Tragedy of Divinity

Chapter 53: The Training Grounds and a Lesson in Currency

The morning light filtered through the trees as Lucian, Seraphine, and Quintin made their way out of the tavern and toward the outskirts of Loyrn. The town, still stirring from its early hours, seemed unaware of the looming task ahead of the trio. But for now, their minds were focused elsewhere.

Quintin, eager to test out his newly acquired twin revolvers, led the way with a grin on his face. The weapons were still pristine, their polished barrels gleaming in the sunlight. He had been itching for an opportunity to train with them, to get a feel for their weight and recoil.

"You know, I think I'm gonna get some real work in today," Quintin said, bouncing on his heels as he walked. "Maybe I'll even hit something this time."

Lucian gave him a glance, unamused. "Don't get too cocky. There's still plenty you need to learn about those revolvers."

Seraphine, walking a few paces behind, smirked. "I think he's fine. Just don't start shooting at anything that moves, Quintin."

Quintin chuckled, his excitement barely contained. "Don't worry, Seraphine. I've got this."

They reached the small farm-like training grounds on the outskirts of Loyrn. It wasn't much to look at—just a patch of open land with a few wooden targets and makeshift dummies positioned at various distances. The air smelled of earth and fresh hay, and there was a quiet serenity to the place, interrupted only by the occasional call of birds or the rustling of trees in the wind.

Quintin wasted no time. He approached one of the wooden targets, positioned about thirty paces away, and drew one of his revolvers with practiced ease. His fingers tightened around the handle as he steadied the gun, eyeing the target carefully.

"Alright," he muttered to himself. "Let's see what I can do."

He fired a quick shot, the revolver's kickback not as harsh as he had expected. The bullet struck the wooden dummy's torso, sending splinters flying. A smile spread across his face. "Not bad. Let's see if I can do better."

He aimed again, fired another shot, and then another. The rhythm of the shots came faster, his confidence growing with each pull of the trigger. He was hitting his mark every time—well, mostly.

"Five for five," Quintin said with a grin, reloading both chambers and stepping back a little. He felt the satisfaction of a job well done, even if it was just with a couple of wooden targets.

Just as he was about to take another shot, a soft tap on his shoulder caused him to jump, spinning around with his revolver raised. His heart raced, and his eyes widened as he saw the familiar figure of Guild Master Alaric standing just behind him, looking perfectly composed as always.

"Easy there, Quintin," Alaric chuckled, his glasses glinting in the sunlight as they slid down his nose.

Quintin quickly lowered his gun, embarrassed by his reaction. "Alaric! You startled me, man."

Alaric's faint smile never wavered. "I've noticed. That's the problem with getting too absorbed in your training, isn't it?"

Quintin gave a sheepish grin. "Guess I need to be more aware."

Alaric's eyes scanned the scene—Quintin, the wooden targets, the revolvers still in Quintin's hands—and then, with a smooth motion, he leaned forward slightly, his fingers tapping on the side of one of the revolvers.

"You've used six pieces, Quintin," Alaric remarked, his tone casual but edged with a certain knowledge.

Quintin blinked, confused. "Six pieces? What do you mean?"

Alaric chuckled softly, pushing his glasses up onto his nose. "Ah, you've been firing away, but you haven't been paying attention to the cost." He paused, letting the words sink in before continuing. "In Loyrn, every shot you take comes at a price. Literally. One bullet equals one piece—our local currency. You've just fired six pieces into those wooden targets."

Quintin's confusion deepened. "Wait, so… bullets cost money?"

"Exactly," Alaric said, nodding. "It's not like some magical realm where ammunition grows on trees. Every shot you take comes from your pocket, and if you're not careful, it could cost you a lot more than you're willing to pay."

Quintin looked down at the revolvers, his mind processing the information. "So… I just wasted six pieces? Just like that?"

Alaric raised an eyebrow. "It's not wasted if you've learned something from it. But yes, six pieces. Every shot, every bullet, has a cost associated with it. You need to be mindful of your ammunition, Quintin. You can't just go shooting for fun. When you're out in the field, you'll have limited resources. You can't afford to squander them."

Quintin sighed, the excitement from before dampened by the realization. "Well, that's a lot to think about. I mean, I thought I was just having some fun shooting at dummies…"

"And you can," Alaric said with a knowing smile. "But fun costs, my friend. Even the simplest of training exercises can rack up a bill."

Quintin scratched the back of his head, trying to absorb everything. He wasn't accustomed to this kind of practicality. Back home, bullets were a rare commodity, but here in Loyrn, everything had a price, and nothing was free.

"Alright," Quintin said, his voice laced with a bit of self-deprecation. "I'll keep that in mind. I guess I need to be a bit more strategic with my shots, huh?"

"Precisely," Alaric agreed. "And also, think about what you're shooting at. Don't waste ammo on targets that don't matter. Use your shots for things that actually count."

Quintin nodded, his grin returning, albeit with a bit more thought behind it. "Got it. So, no more wasting ammo on wooden dummies."

Alaric's smirk deepened. "Good. Now, let's see how you handle yourself in a real fight, where every piece truly counts."

Quintin's eyes lit up at the challenge, his previous embarrassment replaced by the familiar thrill of competition. "You're on, Alaric."

Seraphine, who had been watching the interaction from a distance, strolled up with an amused smile on her face. "Looks like someone just got a lesson in economics."

Lucian, still leaning against a nearby post with his arms crossed, added, "Better he learns now than in the middle of a fight."

Quintin shot both of them a playful glare before focusing back on Alaric. "Alright, I'm ready to make every shot count from now on. Let's see what you've got, Alaric."

Alaric's smile softened, though it never quite reached his eyes. "You'll get your chance, Quintin. But first, you need to master your craft. And that takes discipline. Something you'll find is in short supply when you start relying too much on firepower."

Quintin nodded, the weight of Alaric's words settling in. It wasn't just about pulling the trigger—it was about strategy, precision, and understanding the value of every action. In this world, where even the smallest mistake could cost you, there was no room for recklessness.

"Alright," Quintin said with renewed focus. "Let's get back to work."

With that, the training session resumed, but now, Quintin's perspective had shifted. Every shot, every movement, was calculated. He wasn't just training with his revolvers anymore—he was learning the cost of his actions, both in bullets and in life.

And with Alaric's words lingering in his mind, Quintin knew he was about to face a much more dangerous world than he'd ever imagined, well kinda, he had already faced some horrific monsters..