Day 45, 12:30 AM
“We came to realize - first with astonishment, then bitterness, and finally with indifference - that intellect apparently wasn't the most important thing...”
― Erich Maria Remarque
A body struggles against the rope, hanging next to me. I hardly pay the random murderer a glance. The crowd is cheering, but I keep a solemn face, focused on BSD.
[You have leveled up.
Select a defining feature within sixty seconds or a random one will be assigned to you.
Insightful - Bodies you inhabit have a minor increase in mental attributes. Your choice affects your personality.
Forceful - Bodies you inhabit have a minor increase in physical attributes. Your choice affects your personality.]
It’s not much of a choice, considering I have chosen to sink all my stat points into mental attributes. I make my selection and BSD informs me of the next level up condition.
[Anarchist Level 4
To level up, start a medium-scale riot or a large-scale public disturbance.]
Another riot, huh? I read the conditions once more and focus on the technicality. The key word there is start. If I keep leading an army with me, I’m not starting anything, just continuing it.
Meaning, I have to get somewhere where they don’t know me, and then start a riot. The incidents in Holgord happened on day 33, but even if I kill myself and start over, I don’t think there were enough people there to call it a medium-scale riot.
There’s another, more important consideration. What happens to Manny if I leave her here like this without my support? She would be stranded if time flows normally for her after I die. I sigh and decide to think about other matters.
F1. With a thought, the BSD appears.
[Name - Aang Ree
Class - bodyguard level 6
Health 18/18, Strength - 20, Agility 19, Physique - 21, Wisdom - 23, Intellect - 24, Willpower - 23, Presence - 20, Charisma - 21, Composure - 15
Abilities - Literate, Select Principal [selected], Initial Grappling, Bargaining, Sense of Danger, Initial Rider, Watcher, Initial Emergency Treatment
Attribute points remaining - 0
To level up, keep your principal unharmed from enemies intending to harm them. The enemy must outnumber you at least four to one
Statuses - none]
Minor means two points in each attribute. And a level up skill I got is significantly weaker than what I got as an achievement. That just goes to show how impressive Godly is.
For a moment, I wish there was a manual with the list of achievements, their requirements, and rewards. Even the suicide bomber ability, while useless to me, is undoubtedly extremely powerful for my side in any conflict, assuming I storm the enemy and explode.
That’s my worst-case scenario plan, I decide at that moment and go to practice with a sling. The weapon is basically a length of rope with a basket-like S knot in the middle, where you place a stone.
“Just look at me, Sir” Kargon, a free citizen recruit from Holgord, shows me how it’s done. It’s the simplest thing in the world. You spin it five-six times, let go of the rope loop while keeping the knot in your hand and the stone whistles into the shrubs.
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I try it once with a light piece of wood, and it flies where I wanted it. I repeat the feat without a hitch three more times, and everyone is staring at me.
“Is that all?” I ask, and Kargon nods, his mouth ajar.
“Yes, Sir.”
“You’re an excellent teacher.” I slap him on the shoulder. The man stumbles, and I walk away while the rest of the guys are struggling and smacking themselves with ropes and wood chunks.
Apparently, significant bonus to agility means you learn these things through watching and know them immediately once you try them.
I look around the village, find a thicker rope, and remake the weapon, suitable for larger caliber ammunition. The original one was made for goose-egg-sized stones, mine is for fist-sized rocks.
I leave the village proper through the gate facing Eaglegord and search for big enough stones. After collecting five of them, I’m ready for my experiments.
All right, benchmark first. I grab the stone and throw it at a thick tree ten yards away. It’s a straight pitch and leaves a decent hole in the bark. Next up, sling. To be honest, as the five-pound rock strikes the tree, I’m disappointed. I expected much greater damage, but the marks look roughly the same.
I approach and after checking it, I conclude the sling packs a slightly stronger punch, but the difference is minuscule, ten percent at most. Next, I compare the distance, and the sling wins hands down, and the accuracy is great even at fifty yards. The most important thing is I lobbed one rock at least five hundred yards away in the general direction I wanted. I didn’t even try searching for it, just estimated the distance, I don’t think I misjudged it by more than fifty yards.
I go into the forest, but the sling sucks balls and plain old throwing the rock works countless times better. I already guessed spinning a length of rope in an environment full of branches and twigs is a recipe for self-mutilation, but I had to double check.
