That night Zack Adder dreamt of jackalopes and thurgenrats, of climavants and shadowshrikes, and of Henry’s epic slaying of a behemoth that had wandered down from the mountains.

  When he woke, his mind was settled.

  The wilderness of this world was a dangerous place.

  Far more so than even the wildest parts of Earth, with bears and boars and lions and tigers.

  The people were more dangerous, as well.

  Fully armored men on Earth couldn’t leap twenty feet into the air, certainly not wielding a greataxe with a blade wider than a man’s torso.

  He sorely missed his Beretta M9.

  Not that 9mm would do much against full plate armor, or the armor-like hides and carapaces and shells of the problematic local wildlife.

  Perhaps his favor of Earth’s God would be to transmigrate back to Earth. Sure, this world didn’t have global surveillance or nuclear weapons, but at least he understood those risks.

  But before he could do that, he had to investigate the summoning ritual.

  Last night, he had met almost all the castle’s knights.

  Today…

  The maids, perhaps?

  Or the book room?

  Or perhaps he could try to talk to one of those [Priests] spying on him constantly.

  There was the sound of footsteps on the stone floor outside his door, followed immediately by knocking. A polite knock, this time, not the rude banging of the morning before.

  “Sir Zack, are you awake yet? Do you need assistance?”

  Zack rolled out of bed and moved the desk out of the way.

  “I’m up,” he said, and then opened the door.

  Barclay was there, a look of concern on his face.

  “What is it?”

  “Er, no, nothing. I’m glad to see you’ve recovered from last night’s drinking…”

  “Ah, that?”

  He had only nursed the one glass all night, staying well within his limits.

  Getting wasted in deep cover was a terrible idea.

  The other knights, of course, being ‘at home,’ had had somewhat less restraint.

  “Yeah, I’m fine. How about you, Barclay?”

  “Ahem, er, I’m also fine.”

  Zack ensured that his earth clothes, sans the underarmor, were left on his bed for the maid Abigail, and they made their way to the knight’s mess hall.

  “Now, Sir Zack, make sure you control your portions. We’re going to be training [Running] again today,” Barclay warned loudly as Zack put a bit of everything on his plate. Nice that he was still playing along, even after getting called away by Captain Rosimund.

  “Alright, alright.”

  They sat down, and Zack took a moment with each bite, sniffing it, tasting it thoroughly, and checking for poisons, though once again, he found nothing. Between each bite he cleansed his palate with a sip of water.

  “Is the food not to your liking?” Barclay sounded honestly concerned, now.

  “Not at all, it’s fine. I don’t recognize these vegetables, though…”

  It tasted and was shaped like celery, but it was a deep purple color.

  “Ah, shadestalks. They’re good for recovery.”

  Barclay’s plate was notably missing any shadestalks.

  “...I’ve never been fond of the taste,” he admitted, looking away.

  “Mmf, more for me,” Zack said.

  He couldn’t afford to be picky and miss some crucial nutrient, eating in this other world without the convenience of multivitamins and nutrition supplements.

  They both ate quickly and efficiently, as befit military men, and made their way back to the training ground.

  “[Running]?” Zack asked.

  Barclay nodded. “You really do need to get that skill as soon as possible, or I’m going to look bad.”

  Zack sighed.

  “What?”

  Zack made a point of looking around the courtyard, still mostly empty this early in the morning. “The shadows have ears.”

  Barclay looked around as well, then leaned in. “Keep your voice down, then. What is it? Speak plainly.”

  “Did Sir Rosimund lay into you last night?”

  “Eh? Oh, no, I have an extra duty, but nothing you need to worry about. I have to show all the castle’s knights the book room this week.”

  Extra knights in the book room was rather the kind of thing Zack did worry about.

  “Good!” he lied. “Then how about I get the [Running] skill this morning, and we cut back on the running from now on?” There was a number of other skills he wanted to work on, specifically, anything for self-defense.

  “Oh, no, Sir Zack. Just getting the skill is far from enough. You also need to raise the skill level, and you can only do that by practice. What kind of [Scout] only has [Running] at level one?”

  And, despite Zack’s best logic and pleading, Barclay held firm.

  The [Running] would continue whether or not morale improved.

  There was no escape.

  Not until the trainer from the Hunters’ Guild arrived.

