Still laughing and joking, the group made their way back down the Guild’s training area corridor, the tale of the bottle-fearing assassin lingering in the air like the last wisp of a tavern ghost tale. Half-truth, half madness, and just believable enough to make you glance twice at the next empty green bottle you passed.

  Jack smiled to himself, rolling his shoulder again with a wince. Despite the ache and the risks lurking outside, and despite the shadows and masks, he felt lighter. He gave the Guild hall a scan for the four adventurers he had to avoid. Looks clear. [Assassin’s Intuition] hadn’t pinged since leaving the assassins at the entrance to Training Room 13.

  “I’m grabbing an ale,” Grey said as they exited the training area.

  “I’m in.” Pip nodded.

  Jack considered an ale. No, I don’t need it. He licked his lips at the thought of a cool ale after sweating so much. I can’t take the risk.

  He was worried he’d fall back into his old ways of over-drinking to drown his grief and anger. Although his family was alive, he still felt the grief deep inside him. Ridding himself of twenty years of loss and shame wasn’t going to happen overnight.

  I’m still having nightmares. He frowned. No. No drink for me. He also didn’t want to slip back into his old life of drinking until he passed out, so he wouldn’t have nightmares. He’d been fortunate that after his resurrection, his sixteen-year-old body wasn’t addicted to alcohol, but he wasn’t sure that would stay true if he slipped.

  Nessa frowned. “No spare coin.”

  “Same here.” Ella shrugged. “We’ve got to save every copper for training and better bows.” She glanced at Nessa. “We should head home.”

  Nessa nodded, and the two female archers headed towards the Guild’s exit.

  Ella called back, “Don’t forget we’ll be doing this again, same time tomorrow.”

  The two young women waved as they left.

  “What about you, Jack?” Grey gestured to the bar.

  Jack frowned. “I have to head home. I’ve a lot to do before I start work next week.”

  Grey smiled. “You’ve time for one quick ale.” He looked at Toma. “What about you, kid? You’re old enough, right?”

  Toma stood tall. “Had my fourteenth birthday a week ago. So, yeah, I’m old enough… but I’m like those two.” He pointed towards Nessa and Ella, who were exiting the Guild. “I ain’t got no coin.” His shoulders slumped.

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  The others chuckled.

  In the Kingdom of Merciar, a fourteen-year-old was old enough to drink. That is, unless they had a mother like Jack’s, then it was eighteen or even twenty-one after she’d heard of a young person getting injured due to their drunkenness. His mom had more old wives’ tales about young, foolish drunkards that met a grisly end than he could keep track of with his [Perfect Recall] skill.

  “I’m heading home.” Jack smiled. “It was really good meeting you all. See you around.” He headed towards the exit.

  Grey shrugged.

  “See you around, Jack.” Pip waved while he and Grey headed towards the bar.

  “Wait up!” Toma ran to catch up with Jack.

  Jack slowed and turned with a questioning look.

  “Thanks for the help earlier.” Toma sounded nervous. “Could you give me some more archery tips?”

  Jack gave a surprised blink at Toma, asking for more archery tips. “Sure, Toma. I’ve got a few minutes I can spare.”

  The boy’s face lit up. “Really? Thanks!”

  They stepped aside near one of the tall windows lining the Guild’s hallway, away from the main bustle of passing adventurers and the occasional hiss of aether pipes. Sunlight filtered through the coloured glass, casting patches of gold and green across the stone floor.

  “First things first.” Jack thought about how he’d ended up taking Zia home. “You’ve got a mom, dad, and somewhere to live, right?”

  Toma looked confused but answered. “Yeah, I live with my mom, dad, brothers, and sisters. Why?”

  “Good. It’s not important.” Jack breathed a quiet sigh of relief and leaned against the windowsill. “Alright, how’re your shoulders feeling? Any soreness after the session?”

  Toma rolled his arm and winced. “A bit sore. It’s not too bad, though.”

  Jack nodded. “Good. That’s normal. It’s probably going to hurt even more in the morning. Remember, archery uses muscles you’re not used to, so it’s easy to strain yourself if you rush. Always stretch before and after a session.”

  The boy nodded.

  “Do this…” Jack demonstrated a slow arm cross stretch, pulling his right arm across his chest and holding it with his left hand. “And this one for your shoulders…” He rolled his shoulders forward and backwards. “A little boring, but it’ll keep you shooting longer without injury.”

  As Jack watched Toma mirror his movements, he couldn’t help wondering if he’d be teaching his little brother the same stretches one day. Will Richard still want to be a knight, like when he was five? His little brother had once declared he wanted to become a knight to fight dragons when he grew up. Jack knew that if his mom had her way, Richard wouldn’t end up a knight; he’d probably be ‘nudged’ towards becoming a scribe or some other non-combat class.

  “Now, about form.” Jack reached into his memory, pulling from both his own practice and the archery manuals he’d devoured in his past life. “You’re holding the bow too tight.” He pulled his white oak bow from his shoulder to demonstrate. “Grip it lightly, like this. Let it rest in the V between your thumb and forefinger. That way, when you release, there’s no extra tension jerking your shot sideways.”

  Toma frowned in concentration, copying the grip with his own bow.

  Jack smiled. “Good. And keep your elbow up when you draw. You were dropping it halfway through, which weakens the shot and messes with your aim. Here, watch…” He pantomimed the motion, drawing an invisible bowstring, his body aligned in a smooth line. “Never draw and release your bowstring without an arrow; it can damage your bow.” He continued the demonstration. “Feel the tension between your shoulder blades, not just in your arms.”

  Toma tried it, brow furrowed in effort. His form improved, although his stance remained somewhat stiff.

  A passing adventurer snickered as he walked by. “You’re more likely to hit something if you use arrows, you know?” He laughed as he left.

  Toma flushed with embarrassment and faltered, losing his form.

  Chapter 092 What Happens In Training Room 13, Stays In Training Room 13