Hunter had been practicing the preliminary exercises for the internal arts for a week. His anxiety about evening sessions with Aera and ideas about synergies overtook any interest in the professor's digression. But his own practice with focusing had been going well. He'd been making steady progress, and found himself eager for each day's practice session.
Breathe in, breathe out. Quiet the mind.
He put his attention on the body, then the sounds he could hear, and he closed his eyes and noticed the effortless darkness where once there was light.
Breathe in, effortless, breathe out, effortless.
Hunter continued the cycle of breathing, finding his body relaxing on its own. He'd never understood what it was like to truly relax before starting these exercises his father had shared with him. He'd written that he'd learned them from a priest, during a brief time when he'd dabbled with religion, and found them to be instrumental for quieting the mind.
The key was to let it quiet itself. He kept his attention diffuse, and focused softly on the inhale, the pause, the exhale, the pause. He could notice his thoughts as objects in their own space, separate from the breath, separate from the body. It took a bit of practice, and he'd kept reacting to thoughts at first, thinking that's what his father had meant by 'noticing' them. But then he'd realized that with the right balance of alertness and relaxation, 'noticing' happened naturally.
Hunter felt that this alone was worth reading the journals for.
He realized he was distracted and redirected his attention back to his body. Then the sounds, then the effortless dark, then the cycling breath.
The stopwatch went off, and he breathed out once more before opening his eyes, feeling refreshed, but he also felt drowsy. Sometimes, during these hour-long afternoon sessions, he would doze off to sleep.
He'd bought the stopwatch the first day he'd woken up and realize he'd slept for 4 hours. Something about falling asleep after having been in a deep state of focus would cause him to have vivid dreams. Sometimes, he wouldn't fall asleep, but he would experience memories which would have a dream-like distance to them. Not anything significant — so far, only the most mundane visions of his past would replay for him. Finding a cool rock, staring at the ceiling back at the old Koar estate, the first time he broke an egg yolk while trying to cook for himself.
There were times when he would suddenly have an exciting creative insight into synergies, or understanding a problem he'd run into while doing homework for his classes.
And while he was in a focused state — no visions, no dreams, totally present and alert — he would feel incredible. It could last for seconds, or multiple minutes. His father referred to these moments as 'Jhanas'. He emphasized that while enjoyable, they shouldn't become the sole aim of his practice. The true goal was maintaining concentration, even when experiencing intense pleasure.
Hunter stood from the couch and grabbed another cup of coffee. He felt that soon, his focus would be strong enough to turn his attention inwards towards his ether channels. Hunter had been practicing for a week—a quarter of his father's recommended time—but felt his focus improving faster than his father could have anticipated.
Staying concentrated wasn't a problem. He'd sought deeper concentration to work with in Seckina, pushing more and more attention into client jobs and research. Not only as an escape from the outside world, but the ability to stay focused on work for 10 hours at a stretch helped him survive.
Thankfully, the Etheric Arts department was just a short walk from his home. He battled with himself as he walked, remembering that the more coffee he drank on the way, the less he would have when he got there. Rationing his supply was essential to a productive work day.
It was possible that a building dedicated to the fostering and advancement of artisans might be stocked full of coffee machines, so it's not like he'd run out.
But was he willing to settle for less than the best? His short time at the Oberon estate had changed his relationship to coffee completely. Following Stewart's recommendation, he sampled several coffees without cream or sugar, noting the taste differences between bean types and growing regions, then experimenting with various amounts of cream and sugar.
He found that lighter roasts were easier to drink black than the dark blends, but the darker blends were tastier with cream and sugar. His conversation with Trey, in which Trey recounted his father's strong opinions on how to drink coffee, came to mind.
His father had been right; it was like a candy, and even more addictive. But in Hunter's view, with the right bean, cream and sugar could enhance the coffee experience. Transforming something mundane into an entirely different drink.
Having officially registered for the Artisanship course, Hunter brought his third arm and locked his custom tools in the locker assigned to him. Aside from the locker, he could reserve a workstation for up to 3 hours a day outside of class time. It wasn't much time, in Hunter's opinion, but he'd take what he could get. Thankfully, they segregated the workstations into private stalls. It would allow him the opportunity to work on his synergies without feeling paranoid about someone taking his ideas.
The hefty enrollment fee for the course granted students almost total access to a warehouse full of materials. Like the workstations themselves, there was a limit to what a student could use. But it was enough to serve Hunter's needs. Today he was researching more Force-related synergies. He'd had a hit of inspiration earlier and wanted to test out his thoughts.
Hunter found it was much easier to get into the groove after practicing with his focus for the last week. The three hours passed by in a flash, and Hunter felt a bit of disappointment. His initial hypothesis hadn't panned out, but it had opened up more interesting questions he was itching to pursue.
He needed to get a workstation in his room. Cutting his research short felt a subtle form of torture, but he wasn't like the rest of the students here. Most people would find the three hours to be more than enough for the minor projects which were assigned by their professors.
Hunter had been given a make-up assignment for all the classes he'd missed during his recovery. The professor let Hunter freely show his knowledge of the material covered over the last month of classes. Weekly class projects continued even while Hunter was hospitalized. He spent half a day preparing a particularly impressive one for his teacher.