After practicing for two hours, I switch to swinging Batsy around, striking trees, dodging imaginary enemies attacking me in ways similar to how people have already attacked me. Figuring out a martial art is a waste of time, having someone proficient train me would be countless times better, but the most proficient people I have around are militia and conscripts.
Around sunset, I believe my moves have grown smoother, my reactions better, but it’s hard to tell as I return to the village. If this were a movie, this is about the time a wise old general appears out of nowhere and teaches me how to use my latent abilities. Something like, “Use the fork,” or maybe a training scene with motivational music featuring me as Stony Balboa.
I smile at my lame jokes and close the palisade door. Everything about this scenario is horrible. We’re passive, we can only wait for the inevitable, I’m almost certain we will lose, or if we win our losses will be such that it’s indistinguishable from a loss.
I head for the mansion and find Manny in the garden.
“Hey, can we talk in private? It’s serious,” I say, and she nods. Apparently, she also has some things she wishes to discuss with me.
“You first,” she says after closing the door behind me in a small sitting room on the ground floor.
“I’m not certain we will make it. You described Sir Gohen as a six-headed dragon or something, and the difference in troop experience is huge.” She opens her mouth, but I raise my hand to stop her. “I’m not giving up. I will do everything within my power to win and keep winning, but, assuming we fail, what should I do? I will return to the day before Harkgord or the day after. If I can, I would prefer to spare viscount Parren. We got little support from his town anyway, and I already have all the useful information. I have no other ideas besides that. Do you have any suggestions?”
She does. She has plenty of suggestions. The most important one being…
“Now that I have satisfied your bizarre preparation for the next time we do this, you will go out, and ask five most competent veterans to attack you at the same time, using clubs, but you all have to pretend they are swords.”
She’s dead serious and slightly annoyed, so I immediately do what she asked.
***
Fruitgrowth 15th, evening
“You are late? Again?” viscountess Marriam Hassel asked her daughter, her voice dripping with anxiety, her heart racing.
“I am, Mother,” Leandra said, looking at the ground.
“Did you drink the tea I gave you last month?”
“Yes, Mother, I told you I bled heavily and my belly hurt.”
Marriam Hassel’s breathing quickened.
“Did you sleep with anyone else?”
“Mother!” Leandra screamed, her voice a mix of anger, humiliation, and shock.
“I only slept with Sir Ree when he saved me,” she said, her voice firm, unrepentant.
A slap knocked the young woman to the floor. Leandra stared at her mother, moving her hand to touch her cheek, gaping in disbelief.
The mother glared at her daughter, heaving, her nostrils flaring.
“You little whore,” the woman hissed. “We are in a lot of trouble right now. We need to marry you off quickly, but if they find out you were pregnant before marriage…”
The viscountess raked her hair with her nails.
“And you gave him so much money! That was your dowry! God!” She covered her mouth with her hand and spun away from her prodigal daughter. “You gave him everything you had, everything of worth. You are sullied, and because of that, we now need to triple your dowry, and you are still pregnant!”
“Mother?” Leandra finally found her words, but her voice was a confused squeak. She could not recognize the woman before her. She wondered where her loving mother had disappeared.
“Shut up!” Marriam’s face twisted in rage. “I will go and bring you two doses of Unwanted. Do you know what that man did after leaving you? He went to the brothel, stole the former duchess turned slave, and escaped with her. Your father covered it up, nobody will find it was the same man, but do you know what will happen if anyone figures it out? They might execute us and send you to take the duchess’s place! You, you, you. Idiot. Child!”
Leandra’s breathing quickened as she watched her mother scream like a shrew.
She naturally knew someone had helped the former duchess escape. She just did not know who the brave knight was.
While she stared in confusion, her mother stormed out of the room. The viscountess slammed the door shut and locked them.
“Mother?” Leandra said weakly, but kept the rest of her thoughts to herself.
It’s not my fault. I wanted to bring him home, to marry him. He was an excellent man, and apparently he has ambition. If he has snatched the key to Eaglegord, he will try to claim the duke’s seat, and he certainly is capable enough to do it.
Just why, why didn’t you take me with you? I would have followed you, but you didn’t even ask.
The young lady wept, staring at the bloody sunset from her cold, empty room.