A repeated Exercise of a Skill to acquire Proficiency in It

With these steps forward I seal my fate. I am now truly part of this resistance and will either find my escape through them or sink with them.

"Starting tomorrow, I'll make true warriors out of all of you yet! Mark my words! Come here during the evening; I'll tell the guards to let you in."

Eleanor and I spent the rest of the day listening to the instructors. Rather I listened and translated for her. I practically had to drag her over to the one explaining how to fasten armour properly; she was far more interested in the instructor overseeing practice swings.

Safety comes first, though! Can't have you getting hurt. She relents quickly enough, thankfully. She must've picked up on my genuine concern. For some weird reason, however, she refuses to look at me for the rest of the evening. How strange...

The very next day, after getting up bright and early, Eleanor and I make our way over towards the mine. There we spend our time breaking our backs until evening.

Every hour there further drills into me the main issue with our theoretical uprising. If I am to be well fed enough to fight, I need to work the mines. If I work the mines for too long, my body will suffer until I can no longer fight.

I can already feel my lungs straining, even when I’m no longer in the hellish depths. I always feel a bit short of breath, like the air doesn't quite reach all the places it's supposed to.

If Mother is any indication, I should be able to endure this abuse for quite a while yet until my body shuts down completely. Still, I need to do something about this.

I have the luxury of reserves, but the rest clearly doesn't. And I will need them one way or another, so their issues become mine now as well.

Like any war, it all comes down to logistics. This may be only a minor slave uprising, but the principle still applies: we need more food or the money to buy it. But where to get that from except the mines?

After meeting our quota for the day, Eleanor and I head over to the building in the centre for the famed board game night. Or rather, for what lies beneath it.

As we walk toward the training grounds, the craftswomen now wave at us as well. Everyone around here knows we belong with Loren now, and they've largely come to accept us as one of their own because of that.

The few that still take issue with the purity of our blood begrudgingly tolerate us as well, if only as another body to throw at the enemy.

Reaching the large opening, we listen to the instructing warriors until Loren and the other elven children arrive. Today one of them tries to instruct us on how to use a sling.

Since they are simple ranged weapons we can make ourselves with the meagre resources we possess, it only makes sense to teach everyone how to use them. Their ammunition, small pebbles, can be found or produced with ease as well.

We possess a few bows of varying quality as well, yet both they and their arrows are far more difficult to craft. Furthermore, most wood we can scrounge up simply isn't flexible enough to be a good fit for a bow. So the few serviceable ones we have are only employed by those already experienced with them.

Eleanor tries her hardest, yet fails miserably to even hit her target once. Poor girl, she might be more suited for melee combat.

Upon getting to practice with a sling myself, I once again rediscovered the worth of my ghastly companion. Isha, being able to control my body as well, took a few practice shots herself.

Both of us are only middling marksmen at best; we each missed quite often. However, upon combining our efforts, our true worth began to shine through. With Isha focusing solely on adjusting my aim while I took the shot, our accuracy improved dramatically.

"Hmpf~"

Eleanor seems to be a bit peeved that I'm so much better than her at this.

Well, I suppose two heads are truly better than just one, as long as they are of the same mind.

With that discovery, everything that I practise, Isha should also try to learn with my body. We have to use that one advantage we have to its fullest.

When Loren arrived with his other pupils, we too joined him.

He seems to have made it his mission to train the younger generation. Our bodies are the least worn down, and some among us haven’t even been in the mines yet. If he means to play the long game, he could raise us into an 'elite' force of warriors down here. We certainly don't have the time for that, though...

"Are you ready to learn how to knock someone out for good?"

He flexes his few muscles, clearly trying to motivate us. He now again speaks the human tongue. Eleanor and I assume the others haven't had enough training yet to understand Elvish. I'll be working hard again tonight with Eleanor to fix that.

Seeing as we are all teenagers at best and still not quite grown up, he instructs in the use of smaller bladed weapons, like daggers and short swords. And more importantly, how to use both them and a bit of footwork to keep an enemy's weapon from yourself.

We use blunt scrap weapons, probably so we don't hurt ourselves but still get used to the proper weight. Sharpen them, though, and they’d be immediately ready for a real fight.

The way he teaches us makes it clear he knows what he’s talking about. Either he has vast experience, or someone once took great care in instructing him.

