Spire's Spite

The hours melted away as Sid and Fritz focused on their study of the technique book, pointing out interesting passages and committing to memory the useful weapon drills and the pages that displayed them. The book was surprisingly short as they were able to read through the entire thing and were just going over the starting passages for a second time when they were interrupted.

“Learnt the Technique yet, book buddies?” Bert asked startling Fritz and Sid who now realised they were sitting uncomfortably close.

Sid was first in sidling away from Fritz, who stood and replied animatedly, “Bert it’s good you’re finally awake! Sid has pointed out that we are limiting ourselves by only learning one of the Techniques, so I beseech thee to grant me your wisdom and bestow upon my humble mind what you have gleaned from the profound text of the Arte Pugilist.”

Bert smiled back and assumed the Arte Pugilist's fighting stance. He stood side-on with his arms raised, forearms protecting his upper body and jaw. He hunched his shoulders and tucked in his chin making his profile smaller and his weak points harder to hit while he stood on the balls of his feet.

Fritz looked him over and attempted to copy the stance, it looked a little like a classic bare-knuckle prizefighting stance but it was more compact likely it was trying to make as small a target as possible while also being able to take advantage of an opening.

He hadn’t seen anything quite like it in the underground prize fighting matches he had watched. But then again he’d only been a couple of times before and usually the fighters, while they had been Pathers, were only level ten at best and likely didn’t have access to such exotic Techniques.

Only level ten!? You’ll be lucky to make it that far yourself, Fritz chided himself in frustration.

The real prizefights had Pathers and Climbers well into level thirty and above slugging it out with strange or flashy Abilities and Techniques. Those matches were held in the Upper Ring’s Arena for the amusement of the wealthy and the powerful. Far beyond the reach and means for an urchin like himself.

Bert shook his head as he looked at Fritz’s shoddy stance, then beckoned him over to show him the diagrams and passages of the Technique book. “It looks all wrong when you do it like that, put your feet like this, arms up, yes that’s better and look here at this passage. Be coiled like a spring, bend the legs, be on the balls of your feet, be ready to defend and attack at a moment's notice.” Bert explained then showed off some of the progress he had made with Lynn.

The book constantly mentioned its ideal form of ‘slipping’ blows by a hair's breadth and following up with swift punishing counters. The more he read of the style the more he concluded it was a madman's way of fighting, you’d have to be completely enamoured with the danger of imminent death to practise this Arte Pugilist against armed opponents or monsters.

Consequently, Bert had a real knack for this kind of fighting Fritz found out as he sparred with the insane golden-haired youth. Bert always loved riding that line between triumph and tragedy and that aspect of his character shone through brightly as he slipped one of Fritz’s clumsy jabs and swung a fist into his side. Thankfully he was pulling his punches but Fritz still felt his legs go out from under him and he fell to the dirt kicking up a cloud of dust.

“Ouch... I... think... that’s... enough... for... me,” Fritz wheezed while lying on his back and gasping for air. “Sid’s… turn”

“He’s practising with Lynn right now,” Bert informed the downed Fritz.

“Greg... then,” Fritz tried to smile as he imagined Greg enduring this same punishment.

“Good idea I’ll get Toby too, he can't stay huddled with Jane for the rest of the morning,” Bert agreed easily, wiping his sweaty brow with the cuff of his yellowed shirt.

Fritz watched and tried to recover as Bert strode off to find the guys, humming his little marching song as he went.

As he lay there he thought of the other Technique book. The Observations and Impressions of an Officer Contending in an Asymmetrical Conflict: The Training Method and Guide to Effective Strategic Engagement and Skirmishing by Theodore Flynte, or as Fritz had started to call it ‘The Observations’ had an eclectic mix of lessons and drills only some of which were of use at the moment.

He compiled a list of those he and Sid had thought most useful in his mind, spear drills, sprinting and scattering lessons seemed most promising. Stealth they had covered, as much of it they had learnt the hard way on the streets. The tracking and scouting section held a particular interest to Fritz and he had already learnt a few tricks from its pages. The real gold though was the interesting tricks it outlined for causing the most suffering and debilitation on enemies by targeting non-vital vulnerabilities in order to slow, stall or ‘bleed’ a powerful opponent.

