by J. T. Wright
A suitable chaperone would have to be found, of course.
The three men spent quite a while discussing Trent’s future, while the boy stood silently, not complaining, curious about how his master would view him after the men’s plans had played out a bit.
**********
Later that night, the Duke sat alone in his study, absently swirling a glass of wine. Michael and Trent had long since retired after a suitable training schedule had been determined. Helmand was back at his desk, quietly going over the day’s reports, while he waited for his lord’s last appointment of the day to show his face.
He felt he was paying proper attention to the antechamber entry, but he must have been too absorbed in his paperwork. He didn’t notice the man standing at his desk before one of the guards at the door coughed. Looking up, he was startled when he finally caught sight of the slender, black-haired man with his thin, mocking face, that had been standing there for God knows how long.
“When did you get here?” Helmand flinched.
The man yawned. “I’ve been waiting for over an hour. I imagine the Duke will have words for you over it,” he snickered.
Helmand was tired, irritated, and on the verge of giving the man a good lecture, but then his hand went to his throat. Perhaps his Wisdom Attribute had gone up. He suddenly decided that shouting at an armed and violent man was not a good way to remain healthy.
“The Duke is expecting you,” he said mildly, activating his whispering rod. “Please enter.”
The man blinked, and Helmand felt like he had won a point in a game he hadn’t realized he’d been playing. When the stranger passed the guards and entered the Duke’s study, Helmand grinned to himself. He couldn’t say exactly why.
Without waiting for an invitation, the stranger crossed the Duke’s study and took a seat. The Duke passed him a glass of wine and he sipped it gratefully. “Long day.”
The Duke eyed him critically. “Why are you still wearing that face?”
The man grinned. “Worried people will wonder why a member of your daughter’s party is visiting you so late? Don’t worry, Your Grace, the only people who saw me were your guards and your aide. Did you get a new one by the way? He seems different. No? Well, whatever. Helmand knows what’s going on, and the men Michael puts on your door are professionals.
Nonetheless, “Allen,” Kirstin’s companion, swiped a hand across his face. The changes weren’t extreme as he lowered his hand, but he was clearly a different man. His face was still thin and sly, but it was older now, harder, especially around the eyes.
When Kirstin became an Adventurer almost a year ago, she hadn’t intended to recruit a Rogue. She wanted to form a party entirely from amongst her friends and peers, and not many nobles took a Rogue Class. It was only at her father’s insistence that she looked for someone that most adventuring parties found essential.
It hadn’t taken long for her to “stumble” across Allen. If he didn’t quite fit in, that was to be expected of a commoner among nobles. He was an able Scout, and he fit her father’s requirements. That was enough for Kirstin.
If she realized that Allen was really Alistern, she might feel otherwise. He was a Scout and a Rogue, just a bit higher leveled than she realized, and he had ranked his Classes up. He was really a Forward Scout and Assassin, not to mention closer to thirty than to nineteen in age, but it was Alistern’s firm opinion that the Duke’s daughter would never figure any of that out.
“How was it today, Lieutenant?” The Duke asked, leaning back in his chair.
“Rough,” Lieutenant Alistern Craw of the Duke’s Guard, Scouting Regiment, answered. “Honestly, Sir, the group is a mess. They work well enough together, I suppose, and Joel’s got a fair head on his shoulders. We might think about pushing that one towards the service. But the rest?
“Dirk can take a hit and use his shield, but that’s it. Matt is slow to cast, and his spells lack punch, not bad instincts, but I suspect the boy is more water than fire oriented. But, of course, the fool has already ranked up to Elementalist.”
“Lyra is a maid, and really, only a maid. She can patch things up after a fight to a certain extent but she’s next to useless in the middle of it. And your Daughter?”
Another man might tread carefully here, but Alistern took a gulp of wine and plowed ahead. “Kris is a girl playing at Adventurer. She has a fine hand with a sword when her head is on straight, but she needs another 10 years to grow up. Today was bad. She made mistake after mistake, never realizing the reason for her “distraction” was attached to the Loyalty Level of her contracted Summons. A Summons that she resents, if you can believe it! A unique, Human Summons, and she feels cheated! Gah! If it’s not impressive-looking or shiny, the girl’s not interested.”
