After lunch it was time for Resolve training with Crickett. Logan left them to the old man, who remained seated. Cal could feel his muscles repairing as he sat down. It was an oddly dull feeling, but it didn’t hurt. The power of Alchemy was becoming clearer to him.

  “So, I think we ought to begin with the foundation of Six-Gun Resolute combat.” The old sage Crickett looked between the three of them, “I will teach you about the Critical Moment.”

  John nodded, “We already got a primer on that yesterday, I take it.”

  “That you did!” Crickett slapped his knee, “So you all get what it feels like. But what it actually means may be different than what you think.”

  Cal leaned in a bit to focus, this was the important part to him.

  Crickett let out a long breath as he began his lecture with a hand up. “You see, Resolve is called that because it refers to the intent of beings capable of making decisions, and the effects of those decisions on the currents of magic in the universe. To resolve to strike is to settle one’s intent on an attack. To… commit oneself to an action. You can see this happen in a Resolute state. You can see when the frog cements its intent to hop, or when an enemy decides when to draw his gun on you. The moment this occurs is called the Critical Moment. It is when the decision has been made, which is typically just before the action is taken.”

  Calvin rubbed his chin, looking down, which Crickett caught.

  “You have something to add, Mister Baird?” His tone was genuinely inquisitive.

  Calvin looked back to him, then to his peers. “Yeah. My dad, he taught me about this I think, when I was a kid. It was about fishing. My dad made me go Resolute when I had a line out, and showed me how to read when a fish was going to bite the line. If I timed it right, I could hook them every time with a decent tug. I didn’t realize this was the Critical Moment.”

  Crickett nodded, “Being that your Pa is Clubs it’s no surprise to me that he taught you this so young. I think you understand the Critical Moment well enough, but I bet you’re no better prepared than John and Buster here for my little activity.”

  “I get it.” Cal nodded, “I’m just happy to learn from you.”

  “That’s a great attitude, cause we are gonna have some fun I think.” Crickett smiled, “So let’s play a little Resolve game. I will handle a bunch of pebbles, nothing serious, but I will throw them at you when I feel like it. In a Resolute state, you should be able to tell when a pebble is coming at you and avoid it. If you can’t avoid my pebbles, I’ll know you aren’t seeing the Critical Moment. Yesterday’s test was easy, I intended to flood you with my Resolve a little while before I actually did. Today will be different, you’ll have to focus.”

  “You’re gonna throw pebbles at us?” John raised an eyebrow.

  “Too easy!” Buster raised his arms, “I knew we’d get a break.”

  Crickett took that opportunity to throw a pebble the size of his fingernail at Buster’s chest. His movements were a blur, almost too fast to see. The Critical Moment would have told Buster it was coming, if he had been focused and Resolute. He had let his guard down and was not able to react to it. The old sage had thrown the tiny pebble with such force that it hit Buster in his chest with a sharp crack. The clown was thrown back with the impact. He hit the ground hard, a little dazed. This made both John and Calvin sit up sharply.

  “Too easy, right?” The paws of the badger pelt on his hat shifted as Crickett tilted his head dramatically.

  Calvin swallowed hard. He had hoped for a little bit of a break.

  “Let me make something clear, youngins.” Crickett’s eyes lit up with his Resolve, glowing in the shadow of his hat. “Nothing is easy for a Six-Gun. Nothing but an early grave. My training will be hard and brutal, as is the entire world to the members of Grady’s Posse. Put the word ‘easy’ out of your heads, or you’ll just be disappointed.”

  John picked himself up to his feet, his legs shivering. Even with the alchemical beans, pain surged up and down his thighs and calves. Calvin was only a half step behind him, helping Buster up.

  “Giving up already?” Crickett smirked.

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  “I won’t dodge anything on the ground.” John had a cold look on.

  Crickett’s smirk grew. He was starting to understand what Logan meant about these whipper-snappers having nuts. The old man stood up to face them. John noticed something about the old man as he did. His movements were very fluid and relaxed. He did not look like John’s grandfather, old man Lester Calhoun, who’s every movement was precipitated by a grunt or a groan. The old Calhoun had trouble getting up in his old age, but Crickett did not. He was easily as spry as any of John’s teammates.

  Calvin took a step away from Buster, readying himself now. John observed Calvin throw up his Resolve Stall. It shone brightly, taking on a defined spherical shape. Cal’s Resolve gave John more confidence, his was holding up even through the morning’s torture. Buster’s Resolve stall shimmered, wavering from his current condition. The clown was finding it harder to focus with his arms and legs aching.