Unfortunately for Fritz, The Observations didn’t contain any skills or drills for rapier-like weapons, which made sense rapier weren’t exactly a common tool of war or monster hunting. The reason being that they were often too delicate even though they could pierce an opponent's armour or tough hide the blade might just snap if hit with too much force. This could be remedied with enchantment and mythic metals but as they were beyond expensive and they remained in the purview of the nobility or wealthy.

Fritz’s father had one of his own that he said he had received as a wedding gift from the King himself, though they had lost it in the ransacking of his estate. Probably looted by some thug guild enforcer and pawned for beer money, Fritz thought sourly, his mood darkening by the minute.

He remembered that shining silver blade with that bright line of cyan light that ran down the sword's centre. Even then he could tell the edge had an ephemeral quality of sharpness, like it wholly existed just to pierce all that lay before it.

Fritz forced his thoughts away from the blade and back to the book, he tried to read the pages but they looked blurry to his suddenly wet eyes. He wiped away at the treacherous liquid and focused again on the words, again they didn’t make sense to his darkly spiralling mind. He gritted his teeth and controlled his breathing slowing his furious heart, dousing his burning emotions and pushing away at the heavy hollowness in his soul.

He was Fritz again after a few minutes of breathing and suppression, the mad and wonderful Fritz, he sighed in relief. That was a close one, he thought and reoriented his eyes onto the Technique book and found something interesting.

It had a guide on how to detect these non-vital weak points but most of it seemed self-explanatory to Fritz, he had already been doing something similar even if was just in the heat of a battle. Still, A little bit more knowledge here or there could be the difference between life or death in a Spire or out of it.

After they had tried their hand at sparring and the watch was being handled by Jane, Fritz told them of his and Sid’s plan to run them through both The Observation's the drills and The Arte Pugilist until either the food supplies ran out or they learnt all they could. It was met with groans but no one had any serious complaints as they all knew it would help their survival chances.

The rest of the day passed in somewhat of a haze, with them all training the Techniques then resting up, eating, then training again then resting up, eating then training again, on and on. How many hours or even days they spent practising and drilling none could tell, they all went through watches three times over, only sometimes bothered by packs of goblins.

When the goblins came, the crew found they could be easily repelled with both the barricade blocking their assaults and the hail of spears, knives, arrows and sling stones hurled their way. Leaving split, speared and mangled bodies in the wake of their failed assaults.

The mingling of the scents of days-old rotting goblin flesh and decomposing beetle had found the barricade being summarily re-dubbed as the Stinkwall. But in reality, the whole chamber had begun to reek, as they were immersed, pickled really, in the wretched stench.

Sometime after one of Fritz and Bert’s sweaty struggling unarmed sparring sessions Bert let out a cry of joy as he arose from his sanctum, “I got it! One out of three Techniques. Arte Pugilist Novice!” The man was near tears and Fritz slammed into him with a triumphant embrace, then gifted Bert with the proper series of claps on the back.

Bert's face once clean-shaven like the other men but now covered on a subtle golden stubble, was cracked in a wide grin and he threw his first into the air in exuberance. His shirt's cuff made a snapping sound as it reached its apex, much to Bert's delight.

“It's already working it seems,” Bert exclaimed happily as he flurried out a punch-punch-kick combination at the air, all whooshing and cracking with the speed and force of his strikes. Fritz didn’t need his enhanced perception to see the effect it was having on Bert's fighting ability, it was like he was now a professional instead of an enthusiastic amateur. His strikes cleaner and more precise than ever before.

Fritz grinned along with Bert, Bert’s mood seemed to be infectious as the crew gathered to watch his new Technique exuberantly displayed. After a small amount of applause, Lynn immediately took him by the arm and led him off to show him the finer points of the style. Which he did graciously, teaching her to unlock the technique in barely half an hour. It seemed even at a novice level, a technique was far easier to teach if you had already unlocked and understood its secrets.

Strangely enough, Naomi was the next to learn the Arte Pugilist, though maybe it wasn’t that strange considering her Flurry Ability. Veronica was next to achieve the technique along with Greg, Jane and Toby.

Fritz and Sid had the hardest time learning the style, Bert said this was because Fritz was too flashy and Sid was too furious. Fritz attempted too many feints, and flourishes, not committing to his strikes properly. While Sid would relentlessly assault his opponent, not looking for escapes or dodges.

