Chapter 4: Chapter 4: First Steps

After yet another night sleeping on the frigid floor, everyone gathered in the mine the next morning, having finished their breakfast, forming a circle around Agatha. All eyes were on her, expectant.

“Pay attention,” she said. “Using a pickaxe as a weapon isn’t that different from a sword or a blunt weapon.”

The miners looked at each other, confused.

“What I mean is that the fundamental principles for delivering a successful strike are the same.”

“And what are those fundamental principles? Please, teach us!” pleaded the elderly man with excitement.

“The first thing is stance. You need to plant your feet firmly on the ground, not too close together, not too far apart. Your stance is the trunk that helps the rest of your body deliver stronger blows when you attack your opponents. It also prevents you from being knocked down so easily,” Agatha explained, spreading her legs just enough to form a small arch.

Everyone mimicked Agatha’s movements with varying degrees of success. After correcting a few postures, she continued her explanation.

“The next part is very important. Most people think they know how to make a fist and punch someone, as if we were born with that knowledge…”

“But making a fist and punching is easy,” a miner interrupted.

“Oh really? Why don’t you come here and show us, then?” Agatha challenged.

Perplexed by her request, the miner hesitantly stepped into the center, his trembling legs moving one step at a time.

“Now try to hit me,” Agatha requested.

Startled and unsure how to react, the miner slowly raised his fist.

“Don’t hesitate! Hit me!”

Without thinking, surrendering entirely to her command, he clenched his fist tightly and swung it toward Agatha’s face. She didn’t try to dodge or block, and the punch landed solidly, but her body didn’t flinch in the slightest. She caught his wrist, keeping him within her reach, and launched a monstrously fast punch that stopped just short of his face. His legs shook like jelly, and when she let go, he collapsed to the ground.

“These are the consequences of poor technique! Just because it’s something simple that you’ve done hundreds of times doesn’t mean you’re doing it right or that you’ve mastered it. One can practice a bad move a hundred times and all they’ll get is a bad move. That’s why it’s essential to practice with proper technique, so your skills can grow the right way.”

Everyone nodded silently, recognizing the power behind that near-punch, which would’ve done serious damage if it had landed.

“The key to a good punch is not clenching your fist too tightly. And your thumb shouldn't stick out, nor should it be hidden behind your other fingers. This prevents serious injury to your hand without compromising attack power. This is especially important when you're holding a sword or any weapon. Gripping too hard can make the weapon slip from your hand upon impact, a tight grip is actually a weak grip.”

Agatha demonstrated by holding a pickaxe. Everyone noticed how her hand muscles didn’t tense at all, yet she held the pick with undeniable strength.

“I don’t believe a word you're saying. The tighter the grip, the stronger the weapon. That’s just simple logic, the tighter the knot, the harder it is to untie. You’re just a snake oil peddler!” scoffed a skeptical miner.

This content has been unlawfully taken from Royal Road; report any instances of this story if found elsewhere.

After hearing the skeptic’s objection, a heated argument erupted among the miners, splitting them into two groups depending on whether or not they believed Agatha’s teachings. The commotion grew so loud that a guard came to see what was going on.

“What are all of you doing huddled here when you should be working!?”

Instantly, silence fell over the mine. The workers turned to face the guard, anxiety and fear in their eyes.

“We’re sorry, sir. I was just teaching them some moves to help improve the efficiency of your ‘workers,’” Agatha said, stepping forward with the pickaxe in hand.

“And you’re teaching them how to punch for that?” the guard mocked.

“Exactly! After all, proper tool use starts with proper arm use.”

“That was a rhetorical question, you idiot! The boss doesn’t care about that pretentious crap. Just smash the rocks hard, that’s all you need to learn or know!” the guard yelled, readying his spear to strike.

“Come on, sir, no need to go that far. We’re all just tools being worked to exhaustion to enrich a boss who does nothing but devour our labor.”

“I won’t let some pawn talk about our boss that way!” the guard roared, charging at her with his weapon drawn to kill.

“Everyone, pay attention!” Agatha shouted, planting her feet firmly on the ground and raising her pickaxe.

The sound of metal striking metal echoed through the cavernous walls. But what the miners saw left them speechless. The guard stood disarmed, while Agatha still held her pickaxe.

“These are the consequences of a bad grip. The force of impact reverberates and bounces back through your hands, numbing them, weakening your grip, and leaving you defenseless.”

The guard stood stunned, staring at his empty hand in disbelief. He struggled to close his fist, his numb fingers refused to obey him.

“What the hell did you do to me!?” he asked in panic.

“Looks like they don’t train guards very well,” Agatha said. “Not surprising, considering this place.”

“Because I kept my stance solid, I have the advantage to launch a quick counterattack while my opponent is forced onto the defensive,” Agatha explained to the workers.

Pushing off with her left leg, she struck the guard in the face, knocking him to the ground. All the miners cheered and applauded Agatha’s movements, even those who had doubted her had no choice but to accept the truth presented before them.

Still, she was concerned for the guard. Kneeling beside him, she asked:

“Are you okay? Did I hit you too hard? The helmet should’ve softened the impact with the ground, and I tried to control my strength to avoid causing serious damage,” she said, offering him a hand.

He accepted her help and stood, though he staggered from the dizziness of the blow.

“Listen, we’re all in this together. Both miners and guards are victims of the slave labor enforced by this king who treats your lives as if they have no value beyond the work you do, treating you like replaceable resources.”

“But we are. Both you and we are supposed to give our lives for the kingdom, which is a much greater and more transcendent existence than our tiny, finite lives. Every guard knows this.”

“I know, and I value and respect your determination and loyalty. But that loyalty is directed at the wrong place. You shouldn’t serve the king, for he is not the kingdom. The kingdom is the people who compose it. So if we want what’s best for the kingdom, shouldn’t we want its people to be happy?”

“I suppose happiness would help us do our jobs better.”

“And happiness is achieved by fulfilling our own needs. Because if needs are necessary, then they must be possible to satisfy. Otherwise, our life projects cannot be fulfilled. Without economic security, stress eats you alive and weakens your potential, limiting the range of paths available to you. Without access to safe food or proper training, how could you ever become a guard or a knight? If you aren’t given the latter, the former won’t ever be a priority.”

“You speak the truth... My name is Scholari.”

“I’m Agatha, pleased to meet you.”

“I’ll tell the other guards what you told me. Perhaps we can offer our support for your noble cause.”

They shook hands in mutual recognition, and the guard Scholari left to speak with his comrades. Meanwhile, the elderly miner approached Agatha with a worried tone.

“But we’re trying to escape this place, not repopulate it.”

“It’s fine. If we kill the king, we can turn this place into a better one to live and work in. You could make this kingdom a true home.”

The old man looked at her sternly, but his expression softened as she spoke.

“I suppose that’s better than dying lost in the desert or committing suicide. At least we’re trying to make a difference.”

They both laughed and got to work, keeping up the appearance of a semi-functional mining operation. As the days passed, even the guards began attending Agatha’s training sessions alongside the miners. Days turned into weeks, weeks into months, until finally, the day of liberation arrived.