She smiled at him again as she waved goodbye. "Keep fighting, Beam," she said.
He sighed as she left, as though it had been an inconvenience, but he could not deny that he felt just a little bit warmer for her concern. He felt bad to have worried her.
As he planned, he went to meet Loz. The foreman was similarly forgiving.
"I heard about your house, lad. That's a rough business that is. Don't you worry about missing a bit of work – the job will always be waiting for you to come back to. I'll never turn away such a good worker," Loz told him.
Beam smiled and thanked him, before returning home with bread for his new master.
The following day… Beam wished he was dead.
Because at least with death, he wouldn't have to feel this awful pain. He rolled out of bed, groaning. Something tickled his throat, and he coughed into his hand, just in case his master wasn't up yet. His hand came away red.
He looked at it, surprised only for a moment. "Figures…" he said to himself. "I did take a few hits to my stomach."
As sad as it was, Beam wasn't exactly unused to seeing blood in his spittle after a particularly harsh beating. This time was no different.
"Mm…" A voice came from over his shoulder, startling him into standing. Beam looked back in surprise, to see his master crouching where he was once sitting, a thoughtful look on his face.
"Well," he said, standing upright. "You'd better make sure you don't take too many more beatings like that. If you get into another fight without my permission, the test is over," he said firmly.
"Wait, but Master Dominus!" Beam shouted. "Yesterday it wasn't my fault – there was no avoiding getting beat up by Judas and his lot."
"It wasn't Judas that did all the damage. It's that stomach of yours," Dominus said, lifting Beam's shirt and pointing to the scar. "Liver, mm? An old injury, to be sure, but that organ will be vulnerable now. Make sure you never get hit there again."
There was now a solid purple bruise developing over the scar in the shape of a heel print, confirming Dominus' theory. "So, do what I say. You're going back into town today to sort this mess with your house out. And, you're going to do it without getting into any fights. Understood? There will be no more opportunities for failure."
"…I understand," Beam nodded reluctantly. He was well and truly a mess right now. He knew it was for his own good to avoid getting into any more fights – at least without his master's permission. It wasn't just that bruise over his old scar either, it was nearly his entire torso and back that was coated black and blue.
There was a purple bruise over his eyebrow as well and another developing by his ear from Judas' punch, though that was harder to see because of his hair.
It wasn't only the fights he'd been in that were leaving him sore either. He'd trained again yesterday, without missing a single task. And that was the first day he had trained fighting too, sparring with his master.
Seemingly on the same wavelength, that was what Dominus brought up as well. "Now, we'll see how well you remember. Throw your best strike, as I taught you," Dominus said, holding out his hand as a target.
The sudden lesson caught Beam off guard, but he soon took a breath and readied himself, getting into a fighting stance, with one foot in front of the other and his hands ready.
"No," Dominus told him, hooking his back leg from under him, tripping him up. "You must be ready to throw a strike no matter what position you find yourself in. Your opponent will not wait for you to find your footing. You must feel the gravity of every movement and every position, so you can flow into your most powerful strike even when you find yourself somewhere foreign."
Beam grunted, picking himself up off the ground. "I thought you were saying I needed to stop getting injured," he complained.
"I did," Dominus told him, "but I did not tell you that you would no longer feel pain. Up. Strike it."
Beam did as he was told. Without thinking too much about getting into the perfect stance, he closed the distance between them and threw the most powerful strike that he was able.