The Duke listened to Alistern’s report without a word or hint of anger. Lewis Al’dross was aware of his daughter’s strengths and weaknesses. He was hoping adventuring would help hammer out some of her flaws. Of course, he sent Alistern along to make sure she survived the tempering. “How does the rest of the group feel about Trent?”
“Trent?” Alistern asked, puzzled.
“The Summons.”
“Oh.” Alistern hadn’t been aware Kirstin had gotten around to naming the boy. “Joel might have a clue about the boy. Like I said, fair head there, but the rest? No chance, Matt could probably figure it out, but he doesn’t care. Lyra, for all her harping, holds the same ground as her mistress. And Dirk... it’s not fair to call him an idiot, he’s a dreamer, but sometimes it can be hard to tell the difference.”
Alistern’s sly face turned thoughtful behind his wine glass. “Beggin’ your pardon, Sir, but what is being done with the Summons? Trent? He needs...”
“Don’t worry, Lieutenant,” the Duke assured him. “Michael ran across the boy and recognized his worth. We’re sorting out a plan for him. I’d put you on it, if I had someone to take your place with Kirstin. As it is, he'll be in Cullen’s hands soon, and your father has taken an interest as well.”
Alistern nodded relief. Michael was solid in his book, a couple of rough edges but good with the men. There was no need to worry if Sergeant Cullen or Alistern’s father, Taylor Craw, were involved. It was surprising to him that the Summons should receive such expert training. The Sergeant and the Tailor were true powers in the Al'dross territory and usually marched to their own orders, but there were no men more suited to this task to be found in the kingdom.
“What I need from you, Lieutenant,” the Duke continued, “is to get Kirstin and her party to accept the boy. At the rate his loyalty is falling, the contract will break in two to three weeks. I don’t know if he’ll stay or go once the contract is broken. If it breaks, and I could enlist him into service, that would be best. But there are no guarantees. This boy is more unique than I think even you realize.”
Alistern’s forehead wrinkled in thought, “That’s a tall order, Your Grace. Your daughter is set against him, and she runs the party a lot like you run the Keep. She’ll listen at first, but not once her back is up.”
“You’re toeing the line, Lieutenant,” Lewis said, not so mildly.
Alistern coughed. “Ah, no disrespect intended, Milord. You know I'm fond of the girl,” he fell quiet as he thought. “Might be a way to get Kris and the rest on board. Depending on young Trent’s talents.”
“Would you be surprised if I said that Trent’s talents were basically unlimited?” The Duke said tiredly, as he brought yet another person into what he would prefer only he knew. He had complete faith in Alistern, Michael, and Helmand, but a Duke walked a fine line.
Nobles were allowed to maintain private armies as long as they weren’t large enough or powerful enough that the Royals felt their authority threatened. To maintain order in the Infinite World, that much was necessary. The kingdom was really made up of many city-states separated by vast, untamed lands. Travel and trade between cities was possible but dangerous. Beasts, monsters, bandits, Random Trials, Instant Trials, and Fiel
d Trials were a constant worry.
The nobles, at home in their domains, might feel independent, but if they ever truly acted that way, the Royals had the means to drag them back down. Word of a Human Summons, with endless potential, would bring an army of high-leveled soldiers screaming down on Al’drossford and its surroundings in an instant.
“I would be shocked if you said the boy was anything less, Milord,” Alistern said quietly, “and that works in our favor. These kids are nobles playing at Adventurers, and they’re doing it on what they consider a shoestring budget. You could Class Trent up to Sword God and Kirstin would still sneer at him. But if the boy can make her some shiny, she’ll warm up fast enough. I’ll need a few days to arrange things, and the boy will need a pickax and the Mining Skill. God, I hate to think of that lot on the sixth floor, but with Mining, Herbalism, and access to the sixth, she’ll bring the boy with her wherever she goes and be happy to do so.”
