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The negotiations didn't actually take that long. It was rather the process of information sharing that took up the most time between the arrival of the two Trydans and their departure. Lock watched the two of the sail away on their boat afterwards, curiously noting that the thing didn't have an obvious means of propulsion

He had more important things to think about however. Namely the question if he should act on some of the tidbits of information that he'd received. He was now formally betrothed, which was an odd thought in on itself, but it had been a good deal, so he didn't dwell on it overly much. With this betrothal however, came several privileges. He was an honorary Trydan now, which meant that he would always be able to get free room and board for himself and up to one vassal at Trydan properties which had the space. Well he needed to sign the contract first, Archibald hadn't brought one with him, which was why Lock was swimming back to the city tomorrow. At the same time he would also receive the materials necessary to teach Kamin, and the girl himself.

Wait, he couldn't just swim, the documents would be destroyed. Fishing uncle had promised to come by every four days, today was the third, so he could just wait for him. Problem solved.

He heard bushes rustling. Ah, yes, Harald. He still needed to train the boy for another week or so.

Wait. Free room and lodging for himself and one vassal. Lock turned around to glance at Harald who'd returned from wherever he'd been and was now awkwardly shuffling about with a grimace. Had it really been a good idea to take responsibility for another child? The one he had now was confusing and care-intensive enough. Lemmings thankfully, was easy enough once one got to know him.

Did day-cares exist in this day and age? He'd have to look into it.

“Who were those guys?” Harald eventually asked, awkwardly, fully living up to his moniker of mentally challenged cousin. Their relationship was purely transactional, asking about personal matters. How rude. It didn't matter, Lock could tell him. He'd know soon enough anyway once Kamin joined them, or they joined her at the compound.

“The family of my fiancée.” Lock eventually said, making Harald look at him dubiously.

“You're betrothed?” He asked stupidly.

Lock huffed and stood up, going where he'd dropped his wooden sword earlier. “Get ready for an ass beating.” He told Harald, who paled while scrambling for his own practice sword from where it lay in the wet grass. He shambled around in a defensive position until he noticed that Lock was making no move to attack. After several confused glances Lock's patience started wearing thin. “We're trying to develop your killing intent here, so use it, and attack me.”

For all his failings Harald tried his best, he really did. His best just wasn't good enough. Collapsing on the ground after the fourteenth repetition of spar and meditate, the boy capitulated. Lock hadn't even needed to say anything this time.

Good, at least he was starting to realize that incessant training was actively detrimental.

“We've cleared the biggest hurdle to be perfectly honest.” Lock eventually admitted. “Unlocking killing intent was the hard part if you ask me. Honing something after you've attained it is usually is much easier.” He finished, and Harald tiredly nodded.

The day was slowly nearing its end, so he ordered Harald to gather some firewood, a hard task considering the vibrancy of the forest around them. There weren’t many dead branches lying around.

He used the time to think about further lesson plans. With both of them learning the skill killing intent the training had two new directions it could go. Harald learning how to actively use it, and learning how to resist it effectively.

Resistance training wouldn't be that useful, Lock doubted there would be anyone in the tournament capable of using it.

The problem was that Lock was very unfamiliar with the skill. He didn't know if exposing his pupil to killing intent would help him strengthen his own. He didn't know what the best way to hone the skill was in general. It relied on willpower and kill count. The latter option was right out, the former, well, how did one train willpower?

He decided that he'd have to interrogate Harald about his understanding of the skill once he came back.

-/-

“You have some experience with the skill now.” Lock said as he slowly stirred the fish-soup they would be eating for dinner. “Tell me what you think about it.”

“It's odd.” Harald said almost instinctively. “I don't know how to generate killing intent on my own, but with the skill it's like unsheathing a sword. A sword that soaks up all my murderous intentions and that I then attempt to cut people with.”

What a droll metaphor, Lock thought to himself. His was obviously much better. Murderous ejaculation. Comedy gold. He held back a laugh. Not the time.

