Chương 147: Arc 3 - Chapter 19

Adam straightened in his armchair and cleared his throat with a cough, preparing to give a lecture he'd likely given many times before. And although his breath stank of liquor, his words came or clear, if a little hoarse.

"So first of all, we'll talk about Advanced Attribute variants." Fritz nodded, eager to learn. Adam continued, "Unlike the Base Attributes, which have the same effects for everyone. Advanced Attributes can present differently from person to person. Take your Awareness, what does it feel like?"

"It's strange," Fritz said struggling to summarise the vague impressions he sensed. All those odd motes and rippling emotions he could see emanate from people seemingly at random.

"I just get insistent instinctive intuitions about things. I know when I'm being watched or followed. Or when someone means me harm."

"Really?" Adam asked, leaning forward and seemingly surprised.

"Anything else?"

"I can sometimes see weird lights and waves around people. I think it's emotion," Fritz said.

"Huh," Adam said.

"What?" Fritz asked.

"It's not at all like your father's variant. And I thought you'd follow in his footsteps," Adam explained.

"He always said it like there was a web of ever-shifting numbers in his head. It was all angles, odds and calculations. He had a gift for logistics, was a brilliant gambler and could plot the course of a loosed arrow to within a foot at just a glance. It was uncanny and saved my life more times than I could count." The man smiled as he recalled some fond memories, flitting light danced around his head for a moment.

"Oh," Fritz said, feeling a strange sting, and feeling that he'd somehow failed. His Awareness was nothing like that and seemed far less useful in comparison. Adam noticed his tone and frowned slightly.

"That's not to say that yours sounds any worse." Fritz smiled wanly, thinking the statement a mere platitude.

"All kinds of Awareness are capable of similar feats, they just achieve them in differing ways," Adam elaborated.

"Yours seems to be of the more... poetic sort. You likely got that from your indolent mother." Adam winced as he remembered who he was insulting was dead and murdered, but he continued to speak anyway, trying to hammer home his point before Fritz could protest.

"A vague feeling here and there may be more valuable than being able to read 'probabilities' and 'trajectories' as he called them. The right warning at the right moment can save a life after all. And that bit about seeing emotion, well, you could become a truth finder with such a variant." Fritz nodded, though he still thought he may have received a less useful version.

"Can it be changed?" he asked, though he had little hope of that. Adam shook his head.

"Like your Sanctum it's a part of who you are, but more fixed in its expression. Although Advanced Attributes can't be shaped, there are ways to manipulate the 'energies' in specific Patterns to achieve some interesting effects. But again, that varies from Attribute to Attribute and person to person."

"I think I've stumbled across that too," Fritz said, trying not to sound too smug.

"Oh? I shouldn't be surprised. Yet I still am," Adam said.

"What do you do?"

"I send my Awareness out in a wave. Like a ripple on a pond's surface."

"An interesting application. Unfortunately, I don't know much about Awareness; just what your father let slip. And as you well know, the Guides are very secretive."

"Something of an understatement," Fritz said. Adam nodded.

"However, the next of your Advanced Attributes, Grace, is something I'm an expert in," the man boasted.

"In my studies, I have learned practices for all the variants, not just the one I possess."

"Wonderful," Fritz said meaning it.

"How do we find out which one I have?"

"Close your eyes," Adam instructed. Fritz obeyed.

"Focus on your body. Concentrate on the slippery energy that runs over your muscles, skin and bones." Fritz listened, turning his focus inward.

"It's in every part of your being. Every bit of you is connected. From toes to fingers, from spine to sternum. What does it feel like?" Fritz fell into himself and felt for that energy. It was as Adam said, his whole body was one, flexing one finger he could feel the invisible strings again. If he wanted he could puppet himself like a marionette, only far more precisely.

"Strings, pulling me, this way and that," Fritz said.

"Anything else?" Adam asked with the barest note of disappointment. There was something else, something deeper, the beat of his heart and the rhythm of his breath. A music that wasn't just in his body and bones. It stood apart from the sorrowful song that hummed in his chest, it was more... delighting, and it asked him to dance to its fluid tune. To step in perfect time to its proper pounding drum.

