Chương 25: One Year

Summer made the Talent Hall smell different. In spring, wet earth and new grass dominated everything outside the training yards. By midsummer, the packed ground dried hard beneath the sun. Dust gathered along the edges of the compound. The wooden walkways grew warm enough that younger students sometimes hurried across them barefoot and regretted it halfway through. The canteen kept its doors open. So did Merek's shop. Flies became everybody's enemy.

Joe had now spent almost a year moving between the same few places. Home. The Talent Hall. Merek's rooms. The river when time allowed. The routine should have made the days feel repetitive. Instead, each part of his life had become more complicated. Static Foundation was the clearest example. Reaching Minor Success had not made practice easier. It had made the remaining flaws easier to see. Before Minor, Joe had mostly cared whether he could sense Blood Energy at all. Now he cared about clarity.

He could feel when the resonance weakened because his attention wandered. He could separate that from the weakening caused by poor posture. He could tell when fatigue forced extra muscular tension into a stance and when the structure itself remained correct despite tired legs. Those differences were small. Every Hard Work Pays Off made them valuable. Joe had begun to understand why Alex described later progress as slower. The obvious mistakes disappeared first.

What remained required more attention for smaller improvement. That did not mean the improvement was meaningless. It meant the method was becoming less forgiving.

Joe also became better at medicine. Merek acknowledged this by insulting him less often. Joe considered that substantial progress. One afternoon, the healer placed three bundles of dried roots on the table.

"Which one is bad?" Joe looked at them. All three had been harvested from the same plant. All had been dried properly at first glance. The first bundle smelled normal. The second was slightly darker. The third looked almost identical to the first. Joe picked up the darker bundle.

"This one?" Merek said nothing. Joe looked again. Dark color alone did not prove spoilage. Different soil, harvest timing, or drying temperature could change appearance. He broke one root. The interior remained firm. Then he smelled it. Nothing obvious. Joe put it down. He checked the third bundle. The surface looked correct. When he bent one root, however, it flexed slightly instead of snapping. Too much remaining moisture. He split it. A faint sour smell appeared from the center.

"This one." Merek nodded.

"Why?"

"Not dried completely. The outside hardened before the inside finished."

"And if you grind it?"

"The powder might look normal."

"And then?"

"It spoils faster in storage. Maybe contaminates the rest." Merek nodded again. Joe waited. No insult. That was nearly praise. Merek reached for the second bundle.

"And this?"

"Different color."

"That I can see."

"Probably harvested later?"

"Earlier." Joe frowned. Merek broke one root and showed him the interior.

"Same plant. Same hillside. Pulled before the useful part matured properly." Joe compared it with the good bundle. The difference was subtle. Merek placed both in front of him.

"Medicine is full of things that are almost right." Joe remembered the sentence immediately. It sounded like cultivation. Merek continued.

"Almost the right plant. Almost the right season. Almost dry. Almost clean. Almost the correct amount."

"And almost medicine." Merek looked at him.

"Good. You can think occasionally."

Merek had also begun letting Joe prepare more basic compounds. Nothing dangerous. Nothing rare. Mostly external pastes, simple powders, teas for common stomach problems, and mixtures used after ordinary physical strain. Joe still worked under supervision. That suited him. Every Hard Work Pays Off accelerated learning from valid practice. It did not make incorrect practice safe. The distinction became obvious whenever Merek changed one variable.

One day he gave Joe the same three ingredients he had used several times before. Joe began preparing them normally.

"Stop." Joe looked up. Merek pointed toward one herb.

"What is different?" Joe examined it.

"Older?"

"Yes."

"How much?"

"Enough." Joe waited. Merek sighed.

"Would you prepare it exactly the same?"

"No."

"Why?"

"The strength may have declined."

"May?" Joe thought.

"Has." Merek nodded.

"How much?"

"I don't know."

"Good." Again, the correct answer was ignorance. Merek replaced the ingredient with a fresher batch.

