The door opened and a servant looked at Weylan in irritation: "What do you want?"

"I've been told to report to Chamberlain Jago."

"Then go to the servants' entrance!" The man looked after Weylan as he hurried away, shaking his head: "Always these completely haphazard villagers..."

The side of the large building was much busier. Men and women came and went through a plain but large portal flanked by two guardsmen. The two leaned lazily against the wall. Only when a man who was not wearing the blue and red clothing of the baron's servants like everyone else wanted to pass did they become active: "Stop! Who are you?"

"Wilfred, you know me! I deliver the elderberries." He lifted the large wicker basket. The two guardsmen relaxed and waved him through.

Weylan walked straight up to her, "I... um... I'm supposed to report to Chamberlain Jago."

"The steward is very busy. Who sent you?"

"Mr. Federweiß"

The guardsman thought for a moment and then shook his head: "Never heard of him. Get lost."

"He’s from job assignment. I am to be trained as a domestic."

"Let me see your hands."

Weylan complied with the request.

"Clean enough. Come along then." He beckoned Weylan to follow him, while the other guardsman continued to guard the entrance. They walked down a long corridor, turned left twice and then up a narrow and slightly too steep staircase. At the top, they turned into another corridor that was so narrow that they had to press themselves tightly against the wall to let a servant pass. Shortly afterwards, the guardsman stopped at an unmarked door and knocked.

"Come in." The guardsman opened the door, pushed Weylan through and closed it again behind him. He found himself in a large room. On the walls were bookshelves full of files. Several large blackboards with notes attached with long pins and a slate with a list of names and dates covered the remaining walls. Narrow windows at ceiling height let in very little light. However, a white sphere hung in the middle of the ceiling, brightly illuminating the room.

Opposite the door was a massive desk behind which a man sat writing in a book with a large pen. His hair already had more than a few strands of gray in it, but he was still sitting upright. He put the quill aside, picked up an abacus and deftly moved a few balls back and forth. He rubbed his pointed goatee, picked up the quill again, tapped it into the inkwell and made a few more notes.

Weylan folded his arms behind his back and stood still, waiting for the steward to finish his work. Whatever he was doing seemed to require his full attention. He didn't want to disturb him. He was used to watching sheep graze for hours, he had a lot of patience.

Time passed. He shifted his weight from one leg to the other. When the man began to speak without looking up, he winced: "You've passed the first test. I hate people who can't even stand still for a few candlemarks. The last person I was offered as a servant started whistling to himself after less than one. The penultimate one disturbed me before the door had properly closed behind the guardsman. Introduce yourself."

He pushed a few more balls aside on the abacus and continued writing. Weylan swallowed, cleared his throat and then began to speak clearly: "My name is Weylan. My father was a shepherd and trained me. I am shepherd level 1, but in a fight against wolves I gained enough experience points for the next level up. Mr. Featherwhite thought you might be interested."

"You have the disadvantage of being an independent student?"

"Yes, sir."

"Excellent. It will only take a few hours of tuition to get you a level in house servant. Provided you agree to take this class."

It sounded more like a statement than a question, but Weylan replied, "I need work, my lord. If I can best serve you as a house servant, I will level in that class."

The steward casually reached to the side with his left hand, picked up an empty glass and threw it casually at Weylan. Reflexively, he caught it with one hand.

When he heard no clanking, the steward nodded as he worked. "Excellent. Not completely clumsy. Can you read and write?"

" I get by."

"Algebra?"

"What?"

"Doing math. Counting without fingers."

"I can count an entire flock of sheep, calculate how much wool they're likely to produce and what we'll get for it from the dealer. Well... roughly."

The steward still did not look up, but shook his head slightly disapprovingly. He made a few more calculations and entered more figures in his book.

Weylan was not impressed by this. He had rarely really been put to the test in his life. This was a test. A test that he would pass. He continued to stand at attention. Ready for the next question.

"What is five times three?"

"Fifteen."

"Seven times nine?"

"A little more than sixty?"

"If you buy fifty kilos of flour for two copper pieces and the trader offers you a 12% discount, what is that?"

"Fraud. Dealers do not offer a discount on their own initiative. There must be a catch. I would take a very close look at the flour. It probably has mealworms and the retailer wants to get rid of it quickly."