"A rhythm, a beat, and more," Fritz said.

"Good! Great!" Adam declared. The startling volume of the man forced Fritz to lose his focus and he opened his eyes to stare at his grinning face.

"Great?" Fritz asked. Adam coughed, suppressing his excitement and relaxing back into his armchair.

"You have both Dancer's and Puppeteer's Grace," Adam said, a hint of envy in his voice.

"You lucky bastard."

"I take it that it's something of a rare gift?" Fritz asked.

"Correct, those two Graces lie on each end of the spectrum," Adam said.

"Spectrum?"

"The variants within the individual Advanced Attributes generally lie on a range from intuitive to intellectual. This scale is also known by multiple names and is featured heavily in many theories, each different in their view on the world and magic. These spectra generally follow a theme of: unreal to real, immaterial to material, internal to external, unconscious to conscious," Adam explained, his eyes far away as if he were reading a page in his mind.

"They're useful in categorising different variants and there's a lot of overlap so they can be used mostly interchangeably."

"I'm not sure I understand," Fritz said, trying to think through what was just recited to him.

"We have the example of your Awareness and your father's," Adam said.

"His was a conscious calculation while yours is an instinctive assessment. His was more intellectual or 'real', focused on the external world; and yours is more intuitive or 'unreal', centred internally." Fritz nodded, seeing the distinction.

"So Dancer's Grace is on the intuitive end and the Puppeteer's is on the intellectual end?"

"Correct," Adam said, smiling.

"And there are benefits to each kind?"

"Most definitely. Dancer's Grace is all about timing, the right motion in the right place at the right moment. You listen to the rhythm of the world and dance to its tune with your body as a whole. Whereas the Puppeteer's Grace is all minute movements and precise control of your individual parts, separate and specialised. Having both will be a great boon, each lending their own strengths while smoothing out their respective weaknesses. Though you will have to train hard to have them work together properly."

"I see. So they don't just synergise on their own?" Fritz asked.

"No, indeed," Adam said.

"In fact, they will clash. But we can work on that when we come to it. First, you have to be able to reflexively use the right Patterns. Like your Awareness uh... ripple."

"Pulse," Fritz provided.

"Like your Awareness 'pulse', you can weave and manipulate Grace's magic to grant more than its passive benefits would."

"Is this true of all Advanced Attributes?" Fritz asked.

"Yes, to a lesser or greater extent, depending on the Attribute in question," Adam said.

"Magic Attributes are similar too, though their variants are less pronounced in their effects."

"Right," Fritz said, pondering on the new revelations.

"Is it common to have more than one kind?" A case of literary theft: this tale is not rightfully on Amazon; if you see it, report the violation.

"Not when you first unlock it. That's rare," Adam said.

"You may be able to find more variants if you unlock an Advanced Attribute multiple times. But that's also an uncommon occurrence." Fritz nodded.

"Which Grace do you have?"

"Guess," the man said, flexing a massively muscled arm.

"Dancer's," Fritz said.

"It was in how you moved." Adam smiled.

"You saw that did you?"

"I did," Fritz said.

"It's one of the more common variants. But all the more potent for it, as it has been studied and trained more due to its prevalence. Remember rarer doesn't necessarily mean better," the man espoused.

"Most of the time the common Abilities, Attributes and Traits are just as powerful and more versatile. Their main weakness is that they're well known and their limits are extensively researched."

"I see," Fritz said, suspecting this was a lecture the man gave all the time when someone was disappointed in their chosen Powers.

"Anyway, we should be moving on. Nightwell?" Adam clarified.

"Yes," Fritz said, nodding.

"I'm not a dedicated mage, so I haven't much expertise in magic," Adam said.

"I have a couple of mental exercises for Magical Attributes, but they're fairly generic or meant for the Essences of Water or Air. Still, we can try them with Nightwell or you can ask around your 'contacts' for any shadow specialists." Fritz nodded, catching the man's meaningful glance to where the black fang was, just under his shirt.

"Lastly you had Control?"

"Right."

