Brin arrived at the training ground just in time to hear a loud clang and see Aeron somersaulting backwards out of a dueling circle. Inside the circle, Cowl raised his heavy maul and a cheer went up, half astonished laughter, half wild roars of approval.

It was an impressive hit. Aeron had [Blade Mastery], and he was no slouch in training.

"Stop! Stop right there! I'm putting a stop to this!" an armored [Warrior] shouted. He was Isac, one of their trainers. He strode into the dueling circle and plucked the maul out of Cowl's hands.

The cheers and laughter turned to boos. Isac turned to them all and shouted, "See if you're still booing after he breaks someone's armor and you're sent to the front before it can be repaired!"

That quieted them. Isac marched back to the practice weapon case and selected a wooden mallet of the same approximate size and shape as Cowl's maul. He gave that to Cowl instead.

"If he strikes your weapon, drop it. If he hits your arm, put it behind your back. If he hits your leg, hop on one foot. If he strikes your body, then you lose."

Hedrek barked a laugh. "Just like playing [Knight] versus [Rogue] when we were kids!"

"Just like that," Isac agreed.

"Aw, man. I just barely missed the fun," Brin complained. Actually, he hadn't missed anything and had watched Cowl go to work through his Invisible Eyes. Cowl had taken all comers and smashed through even Hedrek's enormous strength. The only way to beat Cowl seemed to be to dodge every swing, but Cowl was lightning quick now. Aeron had managed to beat him in their first bout, and in their second had been sent flying.

In a rare moment of common sense, Rhun hadn't pitted himself against Cowl. That was an unstoppable force against an immovable object, and Brin had to admit he was more than a little curious to see how it would play out. Probably with a lot of broken bones on both sides.

Now he wanted to see what Cowl could do with a [Knight's Charge]. He looked at Meredydd. "What would you say if I told Cowl to start practicing with a lance? Like, a really big one."

Meredydd shrugged. "No issue here; I have no qualms about being shown up. Or we could even have two lances."

Brin nodded. "I'll talk to Cid about it."

Brin sent Cowl to talk to Meaty and see if he wanted to adjust the armor due to his Skill advancement, which meant that it was Anwir's time to shine.

He squared off against Govannon first, and did poorly at first. The arrow did fairly well as a sword, but Govannon was a much better fighter. Govannon quickly overcame all of Anwir's defenses and clanged his axe against his opponent's armor, more to show an opening rather than actually trying to break through.

They squared off again, leaving a wide space of fifteen feet between them, and this time Anwir opened with a lunge. Somehow, the lunge carried him across the distance in the blink of an eye. There was a grinding, screeching sound as Anwir gouged his new arrow into Govannon's armor. He’d slipped right past Govannon's attempt at a block, despite also closing the long distance between them.

"Aha! [Power Shot] works quite well!" said a triumphant Anwir. He got little more than a polite sympathy applause, with everyone too stunned at the sudden turn to be very enthusiastic.

Isac, looking harried, rushed over to them and took the arrow from Anwir's hands, replacing it with a wooden one. "If you're going to activate that Skill again, then you'll need to practice with this."

Brin wondered if Isac was being a little harsh; the trainers had never cracked down on them like this before. Then he noticed the gouge in Govannon's breastplate. It hadn't pierced through, but so far no one else had been able to put so much as a scratch in their new armor.

"You'd better follow Cowl to go see Meaty," Brin told him.

Govannon looked down, noticing the scratch for the first time. "Whoa!" Rather than look offended, Govannon seemed delighted by the development. "We'll try this again when I get back!"

Anwir tried his new trick against the other members of the Lance, and even though they were expecting it, only Rhun was able to block it. The rest of them could only watch, stunned, as Anwir zipped straight past their defenses and shattered wooden arrows against their plate.

Brin had mixed feelings about it. On the one hand, it wasn't really the way a [Knight] was supposed to fight. It was a full attack, with no consideration to protecting those who might be standing behind you. On the other hand, it was clearly powerful. Anwir could punch up in levels with a Skill like that. And what would happen if he combined it with [Knight's Charge]? He might be able to challenge people twenty levels higher than his own, at least for that one attack. Anwir and Cowl had just turned from their two weakest members to two of their strongest.

"That's all I can do for today, unfortunately. Out of Mana," said Anwir.

The onlookers all groaned in disappointment; he'd really gotten most of the crowd on his side by the end there.

"Good. Then you can grab your new arrow again and practice your sword forms. Or better yet, see if someone knows anything about shortspears," said Brin.