"You children like exact rules. Two parts this. One part that. Grind for this long. Boil until the water reaches this mark. Those are useful until the material changes." Joe understood. Standardization was the key. So did recognizing when the inputs were not standard. That lesson felt familiar from his previous life, though the context was very different. Spreadsheets had not prepared him to identify medicinal roots.

They had prepared him to distrust numbers that pretended the underlying data was cleaner than reality.

The medicine work also changed the way Joe watched the Hall. He started noticing what students consumed. Not simply whether they used medicine. What kind. The richest trainees often had small packets from Blackwood. Some smelled sharply herbal. Others contained powders mixed into warm water after training. Several used medicinal oils on joints and muscles even when nothing visibly hurt. Village trainees relied more heavily on food and rest. That difference accumulated. Money did not make someone talented.

It bought more chances to use talent well. You might be reading a pirated copy. Look for the official release to support the author. Joe saw the same principle with Alex. Alex was still the strongest younger trainee Joe spoke with regularly. Late Skin at fifteen was impressive in Green Hollow. It was apparently not extraordinary in places with better inheritances and more resources. Alex knew that. His attention had shifted increasingly toward Blackwood.

One afternoon, Joe found him cleaning a short training blade near the covered yard.

"You passed?" Alex looked up. Word had already spread.

"Who told you?"

"Simon." Alex frowned.

"How does Simon know everything ten minutes after it happens?"

"He talks to everyone."

"That explains too much." Joe sat nearby. Theodere had recently arranged a round of early assessments for several older trainees. The exact purpose had been unclear to the younger students. Apparently Alex had done well.

"What did you pass?"

"Preliminary guard selection."

"For Blackwood?"

"Yes." Alex tried to sound casual. He failed. Joe asked.

"When?"

"After Starlight." That close. Joe looked at him more carefully.

"You're leaving Green Hollow."

"For training first."

"Still leaving." Alex paused. Then nodded.

"Yes." The answer carried more weight than Joe expected. Alex had always seemed permanent inside the Hall. Older. More informed. Connected to Theodere. Someone who already belonged to the place. Now he had an exit date.

"What happens after you arrive?" Joe asked. Alex placed the blade across his knees.

"Depends on final evaluation."

"You already passed."

"Preliminary."

"What is final?"

"Physical testing. Foundation. Current realm. Discipline. Whether somebody there wants me."

"Wants you?"

"As a recruit." Joe nodded.

"That sounds important."

"It is." Alex replied.

"If everything goes well, I'll enter the guard training route. Meals. Pay. Better medicine than here. Better facilities."

"Better instruction?"

"Probably." That answer was less confident. Joe caught the hesitation.

"You're not sure about the instruction?"

"I've never trained there."

"But you've heard about it."

"Enough to know it's better than Green Hollow. There are Bone practitioners in Blackwood, and some of them help train the guards." That answered the question well enough. Joe thought of Hall. Bone tempering. More than thirty years old. Still trying to reach Internal Organs. Green Hollow's strongest local system could carry someone far. Blackwood offered more. Not everything. More. Alex continued.

"If guard selection fails, Master Theodere has another route."

"Escort work." Alex's eyes narrowed.

"Simon again?"

"Partly." Alex shook his head.

"Merchant protection. Caravan routes. Sometimes work farther east."

"Dangerous?"

"Obviously." Joe waited. Alex sighed.

"Yes. Dangerous enough that Hall prefers the guard route for younger people."

"Then why offer the other one?"

"Because failing one test should not waste ten years of training." That sounded like Theodere. Practical. Not sentimental. Joe looked toward the main training grounds.

"What happens to the inheritance agreement?" Alex shrugged.

"Still exists."

"Financial part too?"

"Depends on placement." That answer was vague enough that Joe did not push further. He already knew Theodere's arrangements could change with the opportunity. The martial inheritance restrictions did not.

