Chương 208: Memory Palace

On the second to last week of phase two, I made my first real attempt to land a hit on Moonhand. It wasn't that I hadn't been trying before, but I'd been falling in line with the training activities, trying to maintain my ranks with the other spearmen. It caused me to always be falling back. I was too busy trying to hold the line and protect them, and I didn't have a chance to fight back. Today, I'd protect them by trying to eliminate the biggest threat. We formed up.

When it was my turn to simulate the sapper in the formation, I took my place as quickly as I could. As expected, Moonhand conjured his shields, simulating an enemy shield wall, then moved so he would face me directly. Today, I didn't wait for him to attack. I rushed forward, angling my shield like I would while jousting, then lunged. Moonhand and I traded blows. He knocked my spear aside twice, using a few twirls of his own spear while he raised his shield back into place to protect himself.

I lunged to the side, trying to leverage my Focus and help protect the rest of the line, but I was already split between going after Moonhand and protecting myself. I deflected a few spears of manifested maegen with the edge of my shield, while still trying to put pressure on Moonhand. My spear grazed his shield for the first time—he hadn't used his spear to deflect mine. But that didn't count as a hit.

Moonhand scowled, then lunged toward me, getting into the opening my shield left behind as I was still trying to protect my squad. He struck me hard in the chest, and, as usual, knocked me down into the sand. I scrambled back to my feet, but it was too late, and another barrage of blows fell on me from Moonhand's spear. Then, finally, I crumbled, falling back flat on my back.

"Better," Moonhand snapped.

"But not good enough. Where did you fail?"

"I thought I did everything right, sir." I brushed the sand off myself.

"You asked me to attack, to cast aside the doubt and just push forward."

"And did you?"

"Well—""You didn't commit," Moonhand insisted.

"Your attacks were still sluggish. You alternated between conflicting styles. You still doubted that you could do it. You won't ever win if you don't believe, deep in your heart, that you can win. Your entire battle line would have crumbled, and they would all be dead right now." My head drooped.

"Yes, sir. I will keep working on it."

"The sappers who survive, who are successful, know when to sacrifice one or two men for the greater good," Moonhand added.

"You confused yourself trying to protect them, bungling your attack." At that, I scowled. I was in no mood to argue, but how could I do that? The people in my squad trusted me because I valued their lives and wasn't just going to throw them away for glory. I needed to convince the regulars fighting with me of the same thing. That just meant I'd have to work twice as hard to defeat Moonhand and protect my line.

"Sir, as for my fighting styles…"

"You should remember them, still."

"I should, and I do, but they're jumbled. It's hard to explain. I can't pull up the right move at the right time."

"Even with your Focus so high?" I exhaled sharply.

"It seems, sir, to be my memory. My Focus helps me gather up the memories, and it helps me retain them. But it's too much of a sponge. There's too much information, and it all feels…unsorted." Moonhand raised his eyebrows.

"Hm." From what I'd observed, a hm could mean many things. But if he was mad at me, he'd be sure to let me know. Finally, he said, "I do not know how it works with Duplicate advancement, in truth. You have stumped me, boy. But I do know that, when it comes to Path-walkers, and elves especially, as we grow more advanced, we use techniques to parcel up our memories into categories. We build a palace of memories inside our minds. Our long lives necessitate it.

With your memory palace, it makes it far easier to draw on the experiences that you need in the presence." The narrative has been stolen; if detected on Amazon, report the infringement.

"Could you show me how to do that?"

"... Perhaps. But not at the moment. You have training, and the entire group needs practice. Should you seek to learn elven memory techniques, and you truly have the will to attempt it, meet me during lunch. Eat as quickly as you can, and use whatever spare time you have to visit me and learn."

"You would teach me that, sir?"

"I would teach someone who is willing to learn. At the very least, you showed me that you are willing to try to improve—even if your attempt at an attack was faulty, at best. You almost landed a hit." ~ ~ ~ I met Moonhand during lunch. We stood outside the sparring pit.