  Forming his own Stall, John found he was able to maintain it well enough, like Calvin. He knew the two of them would have to cover Buster. As much as he respected the Rodeo Clowns, Buster was simply underperforming in this area. John was a Calhoun; he had inherited the cultivated Resolve of generations, and spent his childhood in a household where Resolve was an open topic of discussion. He had eaten the right foods, read the right books, and even got some practice in with his brothers. To him, Resolve was natural. At this, the lowest level of Resolve a Six-Gun would study, he could consistently perform. For others like Buster, it may have been difficult. John knew very little about Comedy, the holy or unholy rites of the Harlequin were not for outsiders to understand, but he could tell that it didn’t always translate to Resolve. Buster was doing the best he could, and John respected it.

  What tugged at his curiosity was Calvin’s Resolve. Cal had a skilled father, yes. One of the most renowned sorcerers of their time. This was not enough. Resolve cultivation, as John had been taught, was more like growing a tree than the fruit on a tree. It took generations building on one another to confer significant advantages inherently. The process continued to yield results even if subsequent generations did not study Resolve as much as their ancestors. Calvin’s father had not been from one of the families; it was well known that he came from the Plaids. Billy Baird was an anomaly, a deviation from the norm. Yet, Calvin seemed to start with very impressive control over his Resolve. It could be that the Baird genes were simply predisposed towards elasticity in Resolve. These ideas tumbled through John’s mind as he looked to Cal.

  John’s thoughts turned cold as he considered the possibility that Calvin’s strength came from his curse. The younger Baird almost never mentioned the mark, and John hadn’t seen the abhorrent energy the witches went on about. From his perspective Calvin was only theoretically cursed, he had no idea if it was even true at all. Aside from trusting the witches’ appraisal, that is. It could be that all of Calvin’s Resolve was this cursed power they hated so much. He wondered if he would even be able to identify that. Regardless, Cal was a skilled member of the team. He was mentally tough, with reliable magic. John found himself a little challenged by the idea that Calvin, the grandson of Plaids, might actually be a better sorcerer than him. A small scowl crept across his face. How could he live up to his family name if he was outdone even on his own team?

  He would not be outdone. It was decided.

  John’s stall strengthened with his second wind of cold focus. Crickett noted the change with an amused glance. John’s thoughts were clear. He would treat Calvin appropriately as his teammate. He would rely on him, and let Cal rely on himself. But, he would not be outshined. If Calvin got better, he would get better too. If Calvin became more clever, he would too. If Calvin grew into every bit the sorcerer his father was, so then John would too. When all the cards were finally on the table, John Calhoun would be the stronger of the two. He would take that home to his brothers, his mother, aunts and uncles, his dad, and see what they thought about little Johnny then.

  Maybe then they wouldn’t look at him that same way anymore.

  His thoughts were cut by a Critical Moment. It appeared to him as a sharp starburst of colors splashing in the currents of magic, originating from Crickett. The pattern of colors matched the intricate nature of Crickett’s Resolve, which had evolved past the domination of one type over the others. As stark as the flowering of colors was the intense sound which resonated in his mind. It was like a massive bell tolling, with him standing inside it. John could feel the attack coming within that second, the pebble thrown at his right shoulder. He was seeing Crickett’s intent projected onto the currents of magic. John dipped left.

  The pebble ripped through the air right next to him, hitting a nearby tree with a sharp crack. John swallowed a bit, hearing the tree creak and groan.

  “Excellent, youngin!” Crickett grinned, “You see what the Critical Moment looks like?”

  Gathering himself, John nodded. “Yeah, it’s pretty stark.”

  Crickett ran his hand through his beard, “It’s easy to see in a Resolute State. This is why we practice maintaining our Resolve. The Stall is not necessary to interpret Critical Moments, but most Guns would have them up to be able to aim, when on the hunt. I would advise against pouring too much Resolve into a Stall if you don’t intend to shoot.”

  Just then, as Crickett was speaking, Calvin caught a Critical Moment coming his way. Crickett may have been talking to them, but he was still poised to throw. Calvin was barely quick enough to duck under the pebble. It nearly tore a hole in his hat. To Calvin, the Critical Moment sounded like a harsh chorus of whistles, and a physical feeling came over him as several nerves from his shoulder to his forehead fired to signal the coming attack. Cal recovered before losing his balance.

  “Ah, you boys are all business!” Crickett snickered, “Good to see you’re taking my lessons to heart already.”