Alex resumed cleaning the blade. Joe asked, "Are you excited?" Alex stopped. The question seemed to surprise him more than the others.

"Yes." Then he added, "A little."

"Nervous?"

"No." Joe waited. Alex looked at him.

"Fine. Some." Joe smiled.

"You've never lived anywhere else."

"I've been to Blackwood."

"For visits."

"That counts."

"It doesn't." Alex threw the cloth at him. Joe caught it.

"Annoying child."

"You answer more honestly when annoyed." Alex stared at him. Then laughed. For a moment, the difference in age between them felt smaller. Alex took the cloth back.

"When you get there someday, find me." Joe looked toward him. Alex said it casually. Almost as if Joe eventually reaching Blackwood was obvious.

"Assuming the guard keeps you."

"They will."

"Assuming you don't get thrown out for talking too much."

"That would be Simon."

"Fair." Alex laughed.

"I'm serious. If you make it there, ask for me." Joe nodded.

"I will." At the time, he meant it.

The approach of Starlight became visible before anyone announced it. Green Hollow always changed gradually. First came the fields. Grain shifted from green toward gold. Families started repairing carts. Storage areas were cleaned. Adults began discussing weather with increasingly serious expressions. Then came the merchants. A few arrived early to arrange purchases. Others followed once harvest became certain. Temporary stalls began appearing near the village square. Children became less useful.

Mary became almost impossible. She was six now and had developed enough independence to cause problems farther from the house. Lily found her one afternoon trying to negotiate with a traveling merchant. Joe arrived halfway through. Mary held three river stones in both hands. The merchant held a string of colored beads. Lily stood between them.

"No." Mary frowned.

"He said maybe." The merchant immediately raised both hands.

"I said they were pretty stones." Mary pointed.

"That means maybe."

"It does not." Lily turned toward the merchant.

"How much are the beads?" Mary brightened immediately. Lily looked down.

"I'm asking because I want to know how badly you were trying to cheat him with three rocks." Mary's expression fell. The merchant named the price. Lily stared at Mary. Mary looked at the stones.

"They are good rocks." Joe covered his mouth. Lily noticed.

"Do not encourage her."

"I didn't say anything."

"You were about to." Joe had apparently inherited a permanent accusation. Mary returned the rocks reluctantly. The merchant had been trying not to laugh through most of the exchange. He picked up a small wooden bead from the edge of the stall and held it out to her.

"You can have this one." Mary immediately reached for it. Lily stopped her with a hand on her shoulder.

"You don't have to give her anything."

"It's worth almost nothing," the merchant said.

"And she negotiated harder than half my customers." Mary looked up at Lily. Lily sighed.

"One bead." Mary took it before the decision could change. She spent the rest of the day convinced she had successfully conducted business.

Starlight affected Simon differently now. He was old enough that the festival's testing no longer concerned him. He had already crossed that door years ago. Instead, he watched the medicine stalls. Joe noticed him slowing near every early merchant carrying martial supplies.

"You do this every year." Simon looked toward him.

"So do you."

"I look at everything."

"You stare at medicine."

"So do you." Simon frowned.

"That is different."

"It usually is when you do it." Simon ignored him. Several roots sat inside an open wooden box near one stall. The merchant had wrapped each individually. Simon read the price. Then moved on. Joe did not ask. He already knew. Too expensive. Their household had recovered from Mike's four-silver medicine purchase long ago, but the lesson remained. Martial resources could consume cash faster than farming created it. Simon was nearing an age where that limitation widened the gap.

Joe suspected Blackwood occupied his thoughts almost as often as it occupied Alex's.

Near the end of summer, Joe made another discovery. This one had nothing to do with Static Foundation. He was alone. He had trained earlier that day and eaten unusually well afterward. Merek had also given him a small portion of a nourishing broth left over from preparing medicine for another patient. By evening, Joe could feel that his Blood Energy had recovered strongly. He sat near the old tree behind the house. Nobody was close. Simon had gone to help Mike with a fence. Lily and Pam were inside.