I lean toward the latter; he certainly seems capable of showing a grown man how to fight like an elven warrior. But whenever he has to adjust his techniques to our crude weapons and young age, he appears somewhat out of his depth.

Is that just a him thing, or do elves just suck when it comes to being adaptable? Wouldn't surprise me; when your elders claim to have lived for 600 years, you maybe don't question their wisdom and just run with it. Looks like I’ll have to improvise a bit on my own.

After getting in the necessary practice swings, we begin sparring with each other. I suppose the best way to hone the art of combat is to get as close to the real thing as you can.

The added fact that my opponents still seem to carry a few grudges towards Eleanor and myself only further enhances the authenticity of this entire exercise. We did beat them senseless once before, and by 'we' I mean Eleanor did. I barely helped!

While they don't want to kill me, they certainly wouldn't mind hurting or humiliating me a bit.

But they don't really manage to do that. With my guardian angel at my side, any even duel quickly tilts in my favour.

In quite the same way as I threatened Beltharion at the mansion, Isha can move my body for me while I do another manoeuvre. It's kind of like having a co-pilot for your very own body. The only hard part about this is coordinating properly.

Even in group battles, when they all team up on me, Isha quite literally becomes the eyes in the back of my head. She warns me of surrounding danger outside of my vision and even moves to intercept it, should she deem it prudent to do so.

Considering all that, I am undefeated in my weight class. But what's truly amazing isn't little old me, who kind of cheated his way to victory against these kids. No, the one who's truly amazing here-

"Come at me!"

is Eleanor, who is currently beating up 5 kids her age all on her own. This isn't even close somehow; the girl is giving them a run for their money. Without any ghastly help, I should add yet again.

She might truly have a knack for this. With further practice she might indeed turn into the dreaded Valkyrie that will be the human's reckoning.

Loren too recognised this quickly enough. After that display, he began sparring with her himself, though their difference in age and strength was clear for all to see.

For even an amazing 14-year-old cannot truly hope to best a grown-up. Even more so if he's a trained warrior, not unlike all those guards we might face one day. Not without a few tricks up their sleeve at least. Tricks I hope he will teach us in time.

I too got to have a shot at Loren, though I didn't fare any better. Reflexes, awareness, coordination – all the things Isha grants me – still amount to little against him on their own. I am simply lacking in strength. No wonder; I am simply too young. Matter of fact actually, I might be the youngest down here, in our secret rebel base.

Training my body right now might work, but it will certainly stunt any further growth. I think being tall is also a boon during combat, so maybe I should hold off on that until a later date. At least as much as the circumstances allow it.

Coming home just as the sun is about to vanish beyond the walls, we step into our tent that smells faintly of soap. Mother has truly grown into her role as housekeeper, keeping everything spotless.

She smiles at us without a word. She most likely can guess where we go after our shifts in the mines but chooses not to speak of it. She must already know what Loren does down there. That’s why she asked him to make sure we’d be safe if she were no longer around. He would know when 'it' starts.

She doesn't even object to our current evening activity either. Namely, me spending the rest of my evening teaching Eleanor the Elvish tongue. I speak a word to her, and she gives the human counterpart. Basic vocab training, really.

"ᒋᗩᘻᑊᘂᘂᕮ."

"Family?"

I nod. The only thing special about it really would be her doing a full workout simultaneously.

"ᑭᗜᑊᕋᘯᗩᖇᗞ."

"Dagger."

She has most likely grown as tall as she will, so there's likely no harm in it.

"ᕮᗩᕞ."

"Water."

She's currently doing sit-ups. Her entire body has gotten rather toned...

"ᘕᖇᗩᘯᔕᑭᑊᖇᕮᖇ"

"Sweat? Are you trying to tell me something? Hmph~"

My mind must have drifted; I definitely wanted to say another word. She must have taken offence; she turns away from me.

"Say, what does 'love' mean?"

Love? I guess the girl is that age, after all...

"ᗩᘻᗜᕞᖇ."

"ᗩᘻᗜᕞᖇ, eh? Good to know..."

Mother throws her a rag to clean herself off. She uses it to wipe herself down. That should be enough for today anyway; it will turn night soon.

We all lay ourselves to rest, to face the next day, to do it all over again.

All my days following this one were largely the same: work in the mine, train with Loren, teach Eleanor elvish and try to get at least a few hours of sleep as well.

This routine repeated itself for close to a year, until an old, all-too-familiar problem decided to rear its ugly head again.

We are almost broke!