Poking my head above the chest-high grass, I looked around the ground and then glanced at the overcast sky, sighing. I couldn't see any blatant indication of beastkins, but then again, if there wasn't a hoard marching out of the forest, I wouldn't see much of the sneaky bastards. However, I wasn't that concerned. We were still a couple miles from the forest's edge, and I figured that if there were any beastkin wanderers, they would be there.

Falling into an easy gate, I resigned myself to traveling the rest of the way across the grasslands without any excitement. I was not moving in formation with the trainees but circling around them slowly. Occasionally, I moved back to the group to walk with them briefly before taking another lap.

There wasn't any real reason behind why I was doing the laps more than I just didn't want to put in the effort to move in formation… I guess it was also good practice for them to work together and learn what they could from watching me move around. That sounds like a good reason if anyone asks. I thought, mentally patting myself on the back for being a good leader.

As I returned from this latest loop to check on the squad, I slowed down to match their pace five feet from them, and I heard a few whispered words and the sounds of quick movements before a loud cough sounded. Looking over, I saw the two men nod their heads and flick their fingers toward me while letting out a few grunts I couldn't make out.

Giving them a look of bewilderment as I raised my eyebrow, I waited for someone to speak up. It only caused them to increase their antics as they tried to get the other to ask me a question. Finally, Kathren sighed and said, "They want to know what you think are the odds that we will find beastkin."

Though she framed it like she was asking for them to get this situation over with, I could tell she also wanted to know the answer. I didn't need to think about the question long. "There are wanderers in this forest. I have no doubt about that… But I don't believe we will meet them or a hoard."

"Why?" I looked at the man who asked the question, not saying anything for a moment. His face was turning red from embarrassment at my look, and he started stammering, "Umm. I— I. I mean… Why do you think we won't meet them… domine."

"I know what you meant," I said, waving off his apology and fear. "I was just thinking… And I don't see them confronting us because they would have no incentive. Hoards won't cross a river that they have to swim through, though the wanderers around it will. But any wanderers making the swim will isolate themselves, and they will become less aggressive. If they see us, they will most likely flee rather than confront…"

My voice trailed off as my thoughts lurched onto a new path. "But these beastkins aren't normal. They have already shown a sense of strategy worthy of any legatus, so it is possible they could have crossed the rush. But if they did, attacking us would be counterproductive to their plans. Kill us, and the legion will know someone is here and redirect resources to finding and countering it. If they attack us and lose, we could potentially track them back to their base. Either outcome will be a loss for them. So long as we don't find anything they don't want us to see, I doubt there will be a problem."

"It doesn't mean we won't be attacked, though, right?" asked Kathren.

I nodded to her in enthusiastic agreement, realizing I shouldn't have told them we weren't in danger as they would get lazy, so I added. "Just because I don't believe they'll confront us doesn't mean they won't."

"And even if they do attack," said the man who hadn't talked yet, "We can wrap them in strands of force and crush them!" He even pumped his hand in the air with his last shouted words. It took a second for the words to sink in, and then I turned my head to look at the man, joining the other's incredulous stares with my own.

No one had said a word yet, but his shoulders were hunching, and he was collapsing in on himself. "Well… Uhh. You know… cause they don't have… Mental powers?" He stammered out, his voice getting quieter as he spoke.

"That's the stupidest thing I have ever heard. Maybe your parents had a reason for naming you, Jim? Dropped you on the head too many times as a child, so they never thought you would amount too much, huh?" The other man, who I did not know the name of, said with a shake of his head.

Head snapping to the side, I looked at him with disbelief, "His name is Jim. Really? Just Jim? He doesn't have a name like the mountain tribes?"

If it could happen, the guy hung his head lower, and I faintly heard him mumble, "Yes, Instructor, my name is just Jim."

I heard Karthren stifle a snicker when he said his name, though I was sure she already knew it. I could understand the urge. I mean, I felt it, too. Who names their kid Jim?

Shaking my head, I returned to doing what was important, my job. I mean, I don't wanna feel guilty that someone died because I was lazy or that I was distracted by a man's name. How would I enjoy my off time, then?

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"It's a common misconception, actually." I suddenly said, shifting the conversation and drawing the group's attention away from Jim.

"What?" Asked Kathren.

"That we can use mental force strands to rip apart the beastkins. Every time a new group of legionaries goes into combat against beastkins for the first time, someone tries it. I guess none of you spent much time on the Northern Line during your service, huh. It is a fairly common topic to mock those who collapsed after having their mental energy drained away. Hmm," I hummed as a thought popped into my mind, "you guys know why we don't use mental energy strands for attacking living beings, right?" I looked at them, and none of them would meet my eyes, as they were too embarrassed that they didn't know the answer I wanted.

