His father was speechless, and his mother was looking at her plate in silence.

“So…” Orn broke the silence as his parents struggled with what he told them, “all I need is to have someone teach me, and then I will be fine. You mentioned learning at the academy. I am sure they will teach me what I need.”

“Orn,” His father’s voice filled with worry, “the academy does not teach skills. You just use them. There is no thought to them, they just happen.”

“What does the academy teach if not skills? And mother said that children can learn skills.”

This father looked at his wife who seemed to deflate at the mention of learning skills. “That is different, children sometimes are able to copy what happens around them. Over time it becomes a skill. That stops when you get a path. The academy will provide challenges to show your skills, but it only truly teaches things that are not skills. For example, math, or geography...”

“Then I will just do that. I will watch and try until I can learn the skill.” Using his father’s list as a starting point he continued, “I will work on the skills you said are essential. Armor, horses, weapons.”

This seemed to draw his mother out of her thoughts, “So you are saying that you are going to flail around on a horse, with a weapon you do not have any skill for, hoping a skill will appear?”

Orn frantically tried to explain that it was not that bad, and eventually settled on changing the subject. “With my arm still hurt I probably cannot start training with a weapon or a horse.” His father nodded staring worriedly at his wife.

Orn was afraid she would prohibit him from trying so he needed to change the subject quickly. He could see her still imagining all the ways he could hurt himself using weapons he had no skills for. He decided to ask about a skill he knew he wanted to learn. “Mother, could you teach me how to heal?”

His mother almost jumped out of her chair. “What!”

“Can you teach me to heal like you do?” He repeated unsure what caused the reaction, but happy that she was no longer imagining all the ways he could fall on his own sword.

“I cannot… you are a knight. Knights do not heal people. It is not part of the path, people will …” Her expression became pained and she looked at her husband.

Orn was not sure why she was so worried, but it was distracting her from rejecting his only way to gain skills. “The goddess said I can learn any skill I want. I want to learn to heal injuries the way you do.”

Truthfully, he really did want to be able to heal like she did. Partly he because it seemed amazing to him. Another part of him admitted he wanted to hide the injuries he knew he was going to get, but he pushed that thought aside.

His father watched Orn’s mother closely, “This completely rejects what a path is. You do not get any skills but can do anything. It does not make any sense.”

Orn could not say much to that. Rejecting paths is the whole point. Although he was not ready to volunteer that, or the fact he had effectively joined a war against the goddesses that ran the world. Internally, Orn considered telling his parents before immediately dismissing the idea. Somethings are just better kept to yourself.

Orn’s mother hesitated, her expression unreadable.

“Mother please teach me.” Orn pleaded, “What you can do is amazing. I want to be able to help people like you can. You have a gift.”

“A gift …” She looked at him. Her eyes met his own as if desperately searching for something, “Did the goddess tell you that?”

“Without your skill I would not be able to be the Goddess’ knight. I probably would not even be alive. How could she think it was anything else?” Orn tried to project more confidence than he felt. “Thank you, I know it took a lot…”

His words trailed off as he watched her expression changing. Why is she so worried? What is going on?... Why is she crying?!

Tears began to flow freely, “All the … always … all those years… “

Orn’s father got up and placed his arms around his wife. Her arms reached up and held his arm for a moment before rising. Walking over to a frozen Orn, she hugged him tightly. All the while she was muttering half-finished thoughts, “wrong… they always said… my fault…”

As she released him, it finally occurred to Orn. He realized who Olrich had blamed. No wonder she hated him. He felt anger raising as the thought about what the priest must have said to her, I should have told father to let the man starve.

Orn considered how he could take back his words to help the priest as he watched his mother’s emotions pouring out.

On the way to the door, she paused to squeeze his father’s shoulder. Orn felt hurt as he saw her smiling through tears while walking out of the room.