sparring."

"But I want to be a mage," Ember cried, knowing what was coming. Behind him, his sister only snickered.

"Your Lady Evelyn also trained in swordsmanship when she was young," she supplied unhelpfully.

"I heard she still trains, despite reaching silver-rank in her mage class. It would do you good, too, little brother." Ember glared at her.

"There's some truth to her words." Cliff nodded along.

"Your body will continue to grow stronger and tougher as you rank up. It will be a waste not to put it to use." It seemed Ember had no other choice. Well, Ember was not completely against learning it. He was against learning it from the slave driver that his father was, having already seen what he had put Rain through. If he was already that harsh with a little girl, Ember had no hope of getting any leeway. So from then on, every morning for a couple of hours, he would learn swordsmanship from his father.

The first few days went rather easily. Ember only felt some strain in his arm from swinging the heavy training cane. The story has been stolen; if detected on Amazon, report the violation. He picked up the skill rather easily, even without wielding a true blade. Well, he learned the basic principles of the stances, movements, and swings. There was nothing impossible in it. Ember would even go so far as to say they were rather easy. Then came the sparring sessions, and from there he regretted everything.

During the sparring sessions, Cliff was a completely different man. Gone was the loving father; in his place stood the slave driver who barked commands and instructions even when Ember's Breathing Art was off by the slightest degree. The slave driver knew no mercy. Even when Ember acted in a lackadaisical fashion, showing he had no talent for the sword, Cliff would charge at him in an unrelenting spree, leaving him no choice but to give his best. Somehow, the iron knight seemed to see through all his tricks.

Perhaps he had already gone through these puerile facades with Rain. But in the second round, he wasn't merciful at all. Well, at least Ember wasn't getting beaten up, though the gruelling practice was quite tiring. After a few days, he left the duty of sparring to Rain. Ember thought his life would be much easier from then on, that he could finally have more energy to train his mana. But as it turned out, Rain was very much her father's daughter.

Ember was unsure if she was taking the task too seriously or simply venting her frustration on him, but the girl showed no mercy when he made a mistake. Moreover, she was so shrewd that she would use her healing spell on him to take care of the bruises whenever he began to complain to their mother. Ember only got some reprieve when Cliff took her away for the final training for her Class Trial. The days flew by, and once again it was winter.

Ember finally got to enter the clan's mana chamber for his mana cultivation. It wasn't quite as he had imagined: a sealed chamber, not too large or small, where a dozen children meditated and accumulated mana at all times. If he was disappointed by the room, the rich density of mana there more than made up for it. It was perfect, though the ambience could use some work. It was a white room with nothing to note other than a few charts displaying mana channels and explanations on mana circuits and apertures.

There were also a few words of advice etched high on the wall, something like Greatness isn't born in a day; steady diligence is the key to Ascension. There was also an instructor who gave the same lecture on mana every day before guiding them through the elementary circulation method. To his surprise, he had already learned it from Lady Evelyn, and her version was more refined and optimised for opening more apertures and accumulating mana.

Just by practising in the chamber, his mana grew at double the speed, and his rate of mana accumulation wasn't slow to begin with. Ember wasn't sure about the exact mechanics, but the more his mana circuit progressed and the more apertures he opened, the smoother his mana cultivation became. As for the other facilities, he didn't find much use for them. They were far more mundane, like the open field where over a hundred youths, ranging from six to ten, trained with sword and shield.

From the mindless repetition of stances to the rigorous sparring sessions, the physical training seemed to take the whole day. Even if it didn't, Ember couldn't imagine having any energy left to do anything else if he were to train with them. Thankfully, the mana chamber kept him busy for half of the time, and at his age he was only obliged to follow the basic training regimen, like running and sword form practice.

Since he had registered the skill in his status, Ember didn't laze around even when he got the chance. He took it upon himself to practise Breathing Art alongside it to make things more challenging. Then came the etiquette and the mundane classes. Honestly, they were the biggest time-wasters. Ember slept through them all, using them as a refresher between his more demanding practices. As far as he was concerned, he could learn about history, geography, and etiquette on his own.

The Blackstones had a huge library, after all. Ember would escape there whenever he could, though imagine his horror when he learned he would need to study advanced mathematics to become a Manasmith. While his skills were growing remarkably, Ember had to disappoint his mother by failing to make a single friend. He couldn't connect with any of them. It was as if they were on entirely different wavelengths.

He guessed he could only blame his adult mentality for that, though much of it was also due to how bratty these noble children were. Although there were a couple of others in the clan who had reached tier three before turning six, none of them could match him in any of the mana skills. Within a couple of weeks, this became apparent, and Ember had to attend classes with the ten-year-olds.

Unfortunately, his abilities, whether in mana, arithmetic, or other subjects, only drew more jealousy and envy from the other children, making him stand out and become ostracised. Ember did not mind it much, although he could have done without the childish bullying. Ember breezed through it with utter nonchalance, as the worst these brats could do was challenge him to a spar. Actually, the worst part was how annoying they could be. Still, being the only adult in the room, he forgave them.

He was magnanimous like that. So from then on, for days on end, he would attend any class he deemed necessary and spend most of his time in the mana chambers. Since the instructors in charge were satisfied with his skill levels, they let him be. Then one day, his grandfather came to watch his practice. Supposedly, Timber Blackstone was well over eighty, but with his silver rank and high tier, the old man was the spitting image of his father, appearing only as though he were in his forties.

But of course, the resemblance seemed to end there. As far as Ember had heard, his father was nothing like his grandfather. Whereas Cliff was devoted, compassionate, and loyal to a fault, many of those characteristics didn't seem to have survived Timber Blackstone's advanced age. He was the type of man who couldn't keep it in his trousers, which was very evident, with Ember having to call a boy his age 'uncle'. But obviously, there was more resemblance between father and son than people gave them credit for.

Ember came to realise that once his grandfather took hold of his training in the absence of his father. He finally learned what brutal training was like. His father was but a student at the academy where his grandfather brutalised children. At this point, Ember was certain that this slave-driving ran in the family.