Surprisingly, Anwir did just that without argument. If this new upgrade could convince Anwir to finally take melee combat training more seriously, then that was an even bigger win than the new weapon itself.

"Then it's time for our last premier!" said Meredydd. He showed off his new scythe, to mixed reactions.

"Well, that looks pretty stupid to me, but after seeing Cowl's maul and Anwir's arrow, I guess I should be ready for anything," Brych said, breaking the ice.

He took his red messer and loaned a shield, while Meredydd brought his scythe.

Brych approached cautiously, but not cautiously enough. Meredydd surprised him by launching the scythe's blade at his face and then coming around the other side with the pole, tripping him.

The next bout, Brych tightened up and launched into a normal, persistent series of attacks that overwhelmed Meredydd, still a little clumsy with his new weapon.

The next few bouts went in Brych's favor. There was a little to be said about the scythe; Brych was often surprised by Meredydd's wild and unpredictable moves, things that he was pulling instinctually from his Class's knowledge on how to use every weapon. But the new moves couldn't quite overcome the tried and true sword and board tactics. There might be something to Meredydd's new weapon, but he needed more practice before they'd be able to tell.

Unauthorized duplication: this tale has been taken without consent. Report sightings.

He didn't know if they had time for that, but it seemed like today nothing would interrupt them. They worked well into the afternoon. Anwir took his sword training seriously, dueling again and again until his arms shook. Meredydd steadily improved with his scythe, and he beat Brin handily when Brin tried to copy the weapon with morphic glass.

For himself, Brin had no intention of being left behind. While it was true that he could be Cowl and Anwir handily if he used his whole Class, he still wanted to be their match even without his illusions. Mastering his morphic glass would be a next step in that; right now he mostly used it as a shield, but it was a lot more versatile than that. He could turn it to a spike for armor, a curved saber for unarmored flesh, or an extra long polearm for when he didn't want to get close. The only reason he wasn't doing that already was because he hadn't practiced a lot with all of those weapons. But that kind of mastery took time. What could he do now?

When he asked Isac what he should focus on, the trainer's answer was completely different. "Strength utilization. You're new to that armor, right? Strength utilization."

"Sir Crost walked us through how the armor changes the way we can move," Brin said neutrally.

"This is more specific than that. Yes, your whole Lance needs to get better at moving in armor, but for you it's even more important. It's because you're stronger than them. Let me ask you something. You're pretty near Hedrek in Strength, correct? Points-wise at least. So why does he hit so much harder than you?"

Brin began, "The System–"

"Rhetorical question, you don't need to answer. Did you know that a thirteen-year-old before System day is strong enough to punch a wall hard enough to break the bones in his hand?"

"I don't think–"

"Again, it was a rhetorical question. I'm not asking you if that's the case, it is the case. What we learn from this is that Strength outstrips Vitality. Now, if you tell a person to hit a brick wall as hard as he can, he'll punch it as hard as he can without breaking his fist. That's just instinct. Everyone does this without even realizing they're doing it. Now, what do you make of that?"

"Are you saying–?"

"Exactly," Isac said with satisfaction. "If you have four hundred Strength and one hundred Vitality, you're only going to hit as hard as someone with one hundred Vitality. One thing we've noticed is that the human mind is pretty good about setting these limits on its own. You don't really have to readjust your expectations. If I tell you to go hit a brick wall as hard as you can, you'll hit it pretty close to as hard as you can without breaking your hand, even if you just got twenty points in Vitality yesterday."

Brin paused to see if Isac would interrupt him again, but Isac nodded at him to speak. Brin said, "Then I don't really need any training to utilize my Strength. I'm already pushing myself as hard as I can... outside of armor."

"Now you see," said Isac. "Go readjust your limits. Punch hard enough to break your fist. Jump hard enough to break your legs. Go find out what your new body can do."

Sadly, there were no convenient brick walls for Brin to punch, but they'd already set up shooting targets and a few were made with sturdier materials to test more powerful Skills. Brin selected one, a wooden dummy holding a flat plate of steel, and gave it a test punch. He thought he gave it a pretty solid punch the first time, but if he paid attention to his fist rather than the impact against the target, he noticed that he really felt nothing.

He punched harder, and harder. With successive punches, he started to feel the way the armor redirected the force against his fist. It spread out the impact area, absorbing much of it and spreading it down along the connected pieces, to his forearms, his biceps, and even against his chest.

He grew bolder, punched harder. Each time, the lack of pain and pressure convinced his subconscious that yes, he really could use more of his Strength without hurting himself.

He bashed the steel plate until the metal began to deform. There was another dummy set up with blacksteel. He moved on to that one, and punched even harder.