He wondered, why should he aim to exceed their expectations when he could aim to set a new standard? Hunter needed to earn an Excellence degree, and proving that he was up to speed with the rest of his peers wouldn't get him any closer to that. The syllabus showed that they'd soon be covering wireless etherium networks. The Force glyph was covered, with a promise of further study in the second year. The preceding weeks were spent on basic material most first-years already knew.
Hunter fused what he knew about wireless networks and Force glyphs. He used a few tricks to gain more efficiency, but he didn't want to come out of the gate swinging synergies left and right. Like he'd intended during the global youth artisan competition, he would need to use them strategically. There were many ambitious people at the school, and he'd already seen just how dirty some people would play to further their agenda.
One journal in his father's briefcase detailed all the neat tricks and shortcuts his father had discovered during his long career. Nothing like his synergies, of course, and they were probably considered standard at a certain level of artisanship. But he'd take any advantage he could get.
Before the competition, and before observing the people he was sharing his class with, Hunter had prided himself on being some unique etheric talent. But he had discounted the natural genius that had preceded him over the previous centuries. Others may not have his sensitivity, but that doesn't mean they didn't have the same drive. Passion was passion, as Trey would probably say.
Aera hadn't been wrong. His peers were the best of the best for their age group, and probably beyond. The class itself was even smaller than his history class. There were only about a dozen artisans in his class, and there weren't many other classes for their year. In Hunter's estimation, he would be up against about 100 students, all striving for Excellence.
He let his first project demonstrate his talent, his potential, and his drive.
His final product was a two-part shield device. It wasn't portable, and it was pretty short ranged, but Hunter was working with limited tools. But the novelty would far outweigh the limitations. He was sure that the technology existed, but Hunter felt like he'd broken new ground for himself, and was hitting far above his age group. The prototype could be significantly improved with better planning, materials, and the addition of synergies.
The shield had an AR requirement of 19. To confirm, he asked a few of the students present at the workshop to help him gauge it. By using a syntax that included some of his special techniques, he thought he could raise it to approximately 30 and then lower it by roughly 5 or 6 points.
He might actually be onto something with the shield. If Trey approved, he could probably get it in front of some Oberon artisans in order to assess its potential as an official product.
His project had received full marks, plus a bonus. But he was still behind the rest of the class. Hunter would need to push himself to catch up, but he wasn't expecting any obstacles in the future. The end-of-year project would be a group project, and that would make up 20 per cent of his final grade.
To become an Excellence candidate, at a minimum, Hunter needed to get full marks on every assignment over the next year. They wouldn't announce the Excellence degree recipient until after the third year of study. As he walked home, and prepared for his evening tutoring session with Aera, he wondered what his life would look like by then. His life had changed so dramatically in just a mere couple of months.
Will it be him who earns that degree of Excellence, or will he have become someone else entirely, someone who he'd hardly recognize?
---
Aera considered the walking skeleton as it heaved on the crash mat.
"It's not time for a break yet, get up," Aera said, watching Hunters reaction for any sign of protest. Anything more than a second's hesitation to get up, any sign that he was losing motivation. But despite his clear exhaustion, he pushed himself up without so much as a complaint.
Not that she was expecting any at this point. Any vocal resistance to her style of training had fallen away during their first weeks together. Since then, he'd shown up and did as he was told.
And slowly, very slowly, over time, he progressed. The time the sessions took had increased from around half an hour to just over an hour. The first few days after his recovery had been rough, but his endurance had bounced back pretty quickly.
They started the drill again. This time, she planned to throw him off a bit.
"How are you finding your classes?" she asked, waiting for the pause. He froze for a second, considering her question. By the time he realized it was a trap, it was already too late. In the time it took him to decide how to react, she had a foot in his stomach and shoved him back towards the crash mat.
She didn't take any pleasure in it. It was how she imagined it would be to spar with a child. There was no challenge, no stakes. Hunter seemed frustrated, both with her and himself. She didn't let his attitude bother her. She wondered if he'd be able to channel the frustration into progress.
He got up from the mat without her prompting, and they went again. Block the jab, then the hook, then the uppercut, then the front kick.
"They're going well," he said, blocking a roundhouse. She smirked. Looks like his attitude wasn't as bad as she thought it was.
"I'll be throwing in some more surprises. Watch out for them," she warned as they started the next drill. Hunter nodded, even as she began.
Jab.
"Making any friends?" she asked, as he blocked the jab. It was sloppy. He was getting tired, but she could tell he was trying not to let it show. He didn't react to her question, staying focused on the routine.
Hook, uppercut, front kick.
"Not yet," he said, his eyes going wide as he dodged out of the way of her jab. He'd thrown himself off balance, but caught himself before falling over.
She could follow up and punish the mistake, but she let him have his minor victory. Her father always said that it was important to balance reward and punishment. Her own teachers had used similar tactics to keep her engaged.
He got back into position, and they went again.
This time, she started with the hook. It caught him by surprise, his first reaction being to block for a jab, and then panicking when he realized it would not work.