Chapter 7
Trent woke the next morning in his own room. It was the servant’s quarters attached to Michael’s chambers. It wasn’t much, but it was his, and that was good enough for him.
He was greeted by the familiar message that his Loyalty had decreased to 37. He found it worrisome. While it meant his blind attachment to Kirstin was lessening, he didn’t know what else it might mean. Everyone assumed that, if it reached 0, his contract would break, and he’d be free to do as he pleased. They also assured him he would still have a place in Al’drossford if he wanted it.
Despite all these assurances and reassurances, Trent worried. The Summons contract was just about all he knew about the world, and it was slowly going away. Michael hoped it would go away quickly, and he assumed that that was what Trent wanted as well. It never crossed the Captain’s mind that absolute subservience, never having to make a choice on your own, was a kind of peace in its own way. Freedom brought a lot of potential problems with it.
Today should be interesting though, he thought, as he dressed. Today, I’ll become a little more useful, maybe. And there should be food soon, hopefully. Food was a good part of life.
He eased the door to his room open and looked out into the sitting chamber. Nobody was there. He wondered if he was supposed to stay in his own bedroom until someone came and got him.
He looked back. It wasn’t a bad room, but it wasn’t a place to linger. The only furniture was a bed and an empty trunk that he could store some things in if he ever got more than the single set of clothes he was wearing. There was even a small window.
Since he hadn’t been ordered to stay in his room, he left, entering the sitting area. There was more to look at here. Two chairs and a couch, upholstered in red and facing one another, filled the center of the room. A bookshelf mostly filled with books, and a weapons rack completely filled with various types of swords, was set against one wall. A tapestry, showing a scene of hunters and dogs chasing a shadowy beast, decorated the opposite wall.
Trent only had a second to wonder if he was allowed to read the books, touch the swords, or examine the tapestry more closely when the door to Michael ’s room opened. The young man strode out dressed in his uniform, face still damp from shaving.
“Already up? Good!” Michael announced, adjusting his sword belt. “Get the door, would you?”
Trent was confused. No one had knocked at the door, but he did as he was asked. Low and behold, as the door swung open, Lieutenant Ranchell Ross was revealed, standing lazily, holding a basket. She grinned down at Trent, her white teeth flashing brightly compared to her tanned skin.
Trent was startled and frowned. How had Michael known she was there. He hastily recovered and bowed, saying, “Good morning, Lieutenant Nell.”
The woman frowned and gave her Captain a hard stare. “Did you tell him to call me that?”
Trent opened his mouth to apologize. Yesterday, he had heard other people greet each other by name, and rank, if they had it, but this was his first time trying it. He’d gotten it wrong apparently.
Before he could get out a sorry, Ranchell stopped frowning at Michael and smiled down at him. “Good morning, Trent, it’s very good to see you. Next time, however…”
“None of that now; you’ll confuse the lad,” Michael interrupted. “What do you have there? I doubt we have time for a picnic, Nell.”
“Nell” grit her teeth and forced herself to grin vacuously at her Captain. It seemed after today there would be one more well-meaning person addressing her by the hated nickname. “Dearest Captain of my heart, there’s always time for a picnic, but sadly for us, this basket is entirely for Trent. Your father’s secretary sent it along.”
“It’s for me!” Trent said, surprised. “What’s in it?”
“All kinds of strange odds and ends,” Nell said, setting the basket on the floor and squatting to examine the contents with Trent. “Stamina potions, though I’m not sure I approve of those for a growing boy, a belt knife, and belt pouch both of which I do heartily approve of, a few books, and even a Skill Stone! Not sure what Skill it is, though. Oh, and someone may have pilfered some baked goods on her way here and tossed them in as well.
“Alas, for you, my poor Captain, I have only this short note.” She didn’t stand but merely grinned up at Michael and handed him a folded piece of paper.
“Didn’t your mother ever tell you it’s unladylike to squat that way?” Michael snatched the note from her.
“Unladylike? Dearest Captain, does this mean you’ve finally realized that beneath this uniform lies the body and beating heart of a young woman?” Nell cooed and fluttered her eyelashes.
