Spring watered herself for twenty minutes before returning to the room. She noted the maids had left, leaving behind a steaming hot breakfast. However, she did not stop to eat, and instead entered her wardrobe to don her new training outfit.
That maid has common sense. Spring nodded in approval while examining the thick, cotton clothes with six subtle, deep pockets, long leggings, and long sleeves, obscuring her entire body from prying eyes. Something a decent young miss ought to wear to protect her modesty.
Once dressed, she examined the table with seven cloche-covered plates, set for two. She lifted the metal covers one by one, finding everything a young woman undergoing harsh physical training might need. The food was rich in protein and carbohydrates for energy and to aid muscle growth.
For most bloom-folk species, Spring included, the meal was largely a waste. She would have appreciated several fist-sized rocks full of proper nutrients much more than the fruits, breads, dairy, eggs, and lean meats before her.
Hmmm? Is it just me, or is today’s breakfast slightly larger than yesterday’s?
Spring noted the peculiarity, but did not consider what it might have meant. Instead, she lamented the difference in bloom-folk and human development. While human strength increased through tearing and regenerating of muscles, such an approach caused weak points, irregular growth, and deformities for plants.
Bloom-folk grew stronger by compounding layers upon layers of increasingly tough flesh, compressing it into a sturdy frame over the course of years or decades. Body tempering she had in plan was a supplement and a quick alternative, but Spring temporarily lacked the resources.
Another thing I must consider is whether to place maroon-charged mana crystals into my pitcher or into the composter. Both have their merits. If I put them into my water supply, I will fully use the maroon mana, which will slowly seep into the water and saturate my body.
Feeding the composter means losing half the mana. But after several years pass, once it accumulates enough mana, it would spontaneously evolve and become my symbiont. However, such evolution is random. I could prod the composter towards desirable upgrades, but I don’t know what it had experienced before coming into my possession. It may have starved, suffered injury or disease, and it may elect to evolve to prevent or better combat those abnormal conditions rather than benefit the caring host.
Besides, should I ever add a specific property though grafting, it would revert to being a graft…
Spring failed to decide even after finishing breakfast and heading outside for a stroll around the Searing family’s garden. Unfortunately, the Searings did not keep neatly arranged piles of mineral-rich supplements Spring needed. She found no compost heaps either, guessing they kept them in an isolated yard, or purchased it from a reliable supplier.
After failing to find anything suitable, Spring went over to the Searings’ carriage courtyard and took a ride to school.
As expected, they hate me. Spring immediately noticed the majority of her classmates glaring at her, while the timid ones, the future protected, just stared at the ground, taking neither side. Mira met Spring’s gaze for a split-second, then lowered it in the subservient manner of those who got crushed when their betters fought.
“Morning, class,” Madam Wartorn greeted them from afar, looking Spring in the eye and treating her no differently than the rest of the students. “Start running.”
After three hours of high-paced trot, Wartorn ordered them to stop, and called them into the school building for the first aid class. Spring took her seat and heard a loud squish her soggy once-fluffy clothes made, pressed between her rear and the chair’s waxed wood.
She looked down, noting how, unlike her classmates’, her clothes were not see-through and offered her limited privacy the lower class was not entitled to.
“Today we will learn how to save injured comrades.” Wartorn drew Springs attention. “Listen carefully. I will repeat these instructions multiple times. When we go into the weald next week, you will encounter retired hunters who will act injured and you will help them. For each correct solution, you will get five points, for each incorrect one you will lose ten points.”
Why not use one and two points? To teach us counting? But Spring kept the thought to herself, and Wartorn continued speaking. She gave theoretical instructions, demonstrating the treatment methods on Mira, who volunteered for the role.
“When your comrade is wounded or poisoned, use a tourniquet to sever the blood circulation. This will keep the wounded from bleeding out, and prevent the poison from spreading. The simplest tourniquet you can find is your belt…”
That statement is so dubious and depends on the circumstances. Severing the flow of blood for too long might damage or kill the limb, potentially inflicting greater damage than the wound. As for isolating poison, it would remain concentrated in an area, inflicting greater damage, while at other times the sudden rush of blood, following the tourniquet’s release, might cause additional damage. Most probable is the combination of the two…
Spring kept listening to the instructor’s layman’s fumbling without feeling the need to correct the woman. She memorized the desired approach to amateurishly splinting broken limbs which risked permanent limps and life-threatening blood-clots, as well as how to rely on medical malpractice to kill or maim humans who had suffered heavy trauma. She did not care about those mistakes, but deep down she was horrified that humans did not seem to care either.
I guess they believe the best path towards survival is to not get mortally wounded in the first place? Which isn’t wrong. But I wonder whether this Madam Wartorn would have walked on two legs today, had a properly trained healer helped her when she had suffered her injury?
Eventually, the lame instructor reached the end of her dubious first aid tips and dismissed the class.
Spring waited for everyone to leave, giving Mira ample chance to come and talk to her. The young woman, however, wasted her effort and left without approaching.
Damn. I wanted to ask her to buy some rocks for the composter, but I guess I’ll have to wait a while before I start reinforcing my body. I’d go to the market myself, if I had money. This is ridiculous. I have no allowance, and I’m certain the Searings monitor my every move outside the estate.
