TALENT BEYOND LIMIT: Stacking Many Talents

Edwin accepted the state-capital offer three days after the first heavy snow.

Not permanently.

Not yet.

The arrangement began with six months.

He would travel ahead in spring, establish procurement relationships, evaluate the medicine consortium and decide whether the position was worth turning into something lasting.

Joe thought the six months were mostly for Edwin’s pride.

The decision had already been made.

Edwin knew it too.

“I am investigating.”

“You’re moving.”

“I am investigating whether I should move.”

“You’ve ordered new travel trunks.”

Edwin looked at him.

“Investigation requires luggage.”

Joe smiled.

The medicine hall had already begun changing around the decision. Supplier responsibilities were being redistributed. Two assistants would take more authority over production. Edwin had started separating accounts that depended personally on him from those that could remain in Blackwood.

Most importantly, discussions with Renford had become almost boring.

Joe considered that a good sign.

----------

Renford visited twice during Deepwinter.

The second meeting lasted almost three hours.

Joe was present for only part of it, mostly because the conversation involved medicines he helped produce.

There was no hostility.

Edwin retained ownership in the southern workshop and several supplier relationships. Renford’s branch absorbed more of the northern purchasing network. In return, Edwin received family support for introductions in the state capital.

Clean.

Practical.

Renford poured tea after the agreement was settled.

“You should have considered the capital years ago.”

Edwin gave him a flat look.

“You would have enjoyed that.”

“Yes.”

At least he was honest.

Edwin leaned back.

“And now?”

“Now I don’t need to argue with you over every shipment entering from the north.”

“And I don’t need to argue with an Internal Organ practitioner over which clerk signs for medicinal bark.”

Renford smiled.

“Everyone benefits.”

“You especially.”

“Someone should.”

Joe watched them.

This was not reconciliation.

They had not suddenly become friends.

Their conflict had simply lost its purpose.

Renford wanted more influence inside Blackwood.

Edwin had found a larger arena where fighting Renford over local contracts became less attractive.

Once both could gain without taking directly from the other, years of tension began dissolving into accounting.

Joe found that useful.

Some enemies disappeared when interests separated.

Others did not.

Knowing the difference saved effort.

-------------

The unresolved matter was Mira.

Edwin did not say that aloud every day.

He did not need to.

Then Simon finally solved it.

Or complicated it.

Possibly both.

He arrived at Edwin’s residence one evening wearing the same, green-trimmed coat from Starlight.

Joe noticed immediately.

“So today?”

Simon stopped.

“How do you do that?”

“The coat.”

Simon looked down.

“I wear this normally.”

“No.”

“I’ve worn it several times.”

“With Mira.”

Simon frowned.

Joe continued toward the door.

“Good luck.”

“Wait.”

Joe stopped.

Simon lowered his voice.

If you spot this story on Amazon, know that it has been stolen. Report the violation.

“What do I say?”

Joe stared at him.

“You’ve known her for years.”

“That is not helpful.”

“You already told Edwin you intend to marry her.”

“That was Edwin.”

Joe waited.

Simon looked genuinely nervous.

Interesting.

The man had faced forest beasts with less difficulty.

“Ask Mira,” Joe said.

Simon looked offended.

“I know that.”

“Then we’re finished.”

“What if—”

Joe opened the door.

“Simon.”

“What?”

“Go ask her.”

Simon glared at him for several seconds.

Then went.

----------

Mira said yes.

Joe discovered this because Simon returned almost an hour later looking as though he had personally conquered Blackwood.

Mira walked beside him, smiling considerably more calmly.

Edwin already knew.

Apparently Mira had spoken with him before Simon managed to organize himself.

Joe considered that efficient.

The engagement remained small.

No public announcement that night.

No elaborate ceremony.

Family first.

Contracts and household arrangements afterward.

Marriage after Deepwinter, when roads improved and relatives could travel more easily.

