Day 33, 8:00 PM
“Anybody can become angry - that is easy, but to be angry with the right person and to the right degree and at the right time and for the right purpose, and in the right way - that is not within everybody's power and is not easy.”
— Aristotle
Burst of Speed seems extremely useful. Even without training, I can imagine half a dozen scenarios in which an impossible sprint confuses enemies long enough to kill them.
But considering my circumstances, how often I get wounded, and that I have people I wish to protect, I select the Initial Emergency Treatment.
I open BSD, immediately add the point into wisdom, and almost choke when I see the level up requirement.
[Name - Aang Ree
Class - bodyguard level 6
Health 15/18, Strength - 20, Agility 19, Physique - 21, Wisdom - 21, Intellect - 22, Willpower - 21, 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]
I’ve already fulfilled that one! I’m so enthusiastic, I almost say it aloud, but BSD doesn’t react.
Wait? I have to do it again? But, but, that means we have to fight five hundred people. Can I cheat this with a chicken? Defend it from ten starving foxes? Maybe starving dogs? That might do the trick.
“Aang, are you all right?” Manuella asks, bringing me back to reality.
“I’m fine. I was really impressed with Ron’s skill.” I rub my chin. Why the hell not? “Do you mind teaching me how to fight properly, Ron?”
Ron stares, Manuella stares, then she smiles and nods. She knows I lack formal training. She saw me use a staff like a club for god’s sake.
“Good idea,” she says, further shocking the old vet. He’s seen the merc and guard bodies, and knows what I have done. He probably thinks we’re taunting him, so I explain.
“I have never received formal training. I think I will benefit from it.”
He nods, slowly, his mouth ajar.
“Sure,” he says, just as slowly as he nodded, “whenever you feel like it. We can start now.”
“Right now, I feel like sleeping. I didn’t sleep enough last night, got stabbed twice, lost some blood, and I’ve got a whole day of running ahead of me tomorrow.” I half bow to Manuella. “My Noble Lady, if you don’t mind, I will retire.”
She smiles and nods. I head over to the seamstresses, who have made several proto-pockets on my tunic, and are now arguing about how to make the backpack.
“We don’t have enough materials,” one of them shouts, her back against me.
“That’s fine,” I say, and the young woman jumps. “We’ll buy more in Harkgord.”
They hand me my tunic, and I inspect their work. It’s decent. Two pockets, one on each side, like for a hoodie, and two breast pockets. The whole thing is disjointed by my esthetic standard, especially since they are all big enough to fit a fist-sized rock.
“Thank you, when you have the time, I want you to test some things for me. Could you do that for me?”
“Yes, Lord.”
“Certainly.”
The girls bob their heads, their eyes down, slightly afraid.
Stolen content warning: this tale belongs on Royal Road. Report any occurrences elsewhere.
“It’s nothing difficult. I want you to try to boil water in a waterskin and let me know how it works.” I turn to leave, when I realize I should be a bit more specific. “Please take care not to hurt yourselves, maybe hang it off a strap, or something like that.”
I unfurl my blanket and go to sleep, trying to recall any other ideas about armies I read when I was a kid. Cooking in ox hides is from some book about Hanibal, and I reckon backpacks will allow everyone to carry more without pulling their pants up every waking moment.
I yawn and fall asleep like a baby. A funny idiom, that. Must have been coined by someone who never had babies.
I awaken before daylight. Twenty men are on guard duty, yawning their jaws off. In an act of empathy and synchrony, I repeat the gesture.
“Good morning,” I say, and they salute. Their moves are sloppy things, except for Garny’s. He’s the only one properly awake and minding the surroundings.
“Nobody attacked us yet?” I joke as I start stretching my neck.
Garny shakes his head. “No, Sir.”
He’s stiff, I’m guessing it’s because I hit him with his friend and crashed them into a table. He waits patiently for me to finish cracking and groaning, but I can tell he’s burning with anxiety.
Do I really need to keep doing these? I’m not even twenty. I finish my morning routine, and focus on the soldier.
“Yes, Garny, what is it?”
“Sir, will you really do it?”
“Well, if you’re asking about the plan our Noble Lady discussed yesterday, I plan to. I’m fairly certain I can assassinate viscount Parren tonight. I heard this guy has a wife and a child?”