What can I do to escape this stalemate? Spring wondered, but failed to find the answer.
The next day, while other classes fought over maroon coins, Spring’s classmates ignored them and walked by without paying attention to the spectacle. Spring was about to join the free-for-all, when Wartorn shouted, “Miss Searing, you may only fight your fellow students over resources. Each class has its own budget, and you cannot interfere with their fights. If you take part, you will suffer a penalty both in coin and canes.”
Spring nodded with a cold, indifferent expression, but inwardly she raged. I literally can’t do anything until the next week’s weald trip.
She suffered for a week. Her only progress was the realization that whatever she ate for her meals she would get more of the next time, what she left behind, the maids brought less.
She calibrated her meals using this finding, getting larger servings of fish, eggs, and organ meats at the expense of poultry, breads, and dairy. She consumed fish whole, gaining the most benefits from the bones. However, the minerals she gained from human food were insufficient to support her tempering. And, so, Friday came.
“Alright, calm down,” Wartorn said to her sweat-drenched students. “Form a line, so I can test your mana.”
One by one the hunter school’s students tested their mana. Five, Mira included, remained at the initial stage’s maroon mana. Even though only a month had passed, everyone present knew those five would get demoted at the end of the year, becoming protected. Thirty-three others had advanced a single stage, upgrading their mana into carmine.
The orange-haired bully called Rowny had advanced twice and reached vermillion mana.
Moron, Spring watched the smug smile of a man playing the system, ultimately playing himself and cautioned herself. I need to use their rules for my benefit, but once the time comes, I must remember to break them, otherwise I will entrap myself.
Finally, it was her turn to inject mana into the mana crystal.
“Scarlet?” Wartorn gasped, raising her gaze to meet Spring’s eyes. “Congratulations, Miss Searing. You’re one step from graduating and becoming an official hunter.”
I will graduate when I reach the peak of level one? That’s bad. Then Jasmine’s parents would lock me away at the mansion. I need to stockpile mana crystals to advance, but stay at the late stage for as long as possible. At least until I get my free grafts and gather enough resources to temper my body three-four times.
Spring smiled and nodded. “Thank you, Madam Wartorn.”
The instructor nodded back.
“Alright. Now, I will take the ones who advanced at least once to pick their first grafts. The rest of you, work hard. If you upgrade your mana in the near future, you will get your own grafts,” Wartorn said with obviously perfunctory bearing, before standing from her seat. “Follow me to the herbarium.”
Spring watered herself for twenty minutes before returning to the room. She noted the maids had left, leaving behind a steaming hot breakfast. However, she did not stop to eat, and instead entered her wardrobe to don her new training outfit.
That maid has common sense. Spring nodded in approval while examining the thick, cotton clothes with six subtle, deep pockets, long leggings, and long sleeves, obscuring her entire body from prying eyes. Something a decent young miss ought to wear to protect her modesty.
Once dressed, she examined the table with seven cloche-covered plates, set for two. She lifted the metal covers one by one, finding everything a young woman undergoing harsh physical training might need. The food was rich in protein and carbohydrates for energy and to aid muscle growth.
For most bloom-folk species, Spring included, the meal was largely a waste. She would have appreciated several fist-sized rocks full of proper nutrients much more than the fruits, breads, dairy, eggs, and lean meats before her.
Hmmm? Is it just me, or is today’s breakfast slightly larger than yesterday’s?
Spring noted the peculiarity, but did not consider what it might have meant. Instead, she lamented the difference in bloom-folk and human development. While human strength increased through tearing and regenerating of muscles, such an approach caused weak points, irregular growth, and deformities for plants.
Bloom-folk grew stronger by compounding layers upon layers of increasingly tough flesh, compressing it into a sturdy frame over the course of years or decades. Body tempering she had in plan was a supplement and a quick alternative, but Spring temporarily lacked the resources.
Another thing I must consider is whether to place maroon-charged mana crystals into my pitcher or into the composter. Both have their merits. If I put them into my water supply, I will fully use the maroon mana, which will slowly seep into the water and saturate my body.
Feeding the composter means losing half the mana. But after several years pass, once it accumulates enough mana, it would spontaneously evolve and become my symbiont. However, such evolution is random. I could prod the composter towards desirable upgrades, but I don’t know what it had experienced before coming into my possession. It may have starved, suffered injury or disease, and it may elect to evolve to prevent or better combat those abnormal conditions rather than benefit the caring host.
Besides, should I ever add a specific property though grafting, it would revert to being a graft…
Spring failed to decide even after finishing breakfast and heading outside for a stroll around the Searing family’s garden. Unfortunately, the Searings did not keep neatly arranged piles of mineral-rich supplements Spring needed. She found no compost heaps either, guessing they kept them in an isolated yard, or purchased it from a reliable supplier.
After failing to find anything suitable, Spring went over to the Searings’ carriage courtyard and took a ride to school.