It wasn't surprising that none of them knew. Only elves who paid attention to their elders as children during their childhood lessons and the wealthy who could afford to go to an academy would know the rather useless information. While it wasn't hidden knowledge or anything, the reasons behind why the world acted the way it did mattered little to most. Hearing that you can't touch another being with a tendril and trying it once as a child was usually enough for everyone to accept the fact without any more questions.

As we walked, I started talking, "…While everyone says that we cannot rip another person in half or compress their body to the size of a fist like we can a large patch of ground, that isn't really the case. It comes down to two things: willpower and mental energy reserves. The stronger the willpower of the one being attacked, the more energy and willpower it will require the attacker to overwhelm and smash them. And if the defender happens to have a large reserve along with a strong will, it's practically impossible to kill them with mental energy alone.

"Even if that isn't the case, and the one being attacked has ten orbs with the attacker having a hundred, and they each have comparable willpower, it's not worth the cost for the attacker, as it would take around eighty percent of his orbs to kill. While most animals don't have any mental energy, the smallest mouse will require around ten orbs to kill, making it much more efficient to pick up a rock to throw. It has long been said that beastkins do not have any mental energy, but they are far stronger, faster, and more durable than they should be. As such, there is a theory that they have some other similar energy to mental energy… and based on recent examples, that belief will be far more credible now." I got lost in thought for a moment as I returned to the beastkin's ability to throw around fire like a ball. In that light, it made a lot of sense…

Shaking off that line of thought, I focused on the present again. Every step was taking me toward greater danger, and now was not the time to get lost in a reflection of what I had no way to prove or disprove.

Looking back at the group, I found that only Kathren's eyes weren't glazed over at my wordy, rambling explanation, but I could tell she wasn't wholly following me. "Hem!" I grunted, clearing my throat and snapping their attention back to me. "Anyway, to make a long technical answer short, beastkin have a greater resistance to being squashed like bugs than creatures of a similar size, but not quite as good as anyone with mental energy would be. So if you feel the urge to show off your mental powers, pick up a rock with a tendril and smash their heads in."

I saw Jim nod, taking my answer to heart as he stepped onto the same understanding of the world that everyone around him had been on for a while. I was already turning as I planned on taking another trip to circle around them, but I stopped when Kathren spoke up. "If we can't use tendrils of force to kill someone, why can objects be propelled by tendrils and do so."

Pivoting back, I found that she had a genuine look of curiosity and was not simply asking the question because she thought it would get her on my good side. "It's quite simple when you get right down to it," I said, deciding to answer her, "you're not using a mental strand to kill them." I held up a hand when she opened her mouth to protest, signaling I wasn't done talking. "Everybody is resistant to foreign mental energy entering their body. The only real exception is healers, but even then, their energy can be resisted if one is of the mind to do so. So, when foreign hostel mental energy comes into contact with a body or enters the immediate area around it, the mind instinctually lashes out, disrupting and dissipating the casting. If a stick is enveloped and propelled by mental energy and it hits a body, the mental energy that impacts the body will be dispelled, and the foreign willpower will corrode more of the tendril, but the stick is already moving. It is a physical object and will do what it has been made to do."

"Ahh," Kathren said, looking mildly embarrassed when I finished. "I guess that was simple… I just never bothered to think about it."

I shrugged indifferently, "Few bother to think for themselves to see if their own reasoning can answer a question, but it's a better trait to ask and look stupid than live in ignorance." I hoped what I said would help her and maybe the others somehow, but we had other things to worry about.

"What about telepaths then," asked Jim. "How would they get past our defenses and attack the minds?"

I turned to him, surprised that he had asked such a question, and I answered it instinctually. "They don't, not really… though I guess doing such a thing is possible. But to do it, you would have to replace a person's mental energy with your own, and I can't imagine how much energy that would take. Not to mention that during or after the process, the target's mind would be broken and overwhelmed, probably resulting in their deaths. Instead, mentalists make a telepathic tendril to match the mental frequency of someone's thoughts, allowing the two to resonate. If you are careful and skilled, you can influence the victim's internal energy to produce thoughts and read them… The attacks, as you call them, are done by shifting a probe's frequency to cancel out when it interacts with the target's mind. It's like when two waves in a pool hit head-on and disappear, and it's like causing a backlash. The more focused and abrupt you can make the interaction, the greater the result."

They all had looks of consideration on their faces, but now wasn't the time. "Focus," I ordered, drawing and refocusing their attention again as I crouched lower, "we're almost at the forest's edge, so we might as well start looking for a place to store our packs."

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