"Good. I wasn't sure if you would come," Moonhand said. I shrugged.

"If I say I will, I will."

"Hm."

"What do I have to do?" Moonhand folded his hands in front of himself. His sleeves fell perfectly around his wrists, framing his hands, shut his eyes.

"Draw yourself into your nodespace."

"Do you have a nodespace? I though—""I am using my internal perception. It is similar to your nodespace." I'd never done this before while standing, but I supposed I could give it a shot. I tried to take the most relaxed position I could, then pulled my attention inside myself. I would never have been able to do this without as much practice and Focus as I had. Still, my nodespace appeared in my mental vision.

"Good," Moonhand said.

"How do you know I'm inside my nodespace?"

"I can sense it. In your breathing and body position, but also in the ripples of your Presence. Now, inside your nodespace, you must draw your attention up to your mind and soul. Go to your very highest node." I followed his instructions, pushing my attention along the invisible ley lines until it reached the top of my neck. I let it infuse my soul node, and concentrate on it as closely as I could.

"All your memories are stored here. Can you isolate one?"

"I should be able to…" Using the training Lord Ceonwin had given me for resisting the Subtle Men's probes, I forced my attention into my mind and drew on a single memory: a time where I practiced the Cooper's Column spear style in the upper level of the Labyrinth. It was what came to mind first.

"Right now, you are watching the memory itself unfold," he told me.

"I need you to envision the inside of your mind. Turn it into a practical space. A great, yawning void, like where your Skills reside, encased in a globe." I tried. Wisps of imagination formed a sphere, burgeoning out from the top of my soul node. It wasn't physical, and it wasn't even arcane. It was purely a method of visualizing something that was already there. I only envisioned half the sphere before I fell to my knees. My mind left my nodespace, and I was dragged back into the real world.

I blinked, shook my head, and glanced around. I was panting, and my heart was racing. It had taken more effort than I thought was possible, though I had no idea how.

"It is exhausting," Moonhand said.

"You will not succeed the first time. Once you do form the outer shell, however, it will be far easier to conjure up again. You will be able to envision your memories as orbs, just like your Skills. Sort them. Categorize them. As soon as new ones form, place them into the back of your mind. Make shelves, make piles. Whatever you have to do to keep your mind on the right track." I tried again, without waiting for permission.

My mind tried forming a sphere above my soul again, but it only formed about a quarter of the way. Besides, the bottom had the least surface area. The sides would be even more difficult. Again, I nearly collapsed from the effort it took to envision it.

"Why is this so difficult?" I asked.

"You have many memories," Moonhand told me.

"You have had enough Focus to gather up a memory for almost every little action you have taken for at least a half year now. Possibly more. You are lucky you are starting so soon. Most elves only begin this process when we reach four hundred seasons. It takes us generations to manifest our memory palaces properly." I nodded.

"I will keep trying—" The bell tolled, signalling that our lunch break was over. It was time to get back to work. ~ ~ ~ The Soulstealer hadn't inspired Moonhand with confidence. Not at first. All the things Moonhand had heard about the boy must have been false. It was typical of men. Spreading false rumours, hoisting up mediocre fools as deities, just because they were desperate to make monuments of their pitifully short lives. Moonhand had, however, hoped for more. Soon, the orcs would reach the glens of Ohnethil.

Alone, he and his kin could not hold back the orcs and their masters. Perhaps they would remain a sea of green among the ash, at least for a few decades, but they would fall in time. Ohnethil, an enclave of elves west of Gate and east of Palan, sandwiched between the two nations, was his home. Rarely did he return there—he spent most of his days in Eraen-Kalora, ear to the ground, listening, and counseling others. He was looking for a sign of greatness. On the outside, Levi didn't project confidence.

But he had tried. He had tried to land a hit on an Emerald, against all odds. And now? He had made faster progress on his memory palace than Moonhand had ever seen. There was something different about this boy, that was for sure. Someone just had to nurture it in the right way.