Finishing up the last of our packing, Berteim and I quickly gave our last farewells to Mr. Berteim and left.
As we began our way towards the forest, with the help of a map. Berteim wasn't well versed in map reading skills, so I taught him that the sun had a fixed location and located on the map where the sun rose, that he understood perfectly fine. It was when I tried teaching him how to find the relative position of where we were at, that he became lost.
Map reading skills aside, he was well equipped for the wilderness. I would have suspected he was half raised by nature if not for his well stocked pantry. His foraging skills were simply unparalleled to any of my teachers.
I doubt they could even hold a candle to his prowess at plant discernment and animal tracking.
Though the latter wasn't needed at the moment, and the former was useful for an easy snack while we trekked through the forest.
As we were walking he stopped me before I could walk into a poisonous bush. I was astonished that he could tell the difference as it all looked the same to me. But, invariably, the key difference was the leaf tips were slightly different.
When we finished the first day of travel and nightfall came I made a rudimentary campsite which we both agreed was sufficient enough and he started the fire.
The forest wasn't too dense nor was it too sparse.
It was cold outside, not yet in winter but also not the heat of spring.
We sat next to the fire and discussed what should be done the next day. He inventoried our supplies and estimated that to comfortably remain satiated throughout the next week we needed to hunt.
I pulled out the map and tried to judge our direction and distance. Relentlessly trained, everything was routine for me. Using the stars to get as well as the moon to get a rudimentary sense of direction. Another, more complicated method was used to estimate distance.
But all together, we were heading north properly and we covered less than half a day's worth despite using the full day to travel. Not ideal, but it was progress nonetheless.
Doing some simple calculations, the rest of the trip will be finished in roughly 3 weeks
Continuing to do planning while engaging with Berteim in light discussion.
After we finished our logistical rundown of supplies and the plan moving forward we broke for the night and went to sleep.
While I was asleep something nudged me. Thinking nothing of it, I moved my body to the other side; yet, the nudging continued. Until…
"Wake up!"
Berteim used his voice effectively to dispel any sort of drowsiness.
Veritably, I was wide awake now.
Forcing Berteim out, I changed and walked outside to find him holding sticks of similar length.
He threw one of the sticks at me and then readied himself.
He should mind his manners, to disrespect a noble like this was no different than throwing the glove down. Even if he wants to learn how to swing a sword, the first thing I need to ingrain into him is a core value to this discipline.
And that is: reading your opponent.
I readied the stick to my side and prepared. His swing, an overhead swing, was an easy dodge. His arms lowered left him in a position to be attacked; of course I would take advantage of this opportunity. A quick thrust into his side caused him great pain, making recoil and making me cringe slightly.
He shook off the jab and readied himself again. This time the stick was in a proper position held erect guarding his front, perhaps he was waiting to counter as he stanced since he made no effort to close the distance between us.
I held my stick at my waist in a deceptive grip. The sword was lowered and the blade hid behind me. It appeared as if I made no effort to guard my front, unlike him.
I walked closer to him, until he fell for my feint; my guard was intended to lure out impatient duelists to strike wherein I would parry his blow into a ripostle.
Unfortunately I fell victim to my own lesson.
The stick exploded on contact with Berteim's stick.
His insidious smile told me everything: he was as calculating as he was dim-witted.
As my stick came into contact with his, he covered his eyes while I didn't. Leaving me to bear the full might of the explosion.
To further add insult to injury, he made use of this surprise to attack while I was unequipped and blinded.
A hard strike to my head from his stick fell. It wasn't a very heavy stick so all it would leave was a welt; but still it stung. But what bit more than that strike was his cleverness.
I have to give it to him, maybe his sense of justice isn't all he's worth.
Of course after reprimanding him for his surprise attack, I gave him the praise he was due.
"That rotted stick, I could barely tell! If I were a real opponent I would be dead. Though, if we had real swords then the tables would be turned. Berteim it's good that you recognize the benefits of deception. However, your strikes are too telling."
Berteim looked confused, how could something like swinging a sword tell anything?
"You look where you're going to strike and your feet tell me where you wish to go. But, these are all things that could easily be remedied. You did fairly well for a commoner holding a 'blade' for the first time."
We'd have much more time to work on our sword skills together as our trip would take.
After the brief sparring match we ate a mix of fresh and dried food. Neither of us were cooks, so a basic meal was sumptuous in this wilderness.
Finishing breakfast, we broke camp and began to head out again.
As we began our second day of adventure, Berteim began to converse.
"Why did you act like that in the village?"
"What do you mean?"
"I mean why did you thrash that poor man's store, he didn't do anything to you! Not only that, but the ruthless rumors going around that you were like a dog."
I quietly reflected as I thought back to that time. In my life my rogue streak wasn't for long; though I wish it wasn't as long as it was. Before I became so thuggish I was usually isolated within the D'arby estate being mentored, taught, or encumbered by something else.
"Verily, most stories are multifaceted lies. Truths might be mixed in, though what remains is the individual perspective that becomes multiplied by the collective thoughts of those who witness and those who listen. At the end it will have become a molested and aggrieved idea of what originally happened."
"So what happened?"
"I beat him up."
Berteim became red in the face after I gave him an earful of perspective. His boyish looks and frustrated looks made him look funny rather than intimidating; though I suppose his current appearance is to pay back for his trick earlier.
Before he could lecture me that beating someone up is wrong, I gave him the right response.
"It is true that I beat him up, but like the head butler this man was not a good man. He made the unfortunate decision of attempting to swindle me, others, and most importantly my father. His store, something of a sell-all, was something that wasn't as it appeared. He was a middle man for abhorrent business deals and trading under the cover of night."
Truely, I don't give the D'arby barony enough credit for producing these characters. But it's mostly Derren creating these monsters.
The underbelly of the D'arby barony is wholly corrupted by him, I believed. One stone unturned led to a myriad of other discoveries.
I wasn't alone, but my partner has long since gone to Duke Yillieus' territory. Without him it became harder to act. Though, under the guise of a rebellious youth not many things became inaccessible to me.
Finding Derren's net was akin to waking up and realizing that there had been a dagger up to your throat the whole time you were asleep. Staying would only bring the dagger closer, but if I left the D'arby barony completely then it would eventually be swallowed by Derren.
Thus the importance of my mission became readily apparent.
Not only was I taking on the selfless task of dismantling a long corrupted web spurn by my once butler.
I also had to exceed the name I was stripped of.
Because I know the truth.