Chapter 45: A Gift

Training in full armor was miserable at first, but everyone eventually got the hang of it. Michael adjusted to the weight more quickly than most, and Marcus’s lighter set meant he didn’t really need to adjust much at all to begin with, but Pyotr struggled with the reduced mobility. Davi was one of the only people with a newer suit of armor than Michael was wearing, as there were no repaired suits that could be sized up for him. He had the most difficulty dealing with the even greater bulk than he was used to, but After a few days of training with it, he started to get a handle on it as well. Ollie rejoined them after a few more days of recuperation, and there was one major change in him they all noticed immediately. Davi looked up at him. “Meu deus.” His reaction was the same as everyone else’s. Ollie looked as if he’d been stretched out longwise. He was gangly and long limbed, where only a few days before he’d been short and stocky. Before he’d been around Marcus’s height, and now he was taller than Davi. “I know, I know, you’re all going to miss the easy takedowns you used to be able to say because I was small. Don’t worry though, now I can use them on all of you.” Michael smiled. “Don’t worry. There’s plenty of ways to insult you that have nothing to do with your height.” Ollie’s armor was entirely boiled leather and thick cloth to keep any excess Iron from interfering with his ability to do magic, but unlike the rest of them he was given his weapon ahead of the march. He held a staff of hardened black wood, exactly the same size and weight as the ones he had practiced with. “It’s hollow,” he said as he gave a testing swing. “Teft explained to me. It has focuses woven all throughout the core that correspond to the spells we’ll be using the most often.” “But you can’t see them?” noted Davi. “I can feel them in there. They made us mark and use each of them once to practice attuning to them.” Michael flicked the staff lightly with a gauntleted hand. “It makes sense that this world would insist you have a job handling wood.” Ollie stamped the staff lightly on the ground and Michael felt a sudden shock shoot up through his boots causing him to stand rail straight for a moment. “Fuck!” he exclaimed. Ollie smiled as he gave his staff a little flourish. "Oh, I think this is going to do quite nicely.” Michael considered a physical retort, but decided against it. He could return the favor during sparring. The rest of the week and change went by very quickly. There was an air of celebration around the academy, not only of Penitents eager to see something other than the concrete squares they’d spent the majority of their new lives in, but also of the squire recruits, eager to fight for their country. Michael felt some sympathy for them, he had never seen combat in his old life, but he’d had friends who had. None of them had come back from it unscathed. He couldn’t blame them though, it was hard even with his experience not to get swept up a bit in the air of excitement that seemed to infuse everything. The regulars didn’t even antagonize the Penitents during that time, too eager to kill Tusinians to give a damn about the murderers in their midst. During the two weeks they had left Michael spent his time doing his best to experiment with his new ability and deed. He found it was very easy to take on someone else’s pain, but everything else was much harder. He could make someone else feel his own pain, but only with significant focus that tired him out in the same way healing did, and he could make two people feel one another’s pain, but that took even more effort still and drained him mentally even more. It was like the difference between a light jog and a sprint. Still, being able to make a sparring partner suddenly feel the bruise he himself had just caused proved very useful in matches and won Michael several bouts, though his experimenting with it cost him just as many at first. The story has been illicitly taken; should you find it on Amazon, report the infringement. For his new deed it didn't activate from coming up with some mental competition, but when he made one up and got someone else to participate, that made it activate. Bets also worked, which Marcus was always more than willing to partake in. On his last day of training, after healing a few recruits that had torn ligaments overexerting in their new armor, Michael found himself sitting in the small chapel to the divine with Meera, finishing an ink transfer of the most recent “Soldier’s Slave” for her to share with some of the other women at the academy. He’d wound up using that spell more for her than for Dugan. He looked at the last page of the book, seeing it more as an image rather than a collection of words. He held an inkpot in his hand and small globes of the black liquid floated out of it before slowly settling on the page in front of him in an exact replica of the writing on the other page. It strained his mana channels to do, but the practice was useful. He had a feeling the spell could have a lot of potential. “I’ve heard of pain transfer before, but it’s not very common, nor is it considered very useful. I mean, you can already heal, so what’s the point of taking on someone else’s pain or giving it to someone. Still, two blessings, that’s nothing bad. If you weren’t a Penitent you’d almost certainly have an easy job as a diviner safely behind the front lines, healing officers with splinters and papercuts from being at their desks all day.” Michael chuckled as he finished the ink transfer. He still couldn’t do bulk transfers too easily, but aside from some smudging here and there, it looked to be in mostly good shape. He straightened the stack of paper against the pew in front of him, and handed it to her. Meera took it with a smile, leafing through it a bit. “I’m going to miss getting your help with that. I’ve no talent for magic, and it gets tiring asking Teft all the time. He always turns it into an attempt at flirtation.” “How does Kline feel about that?” “Amused, mostly. He doesn’t consider any other man to be real competition. It’s part of what makes him attractive.” Michael nodded, he’d met some men like that, and some of the women that liked them. He himself always relied more on trying to be funny and dependable and hoping to god they liked him. He’d been lucky Sara had. His expression dipped as he thought of her, wondering what she was doing. Thinking of what epitaph she’d chosen for his grave. He was certain it was something clever. Meera’s own brows drooped as she looked at him, and she left him for a moment, heading to one of the rooms in the back of the chapel. He assumed she was just putting the copy of her book somewhere, but soon she came back with a small box that she held out to him. Michael looked at her questioningly. “It’s a gift.” Michael took the box and opened it. Inside was a small pendant hanging on a long thin strip of leather. The pendant looked to be steel, and was a simple design with six lines crossing one another in the center. He held it in his hand for a few moments, looking at it. It seemed almost warm to the touch. “My teacher gave that to me a long time ago.” Michael held it up on the string, looking at how it caught the light. “You don’t need to give me anything, Meera.” She shook her head. “It’s just been collecting dust here anyway. You’re the only person I’ve ever taught. Besides, I consider you a friend as well as a student, and I always thought I’d give that to someone who's both.” Michael nodded, and put the necklace over his head. “Do you have any idea what it’s supposed to be?” She shook her head. “My teacher was given it by her teacher. She said it has something to do with the divine, maybe from back when the gods had names.” Michael looked at it closer, imagining the history of hands it had crossed. He saw gold lettering floating across it. He focused, and that lettering came into focus, as if he was divining someone’s titles and deeds. Titles Mark of the Divines Grant’s: Very minor protection Michael blinked at it and looked at Meera. “It’s got a title.” She nodded. “I told you, items can earn titles and deeds too.” “This is too much Meera, I couldn’t.” She shook her head. “It’s considered very rude to refuse a gift in this world. Is it not like that where you’re from?” He smiled and shook his head. “It is.” She nodded. “I don’t think I’ll need what it offers as much as you will anyway.” Michael clasped it tightly in his hand. “Thank you, Meera.” He left shortly after that, the pendant around his neck bouncing against his chest gently as he walked. Kline had referred to the divine as a tool when he’d first taught Michael and the other Penitents about it. It was just another source of power to be used as needed to achieve victory over the enemies of Stent. The Divine had been generous to Michael though, maybe even kind. It had let him heal his friend, and later it gave him the ability to save that friend from pain. It granted everyone strength for making effort, for sacrificing for others. Back on Earth he’d never had much faith in any god, he’d needed evidence to buy his devotion. In this world proof had been given to him time and time again. Here he didn’t need faith, the Divine was real, and he muttered a small prayer of thanks to it as he made his way to the training yard.