Garny nods. “A boy, some five years old, I think.”
His face is grim, and he swallows.
“Don’t worry.” I pat him on the shoulder. “I won’t kill them. We will bring them with us, and announce we are willing to ransom prisoners. If anyone cares for the boy, they can just buy his freedom. At worst, the king has to buy him, otherwise it will damage his royal image.”
Garny nods, looking into the distance.
“Anything else?”
“No, Sir,” he shakes his head, then freezes. “Thank you for releasing our noble lady and keeping her safe. We talked about it more than once, but we never gathered the courage or the manpower. We were glad and ashamed at the same time when we got the wanted notice. The one saying you stole her away from that place.”
The man chokes up, and his eyes are wet. I pat his back one more time and turn around.
“Tell everyone that if anyone mentions the place where they kept her locked up, I will tear him to shreds. I know you have seen a man torn by dogs, but trust me, it ain’t half as bad as what I can do.”
Garny gulps. “Don’t worry, Sir. We’ll beat them dead before you hear a word.”
I smile and nod in appreciation before going to wake up Manuella.
“Good morning, my Noble Lady,” I whisper, and she’s awake, sitting straight and staring at my face. I recognize those few moments during which humans wonder whether they are awake, or they have dreamed their reality. Her eyes focus, and she decides I’m real.
“Good morning,” she says.
“I would like to propose a new contract?” I squat next to her, and she stares at me, the chicken must be running through her mind, pecking at her sanity.
“Yes?” I hear a note of fear and smile.
“I will cherish and protect you from all harm, to the best of my ability, for the rest of my life.”
She gulps.
“Sometimes, other chicks will have priority. I will do the best I can to protect them too, and you will kiss me if I do.”
She’s just staring at me, the pun probably didn’t translate properly. I want to sigh, but I don’t. In fact, I’m glad Blunt, Direct, and all their little cousins didn’t start explaining the joke. I wet my mouth and swallow before leaning over until my lips are touching her ear.
“You will be my queen, and I will be your king, keeping you safe forever. Do you agree?”
“Yes,” she whispers, then asks the awkward question. “Why chickens?”
“Because they are delectable.” I wink. “Roast Nugget One for dinner today, and you will understand why chickens.”
I get up.
“I should get going. See you tomorrow.” I want to kiss her forehead, but she’s the noble lady… Right.
“My Noble Lady,” I add after a second’s delay.
She gives me an amused smile. “Take care and stay safe.”
Well, I’m off to assassinate a noble and spread our uprising, so the second one isn’t really an option. I turn around and run. At least, I hope I have a long, boring day of running ahead of me.
I do. For the most part. Around ten in the morning, I see a familiar face. The half-handed guard is hustling ahead of me. He doesn’t hear me, and he’s wearing a regular, unremarkable tunic, but the hand with only a thumb and forefinger gives away his identity.
“Hello, Najel.” The man jumps out of his skin and turns around. I grin. “Fancy seeing you here. It’s a shame Harkgord is fifty miles away. You might have made it if it were forty.”
He has a sword at his hip, but he doesn’t even reach for it. Instead, he turns around and bolts. I sprint after him, running faster than ever before. My thighs feel tight under the strain, and I wonder how fast I’m running. At least forty miles per hour, judging by the blur.
I sweep Batsy at Najel’s legs. I’m completely detached, wondering whether my guess was right, rather than what will happen with the man I’m hunting. It certainly seems plausible, Najel was fast, he had a head start, and yet I caught up in two dozen bounds. He was fast. That means my trip slams him into the paved road with brutal force.
He pushes himself off the ground, spitting bloody teeth, but all he manages is a roll onto his back. His eyes are out of focus. I want to interrogate him, but he looks like he just suffered a concussion or ten.
“Why?” he slurs through his broken teeth and swelling face. “She’s just a nine plow whore, why is she back?”
My throat tightens.
That’s an oddly specific and accurate guess.
My cheerful mood vanishes, along with the idea of using the sleazy veteran for a future plot. My heart beats faster and faster, my eyes lose focus, and the last thing I see is the flash of translucent blue.
[Rage activated.
Duration - two minutes six seconds]