She pulled back a bit on the impact, but he still winced.
Sometimes, she felt bad for having to put him through this. But she never let it get to her. Besides, it was good for him.
Since he was strong enough to persist with the training, she would do her job and toughen him up. He would never be a good fighter, he just wasn't strong enough. But he'd proven that he can get stronger, and survive more punishment.
She wondered if their month of training had been the difference between life and death. It was all the more motivation not to take it easy on him. She glanced at the clock. It had been just over an hour. Hunter was clearly tired, but he was still standing, and still seemed to have some juice left in him.
"You're doing better, Hunter," she said. "Back when we first started, you'd be twitching in a puddle of sweat by now."
He seemed surprised by her compliment. An opening, like any other.
"Don't let it get to your head. You're doing better, but you've got a long way to go."
The usual grief she'd expected to see in his body language didn't appear. This time, he just nodded.
"You're right. Thanks, Aera," he said.
For all her talk about teaching him to keep his guard up, she felt her own slip.
That was the first time he'd thanked her.
It felt weird. She expected to feel nothing. Instead, she felt a sense of vindication.
But why?
She'd take some time to understand it later. Now, it was her turn to learn. They both took some time to stretch and cool off after the workout and then made their way to the apartment building. After the attack, they both decided it would be best if she walked back with him.
It would be easier if Barnum allowed students to have bodyguards on the campus, but an old rule, established when they realized the uber-rich children would play political games on campus, dictated students remain unguarded.
Typically, one would think that their parents wouldn't agree to that. And most didn't, at least until they understood that if they wanted to teach their children how to play real-world power games, they would have to teach them real-world consequences.
Most years, it would be fine. Violence was rare, and only happened to a few.
But this year was different. Aera had heard that not only her father, but other parents were growing concerned over the games their children were playing away from home.
Her father was also acting out of character. She could tell that he was trying to honour her independence, but he'd been more insistent about her being careful with her decisions. Something was bothering him, and it wasn't just what had happened to Hunter.
So, in the spirit of being careful, she was escorting the dweeb herself. They'd both decided that there was no reason they couldn't eat while Hunter taught her about constructs. She'd come to realize that he was an endless font of information on the subject, and although he struggled with articulating that knowledge, he was getting better at it.
She was learning a lot. It was clear just how big of a gap she would need to cross in order to catch up to him. In fact, she was rethinking her goal.
Her deal with her father was that she'd only needed to earn two degrees of excellence. Then he would begin fast-tracking her for a board-level placement. Failure meant a much lower starting point. Despite her inevitable inheritance, she wanted to establish her authority quickly.
She needed to build a network within the company. It would make the eventual handover much more efficient, and while her father was in power, it would allow her to be of more help.
She had no desire to take the company from her father, yet. She cared about the company and at the moment her father was the best man to lead it. She believed, perhaps biasedly, that he was the greatest man she knew. She felt fortunate to be his daughter, and would take every opportunity she could to learn from him.
Even if it meant learning how to deflate her own ego.
The more time she spent with Hunter, the more she'd valued what he might bring to the family, or the company at the very least. She believed she was seeing the potential that her father believed he held. It had been abstract before, and she hadn't even been certain that he could sustain the workload.
Especially after having suffered two significant attacks, one from the abolitionists, and again from Pippen. Yet, as soon as he could, he would get right back to the grind, more driven than ever.
She wondered if it was healthy, but so far she had seen no signs the obstacles had been anything but empowering for him.
They finished their session, and Aera felt like it had been a good day. There had been no movement in her investigation into Jason, but she wasn't expecting any for a while. All she could do was wait.
If he went on the assault, she would take it as evidence of guilt. If he didn't, she would continue to wait..
She spent most of her time planning for different scenarios. She evaluated her vulnerabilities and took steps to ensure her safety. Where she couldn't cover herself, she'd prepare to mitigate the damage enough to make a counterplay.
It was surprising how combat could be extrapolated to all kinds of things, and if there was one thing Aera understood, it was combat.
But Jason was crafty. The social field was more difficult to fight on. The variables were more complex, but mastering them was just a matter of experience. Just like Aera had trained her whole life to fight, Jason had been training his whole life to manipulate.
He was ambitious, too. She was thinking he was too ambitious. His relationship with the Visgold kid made her wonder what his family had planned. There was no way the relationship was an accident.
Families like the Visgolds and the Chans kept close track of their children's associations, cutting away those that didn't serve the family's interests.
Something fishy was going on, and Aera wasn't sure it was up to her to find out. Her father was running his own investigations, which were informed by her own impressions and conclusions at Barnum.
As soon as he found anything of note, he would let her know. But she felt that something big was going down. She couldn't quite explain why. It was a gut instinct. It made her nervous, but she knew how to handle nerves. She would play it as safe as possible, but her sense of caution was warring with her sense of justice.
At the moment, her sole focus was the Oberon family image. But now that she'd shown that she had some fight in her, she might as well go all in.
She smiled. How would Jason react if she called him with an offer he couldn't refuse?
To her surprise, Jason called first.