“Beating heart?” Michael muttered, unfolding the note. “I thought you were some particularly vile form of Undead sent to plague me.”
Nell tsked, unimpressed with this last jab, and went back to studying the contents of the basket with Trent. Quietly counting that as a point for himself, even while he knew she would never admit it, Michael read the note.
Helmand’s note briefly explained the contents of the basket. The Skill Stone was Mining. This was a very common Skill. While it was most effective when paired with the Miner Profession, lots of Adventurers picked it up to take advantage of ore deposits that often showed up in the Trials. There was no explanation, however, as to why Trent would need such a Skill. It was something to bring up with his father later.
The belt pouch and knife were self-explanatory, though Helmand did explain that they were practical and people would find it odd if Trent didn’t have them. Michael agreed, and it wasn’t as if Trent could freely use Storage yet.
The books were on herbs and herb harvesting. The Duke was curious to know if Trent would pick up the Herbalism Skill from study, though if he didn’t, a Skill Stone had been prepared. Again, there was no explanation as to why Trent would need this Skill. It was also very common and often picked up by soldiers, Adventurers, or anyone who ventured into wild areas. The best reason Michael could come up with was that herb gathering was a standard newbie Quest at the Guild and would be a relatively safe way for Trent to gain Experience.
The Stamina potions had been discussed and agreed upon the night before. Trent wouldn’t be able to get much done without them. Michael could have done without the reminder that Trent shouldn’t take more than three a day. He chose to believe the reminder was there out of consideration and not because Helmand was a condescending asshole.
The last bit of the letter explained that a proper companion had been found for him and would meet Trent at Michael’s chambers at half past noon. The actual identity of this companion was not mentioned.
As Michael wondered who they had decided on, he heard Trent ask the Lieutenant a question about proper modes of address. He thought Nell gave a rather lengthy and whispered reply, but he hadn’t concentrated on it until too late.
“Ah! Grandest of most Honorable and Dedicated Captains!” Trent started. “Am I going to be a Miner?”
Michael crumpled the letter in his hands. He should have been keeping a closer ey
e on his Lieutenant; he knew she’d want to get at him for teaching Trent the nickname she despised. He would need to keep her away from the boy until he’d been taught properly. Surely there was a latrine pit a week’s ride away that need inspecting.
“Wait,” Michael said looking down at Trent. “Why are you asking about Mining?”
Trent held up the Skill Stone by way of answer. “This is a Mining Skill Stone, isn’t it?”
Michael ’s eyes darted to Nell. “Did you tell him that?”
Nell shook her head. “I didn’t know that myself.”
Eyes back to Trent. “How did you know what Skill the Stone held?”
“I didn’t at first,” Trent said slowly. “I was just looking at it, just wondering what it was. Then I got a message that I had learned Appraisal Level 1. Now when I look at the Stone, I see a screen like my Status that tells me a little bit about the Stone. But it doesn’t seem fair. It costs 5 Mana per use. Doesn’t that seem a lot?”
“You were curious and just learned Appraisal,” Michael said numbly.
Appraisal was the lowest of Identifying Skills, only useful for basic items and some lesser enchantments. That didn’t mean it was common. All Identifying Skills were rare and required a specialized or advanced class. For Trent to learn it now, Michael was suddenly certain that the boy wouldn’t have any trouble picking up Herbalism from the books.
As her Captain stood in dumbfounded silence, Nell hurriedly reassured the boy that, as he got stronger, Appraisal’s cost wouldn’t seem so high. She helped the boy attach the pouch and knife to his belt and showed him how to store the vials of Stamina potions securely.
“Here, snack on this.” She handed Trent a jam-filled pastry and stood up. “We need to head to the drill grounds and meet with Sergeant Cullen. Real breakfast might have to wait. The Sergeant is particular about when and how his trainees eat. Don’t you dare tell him I gave you that!”
This last warning might have been given a little more sternly than Nell intended. It wasn’t that she was afraid of Sergeant Cullen, exactly, but it was always best not to let the man who called himself the Guard’s Training Sergeant think you were skirting the rules. Especially if the rules were the ones he had put in place.