While I haven't seen the Huntsman in a while, he was true to his word. Not a word was breathed to my mother, father, Adela, or May. I continue to use this secret spot in the evenings and I try not to overexert myself to avoid suspension from being over fatigued for my morning lessons.
My mother continues to grill me in the importance of concise rune formation and channeling.
"This ink is your Eth. Use too much of it, it can blur the rune's lines, even bleed through the paper. Use just enough, and the lines are light, crisp, and well formed," she had said.
Some of her sayings and explanations remind me of Zen buddhist sayings, or an old film sensei caricature passing on euphemisms to further burn and engrain knowledge. It makes sense though – balanced energy consumption means increasing stamina to cast more spells, something I (rather bitterly) agree with if I ever get into an extended engagement. This wasn't an element in the game so it's an important skill to master. But I just don't know why it has to be with only one spell in mind.
I enjoy the gradual change in weather. The air grows more crisp like the evening breeze, grasses tan, and the trees' become a receding rainbow of color. The only plant that doesn't make this change is the huge oak on the hill where the Ether is the strongest with no need for conservation of its energy.
As it grew closer to winter, we start seeing the Huntsman once again, bringing in large bundles of wood, dried meat, and other supplies. It sounds more like he should be called a "Jack" of all Trades. I sigh inwardly and keep this joke to myself.
Gradually over the course of weeks my safe-guarding begins to lessen and I'm allowed at least a little more autonomy if I check in with an adult on where I'm going and what I'm doing (as far away from the woods as possible). After a long particular session of Eth stamina channeling, I head back home to find Fvenn standing out back, a new wooden sword in both hands, chopping at the air in careful measured swings and steps. They aren't the haphazard spins, thrusts, and slashes of a vengeful Spaniard.
"Whatcha doing?" I pop up behind Fvenn, making him jump in surprise.
"D-don't do that!" Fvenn says, wiping his brow. "I thought you were another direboar!"
"Really? Is it wise to provoke thy ladyship?" I ask patronizingly. Fvenn's face goes white and my jest is taken out of turn. Stupid Raelle!
"I'm just kidding! I'm sorry," I say, waving my hands. "I didn't mean it that way. I'm sorry"
"It's okay, it's fine!" Fvenn says. "I know you were joking."
"Still, I should know better as a friend."
I make a formal bow, a curtsey with crossed arms, and Fvenn's face reverses in color, becoming a bright shaded red. He looks around as if making sure we are alone without witnesses.
"Please don't. Um . . . but you still consider me a friend after what happened?" Fvenn asks.
"Neither of us could have known there'd be a daemon boar in those woods. It's no more my fault than it is yours," I say, standing up from my bow. "And yes, you're my friend."
I smile at Fvenn, Fvenn's face turning even redder. Is this embarrassing him? It's difficult to sense what he is thinking. Nonetheless, he did try to save my life and I feel eternally grateful for that. Most kids would have run in opposite directions – at least I know I would have.
"Anyways," I say, breaking the uncomfortable silence. "What were you doing? Practicing swordsmanship?"
"Ahuh!" Fvenn says proudly, swinging the wooden blade across his shoulder. "Your father says that he will train me as a Household Guardsman. Maybe he'll even make me his page or even squire!"
I nod in interest. I had wondered why my father had let Fvenn off so easily. Considering the etiquette of this world (or at least the Kingdom of Strovos), I had been afraid he would be turned slave, living impoverished in a medieval gulag to toil in a mine or work forward construction on battlements to the south. However, I partially thank Nystrom the Huntsman (once again – am I going to be indebted to this guy?) for explaining Fvenn's role in my safe return to the manor.
I want Fvenn to reach his dream. He absolutely deserves it after giving me enough time to escape and somehow survive the daemonic beast. His smile and pride also bring a cheesy grin to my face. I'm truly glad to have met him.
"Why are you staring at me with that weird smile on your face?" Fvenn asks, breaking me out of my internal monologue.
"Oh, um . . . Just happy that your dreams are slowly coming true is all," I let out with an embarrassed laugh.
Fvenn shrugs it off and returns to swinging his sword.
"I need to get fifty more swings in before I return from my break. This is the first form that your d– I mean, my Lord has taught me and I wanted to perfect it before he returns from town."
"Father went to town?"
"Yeah. Official business with the Magistrate."
I raise an eyebrow but Fvenn shakes his head.
"N-nothing to do with my punishment or anything like that. Not that Magistrate. The Field Magistrate of His Majesty. I only overheard that from Adela and May speaking. Trust me, I asked them if it had something to do with me or my family," Fvenn explains. "Crap."
"Huh?," I ask, my interest piqued.
"I wasn't supposed to say anything . . . please don't tell them I said anything?"
"I won't," I say, though I still plan on investigating. I just need to figure out how to do so without rousing suspicion.
"Thank you," Fvenn says with a bow as I turn towards the door.
"Also, had it been the actual town Magistrate, I don't think your father would go back on his word. He's a good man, and I'm really thankful to have a second chance, and a permanent place for parents to stay," Fvenn says. "I want to pay it forward. I won't let anything hurt you ever again, Raelle."
My face burns red and I sputter.
"I-I'll let you get back to your practice then. Bye!"
"Uh, okay? See ya"