Edwin poured wine.

Even Joe received a small cup.

Simon held his like a man afraid somebody might take it away.

Edwin looked at him.

“You understand that marrying Mira is not merely marrying Mira.”

Simon nodded.

“Black family.”

“Partly.”

Edwin’s expression became serious.

“You will remain Simon. You are not suddenly becoming a Black descendant because you marry my daughter.”

“I understand.”

“You will be attached to my branch. That means people may ask you to represent interests that are not strictly yours.”

Simon frowned slightly.

“Like what?”

“Guard matters. Security. Local disputes. Occasionally helping family people understand how the guard will interpret something before they create a problem.”

Joe thought immediately of Bret.

That could become valuable.

Edwin continued.

“You will also have access to things you don’t currently have.”

Simon listened.

“Bone,” Edwin said.

There it was.

Mira already knew.

Simon still reacted.

Not dramatically.

Just a subtle straightening of the back.

Edwin noticed.

“The inheritance comes after marriage. Not before.”

Simon nodded.

“And under contract.”

Another nod.

“You won’t own the right to distribute it.”

“I wouldn’t.”

“People say many things before they have something worth distributing.”

Simon accepted that too.

Edwin took a drink.

“Internal Organs is different.”

Simon did not speak.

Edwin continued anyway.

“You should understand the ceiling now rather than resent it later. The family’s true Internal Organ inheritances are tightly controlled. Many side-branch descendants will never receive them.”

“And someone married in?”

“Extremely unlikely.”

Simon thought about that.

Then nodded.

“Bone is already more than I expected.”

Edwin watched him for a moment.

Joe did too.

No anger.

No entitlement.

Good.

Simon understood the offer for what it was.

A road.

Not ownership of the entire mountain.

------------

The house question came next.

Simon had been saving.

More seriously than Joe realized.

Not enough to purchase one of the better eastern courtyards outright, but enough that the conversation was real rather than imaginary.

Edwin owned a smaller residence several streets from the main Black-family side compound.

Two bedrooms.

Kitchen.

Small courtyard.

Storage room.

Old, but maintained.

Simon objected immediately when Edwin suggested it.

“I don’t want you giving us a house.”

Mira looked at him.

“It would also be mine.”

Simon stopped.

Joe looked down.

Edwin smiled.

“Please continue explaining to my daughter why she shouldn’t own property.”

Simon recovered.

“I mean—I want to contribute.”

“Then contribute.”

Edwin proposed that the property remain partly in Mira’s name while Simon paid into the household rather than exhausting every silver he had saved simply to prove something.

That produced another argument.

A quieter one.

Eventually Simon accepted.

Joe approved.

Savings were useful because they gave a person choices.

Destroying all of them to perform independence defeated the purpose.

Simon would need cultivation resources once he reached Bone.

A household needed reserves.

And if Pam and the rest of the family eventually moved to Blackwood, another expense would follow.

Simon mentioned that possibility carefully.

Edwin did not object.

“Your mother?”

“And Mary. Eventually.”

“If Mira agrees, that’s your household.”

Mira said, “Of course.”

Simon became quiet.

Joe knew why.

Green Hollow suddenly felt closer.

Not because they were returning.

Because their family might finally leave it.

-----------

News of the engagement spread through the guard within four days.

Joe had no idea how.

Simon claimed he told only Daren.

Daren claimed he told his wife.

Cole somehow knew before breakfast.

By afternoon, half the team knew.

By the next morning, Bret knew.

More interestingly, the assignment board changed within the week.

Not dramatically.

Simon did not suddenly receive warehouse duty every day.

That would have been absurd.

But the pattern normalized.

A western patrol.

Then a market rotation.

Two days of gate duty.

A medicine-route escort.

Another timber circuit.

Joe stood before the board one morning and stared at it long enough that Daren noticed.

“What?”

“Nothing.”

Daren followed his eyes.

Then understood.

