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Goblin Chapter 261: Teaching...
🕑 Added 2025-10-07 16:41:00 +0000 UTCGoat Village sat beside a clear stream called Maple Brook—a sizable place with around a hundred households. Most folks farmed the rich soil along the water and raised a hardy, wool-bearing breed of mountain goat.
Gauss reviewed the village intel while urging his chocobo along the country lane at an easy pace. The place looked in decent shape: the wooden palisade had some wear and tear but no signs of widespread damage and patching.
An elderly man with graying hair waited at the gate with a few able-bodied youths—likely alerted by the shepherd boy they’d passed earlier.
“You must be the ones sent by the Adventurers’ Guild?” the elder asked, noticing their neatly worn badges.
“Yes, village chief. I’m Gauss, the party leader. These are my teammates—Alia, Serandur, and Shadow.” Gauss swung down from his mount, answered politely, and produced the commission parchment stamped with the Guild seal as proof. “We’re commissioned to help train your militia and clear the nuisance monsters in the area.”
Once the chief confirmed their identity, he relaxed and led them into the village.
“Chief, which monsters do you see the most?” Gauss asked as they walked the main path.
“Goblins, kobolds, and a band of skeletons. They say there was a battle on this land long ago and many were buried—every so often a skeleton’s arm just reaches up out of the earth.”
“I understand,” Gauss nodded, already sketching out the next few days.
Thanks to Serandur’s folding house, they wouldn’t have to impose on villagers for lodging. Since they’d be clearing monsters and training folks over the next few days, they chose a spot among the homes rather than on the edge of town.
“Here, my lord?” the chief asked, curious. “Shall we have some young men cut wood for a hut?”
He’d heard them mention a house and thought they meant to throw up a timber shack.
“No need,” Gauss said.
Under the chief’s gaze—and the growing circle of curious villagers—Serandur set the satchel down, murmured the activation chant, and the bag blossomed outward. In short order, a handsome, two-story house settled gently onto the ground.
“Wow!”
“Amazing!”
“That’s magic?”
The villagers, never having seen the like, gasped and chattered.
By afternoon, Gauss’s party headed to the training ground. The central threshing floor had been pressed into service; “remodeling” amounted to leveling the dirt, clearing the clutter, and building a simple wooden platform.
By the time Gauss stepped up, nearly everyone who could stand—boys, youths, and grown men—had gathered. Close to a hundred souls. Most wore patched roughspun and carried what they had: hayforks, billhooks, cudgels; a few had bows or a longsword.
They weren’t fools—free training from adventurers was too good to pass up, even if it meant delaying fieldwork. Not knowing Gauss’s group yet, the crowd’s eyes held nerves, curiosity, and a spark of hunger for strength.
Silent atop the platform, Gauss studied them. No wonder the palisade was in decent shape—despite the women and children in the crowd, there were still plenty of sturdy bodies here. Numbers matter; small bands of monsters couldn’t do much to a place this size.
“Hello everyone. We’ve been sent by the Sena City Adventurers’ Guild to train you. I’m Gauss, a mage and the party leader. These are my teammates…”
He did the usual introductions. Aside from a low murmur, the crowd kept respectfully quiet—likely at the chief’s request.
“Our lessons will cover sword basics, archery, simple tests for magic and other special talents, and how to make basic tools, armor, and weapons…”
At the specifics, the crowd stirred—more so at the word “magic.” In the countryside, awe and curiosity toward the arcane run deep. Eyes lit with heat. Even a scrap of what Gauss taught could change a life.
Sensing the swell, Gauss poured a little cold water. “You need to know: most of what we teach—especially magic—many of you won’t be able to learn. Be ready for that,” he said plainly. “If it were easy, there’d be a lot more successful adventurers.”
It was better to say it up front than foster bigger disappointment later.
Even “simple” skills—like something as basic as [Diagonal Slash]—aren’t just moves.
The motion sounds easy: pivot on the lead ball of the foot, rotate the torso, cut from right-high to left-low if you’re right-handed; keep blade and path in one line, with eyes, hands, and body turning in concert.
Most could pick up the motion with practice—but turning it into a true “skill” in the body is much harder for untrained villagers. A skill like [Diagonal Slash] releases a surge of integrated force the instant it’s performed—boosting the cutting arm and trunk and delivering far more power.
In practice, only after you’ve embodied at least one basic skill are you truly on the bottom rung of the adventurer’s path. Without it, you’re just someone with a few rough fighting tricks.
Looking out over a sea of puzzled eyes, Gauss sighed inwardly and simply began.
He pointed at a burly youth in front, then pulled a practice post from his pouch and plunked it down. “Use your best form and give that stump a diagonal cut.”
The youth blinked, nodded, walked up, took a breath, and with a shout twisted his waist and slashed. “Thump!” The billhook bit and spat chips. He had to wrench it free, leaving a deep gash. Pride flickered on his face—he’d clearly practiced some.
Still crude.
Gauss nodded, said nothing, and took the billhook. “I’ll use the same force you did, with a basic skill—watch.”
He settled. No shout. Hips pulsed, drawing the shoulder and arm; the blade flowed out—[Diagonal Slash].
Sssk!
No heavy thud—just a clean whisper. The edge slid in and… kept going, shearing the post on a smooth diagonal. Gauss withdrew the blade; the two halves slid along the glassy cut and dropped.
“He chopped through that thick stump?”
“And the hook didn’t snap?”
“How?”
Same swing, same tool, same wood. The youth’s blow gouged a few fingers deep; Gauss cleaved the post in two. Did he really use the same “strength”? Replaying Gauss’s light, unhurried stroke, some realized he hadn’t “forced” it.