"And you have little idea what it does?" Adam asked wryly.

"Right," Fritz said, then thought on his experiences with the Attribute.

"Anything you've noticed at least?"

"Apart from forcing my mind to stop fearing or breaking out of mental magics. Or using it to shape my shadows, I'm not quite sure what it does," Fritz admitted. After nodding seriously, Adam started to speak.

"Control is different to Grace or Awareness, it doesn't have variants. Like Might it enhances, and blends with, other Attributes, specifically Magical ones. It's much sought after in its use in shaping Sanctums, Abilities and Attribute patterns. These things can all be done without Control, but it helps a lot at the beginning of a Climber's Ascension through the Spires. Some view it as a crutch, others a necessary foundation for growing one's skill. Either way, it's powerful in the right hands."

"And what do you think? About Control."

"I think you're a lucky prick," Adam said.

"If your whole life up to this point wasn't one bloody miserable mishap after another I might think you blessed by the Goddess Alestria. As it stands I think somehow you offended a faerie and are thrice cursed." The man had said it as a joke, but it sent a shiver down Fritz's spine all the same.

"Nonsense," Fritz decried.

"Faeries haven't been seen for hundreds of years." Adam looked at him quizzically.

"Faeries aren't real, you mean."

"Well, I wouldn't go that far," Fritz said.

"Maybe they're just in hiding." Adam snorted.

"You got that from your mother too, she was a believer in faeries. When she had a few too many glasses of wine, she always said they were planning a return. Or was it a rebellion? She was a foolish, frivolous woman." A stab of black fury pierced Fritz at this most recent slight, but he reigned his anger in. He couldn't give into to rage and tell the man to leave and never come back, as he wanted in that moment. He needed Adam's knowledge, he knew that more keenly now.

They'd only been speaking for minutes and he already discovered more than in his frustrating, fruitless hours of searching the Archives.

"That's the third time you've besmirched her to me," Fritz said, low and deadly.

"You would do well to stop. A fourth time would go amiss." Adam grimaced, but nodded once, some regret etched into the creases of his forehead.

"Techniques, do you have any?" He asked, changing the subject.

"I have two," Fritz said.

"One's for skirmishing and the other is a madman's brawling style."

"Hmm. You found some Techniques and learned them whether they were good for you or not, deciding that you needed every advantage you could get?" Adam guessed.

"That's right."

"What are their names?" He asked with some interest.

"One is listed as 'The Observations' and the other is the Arte Pugilist," Fritz said, not feeling the need to hide such knowledge, though also not giving out their full titles.

"Hmm," The man hummed thoughtfully.

"'The Observations' sounds familiar, but I can't quite place it. However, the Arte Pugilist is known to me."

"Oh?" Fritz asked, mildly interested in the history of the Technique.

"Yes, there was a brotherhood of monks that studied pugilism. I believe their monastery was in the vast, broken plains and canyons of the Screaming Expanse. That's where Squall Spire resides, in one of those deep crevices that mar the stone. The wind blows strong in those canyons and they carved their temple into the rock's face.

From what I know they were heretics that eschewed the practices of the, far more sensible and well-regarded, styles that were based upon mixing the more commonly offered Air Abilities with martial arts. Some say that they had a hidden Spire, within the tunnels of the temple where they lived and trained."

"Huh," Fritz said.

"The brotherhood of Escantor and their teachings were 'lost' in an avalanche, and the Spire was never found," Adam said.

"You say lost as if you doubt it was an accident," Fritz said.

"They had enemies among the already established order. Many saw the refining of their Technique as a defiance of the Air Spirits they worship. Spitting in the face of their own orthodox monks and 'exalted' priesthood. Which, considering the rumours about the Technique, they likely were. The history of Epsa is rife with hundreds of such stories. What's with that face?"

Fritz had been looking at the man with some scepticism and replied, "I'm just surprised you've not only heard of the Arte Pugilist, but also know of their history. That can't be common knowledge."

"Think of who you're speaking to," Adam chided smugly.

