Parallel: Residential Issues

WHY?

"Uuughg... You STABBED me? Why would you STAB me? There has to be a better way to teach this stuff!" Mitrhe was, in a word, miserable. Stabbed, left alone for 10 minutes, then given a low end healing poultice to keep the wound clean and aid in healing was not his preferred introduction.

"Faster, less painful, far less effective methods? Yes, they exist. But this is still the best." Zacks was short and blunt with his words. "If you learn this way, we don't ever have to remind you of how not to die. You'll figure it out quickly."

"Ugh."

"Succinctly put, recruit. Now I need you to be ready to march out in 2 hours. We have a contract and all that."

"I'll manage. I think." Mitrhe groaned.

---

Take 3 weeks of the most grueling hike imaginable. Then add suicidal wolf, goblin, and strangely enough, owl attacks to the mix. Throw in a dash of stabbed-in-the-back for training purposes, and you have Mitrhe's experience with the Scarlet Swords.

Apparently the recent arrival of the summoned in a more permanent capacity had resulted in far higher rates of monster and aggressive animal attacks on caravans. There were sages looking into it, but nobody, our intrepid failure of a hero included liked the direction the world was taking. Said figure of a hero might have been a little biased though, as his experience had mostly been discovering exactly how woefully inadequate he was compared to the demon in a skinsuit named Zacks.

Intelligent beings have instincts, while not as controlling as the instincts of less advanced creatures, they are there, and helpful. For example, pain is bad, it means you're doing, or did something wrong. Fear means you're about to do something stupid, or you are outclassed. But the fact that these instincts do not control intelligent beings means that you can train new ones that function as second nature. A great example of this is learning what the signs you are about to be backstabbed are, and dodging accordingly.

"NOT THIS TIME!" Clangs and clatters echoed around the clearing as Mitrhe dodged a backstabbed admirably. And responded by swinging a newly freed hatched towards his homicidal 'teacher'. The clangs may have been cuased by the large pile of pots Mitrhe was cleaning at the time scattering everywhere, but you can't prove it was, so there.

"Less talk, more swing!" Zacks practically giggled as he swapped the dagger for a waraxe, the sight and sound unsettling anyone unfortunate enough to be within earshot.

They danced around the clearing's edge, swinging and blocking as they went. Mitrhe was holding out, but just barely. Zacks was a veteran of 3 wars, with a decade and a half of professional soldiering experience, and Mitrhe had only started learning a bare 3 weeks ago. Needless to say, the conclusion was foregone. And Mitrhe earned himself another minor cut that day to practice first aid on.

"Ah, had I another 3 months and some proper equipment I could make half decent cannon fodder out of you!" Zacks sighed. Mitrhe on the other hand, nearly cried, this was the greatest compliment Zacks had ever given him.

---

When they finally arrived at the no-name town that the caravan came from, it had been an entire month, and Mitrhe had learned quite a bit about 'How to Not Die Instantly' it seemed to involve a lot of dodging, a healthy dose of paranoia, and a deeps mistrust of any grown man or woman giggling. Also shields. Shields were good.

Our sad excuse for a protagonist walked away with 2 whole gold syros. More money than everything he had spent and earned in his life combined. A pittance compared to the average for the caravan guards, but enough to get him going. And thus Mitrhe began the long trek home. He had a tavern to visit, and a city guard to join.

Author's Note:
Much shorter this time because it said what was needed. I edited the first 2 chapters a little bit, cleaned them up, etc. Will probably do a pass over this one when I wake up. To you crazy people who actually read this, thanks for the moral support.