Fritz was frustrated that Greg of all people had learnt the Technique quicker than him, the others were fine, but Greg? Then man was hard-headed through and through.

“Doesn’t that mean that you’re just more stubborn than he is?” Sid asked as he complained to him about their shared predicament.

“I’m not stubborn,” Fritz retorted stubbornly. “Or, maybe I am,” Fritz said petulantly. “But what about you? You just go mad whenever someone attempts to spar with you.”

Sid sighed out a pensive breath, thought a moment, and spoke. “It's a safety thing, make it not worth it to fight me. Always give more than you get, then you get a reputation. Then they wont fight you. It's worked so far.”

“I can attest to the validity of that,” Fritz said rubbing at a phantom tightness around his neck. “But no one here wants to hurt you, you should try clearing your mind of that.”

“That’s not how it works Fritz,” Sid growled, scowling in Fritz's direction. “It’s deep and it's part of what made me safe on those streets. I don’t have a tight-knit gang like you, I’ve fended for myself, I’ve been alone.”

There was a furious, bitter cadence to Sid’s words that cowed Fritz into silence, and he felt stupid for what he had said. He supposed he should apologise. But he let the silence wear on for a moment too long.

Sid stood and strode off without another word, anger and a determination writ plainly on his soft featured, smooth face. Leaving Fritz to sit alone. He rubbed his hands over his stubbled chin, contemplating his mistake, his failures and also feeling he was missing something. Really, he felt he was missing a lot.

The crew were gathered and practising a scattering exercise from the Observations Technique book when suddenly Fritz felt a profound ripple in his sanctum. He called the exercise to a halt and told everyone to rest as he checked out what was going on inside him. Bert smiled at him knowingly but said nothing as he drank from his water-skin, they were starting to run low.

Fritz focused, and let himself be pulled inward towards the cold star in his chest. He was falling and spinning then he stood still on muddy ground. The rain still fell softly in his sanctum and the place looked the same as before. The willow stood tall swaying in a soft breeze, countless drops of water dripping off its outermost leaves and onto the muddy grounds that were still littered with deep puddles.

Now that he looked though, the place had changed subtly, the once randomly strewn puddles now seemed to be placed more strategically. They had been dug so that one must weave and wander so as not to fall into one while approaching the willow or the pavilion beneath its protective canopy. They had been made into an obstacle, an almost moat to protect the castle that was his willow.

Fritz smiled at the realisation feeling as though he had achieved something great, now all there was to do was check his Spire sheet to be sure he had acquired the Technique. He called on his Sanctum “Spire Readout.”

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Spire Readout

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Name: Francis Hightide

Level: 1

Path: ---

Strain: Human

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Attributes

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Strength: 0

Agility: 3

Endurance: 3

Perception: 9

Focus: 3

Memory: 3

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Advanced Attributes

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Activated 1/3

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Stone Pit

Gouge the stone, shift the ground, instant craters, holes abound.

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Passive 0/3

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Trait 0/3

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---

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Path 0/3

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---

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Technique 1/3

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The Observations (Novice)

Whittle away, scatter survive, poor prevail, covertly thrive.

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Strain 0/3

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Huh, it shortened the title automatically, Fritz mused. I wonder if it can tell me more. He concentrated on the Technique, he could feel it, a subtle shade of invisible light colouring his Sanctum’s brilliance. As he did the idea and concepts rushed into his mind again giving him the impression of a description, then the information appeared in glyphs of silvery light he could read.

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Technique

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The Observations (Novice)

Whittle away, scatter survive, poor prevail, covertly thrive.

This Technique grants minor benefits to stealth, tracking, running, attrition and debilitating effects and Abilities.

Abilities gained and Evolved are more likely to be influenced with these effects.

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You read, practised and understood the Techniques in “The Observations and Impressions of an Officer Contending in an Asymmetrical Conflict: The Training Method and Guide to Effective Strategic Engagement and Skirmishing by Theodore Flynte”

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I was mostly right about the Techniques focus, but minor benefits? What does that even mean? Not for the first time Fritz was frustrated that he hadn’t paid more attention to his father's lessons, though even if he had, he doubted he’d ever been told about the intricacies of Techniques.