"Despite my humble beginnings and modest manner, I'm both well-read and far travelled. I've studied more books, heard more rumours and listened to more tales than you can even imagine." Fritz bristled, the boasting was too much.

"I thought you were a drunk who's been drifting from one tavern to another for nearly a decade," he argued.

"A man can be more than one thing, in fact, it is his duty, to himself, that he is," Adam stated, it had the air of a quote, but Fritz had never heard it.

"Actually, weren't you the one who told me that, Tomas?" The man glanced over to Fritz mischievously, then his smile fell away in a moment. He covered his eyes and pulled his hand down his face. He shook his head to clear it.

"My apologies," Adam said.

"Got lost between the past and present. Memory is a potent thing. We were talking about Techniques. You need to learn another, one for weapons or for scouting."

"I'm trying to remember my father's sword Technique, I feel like I'm close," Fritz said. Adam shook his head.

"You're a Scout, learn something like the bow, or crossbow if you're lazy. Abyss, throwing weapons would be better than the use of a sword."

"My father was a Guide and he used a sword," Fritz protested.

"While Guides are expected to fight even less than your average Scout, they are required at least one weapon Technique. One to fight humans rather than monsters," Adam said.

"Why?"

"A dead Guide doesn't need to be paid."

"Oh," Fritz said, catching the meaning. Turning on a Guide was a dangerous proposition, what with the risk of failure. If the Guide escaped, which they were likely to, the whole might of the Guides Guild would come crashing down on your team. But there could be enough wealth or Treasures to make the proposition worth it. And if your claim was that the Guide failed your team then you might be able to seize some further compensation. It could tempt some idiots.

"You won't have to worry about that. If you're smart you will only climb with teammates you trust, rather than those that just pay you," Adam said.

"Find something better against beasts. Or something for stealth."

"I'd still like to learn my father's Technique," Fritz insisted.

"I'd advise against it." Fritz stared at the man for some long moments. He sighed.

"Fine. Just know that my official recommendation is that you learn something different. And I won't help you learn the Inevitable Blade," Adam said.

"Is that what it's called?" Fritz asked.

"You didn't even know that much?" Adam asked disparagingly.

"Not a great start. Honestly, if you even get a bastardised version of it I'd be surprised. Especially from what you've shown me so far." Fritz held in his temper, but let a little heat spill into his voice.

"Do you have a bastard version? Were you not good enough to learn the real thing? Is that why you won't teach me?" He goaded. Adam scowled.

"I may only be a Journeyman in the Technique, but know the Inevitable Blade. I won't teach you because... because, I just won't." The man wouldn't meet Fritz's gaze, it was cowardly and he wouldn't even give an honest reason. Anger boiled in Fritz's chest. How dare he deny him the Technique, one of the only things his father had left him? Fritz was about to order him to look him in the eyes, but thought better of it. He could learn it on his own, could show this drunk that he could find the Technique himself.

He was close to it, and he would display his skill at the end of his blade if he had to.

"Can you at least teach me how to forget the Arte Pugilist?" He asked.

"I can do that. In fact I'd recommend that too. It's usually easiest to replace a Technique with something similar. But as you don't want any melee styles at all, you've got the right of trying to forget it. I'm sure I can beat it out of you, did you want to start the process right away?"

'How long will it take?"

"A week, a month, depends on how ingrained it is." Adam shrugged.

"As soon as possible," Fritz decided. Although he knew that he had earned some time, he still felt he didn't have enough, not for all he needed to achieve.

"And lastly, Awards," Adam said.

"Are you allowed to speak on them?"

"The team has voted in favour of revealing the Mer Spire Awards, as for the other Awards," Fritz began.

"NO," Adam warned quickly.

"Don't talk about the others."

"Right," Fritz said, realising that must be one of the things that would make the fang mark activate. A bead of sweat formed on his forehead, how close had he been to accidentally killing himself with a simple word?

"And what did you lot get from the Mer Spire?" Adam prodded. Fritz wiped the sweat away, and said, "Swift Swim, Deep Water Acclimation, Tenacious Heat."

"The first two are fairly common. But Tenacious Heat, I haven't heard of that being given by the Mer Spire," Adam said.