Mary was somewhere near Joseph, which meant she was either safe or Joseph had forgotten to notice she was not. Joe closed his eyes. The pale words from his birthdays came to mind. Past Life Memory. Perfect Health. Perfect Body. No Regression. Every Hard Work Pays Off. They had appeared. Then disappeared. For years, Joe had occasionally tried to call them back. Nothing. He had stopped wasting time on it. Now he understood Blood Energy. That created one new possibility.

Perhaps whatever produced the words required energy. Joe had almost no evidence for the idea. That was enough for one careful experiment. He settled his breathing. Focused inward. Then thought deliberately of the pale text. Show me. Nothing happened. Joe waited. He tried again. Not words this time. The intention behind them. The thing that had appeared on his birthdays. For less than a heartbeat, something pale flickered in front of his vision. A rectangle. Maybe. Too faint to read. Then it vanished.

Joe inhaled sharply. His Blood Energy dropped. Not all of it. Enough that the change was unmistakable. Joe immediately stopped. He opened his eyes. The yard remained unchanged. No pale words. No second flicker. He sat still for several minutes. That was enough experimentation for one night. Something had responded. It had consumed Blood Energy. Those were the only conclusions he trusted. Joe did not try again. Not yet. He had no reason to spend energy repeatedly on a phenomenon he could not even read.

The information was useful anyway. The birthday messages might not be completely passive. That possibility could wait. Joe had learned something from Merek. Knowing when to stop an experiment was also a skill.

By the final weeks before Starlight, Alex's departure became official. He was not leaving alone. Ten older trainees were preparing to move on after the festival. Some had reached the end of the Hall's supported years. Others had received work or training opportunities through Theodere. The group changed the mood inside the compound. Younger students looked at them differently. They had become proof that training eventually led somewhere outside the yard. Not always upward. But outward.

One trainee would join relatives working a caravan route. Two had places with merchant escorts. Several intended to attempt guard entry. Alex had the strongest recommendation among them. Simon spoke about it constantly.

"He'll get in." Joe was helping him repair one of the fish traps.

"Probably."

"Not probably."

"You were not at the evaluation."

"Neither were you."

"That supports my point." Simon pulled the knot tight.

"Alex is already Late Skin."

"I know."

"He's fifteen, Joe. That's good."

"For Green Hollow, yes." Simon stopped working and looked over.

"You spend too much time with Alex. You're starting to sound like him." Joe raised an eyebrow.

"What does that mean?"

"You can't just say someone is good. There always has to be a condition attached."

"Alex is good."

"And?"

"And he has a good chance of passing the selection." Simon stared at him.

"You almost managed it."

"I thought that was generous."

"It was the same answer with nicer packaging." Joe let that pass. Simon bent over the rope again and tightened the next knot. For a few moments, only the scrape of cord against wood filled the space between them. Then Simon said, almost casually, "I'm going too." Joe turned toward him.

"To Blackwood?" Simon nodded.

"If Alex can try for the guard, so can I."

"When?"

"When I'm ready." That was more mature than the Simon of several years earlier would have answered. Joe waited. Simon continued.

"Master Theodere already knows people there. If Alex enters the guard, that makes it easier to understand what they want. I'll be stronger by then." Joe nodded. Simon pulled the binding tight.

"What about you?"

"I don't know." Simon looked genuinely confused.

"What do you mean?"

"I mean I don't know."

"You're obviously going."

"Eventually, probably." Simon frowned at the uncertainty. For him, Blackwood was becoming the next destination. For Joe, it was one possible step in a much larger unknown world. He had learned enough not to confuse the two.

"I want to know what the Hall can still teach me first," Joe said. Simon nodded slowly.

"That sounds boring."

"It probably is."

"Fine." Then he added, "You'll still go."