The steward looked up for the first time. Gray eyes scrutinized him from a face that looked chiseled. Fine wrinkles creased into a visibly unfamiliar smile: "That's not quite the intended answer, but it's basically correct." He put the pen aside, stood up and walked around the desk. "I've been looking for someone to train as my right-hand man and possibly even my successor for almost a year now. To date, none of the candidates have seemed suitable."

Weylan's chest visibly swelled until the man continued: "I have already rejected two candidates who were much better suited than you." He sighed: "Now we have a new baron and the return of the plague of revenants. I'm simply running out of time. Every young man who can walk and is reasonably intelligent either already has an apprenticeship or has set his mind on becoming an adventurer. House servant used to be a coveted position. Now I have to make do with what's left."

This tale has been unlawfully lifted without the author's consent. Report any appearances on Amazon.

He waved him off when Weylan made a protesting noise: "Nothing against you personally. Ten years ago, the best boys in town were fighting it out in the alleys to get a place here for a selection interview. I'll give you a try." He took a walking stick with a round bronze knob from a stand with several similar walking sticks and leaned lightly on it as he walked. He beckoned Weylan to follow him and walked out of the room.

"Before you decide to become my apprentice, you will accompany me for a day and see what your duties as a house servant will involve. Remember that you will spend many years in this position. With no guarantee of ever being promoted. Because that's for the baron to decide, not me. He may want to appoint one of his minions as steward by then. He's only just moved in, so I can't judge him well yet."

"I used to sheep eating grass during the day. In the evenings, I had to do everything else that goes with running a household. Chopping wood, churning butter, cooking, washing, mending clothes, repairing the leaking thatched roof, digging up the vegetable garden... The list goes on and on."

"Didn't you have a woman in the house? Some of this sounds like women's work."

"My mother died a few years ago while fetching water in winter. She slipped down the bank and fell in."

The steward hesitated. Weylan sighed: "We were too far away from the village well and had to fetch water from the river. It was almost right next to our house. We villagers all built a footbridge together years ago so that the women no longer had to wash their clothes on the muddy banks. In winter, however, even that became dangerously slippery due to the ice. On washing day, almost all the women in the village would have been there to help, but only the Miller twins were around at the time. They saw my mother disappear into the water. My father said she probably passed out quickly due to the cold shock. As soon as the woolen clothing became soaked with water..."

Jago coughed and patted him awkwardly on the shoulder. He led him further along the corridor and down the stairs. Then another flight of stairs. "All goods arrive down here from outside. The corridor here leads to the cellar stairs. We have an ice chamber and a vaulted cellar. Goods that need to be kept warm and dry, such as salt and spices, are stored up here. Back there is the kitchen. The food for the baron is brought up directly to the dining room above us by an elevator. One of my jobs is to keep an eye on what's in stock and order new goods in good time. Letting someone rush to the market is a sign of a poorly organized household."

He opened the door to the kitchen and hot, muggy air wafted out. There was a hustle and bustle. A piglet was being roasted over a large fire. A boy was slowly turning the crank. Another poured liquid over it with a ladle. Cooks stirred in large pots, maids picked apart a mountain of lettuce heads and washed the leaves. Jago walked around the room attentively, looking over people's shoulders and nodding with satisfaction. Weylan noticed a satisfied smile on many of them. Even though no one looked up from their work and seemed to be working a little faster. At the end of the room were a few serving trolleys, each with two large metal hemispheres covering the food: "These are the serving trolleys for larger celebrations. Two people can also carry them up the stairs."

"Won't the food get cold on the way?"

"Good question." Steward Jag lifted one of the lids and turned it over. On the inside, at the highest point, was a red gemstone surrounded by a circle of carved runes: "A keep-warm spell. As long as the lids are on, the food stays exactly the same temperature. That's why the lids are only removed just before serving. They are then placed down here in the trolley."

"Aren't you afraid that someone will steal the gemstones?"

Jago laughed dryly: "You might expect that. But once a gemstone has been bound into an artifact, it can't be removed without crumbling into dust."

"So, you can't recycle them. Do you need gemstones for all artifacts?"