“See the difference?” Gauss’s voice cut through the speculation. “That was [Diagonal Slash] as a skill. It’s not just a form—there’s a deeper ‘skill-force’ that bursts in the instant you complete the motion. With the same muscles, I can do ten times the damage.”
Now they understood the point of skills.
“But reaching my level is hard. I’ll start with basic motions. As you practice, I’ll pick a few who master them better for focused training.”
He met the eager eyes below. Talent is rare. If he could find even a handful, helping ten or so villagers forge skill was still a contribution: on the small scale, they’d change their fates and protect their own; on the large, one might awaken to a class and become a pillar—saving dozens, hundreds in time.
He had three basics prepared: [Vertical Chop], [Diagonal Slash], [Sweep]—all broadly usable across weapons.
For Gauss, the demos were easy. With his second class [Sword Soul] awakened, his feel for blades had soared; even with other weapons he now “cross-trained” well.
Teaching villagers should have been trivial—but the reality was messier. What felt simple to him was hard for most; their body control was uncoordinated. Minds couldn’t map it; bodies couldn’t follow—even when they “got it.” Hands and feet tangled, posture collapsed, a few even flung weapons—nearly hitting neighbors if not for Gauss and his teammates intervening.
He’d expected as much and didn’t rush. He wove through, correcting and encouraging.
He soon spotted several with a spark for melee—boys and girls alike, mostly on the younger side. The seasoned farmhands, stronger though they were, tended to be stiff and slow. He noted names, let everyone drill a bit longer, then called out the best to tune them one-on-one.
The chief noticed too and mentally marked them; only those Gauss picked were likely to get anywhere.
Time was short; Gauss kept things moving. He and the team rotated the crowd through other tests: archery talent, sensing magic, priestly and druidic leanings, trap- and tool-making…
By dusk many collapsed onto the ground, panting. The picked few—exhausted but lit up—couldn’t hide their excitement; the unpicked majority looked let down. Gauss had said anyone might learn with enough practice—but the odds weren’t equal.
The next day, they went deeper. The party had brought stacks of basic manuals. While you could learn [Vertical Chop], [Sweep], [Diagonal Slash] from Gauss’s instruction and hard practice, for ordinary folk a skillbook helped—a silver to a dozen silvers apiece, provided by the Guild. Alia had fundamentals for her path as well. Supplies were generous but finite—they’d be visiting many villages. That’s why Gauss sifted for talent.
The job wasn’t hard for him, but time was tight; he couldn’t linger. Sift, teach, train himself, lead hunts to clear monsters, teach through live combat—each village got a few days at most, under a week.
He didn’t turn away those who came to watch the advanced class. The crowd was smaller on day two, but the field soon rang with effort.
“Hah!”
“Hah!”
Practice weapons cracked against posts. Harsh sun gilded faces; fat beads of sweat rolled—and no one complained. Spirits were high.
Six trained melee, one archery, one attempted magic, one tried druidry; no one seemed suited to the priest’s path here. It was a rough test—Gauss and the others could only send a trickle of their own class power into villagers and feel for resonance. Crude, but all they had. Plenty gathered to learn crafting tricks, too.
After setting the melee trainees to self-practice with books and cues, Gauss walked over to the village’s only maybe-mage: a small girl named Rhein—ten at most. Pale gold hair, skin so fair it seemed sickly; washed linen dress, a humble home. A quick check found no illness—just a bit of weak blood, not unusual in children.
Seeing him, her bright eyes lifted. “H-hello, Teacher Gauss,” she said, timid—clearly prepped at home on how important this was.
Teacher…
Gauss paused. No one had called him that before. He almost corrected her—he’d be here only days—but one look at the little bob-haired girl, barely to his waist, decided him against it. He was changing her fate, after all. Without him she might have married nearby and lived out a quiet life. Now, everything was different.
The only rub: she was very young for this. He smiled and ruffled her hair. “Shall we try learning magic?”
“Yes, please teach me.”
He laid out some cantrips: [Mage Hand], [Acid Splash], [Firebolt], [Shocking Grasp], [Message]…
“You’ll need to pick one.”
“Teacher… I can’t read these,” Rhein admitted after a pause. The text was a bit much.
“That’s fine. I’ll explain. This is Mage Hand; it…,” Gauss began, patient. Perhaps thinking of his own first steps, he felt a wash of feeling.
“Which one did you pick first, Teacher?” Rhein asked, finding her voice in his gentleness.
“Mage Hand,” he said—technically not a “pick,” but it had been his first.
“Then… I want that one too,” she ventured.
Gauss hesitated, then considered her again. He should let students choose—but as an instructor he couldn’t help having an opinion. Mage Hand is very useful, but for a girl who wouldn’t be able to protect herself for some time, was it the right first spell?
In a life-or-death moment, Mage Hand won’t save you from a goblin—an attack cantrip might. With her limited resources, she might not master a second spell for a long while; the first choice mattered.
Not everyone had his talent.
“This one isn’t ideal for you. I suggest an offensive cantrip,” he said gently.
“Then… Firebolt,” Rhein decided after a long think.
By chance, she picked one Gauss already knew best. He’d hurriedly learned the others for this lesson, but none matched his feel for Firebolt.
“Is that okay?”
“Of course,” Gauss smiled. “Let’s begin.”
“Yes, Teacher.”
In the morning light, Gauss walked her through Firebolt—word by word. Whether it was his depth with the spell or Rhein’s own gift, the lesson went more smoothly than he expected. Soon the girl, seemingly wide-eyed, grasped the essentials of conjuring flame.
