Ulrich always woke up at sunrise. He had trained himself painstakingly. He swiftly cleaned himself using the bowl of water on his dresser. His new, deep blue uniform was much more elegant and high-quality. It took him only five minutes to put himself in order and stand straight as an arrow outside his room.

His second instructor, a Dark Elf woman, arrived ten minutes after.

"Your discipline is commendable. Let's have breakfast.", she commanded.

"Yes, ma'am."

Ulrich followed her to a dining room designed for roughly eight people. The table was filled with various breakfast dishes from simple bread to raw salmon. Ulrich hadn't expected what he considered a rich man's feast after four years of servant food.

"A good servant must keep in shape. A well-fed servant compliments their master. A well-built servant is resilient. Eat as if it was one of your chores.", the Dark Elf dictated.

Ulrich did his very best. There was only so much a young child could eat. He gave up after three portions.

The Dark Elf put her cutlery down.

"Good. This was the last bit of decent food you will get to eat. This is your training camp. Gaïl teaches the arts of pleasure, I will teach you the art of combat. It is not your place to fight. But a good servant can defend their master. Die for them if necessary. Follow me."

The Dark Elf stood up and left the room. Ulrich scrambled to follow her. They arrived at a medium sized gym. The floor was padded. Numerous wooden practice weapons hung on the walls.

"Choose a weapon. Doesn't matter which one. We'll eventually go through all of them."

The Dark Elf stood in the centre of the room.

Ulrich walked towards one of the walls. He hesitated. Then he grabbed a wooden sword and a wooden buckler.

"A fine choice. Very basic. Appropriate for a beginner.", the Dark Elf remarked with an appreciative gaze.

Ulrich grinned and stood opposite her. He took on a combat ready stance.

The Dark Elf observed him. Then she closed the distance between them, evading his panicked swing and struck his right wrist. Ulrich lost grip on the sword. The woman than grabbed his buckler and twisted it. Feeling the strain on his other arm, Ulrich let go of the buckler. The Dark Elf lifted her foot and kicked him square in the chest. Ulrich was sent flying back.

He wondered whether his new teacher derived pleasure from kicking four-year olds through the room. His cat instincts kicked in and he used his tail to gain some control in the air. Ulrich managed to land on his feet and hands in a crouched posture. He swiftly clawed into the floor matts to accelerate. Lunging towards his opponent, Ulrich aimed at her chest with the extended claws of his right hand.

"Short claws such as yours are best used for attacks on areas where a shallow cut is all that's needed for a serious wound.", the Dark Elf taught him as she deflected his right arm towards his left leg, giving his shoulder an additional jab to send him tumbling past her right side. While Ulrich was still attempting regain balance, the Dark Elf aimed a low kick towards his stumbling legs, taking away the last bit of support he had and sending him to the floor.

As Ulrich rose again, the Dark Elf added: "I recommend the neck."

Ulrich was trying to dissect his fight for all the mistakes when the woman kicked him in the back of his legs. His knees buckled and he fell down once more.

"Constant Vigilance! Never devote all your attention toward one task. You must always watch out for threats. You'll learn in time. Until then, it'll hurt."

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Ulrich remembered her words. It reminded him that he was in enemy territory. He was alone, weak, and poor. Until he could achieve some safety through his mistress he would have to take every opportunity to learn and keep in control of both his desires and emotions. He has to be perfect.

The Dark Elf's voice sounded again: "Leave your weapons be. You will not them until you learn proper unarmed combat.

"Lesson number one, you are an Izraf. They are never unarmed."

---

Ulrich's body was aching. The Dark Elf had followed the simple strategy of thrashing him through exploiting his mistakes and then explaining what he had done wrong while he recovered. He had made many mistakes. And each bruise was a reminder of that. The Dark Elf had kept to blunt attacks since she didn't want to hurt him.

Like many inhuman races Dark Elves, too, were armed even when unarmed. They grew long and sturdy nails from their fingers and toes. Usually the toe nails were trimmed for practicality while their finger nails were carefully groomed to serve as weapons. With care the nails looked smooth, ending in a very elegant point, perfect for ripping into skin when used properly. There was a special set of Elven martial arts to make use of the nails.

Ulrich's teacher was called Lyara. She was the head of the Traberg Guard and a very accomplished martial artist and warrior. Ulrich had heard stories of her skill in the servants' quarters. She seemed to be as capable as he had heard.

During the lesson he had noticed a continuous flood of impulses. Whenever he had given in to them, he had suddenly been able to gain some advantage in the fight. At least until Lyara had upped the skill level she was using to barely suppress him once more. The longer he followed those impulses, the less he needed them. He concluded quickly that this was the system combat skill in action. It seemed to subtly augment his capabilities while teaching him. As he learnt, the skill gave him a new set of impulses on a higher level, gradually leading him to the advance proficiency it had promised.

Ulrich was glad that the system wasn't something he had imagined. He had had those suspicions for the past years since it had never once shown up. This inexplicable combat augmentation relieved him greatly.

Ulrich lifted one of his furred arms. With just a thought, five gleaming claws extended from his finger tips. Today was the first day he managed to extend his claws. It had happened subconsciously during the fight. He suspected that his system skill also gave some boost to his body control as that is an important part of martial arts. When he was two years old he had asked his father about his claws since he saw his parents use theirs but couldn't use his. His father had told Ulrich that Izraf usually didn't gain control of them until fifth birthday. His father hadn't been able to control them until his seventh birthday. Ulrich didn't think of himself as a genius in that regard. It must have been the system.

Ulrich retracted his claws and undressed. After a short bath to rinse his entire body, he changed into a nightshirt. He was glad that magic had managed to emulate many modern luxuries and that House Traberg was rich enough to allow even some servants these amenities. A small magic crystal along with a simple enchantment was responsible for conjuring water while a second crystal with a more slightly more complicated enchantment was responsible for heating the water. Heating took a long time but no noble would put a top of the line bath tub into a mid-level servant's room. Ulrich was glad that his masters attached enough importance to the personal attendant in-training of their daughter for any enchantment. His time in the lower ranks hadn't been a treat.

He fell asleep shortly after he crawled under the blanket.

---

Ulrich had the same routine every morning. He woke up at sunrise. He cleaned himself. He put on his uniform. He stood at attention in front of his room. Like yesterday, he didn't have to wait long.

A few minutes after he entered his position, the steward turned around the corner.

"Good morning, Ulrich."

"Good morning, sir."

"You have by now gotten acquainted to two of your three subjects: The art of pleasure and combat. I will teach you in your third subject, Housekeeping.

"While yours will be a special position, as you have no doubt noticed, you are still a servant. And as such you must perform a regular servant's tasks when you are not attending to your mistress or when there is no one else to perform them for her.

"We will start with something simple but essential: Setting the table."

The steward sharply turned on the spot and walked off, clearly expecting Ulrich to follow him.

The room, the steward had prepared, was dominated by a large, high-quality dining table with twelve masterfully carved chairs surrounding it. To Ulrich's right was a small cabinet with various utensils he would later need. That included an ironed tablecloth, napkins and silver cutlery, as well as different forms of glasses.

"The order is the following: set the table for twelve people for a three-course meal consisting of a soup followed by a meat dish and some dessert afterwards."

[System Activated...]

[Generating Quest...]

[Quest: Setting the Table]

[Difficulty (measured by the host's current capabilities): S]

[The steward has ordered you to set the table in this room. He expects you to fail. Shall you prove him wrong?]

[Rewards (for completion): ?]

[Punishment (for failure): None]