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What Will Be | Book 2 | Chapter 8
🕑 Added 2025-02-03 16:05:42 +0000 UTCAuthor's Note: Thank you all for your continued support. It means the world to me.
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For all that I complained, words failed to grasp the sheer bliss I felt when, freshly bathed, I sunk into the depths of my new bed. A satisfied groan rumbled out of me, sounding like a falsetto purr compliments of my adolescent vocal cords.
That’s the good shit... Hardships awaited me in the future, of that I was certain. Something as simple as having a bed, a place to return to at the end of every day, would be a balm to the spirit.
The existence of those feelings was telling; my affinity for travel was unremarkable. Passable, when necessary, perhaps - but unremarkable. There is a romanticism to travel, to leaving the known behind and venturing into the strange and new. Wanderlust. I once thought I possessed the delightfully named trait, that it was merely the pressures of life - of bills and schedules and that busted garage bulb that needed changing for months - that prevented me from embracing it. Convenient excuses.
So many opportunities once passed me by, lost simply because I lacked the motivation to reach for them. Those choices all ultimately led me to the woman I loved-
Love, I corrected myself. She was still there. Somewhere, somewhen, or some other word that described the rift between realities I suspected separated us. Every decision I’d ever made led me to her, and I never regretted my life because of it.
What if we’d never found each other, though? Could I really have said I was satisfied? Inaction. Stagnation. Pools of water had grown fetid for less, and one cannot help but wonder what might fester in themselves when similarly subjected. Suddenly, the bed felt a lot less comfortable.
I can rest when I sleep, I told myself fully aware that I was stating the obvious. Until then, there was more I could be doing; there was always more I could be doing.
Travel had disrupted my routine, despite my efforts to salvage it. I could not, would not, allow bad habits to take root. I drew from Perseverance and Recovery in tandem, the resulting surge of mana feeling like a hit of caffeine that tore through my budding fatigue.
I sprung off the bed, taking a moment to note the fading light through my window.
Fudge needs his dinner. If I head to the kitchens, I should be able to grab a bowl of whatever they’ve thrown together for the evening. Squad Nine were often kept busy, so instead of sit-down meals in the largely unused dining hall, it was our responsibility to negotiate with the cooks.
I was told in no uncertain terms that, as the newbie, the term ‘negotiate’ was a misnomer of sorts. There would be food - good food - and if it wasn’t good enough for me I could go to bed hungry. I’d almost anticipated the cooks to adopt a similar attitude to the cleaning staff, an eager anticipation to be challenged with unreasonable requests. When I suggested as much, I learned three new curse words and a few creative ways to insult someone with them, as clear an answer on the subject as one can receive.
Feeding Fudge was my priority, though. Using the opportunity to grab a meal for myself along the way just made sense. A wave of excitement hit me from Fudge’s end of the Tamer Bond; somehow, he always knew when I was contemplating matters of meals. I chuckled, then, the sound enough to pull me back from the all-nighter I’d been silently planning.
I reached down and pressed my fingertips into my thigh, focusing on the sensation and using it to ground myself. Caring for Fudge helped remind me to take care of myself, and I was once again grateful for his presence.
“Sort out dinner. Stretch your legs. Play around with the mana lamp on your bedside. Get some sleep” My eyes lingered on the spherical gemstone-looking object, the mana lamp. It was set in a silvery base and I’d already spotted signs of Spellscript on both. Nightfall would justify the luxury item’s use and it was only fear of accidentally breaking the thing that allowed me to abstain until then.
Soon, I silently cooed before venturing back into the halls. Fudge was getting impatient.
***
A warning growl broke the silence of the night, the sound accompanied by a jolt of alarm through the Tamer Bond that snapped me awake. The foot of my bed bore Fudge’s familiar weight, but that was all I could ascertain. With the curtains drawn, not even the lingering moonlight could creep into my room. I lunged for the mana lamp, flailing for the spellscript that would draw on its stores and bathe the room in a faint, yellow glow.
Cruz was in the room, a few steps away from the door I’d definitely locked before coming to bed. A hand was cupped around his closed eyes, shielding them from the light.
“You are lucky you did not blind me,” he drawled. “Turn that shit off, will you?”
“What the fuck are you doing?” I hissed. If there were any situations that warranted a good swear, I was confident I was in one of them. I made no move to turn off the light. Fudge took the opportunity to hop off the bed, his growl deepening when I addressed our intruder with hostility.
“Wake up call. What the fuck do you think I am doing?” Cruz was quick to snap back. “Your mutt saved you from the splash - good nose on it.” It was then I finally noticed the contents of Cruz’s other hand, a bucket full of what I hoped was water.
“Easy, Fudge,” I said after taking a calming breath. Creepy or not, the explanation seemed to make sense. I watched as Cruz blinked his eyes into acclimation, a frown plastered on his face. “You did not tell me you have a key to my room,” I noted sourly.
“That is because I do not.” It took him longer than I expected to adjust, but with a final rub of his eyes Cruz gave me his full attention. “Now, where was I? Right.” Before I could ask my follow up question, he took a few quick steps towards me. My heart sank as I realized what was coming.
“No! Wait, I-” I scrambled to get out of the bed, but wasn’t even remotely fast enough. A torrent of water slammed into me, chilled by the night air it left me and my new sheets utterly drenched.