  “No, even then, I’m certain he will still have you [Running]. Like I said before, movement is foundational to being a [Scout].”

  They wrapped up their warm up exercises and Zack got up and ran up and down the training courtyard. A short while after he started, around when Zack was getting used to the rhythm again, the core members of the [Hero’s Party] arrived.

  Rosimund looked approvingly at Zack, finding him already running.

  Stolen from its rightful place, this narrative is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings.

  Maria was clinging to Bradley’s arm, chattering away.

  Bradley, himself, was frowning.

  Zack was curious as to why, but—

  “Keep your head straight!” Barclay shouted.

  [Running] training.

  Bradley got dressed in his platemail [Heavy Armor] and started drilling footwork, holding a longsword in his right hand and a greatshield in his left.

  “Sir Bradley, won’t you at least put the shield down while—”

  Zack ran away from the conversation, reached the end of the courtyard, then turned back.

  “—n’t want to pick up bad habits, since I’m going to—”

  “—sure he’ll be able to meet with you soon, so—”

  “—just going to practice [Fleet Foot] and [Heavy Armor] for n—”

  Rosimund was having a hard time directing the [Hero], and as for Maria…

  She was conversing with several grey-robed [Priests] in a shadowy corner, keeping one eye on the [Hero].

  And so, the training continued. It was only at the very end of the morning that Zack felt another shift in his [Running] skill. When he first picked up the skill, a voice had announced it in his mind. The voice itself had been perfectly neutral, in tone, inflection, even gender. He had never heard anything like it before. And at that time, it had been like all the pointers Barclay had given him about running had settled in like good habits, freeing up his conscious mind to focus on other things as he ran. This time, there was no voice, but he could feel a subtle change in his running. His footstrikes were more consistent. It was easier to maintain his posture. He was using even less energy to keep running. And…

  He ran a little faster.

  It was subtle, though. Even Barclay didn’t seem to notice, and Zack reduced his speed back to the level it had been.

  “Alright, that’s enough! Let’s cool down with some stretches before you go off to lunch, Sir Zack!” Barclay called.

  During the stretches, Barclay leaned in and whispered. “So, do you ‘have’ the skill yet? Don’t worry, I will only tell Captain Rosimund.”

  Zack looked around. Most people were focused on Bradley shedding his [Heavy Armor].

  “I mean it. I’m pretty grateful for the heads up about the book storage room...”

  “Yeah, I got it.”

  Barclay breathed a sigh of relief. “Phew, good. I was getting worried there. From now on, tell me when you get the skill we’re training for, and when you want me to report it.” He looked around conspicuously. “Most people just announce their skills when they get them. It’s a good habit for kids, so their parents can remember their skills for them.”

  “Guess I’m just a weirdo, then.”

  “Oh, don’t be like that, Sir Zack. You’re an [Otherworlder]. We know we have to make allowances for cultural differences.”

  “How enlightened of you.”

  “Oi! Are you getting snarky with me?”

  Zack smirked. “With the man who cut three shadowshrikes out of the air after dusk? I would never.”

  “Oh, so what you’re saying is, you want more [Running] this afternoon?”

  Zack blanched. “No! Come on…”

  Barclay grinned triumphantly, having got one over on the [Otherworlder].

  “When is that Hunter’s Guild trainer coming, anyway?”

  Barclay’s grin faded, replaced by a frown. “Not until next week. Their best [Scouts] are all out on hunts right now. Terrible timing… But they wanted to get another hunt in before the [Hero’s Party] opened up recruitment…”

  “Open recruitment?”

  “Well, by invitation, but yes. Captain’s got it all planned.”

  Lunch with the [Hero], [Priestess], and [Guide] was rather relaxed. The food was markedly better than the mess hall food the knights ate, and Maria seemed to have mellowed out somewhat. It was only towards the end that attention turned to Zack Adder.

  “So, how’s your stomach?” Rosimund asked.

  “Oh, yeah, how you feeling?” Bradley added.

  “Hmph!” Maria huffed.

  “I feel fine. I heard the [Scout] from the Hunter’s Guild wouldn’t arrive until the end of the week, though. Other than [Running], is there anything else I should be focused on?”

  “[Running] is the main thing,” Rosimund explained. “Other than that…”

  “Are there any good books about hunting in the book room?”