Through training, you have gained the following attribute:

Strength +1

Marksi entered the dueling ground and seemed in the mood to try to get stronger, so Brin told him to join in and then switched to something that Marksi could do. He tried jumping next, testing how high he could get straight up, how far he could get in a long jump, and then how far he could get with a running start. He focused on the feeling of his legs, and on pushing himself harder than his brain thought was safe. He kicked the ground like he hated it, picturing the ground as being made of paper and trying to break through. The results were mixed, but he thought he was getting a good idea of what Isac was asking for.

When he explained his goals to Marksi, the little dragon thought about it for a minute, and then came up with a solution of his own.

Brin could see the telltale signs of shapeshifting before and after each of Marksi's jumps, with scales shifting to reflect movements underneath. His shapeshifting was minor and sort of slow, but if the change were as simple as shifting the location of joints and bones around, it could go as quick as he pleased. Marksi experimented with altering his own legs to push fragile joints out of the way and give maximum springiness to his bones. He didn't jump further every time, but there was a definite, steady increase.

"Can you shapeshift your muscles to be stronger?" Brin asked.

Marksi shrugged. Brin figured that he could to a point, but he couldn't make himself gain more mass more quickly than nature was doing on its own. If he could, he knew that Marksi would already be the size of a truck. He was vain like that.

After a bit, Marksi wanted to try training with weapons, and Brin didn't really know how to do that. He shifted his shield into a spear and gave it to him just to see what he'd do. Marksi lifted it with great struggle, until Brin pushed some Mana in to help it float. Marksi liked that and tried to stab with it next, but he could only move it if Brin pushed it along, and it was kind of hard to feel where Marksi wanted the spear to go and move it with any kind of speed. He moved Marksi with the spear more than the other way around.

Still... there might be something to this. Marksi wanted to participate in battles more than just popping off Laser and then running away. Maybe Brin could give him a way to control a glass weapon? It was something he could think about with a conscious thread next time life got boring.

Cowl returned just before the evening meal, and he was cheered like a returning champion. He looked like a champion. Meaty had worked quickly, because the armor was completely transformed. More mass had been added everywhere, making him look like a giant steel golem. Cowl had been one of the shorter members of their Lance, even an inch shorter than Brin now, but the top of Cowl's helm stood even above Hedrek's. He was wider, too, and despite all the extra mass he didn't seem awkward or clunky at all. He moved with a predator's grace, and his armor didn't click or scrape as he walked. Meaty must have rushed to add so much metal, but it was good work and the armor still sort of blended in with the rest of the Lance. If he could work so quickly, then why had it taken them all weeks and weeks to get their armor upgraded in the first place?

They went together to dinner, and the mood shifted. For a while, while they were training, they were able to forget that they'd all been moaning in pain on the ground, and that the battle for Arcaena had nearly been lost before it had even really begun.

Now, back in the open air dining area, he could sense the mood was still grim. Men cast each other uneasy glances and conversation had a tense, nervous energy.

"What's all of your problems?" Govannon asked loudly, while Brin really wished he wouldn't. "We had one bad day, but that's already been set right again. We'll lick Arcaena yet."

It was a sign of everyone's mood that no one made a crack about Govannon's possible double entendre. They went to the line, got their food and sat down. There was still a stink in the air from yesterday's illness, but Brin found that it did nothing to hinder his appetite. His portion was gone so fast that he started looking around wondering if someone had stolen it, even though he had [Memories in Glass] to prove that wasn't the case. Today's meal had definitely been a bit smaller than normal.

Cid met them halfway through, and gave an answer to the strange mood. "Have you heard the news?"

"Did something happen at the front?" asked Brin.

"Then you haven't heard. No, they're still hanging on at the front. The news is worse than you’re thinking. There have been assassins in the camps. I don't have a full list of everyone who perished, but there's one name that's important. Oh, by the way, there will be a meeting about it this afternoon, and I'm to bring an aide. No one with a command Class is to travel alone, by order of sir Galan. You'll accompany me to the meeting, though you will likely not be invited to join it. Maybe there's someone in the commander's camp you'd like to chat with while you wait."

Cid was saying that this was a chance for Brin to find Davi so they could catch up. He was annoyingly thoughtful like that. What was Brin even supposed to say to Davi at this point? He guessed he was sort of curious as to why Davi was even here in the first place. He should be home at Hammon's Bog.

"Never mind that. What happened with the assassins? Who did they get?" asked Brin.

"It was him. That [Archmage of the Creeping Death] is dead."