Fritz resolved to find an Ability Tutor or Spire Scholar to help him understand what this all meant if he survived the Spire that is. Even if it was bound to be prohibitively expensive, still, it would be worth the price to Fritz.

As it was he would just muddle through like the rest of the urchins and poorer folk with no access to the esteemed institutes and universities that taught the well-to-do all they needed to know about their Attributes, Abilities, Paths and traits. They would often also learn a few choice techniques ready to be activated and understood once they had cleared their first floor.

Fritz sighed bitterly, realising that sighing was becoming a bad habit and one he didn’t want to reinforce so he let his mind wander away from the what-ifs and the have-nots and resurfaced to the real world.

“Well?” Bert asked simply.

“Hark! Brave followers and idle knaves!” Fritz called out addressing the entire chamber with every ounce of eloquence he possessed, as he felt they deserved a little speech along with the good news. They gathered around Fritz with questioning or long suffering looks on their faces depending for how long they’d known him.

“These days have been trying on body, mind and soul, but lo see that I have mastered The Observations at a Novice level and soon you will all too. Rave and rejoice! Only a few more drills, sprints and practises and we will all be skirmishers beyond compare and ready to leave our reeking, revolting refuge. To move onwards and upwards to heights we have been told to never dream of but dared to dream anyway. Be happy and hardy, just one last push and then to the third floor and to freedom.”

Fritz let his voice fall to a quiet solemn tone, an entreaty to their desire to survive. He looked around at their faces and saw the resolution harden in their eyes. Naomi, Veronica and Jane also had tears forming under that resolution. Oops, maybe I got a little too emotional? Fritz chastised himself as he found his eyes were also starting to wet.

He turned away, brushing his eyes with his shirt but hiding it by pretending to wipe his brow, and yelled, “Sprinting positions! Hop to it!”

The others startled, then followed his brusque command, falling into line and returning to the drills. They toiled away inspired by Fritz's impromptu speech and running themselves ragged, their efforts were rewarded, Sid, Toby and Veronica got the Technique by the end of the hour. Bert and the others got it some time later and then all that was left was Sid and Fritz to finally understand the Arte Pugilist.

The goblins had stopped assaulting them at least four watches ago which put Fritz on edge as it felt suspicious. He put it out of his mind for now he needed to learn this unarmed Technique and he hadn’t time nor the will to go hunting for goblins.

The hours dragged on, Fritz was sparring with Greg, trying his best to fight his instincts, his already ingrained fighting style led him to feint, dodge and distract rather than fight head-on like the Arte Pugilist wanted. Even Sid had his breakthrough an hour earlier and was sitting watching Fritz and Greg’s bout. Sid still had a mote of anger sparked in the self-satisfaction of his bright blue eyes as they tracked Fritz’s tricky movements in quiet judgement.

“Step in not out,” Greg grumbled in frustration as Fritz leapt backwards from a slow straight punch.

“You’re fancy-lad training is showing. No guts, no grit, just a soft scaredy-skulg who don’t wanna risk getting hit. Get over here and fight,” Greg demanded gruffly, motioning Fritz to come within his reach.

Fritz didn’t take the bait, he and Greg had a somewhat adversarial relationship and that’s why Bert thought to spar them against each other. They didn’t pull their punches as much as the others would and Bert was hoping to force Fritz to use the Technique properly. It galled Fritz to be taunted and knocked down repeatedly, but they were right in that he couldn’t grasp the Arte Pugilist and its subtleties or lack thereof. Because of some ineffable quality of his already established darting, duelling style.

The Arte Pugilist required its user to stay within reach and minimise the damage you took but Fritz just couldn’t seem to see the logic. Why stay in reach and dodge when you can just stay out of range and not be in danger of being hit at all?

Fritz was about to retort to Greg’s insult when suddenly there was a crashing of dirt behind him, opposite the Stinkwall. Sid spun as did Fritz. Taking advantage of the distraction, Greg charged his back and landed a solid painful blow to Fritz’s spine. Fritz lost his feet falling hard onto the rough gravel.

He raised his head to search the area he heard the commotion coming from and saw something that made his blood run cold. Goblins, lots of goblins.