"Of course. How else are you going to store the magical structure? It also makes it easier for us non-magicians to recognize magical artefacts and assess their effects. Rubies stand for fire, aquamarine for water, emeralds for nature magic, rock crystal for clairvoyance, citrine for light magic and so on. Knowing the complete list is part of your training later on so that you can quickly classify artifacts."

"I'm allowed to work with artifacts?" Weylan beamed.

The corners of Jago's mouth flickered up briefly. He shook his head and beckoned Weylan to follow him. "Fetch and clean up. Don't even think about using an artifact. Or drinking one of the magical elixirs. Now come on. I'll show you the wardrobe. That's where a house servant's day begins. You lay out the baron's clothes in the dressing room. After you've made sure that everything is clean and wrinkle-free, of course."

"When does the baron usually get up?"

"He hasn't been there long enough to be sure if this is normal, but so far he usually gets up around the seventh hour. I hope that's all right with you?" Jago had already tried several times with effeminate sons of merchants and impoverished nobles. They could read and write, but it had been impossible to get them out of bed early enough. Not to mention work.

"I'm not sure... I'm not used to sleeping in this late. Maybe I'll do another hour of sport first." He looked around the kitchen and thought for a moment. Then he sighed: "Or I'll read through your accounts. I have no idea how much you use in such a large household. It will take me a while to get a feel for these quantities."

The steward glanced at him unobtrusively out of the corner of his eye to see if he was pulling his leg. Weylan spoke more to himself as he was still looking around with his eyes open, obviously trying hard to memorize the layout of the manor. "You better remember that you have to get here first thing in the morning. As long as you're only on probation, you won't get a place to sleep here in the house."

"I'll even get a room here later?"

Jago just nodded and continued on his way. He had actually only wanted to give him a brief overview of the scope of his duties, but now he extended the tour without further comment. He systematically showed him the main corridors and also the steep stairs and narrow corridors of the servants' quarters. Some of the entrances were real secret doors, others were simply placed in inconspicuous places. Weylan was a little disappointed that they weren't really secret. Everyone who worked in the house knew them. If there were real secret passages, he was understandably not shown them.

In between, they had a quick meal and then went straight on. The duties of a house servant were very extensive. Jago planned to leave as many of them to him as possible. With a baron in the house, he had to take care of new tasks. He simply no longer had time for routine tasks.

Towards evening, Weylan found himself back in the steward's study. "Well, are you still interested?"

"Of course. It's not a bed of roses, but anything is better than herding sheep. Or washing dishes."

"Then you're employed here until further notice. Two pieces of silver a day and free food. I hereby declare that I, as your master, accept you as an apprentice and that this was your first lesson."

Then he looked fixedly in front of him and seemed to be waiting for something.

At first Weylan didn't understand what the steward was waiting for, then he saw the message:

Do you accept Jago as your teacher in a master and apprentice relationship?

Weylan accepted and saw Jago nod with satisfaction. He remembered again what he had learned about the apprentice system in the village school. His master would be able to see all of his apprentice's reports that were directly related to his training.

Use remaining XP for Level up?

He hesitated. Would he be able to choose how many levels he wanted to climb later? He had collected enough XP to level up at least four levels. A bit much for a wolf raid. He should have thought of a good excuse beforehand. If he went up to level 5 or even 6 right now, his teacher would certainly be pleased, but would just as certainly demand an explanation.

Weylan noticed how the gray eyes looked at him impatiently. He accepted the level up and hoped that he would now be asked how many levels he wanted to go up. He would take two and then claim that he hadn't wanted to show off. He would think about everything else later.

Before he could read the next message from the voice of the world, the room whirled around him. His head hit the floor unabated. Stars swirled before his eyes. He didn't understand what had happened. Dizzy, he tried to sit up, but stopped when something sharp dug into his throat. He put his head back on the ground and tried to focus his eyes on the object. Something metallic. A few heartbeats later, he recognized a narrow blade resting on his throat. The handle of the weapon was firmly in Jago's hands, who stood over him with a stony face.

"Did you think you could sneak in here so easily? Admittedly, you almost succeeded. I must be getting senile. You've even outsmarted my analysis skill."

"What are you talking about? I don't understand..." Then he read the last message from the voice of the world. A message that his teacher had obviously also received:

Level up: Assassin to level 6

(5) Attribute points available

(5) Feats available for selection