As expected, they hate me. Spring immediately noticed the majority of her classmates glaring at her, while the timid ones, the future protected, just stared at the ground, taking neither side. Mira met Spring’s gaze for a split-second, then lowered it in the subservient manner of those who got crushed when their betters fought.
“Morning, class,” Madam Wartorn greeted them from afar, looking Spring in the eye and treating her no differently than the rest of the students. “Start running.”
After three hours of high-paced trot, Wartorn ordered them to stop, and called them into the school building for the first aid class. Spring took her seat and heard a loud squish her soggy once-fluffy clothes made, pressed between her rear and the chair’s waxed wood.
She looked down, noting how, unlike her classmates’, her clothes were not see-through and offered her limited privacy the lower class was not entitled to.
“Today we will learn how to save injured comrades.” Wartorn drew Springs attention. “Listen carefully. I will repeat these instructions multiple times. When we go into the weald next week, you will encounter retired hunters who will act injured and you will help them. For each correct solution, you will get five points, for each incorrect one you will lose ten points.”
Why not use one and two points? To teach us counting? But Spring kept the thought to herself, and Wartorn continued speaking. She gave theoretical instructions, demonstrating the treatment methods on Mira, who volunteered for the role.
“When your comrade is wounded or poisoned, use a tourniquet to sever the blood circulation. This will keep the wounded from bleeding out, and prevent the poison from spreading. The simplest tourniquet you can find is your belt…”
That statement is so dubious and depends on the circumstances. Severing the flow of blood for too long might damage or kill the limb, potentially inflicting greater damage than the wound. As for isolating poison, it would remain concentrated in an area, inflicting greater damage, while at other times the sudden rush of blood, following the tourniquet’s release, might cause additional damage. Most probable is the combination of the two…
Spring kept listening to the instructor’s layman’s fumbling without feeling the need to correct the woman. She memorized the desired approach to amateurishly splinting broken limbs which risked permanent limps and life-threatening blood-clots, as well as how to rely on medical malpractice to kill or maim humans who had suffered heavy trauma. She did not care about those mistakes, but deep down she was horrified that humans did not seem to care either.
I guess they believe the best path towards survival is to not get mortally wounded in the first place? Which isn’t wrong. But I wonder whether this Madam Wartorn would have walked on two legs today, had a properly trained healer helped her when she had suffered her injury?
Eventually, the lame instructor reached the end of her dubious first aid tips and dismissed the class.
Spring waited for everyone to leave, giving Mira ample chance to come and talk to her. The young woman, however, wasted her effort and left without approaching.
Damn. I wanted to ask her to buy some rocks for the composter, but I guess I’ll have to wait a while before I start reinforcing my body. I’d go to the market myself, if I had money. This is ridiculous. I have no allowance, and I’m certain the Searings monitor my every move outside the estate.
What can I do to escape this stalemate? Spring wondered, but failed to find the answer.
The next day, while other classes fought over maroon coins, Spring’s classmates ignored them and walked by without paying attention to the spectacle. Spring was about to join the free-for-all, when Wartorn shouted, “Miss Searing, you may only fight your fellow students over resources. Each class has its own budget, and you cannot interfere with their fights. If you take part, you will suffer a penalty both in coin and canes.”
Spring nodded with a cold, indifferent expression, but inwardly she raged. I literally can’t do anything until the next week’s weald trip.
She suffered for a week. Her only progress was the realization that whatever she ate for her meals she would get more of the next time, what she left behind, the maids brought less.
She calibrated her meals using this finding, getting larger servings of fish, eggs, and organ meats at the expense of poultry, breads, and dairy. She consumed fish whole, gaining the most benefits from the bones. However, the minerals she gained from human food were insufficient to support her tempering. And, so, Friday came.
“Alright, calm down,” Wartorn said to her sweat-drenched students. “Form a line, so I can test your mana.”
One by one the hunter school’s students tested their mana. Five, Mira included, remained at the initial stage’s maroon mana. Even though only a month had passed, everyone present knew those five would get demoted at the end of the year, becoming protected. Thirty-three others had advanced a single stage, upgrading their mana into carmine.
The orange-haired bully called Rowny had advanced twice and reached vermillion mana.
Moron, Spring watched the smug smile of a man playing the system, ultimately playing himself and cautioned herself. I need to use their rules for my benefit, but once the time comes, I must remember to break them, otherwise I will entrap myself.
Finally, it was her turn to inject mana into the mana crystal.
“Scarlet?” Wartorn gasped, raising her gaze to meet Spring’s eyes. “Congratulations, Miss Searing. You’re one step from graduating and becoming an official hunter.”
I will graduate when I reach the peak of level one? That’s bad. Then Jasmine’s parents would lock me away at the mansion. I need to stockpile mana crystals to advance, but stay at the late stage for as long as possible. At least until I get my free grafts and gather enough resources to temper my body three-four times.
Spring smiled and nodded. “Thank you, Madam Wartorn.”
The instructor nodded back.
“Alright. Now, I will take the ones who advanced at least once to pick their first grafts. The rest of you, work hard. If you upgrade your mana in the near future, you will get your own grafts,” Wartorn said with obviously perfunctory bearing, before standing from her seat. “Follow me to the herbarium.”