Harvest arrived beneath clear skies. That immediately improved everybody's mood. A good harvest did not make Green Hollow wealthy. It made the coming winter less frightening. The family worked harder for several weeks. Even Joe's Hall schedule bent around it. Training continued, but village students received more flexibility during the busiest days. Theodere's Hall depended on farming families.

Refusing to release their children during harvest would have been a good way to make those families reconsider the entire arrangement. Joe worked. He carried smaller bundles. Helped sort grain. Moved filled baskets where Lily directed. Watched Simon handle loads that would have been difficult for him several years earlier. The difference martial training had made to his brother was obvious now. Simon was eleven. Three years older than Joe.

He could work beside Mike for much longer without exhausting himself and recover quickly enough to train again the next day. Lily noticed too. She still complained whenever Simon tried carrying more than she considered necessary. That was apparently permanent. One evening, after everyone finished late, Mike sat outside with Joseph examining the filled storage area.

"Good year." Joseph nodded.

"Good." Mike looked satisfied.

"We can sell more than last year." Lily heard from inside.

"Do not spend it before it is sold." Mike called back, "I didn't say anything."

"You were thinking." Joe looked toward Simon. Simon looked toward Joe. Neither spoke. Apparently Lily did not reserve that accusation for Joe.

The final days before Starlight felt strange. Joe had entered the Talent Hall after the festival one year earlier. At the time, everything had been new. The inheritance contract. Theodere's demonstration. Sean's classroom. Blood Energy. Static Foundation. Medicine. Now the Hall felt ordinary enough that Joe could walk across the compound without consciously deciding where he was going. He knew which water barrel had the bad lid. Which section of the covered walkway leaked.

Which assistant explained posture patiently and which one simply pushed students into position. He knew how bitter Merek's simplest stomach medicine tasted. He knew which fishing trap Simon would claim was his even when Joe had repaired most of it. He knew the sound Mary made immediately before doing something she already knew was forbidden. A year was not long. It had changed a great deal. Joe's Static Foundation had crossed Minor Success four months earlier. Nobody knew.

He had spent those four months moving deeper into the same six stances. Major Success remained ahead. Closer than before. Not close enough to claim. That was fine. His experiment was already producing useful information. Progress beyond Minor was slower. Every Hard Work Pays Off had not removed diminishing returns. It had made those returns worth pursuing. That distinction pleased Joe. His talents were powerful. They were not simplistic.

The night before Starlight, lantern frames began appearing outside houses. Pam complained that one family had used too many. Lily told her there was no legal limit on lanterns. Pam said there should be. Mary wanted six. She received one. Simon insisted he no longer cared about the decorations. Then spent twenty minutes helping Mike hang theirs straight. Joe sat outside after dinner and watched the village change around him. A year earlier, Starlight had meant uncertainty. Would the stone react?

Would he enter the Hall? Was Simon's path open to him too? Now those questions were gone. Different ones had replaced them. How far could Foundation be pushed? What waited in Blackwood? What exactly had flickered when he called for the pale words? What would happen when Alex and the older trainees left? Joe did not have answers. He no longer expected life to provide them all at once. Behind him, Mary argued with Simon over whether their lantern was crooked.

"It is."

"It isn't."

"It leans."

"The house leans." Mary stopped. Then turned toward Mike.

"Does our house lean?" Mike looked up at the wall.

"A little." Simon spread his hands.

"See?" Mary stared at the house as though discovering a structural betrayal. Joe laughed. Lily appeared in the doorway.

"What now?"

"Simon says the house is crooked."

"I said it leans."

"Same thing."

"It is not." Lily looked at the lantern. Then the wall. Then Mike.

"Fix the lantern." Mike sighed. Simon smiled. Mary looked victorious. Pam began explaining that the western side of the house had always leaned more after wet springs. Joseph disagreed. Neither could remember exactly when the wall had first shifted. Joe listened. Tomorrow would be Starlight. One full year since his road into martial training had opened. For the first time, Joe was not waiting for the festival to tell him what came next. He already had enough roads to choose from.