“WHY?!” My now-wet hair was plastered to my scalp, long enough that I accidentally got some in my mouth when I yelled, leaving me sputtering to spit it out while I squelched out of the bed.
Fudge escaped the majority of the deluge and seemed almost disappointed by the fact.
PLAY? A familiar impression came through the Tamer Bond and I saw a single, hopeful wag of his tail. Sensing that I no longer viewed Cruz as a genuine threat, he’d grossly misinterpreted what was happening. If i wasn’t so annoyed I’d probably have found it adorable.
In response to my indignant question, Cruz just shrugged.
“I had the water, so I used it; I would have had to lug it back downstairs otherwise.”
I felt my eyebrow twitch.
“You said that-”
“Shut up, it is no longer important. You are awake so head outside. Do not waste more time.” He ushered me out of the room, cutting off any further objections with a ‘shush’ such that my annoyance morphed into something distinctly more seething. I took some solace in that, telling myself that anger could keep a person warm if they willed it.
I was barefoot, wearing nothing but my underclothes as Cruz marched me onto the manor grounds. Fudge happily trotted after us, taking a few moments to continue his newest endeavour of marking every bush, tree, or shrub he could find along the way. The breeze felt like ice against the damp, and with every step I was convinced my toes grew increasingly numb.
“This is not good for my health.”
“You really struggle with the whole ‘shut up’ thing.” Cruz didn’t even glance my way when he dismissed my complaints. “Use your mana, if you have to.”
“I-”
Huh. Between the rude awakening and my general frustration I’d not even considered using my Skills. Temperature was typically addressed with the addition or subtraction of clothing and I’d yet to be in a situation where neither were an option.
Perseverance is the obvious choice, I mused, the situation suddenly distant as I plunged into thought. I could also use Recovery if I view returning to a comfortable body temperature as a form of recovery. Probably.
I dismissed Taming [Fudge] as a possibility. That is not to say I hadn’t thought of ways I might borrow Fudge’s Skills to combat the cold; even his modified version of the Dog Skill could be useful, given that a shaggy coat of fur seemed to keep Fudge warm just fine. Rather, I could not even pretend to justify such a flippant application of the Taming Skill’s riskiest ability when there were alternatives.
Mom would literally kill me.
I suppressed a shiver that had nothing to do with the cold and drew deeply from Perseverance, letting the mana flood my body guided by my intent. Unlike Recovery, Perseverance would let me function despite the cold as opposed to directly addressing the problem. Every chill, every shiver and blossoming ache were suppressed, relegated to a dim awareness in the back of my mind so long as I kept my Skill engaged.
Recovery might have been better suited to the task, but I was partially concerned that trying something new might land me with an underwhelming breakthrough and subsequent Advancement bonus.
Not that temperature regulation isn’t important, but still.
“Good. You are not completely useless.” Cruz’s words pulled my attention back to our trudge through the grass.
“How do you know I did anything?”
“You stopped shivering.”
The answer left me skeptical. It was dark, and I hadn’t exactly been spasming with every step.
“I was shivering that much?”
“You were shivering enough.”
“So it has something to do with your-”
“Shut up. We are here.”
Cruz stopped walking. There was nothing around that indicated the importance of the location - just more grass.
“Are we? I just think you are dodging my questions,” I said smugly.
Cruz cleared his throat and snorted before hocking a glob of something off to one side.
“You go ahead and keep thinking that. Here is the situation. Every day you are going to come to this spot before sunrise and work your way through this list.” He reached into a pocket and retrieved a folded piece of paper, crisp despite the damp weather, before handing it to me.
My eyes quickly scanned the contents and it was all I could do not to scrunch the paper up and throw it at him.
“You can not be serious.”
“I am.” In the pale grey of the predawn light, Cruz idly scratched at his chin, giving no sign that he was anything but sincere.
The list was the kind of thing made of a teenager’s bravado - long distance running, exercises repeated ad nauseum, all accompanied by a more mundane list of chores and busywork.
“What is this supposed to teach me?”
“For now? Nothing. It is to keep you busy.” There was some solace to be taken from Cruz’s blunt admission.
“That is not good enough,” I snapped back. “What if I refuse?”
“Then you will be disciplined.”
“And then you will be busy disciplining me, I-” I caught myself before I let my emotions get the better of me, taking a deep breath that I could watch dissipate into the morning air. My temper had been feeling increasingly thin as of late, which was vexing in itself. “Look. You want to be an awful mentor? Fine. I can manage on my own if I have to but I will need you for some things. There has to be a compromise here.”
A long moment stretched as Cruz stared at me through narrowed eyes, early morning birdsong undercutting what might have otherwise felt like a tense exchange. Finally, he spoke.
“Prove it. Leave me alone for a week. Follow my program without complaint. You do that, I might even be inclined to believe your bullshit.”
“Deal,” I said quickly. To emphasise the point, I turned away from Cruz and started heading back to the manor. If I was going to work through his ridiculous list, I was going to wear shoes while I did it.
Comments
Hammy
Good chapter, And I have met idiot mentor/trainers like this before. Honestly they are the worst and usually teach the student nothing.
Tyler Srail
Cruz reminds me of my research advisor - so completely self centered that you have to drag any sort of assistance out of them. Hopefully he gets taken down a peg