"Weird. You must have found a hidden door or something equally strange to get given that. We'll have to talk more on Awards, Seeds and Power Evolution and Ascension strategies later. For now we're just about done here." Fritz nodded.

"Right," Adam said. He began writing on the paper in front of him.

"Well, I think I know what your regimen will look like. You can send in the next of your team and do twelve laps around the yard."

"As for laps," Fritz said, standing on wobbly legs.

"I think I'll sit those out. I was up all night roof running." Adam shook his head.

"No, it's important that you're seen doing them. Don't want to seed resentment out here only for it to bloom in a Spire. A Captain should share the suffering of his team. It builds respect and loyalty." Fritz sighed, the man was right. Adam pulled a ring off his finger and flicked it to Fritz. He caught in in one smooth motion.

"What's this?"

"It's a ring of Suppress Pain," Adam said.

"Keep it, but don't rely on it."

"Why?"

"It'll numb your body, you could suffer an injury and not notice. You could over-train, potentially causing lasting damage. Or you could misjudge the deadliness of a wound, moving about when you shouldn't," Adam explained.

"Also it's a crutch. But for a couple of laps, it'll be okay." Fritz nodded, slipping the carved, wooden ring onto his finger. It smelled bitter, like a medicinal tonic. He activated it and felt his tension and aches fall away. He still felt tired and stiff, but the pain was gone, just as the name suggested. He sighed with relief.

"Good isn't it?" Adam said.

"If only it worked on hangovers."

"It doesn't?"

"No, it has no effect against poison. Now get out of here, you have some laps to run." Fritz nodded, left the lounge and went to fetch Bert. He was sat around the dining table with the rest of the team who sat in an apprehensive quiet.

"How did it go?" Cal asked.

"Well enough. It seems Sir Needle is very knowledgeable if still a prick of the highest order. Bert you're next. I have some laps to run," Fritz said. His brother grinned, stood, strode over and slapped him on the back, before leaving him behind eager to receive his own advice. Fritz smiled, then headed to the yard and started running.

Bert strode into the lounge, Dale secreted under his wet shirt. The snails slimy warmth was a comfort. Adam looked up from some papers on the tea table.

"Sir Needle," Bert greeted politely, sitting across from the man.

"What's that under your shirt?" The man demanded. Bert grinned.

"Stop grinning like a feeble fisherman who caught a mermaid, and answer me," Adam said.

"Oh, it's nothing much. Just a beast I bonded," Bert boasted modestly.

"A beastbond?" Adam asked, frowning.

"And how did you manage that?"

"Would you believe a faerie gave me the power?" Bert asked, knowing full well he wouldn't.

"Faeries again. Has Lord Hightide infected you with his frivolous notions?" Adam bemoaned.

"Must have," Bert said.

"Getting offered a beastbond would have been something else, maybe a Spire with a chaotic bent," Adam said knowingly.

"I don't know anything about that," Bert said seriously.

"Good," Adam said.

"Still, this is a rare power. What did you bond?" Bert grinned again, then plucked Dale from his chest with a small pop. He held his wonderful, currently withdrawn, companion and displayed the smooth ridges of his quartz shell.

"That's a rock," Adam said with heavy disappointment.

"Are you an idiot? Nevermind, don't answer. Stop messing around." Bert tapped on the shell, and soon the sleeping beast within unfurled. It's red, slick tentacles and eye-stalks waving around as he let out a gurgling whistle. Adam's eyes went wide.

"That's an odd beast. What does it do? It can't be as harmless as it looks, unless you are a complete fool." Bert was about to begin boasting of his beautiful beast, but the man held up a hand forestalling him.

"Wait, we should really begin with your own Powers before we go into your beast. You're a Defender, some kind of Vitality-based brawler?"

"That's right, and that's not all," Bert said.

"I can spray acid."

"That was you?" Adam groused.

"That stuff stung like…"

"Like acid," Bert said sagely. The man's face twitched as he suppressed a smile.

"Not bad, what else have you got?" Bert grinned and puffed out his chest, preparing to impress the man.

"A lot more than that."