“Politics.”

“Yes.”

Simon joined them.

“What?”

Joe pointed at the assignments.

Simon read them.

His expression changed.

“They stopped pushing us west.”

“Not completely.”

“No.”

Daren shrugged.

“Harder to treat the future son-in-law of a Black branch like an unconnected village guard.”

Simon frowned.

“I didn’t ask them to change anything.”

Joe looked at him.

“That doesn’t matter.”

That was the lesson.

Privilege worked best when nobody needed to request it.

Simon had not become more competent in four days.

The forest had not become safer.

The guard had not rewritten its policies.

His position had changed.

Therefore, the same people now calculated risk differently.

Simon seemed uncomfortable.

Joe remembered Bret accusing him months earlier.

The insult had been cruel partly because it contained truth.

Now the truth had become official enough that pretending otherwise would be childish.

Simon finally said, “I’m still taking western duty.”

Daren nodded.

“You should.”

“And dangerous assignments when they’re mine.”

“Yes.”

Joe looked at him.

That mattered.

Simon could use protection without becoming useless.

There was a difference.

---------

Bret said nothing.

That worried Joe more.

For several days, he avoided Simon almost entirely.

When they crossed in the compound, Bret looked away first.

Joe wondered what the warehouse men had told him about the stranger in the brown coat.

Probably little.

They had never seen Joe’s real movement.

Never heard his real voice.

Bret did not know who had interfered.

Uncertainty had made him cautious.

Good.

Caution could teach people.

Sometimes.

Joe did not assume it would.

---------

Bone IV completed near the end of Deepwinter.

By then, Joe had turned eighteen.

His birthday passed quietly.

Simon remembered because Pam had always marked both brothers’ birthdays no matter how little money the family possessed.

Mira sent food.

Edwin gave him a small case of medicinal measuring tools from the capital.

Simon gave him nothing until evening.

Then dropped a wrapped package onto the table.

Joe opened it.

A good winter coat.

He looked at Simon.

“You said clothes were necessary.”

“This one is unnecessary because you already own one.”

Joe considered.

“Then it qualifies as a gift.”

“Exactly.”

The logic was terrible.

Joe wore it anyway.

-------

Three nights later he tested Bone IV.

Thirteen hundred kilograms rose comfortably.

Fourteen hundred required more attention.

Fifteen hundred finally made his entire body work together.

Joe held the load.

Muscles tightened across the frame.

Bones accepted it.

Skin contained movement without strain.

The interconnected structure he had only recently learned to recognize worked as one.

He lowered the weight.

One and a half tons.

Controlled.

Joe stood quietly afterward.

No pain.

No joint warning.

No strange pressure.

Bone IV had crossed another threshold.

He thought about Garrick.

Then stopped.

Comparing himself to Garrick was becoming increasingly pointless.

The senior officer had once been a useful benchmark.

He no longer was.

----------

Joe returned home and checked his accounts instead.

His savings had grown despite Bone IV.

Not quickly.

Cultivation consumed too much for that.

But the rule of setting money aside each month had worked.

More importantly, Edwin’s move made the state capital feel less theoretical.

Joe already had enough for the Root test.

Enough for travel.

Enough to live for a while without immediate income.

Not enough to feel comfortable.

So, he set another target.

Five gold in accessible reserve before he left Blackwood.

Not because five possessed magical significance.

Because it was enough that a failed plan would not immediately force him to beg somebody else for one.

He still needed Bone V.

VI.

VII.

VIII.

IX.

Perhaps more information.

Perhaps more money.

Joe was not leaving tomorrow.

But for the first time, he began treating departure as a plan with numbers rather than a distant intention.

Across the courtyard, Simon was discussing repairs to a house he would soon share with Mira.

Edwin was preparing trunks for the capital.

Renford was consolidating his position inside Blackwood.

Everyone was moving.

Just not in the same direction.

Joe closed his account book.

That felt right.