  Rosimund face relaxed slightly, even though his bushy eyebrows remained furrowed. “Taken an interest in hunting, eh?”

  “Yeah! After hearing about Sir Henry slaying that behemoth, how could I not?”

  “Eh? What’re you talking about?” Bradley perked up.

  “Hmph! Last night, instead of studying in the book room, Adder went and drank with the knights in their barracks. Dreadfully uncouth.” Maria disparaged Zack, using only his last name to refer to him this time.

  Was she trying out new ways to badmouth him?

  She’d have to try harder. Zack had been called ‘Adder’ like that plenty over the years.

  “Drinking?”

  “Ahem, sir [Hero], you’re currently undergoing very intense training, and drinking would be highly detrimental—”

  “Yeah, yeah.” Bradley waved a hand as though to shoo away Rosimund’s guidance. “I’m underage, anyway.”

  The [Guide] and the [Priestess] looked confused at that.

  Zack let that one go unexplained.

  “Anyway, books on hunting?”

  “Hmm, there should be some monster slaying guides in the book room, for when we knights are called upon to aid in monster culling operations.”

  “Then I’ll—”

  “No, Sir Zack, you did more than enough reading yesterday. Time is short, and we can’t waste daylight. You will train in the bow this afternoon.”

  “[Archery]?” Bradley asked. “But I already have that skill.”

  “Sir Bradley, it is highly unlikely you will need to take up the bow yourself, especially once [Excalibur] has been recovered. It suits a [Scout] much better.”

  And so it was decided that until dinner, Zack would train [Archery].

  [The Shield] had not yet replied to Rosimund’s request for a meeting, apparently.

  So Bradley would continue to train in [Heavy Armor], this time in parrying strikes and learning how to take them on the armor, deflecting the force of blows when possible.

  “Sir Zack, I’m afraid we will need to take supper privately this evening. Would you like a private parlor for your supper…?”

  “Hmm? Oh, no, I’ll just grab some food in the mess hall, with the rest of the knights.”

  Maria sneered triumphantly from where she thought Bradley wouldn’t see.

  Zack restrained the urge to roll his eyes.

  When they returned to the training courtyard, Barclay had already set up a target, concentric circles painted on a broad sheet of paper affixed to several bales of hay. The training courtyard was only about twenty-five yards long on its longest side, but the [Trainer] figured that would be far enough, given how long it took the [Otherworlder] to decide he had picked up [Running].

  He showed the dark-haired man how to string the bow, nock an arrow, draw it back, and loose. He gave him an arm-guard and fastened it to save him the sting of string-slap, and gave him pointers on his form.

  It was a small-bow, with a very low draw-weight.

  They had all afternoon to practice.

  And yet…

  Zack drew the string, lined up his shot, and loosed.

  The arrow sailed forth but dropped faster than he expected, barely striking the bottom edge of the hay bale.

  The next shot he aimed higher, and he struck the bottom edge of the target paper, but still outside the circles.

  His third shot struck the second innermost circle.

  *ding!* The skill [Archery] has been acquired!

  Zack paused.

  And this time, Barclay noticed right away.

  Thankfully, he didn’t shout it to the entire courtyard. Instead, he came up and pretended to check Zack’s arm-guard was still fastened properly.

  “You just got the [Archery] skill, didn’t you?” he whispered.

  Zack paused a moment, then— “Yes,” he admitted.

  “Looks like your unique skill is finally working,” Barclay said. “Let’s continue through what I had planned for this afternoon, and we can break early. You wanted to check out books on hunting, right?”

  “Yeah.”

  And so Zack Adder worked his way up from the small-bow, to a hunter’s bow, and even to a long-bow, though he had trouble aiming while also drawing back the heavy string.

  “That’s an eighty-pound longbow, Sir Zack. You might need to level up a few times before you’re strong enough to use it properly.”

  It wasn’t even the third-heaviest bow among those Barclay had prepared.

  “Don’t worry too much,” Barclay said, noticing Zack’s frown. “Just focus on accuracy for now.

  And so he continued to practice with a hunter’s bow, under the watchful eyes of several grey-robed [Priest]s lurking in the shadows. As he did, Zack’s mind wandered to the book room.

  It was time to start looking into the summoning ritual.

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