“Well, I can't rightfully say if it also feels like being cut with a sword of murderous intent as I, to be perfectly frank, hardly feel it.” He said, watching Harald's face undergo a series of changes. Insulted, contemplative, and then glad. “For curiosity's sake, how does being affected by my killing intent feel?” Lock asked.

“It's horrifying.” Harald admitted, no bravado in his words, a slightly far away look in his eye. Lock raised an eyebrow, but Harald didn't seem to notice.

“It's like being held under freezing water.” He said after a few moments of silence. “I can't hear nor see correctly, the cold is biting at my skin, penetrating all the way to my heart.” Harald's eyes grew glassy. “The water, its pressing into me from all directions, trying to squeeze me into a small ball of flesh and bones. The pressure is unbearable. Images of how exactly I'm about to be killed keep flashing through my head. I want to die. Just to end it all.” He finished, hunched in on himself, a few lonesome tears streaming down his face.

Lock blushed and looked away.

“Don't feel sorry, it was necessary.” Harold wheezed out, misinterpreting the gesture.

“I-diot.” Lock stuttered. “Stop trying to flatter me. I'm not going to make your training any easier ya hear me.” He mumbled, genuinely abashed that someone had such high regards for his ability. He buried his face in his hands to hide his expression. When was the last time someone had complimented him so brazenly?

Harald stared at him, a broken smile on his face. “Anything but that.” He drew a long breath. “I think, I think that the best way to train my killing intent is to pit it against yours as we spar. It's how we unlocked it in the first place.”

Lock suddenly remembered something. “Hey, there's a trick to killing intent by the way, I don't know if you've been using it. You can target only one person instead of blasting it in all directions. Which in hindsight makes no sense since you're not trying to kill the environment in the first place. Concentrating it naturally makes it stronger.” He told Harald, who stared blankly over Lock's shoulder, absent-mindedly nodding.

“Makes sense.” he whispered. “So that, killing intent that you exposed me to during the spar where I unlocked my own. That was concentrated right?”

Lock bit his lip considering if he should be honest here or not, before eventually deciding to save some of Harald's self-worth. “Yeah, it was.”

“You know, you could just kill someone with that.” Harald joked and an idea sprung to Lock's mind.

“I do kill with it actually. I think it gives small animals heart attacks.” He shared, which made Harald choke on the spoon of soup he'd just tried. “I think that could be a great test to rate the effectiveness of our training. Which animals you can kill with intent alone. We can start with ants or something, and work our way up. Oh and regarding your idea about being under my influence as you train the skill, it makes sense, we'll definitely try it tomorrow.”

Harald suddenly paled even further for some reason.

-/-

“Are you sure he's fine?” fishing uncle asked as he worriedly gazed at the slightly pale Harald gazing into nothing while standing on the deck of his small ship. Lock waved him off. He'd found a way to hold back with the killing intent, only concentrating about a tenth to Harald, and thus he thought that the boy didn't have anything to complain about.

“He better be considering how much I held back.” He said to his uncle, who shrugged and stuffed something green into his mouth. He started chewing.

“What was that?” Lock asked, curious.

“Specially prepared coca leaves. New product being cultivated by some guild, can't remember the name. It's pretty relaxing. You want some?” He asked, pulling a few more out of his ratty trousers and offering them to Lock, who could only stare blankly at the substance.

“No thanks, I'm too young to become impotent.” He commented, shook his head and wandered over to the sail, where he sat down.

Watching how fishing uncle ran over to the sideboard of his ship and spit the leaves out of his mouth was pretty funny, but what bothered him most was the fact that one of the people he cared about had actually started consuming what the average person might refer to as drugs. On one hand it was good to see that the introduction of Happy Time to the market was starting to have long lasting consequences. On the other hand...

Well he'd just never thought anyone that he knew had the potential of becoming a user. They were all fairly smart people, they had to know that there was always a price to pay.

He sighed. Telling his uncle about the dangers of mind-altering substances was not how he thought his day was going to go. It was entirely his fault though and he had to suck it up, he guessed.

---

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