The steward lifted his pen from the paper of his accounts to avoid causing an ink stain as the door flew open without warning. He sighed inwardly. If one of the maids tried to complain about one of the others again now, he would fire them both. For the life of him, he couldn't stand the arguments between the maids on top of all the other chaos. As he raised his head in annoyance, he saw a heavy crossbow aimed right at his face. He threw himself sideways from his chair to take cover behind his heavy desk, closed his eyes tightly and shouted the command word for the artifact hidden on the ceiling. The flare flashed brightly. Even behind the desk in the shadows and with his eyes closed, he could see the flash of light.

He hit a certain spot on the desk and caught the dagger that fell out. Jago pushed off his chair with his legs so that it flew out from behind the desk on the other side. The impact was enough to make him protrude a little behind the desk. He straightened up and threw the dagger at the doorway. As the steel whirled through the air, he really saw the man in the doorway for the first time. The assassin wore the uniform of a city guard. Average height and weight. He didn't recognize the face. Jago had expected to see a blinded opponent covering his eyes in pain. But the man had not even fired his weapon in fright. The crossbow swung towards his new position. The eyes behind it sparkled reddishly, the glow fading and then going out.

Pain flared in his arthritic knees as he slid back behind the desk for cover. He really was too old for this. But that wouldn't stop him from making short work of the villain. The attacker was surely expecting him to emerge from another position or hide cowardly behind the desk. Instead, he jumped out flat to the same side, rolled away and threw his dagger.

As expected, the attacker had swung his crossbow slightly in a different direction, but reacted faster than Jago had expected. Even an assassin could not dodge a well-aimed crossbow bolt at this range. However, he had other options. A skill allowed him to tear his forearm perfectly into the path. The bolt ricocheted off the steel forearm bracer he was wearing under his dark shirt as usual. The bolt embedded itself into the wall next to him. He had not yet had time to observe whether his dagger had hit and quickly searched the body his attacker with his eyes. He found the dagger stuck to the hilt in the attacker's stomach. The fabric around it was already beginning to darken. However, the assassin did not seem to be impressed.

Deeply engrossed in a notebook, Weylan turned the corner and stepped in through the open door: "I've finished the inventory of the flour store. You were right, there's actually less..."

Jago rolled to the side and tried to get up quickly, but his knees flared up in pain. His legs snapped out from under him and he was only able to roll to the side thanks to long-trained reflexes instead of simply lying there as a whimpering heap.

The assassin whirled around and swung the crossbow at Weylan's head with both hands. His apprentice's legs parted as if of their own accord, his upper body bent backwards as he suddenly dodged downwards. The wooden prod of the crossbow grazed him on the chin and left a bloody scratch.

The steward got his bearings. Where was the nearest weapon? His cane sword was in a rack by the door, too close to the attacker. He had used the throwing dagger. A short sword was still hidden in the writing desk, but with his bruised knees joints he didn't want to go into close combat against an opponent who was obviously immune to pain. That left the crossbow in its extradimensional hiding place.

The attacker carelessly dropped his crossbow and drew a short sword. His apprentice was currently unarmed and would probably go for help. If he briefly distracted the attacker with his escape, Jago had the opportunity to get his crossbow. The steward prepared to drag himself to the other side of the desk.

Weylan sprung up, crouched and... jumped past the guardsman into the room. Jago blinked and froze. His apprentice rolled off, pushed off the wall with his foot to change direction, and grabbed his backpack as he ran past. He had mentioned that he wanted to show him something when they moved to the hidden training room in the basement after the normal lessons. The reward he had gotten for his part in saving the duskgnomes or something. Since he was going for it now, it was probably a weapon.

The attacker fixed Jago. Then he sprinted off, his short sword raised.

Jago parried the first blow with his forearm splints. His attempt to grab the arm failed due to his opponent's skillful retreat. The attacker had well-trained reflexes. This reduced Jago's chances considerably. He held the desk between himself and his opponent, but had too little space behind him to get out of range. The guardsman stepped back. His maneuver was predictable. He would leap over the desk and knock Jago down. The house courtier saw no way to counter him. His attacker was visibly immune to pain. He would bleed to death, but not before killing him first. His companion came running from behind, a short sword of his own in his hand. Jago grabbed the chair next to him and swung it at his opponent. If he could just buy a moment until Weylan arrived, he could take him out.

Weylan swung his sword in a two-handed grip two steps too soon. The steward gritted his teeth. For a level 6 assassin, this was pathetic. Even for a level 1 fighter, this would be an embarrassing move. If he survived this, he'd beat the little shit with a wet washcloth. Before he could think of any other teaching methods, the guardsman reacted to the attack. He held the sword to stop Jago from attacking and raised his left arm to ward off the short sword. Jago was irritated until he saw that his companion was now wielding a sword staff. He blinked. Where had that come from?

The two-handed blow cut deep into the guardsman's forearm. The blade went right to the bone in the arm, but then stopped. The guardsman wanted to counterattack, but now Jago hammered the chair over his back with all his strength. Unlike in the bards' showpieces, the chair did not splinter. Instead, a satisfying cracking of the spine could be heard. The guardsman swayed. The sword staff was drawn back, then it whirled around again, swung by two hands, and cut the attacker's throat. The guardsman's head snapped to the side. Blood sprayed out in a fountain, then the attacker collapsed. A few more rhythmic spurts sprayed from the wound, then the heart stopped beating and the blood trickled down to the ground in a trickle. Jago and Weylan both kept an eye on the guardsman until they were sure he was really dead. As Jago moved forward to examine the body, the dead man's eyes flared up. Red iridescent flames leapt out and went out. The entire body collapsed as if it had been burnt out from the inside.

Jago struggled back to his feet and took the walking stick from his companion. He looked at him sternly: "Where did you get this weapon?"

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"That's the quest reward I mentioned."

"It was given to you by that mage Malvorik?"

"Yes, sir."

The steward looked at a map on the wall: "A mage who enchants master-class artifact weapons, here in a cave not far outside the city walls... I don't like it."

Exhausted from the fight and distracted by the pain in his arthritic legs, his usually attentive gaze missed the flash of satisfaction in Weylan's eyes when he realized that Jago believed his story about the mage's residence.

"Sir, I don't think he's a danger to the city. He is old and seemed to me to be only interested in carrying out his studies. Helping the duskgnomes settle in will exhaust his magical and logistical abilities for a long time."

Jago nodded thoughtfully, not taking his eyes off the map. Then he beckoned Weylan to pull his chair up again and sat down.

"Why did you take such a risky swing instead of aiming to stab? You wasted the range advantage of your weapon."

"The guy had a dagger in his stomach, which didn't seem to bother him. I thought he was some kind of undead. That’s why I went for a beheading strike."

The Assassin Master weighed up the argument in his mind for a moment and went over the events again. Then he accepted the reasoning with a nod.

"Sir, if you don't mind me asking... Who was that?"

"I have no idea. He came in and fired a crossbow at me. Let's find out."

He searched the body but found nothing that would have revealed his identity or mission. The body also bore no special features or tattoos. The eyes were empty, burnt-out sockets. All visible veins were blackened under the skin and had collapsed. They covered the body like a creepy drawing.

"Something strange is going on here. I just hope it's not connected to the world quest. The revenants roaming the city right now aren't ready for something like this. Maybe it was just an elite assassin on behalf of the Krigesti. But how did they find out about me..."

"Wouldn't it already be a success to remove the baron's chamberlain? If they just wanted to cause chaos, that would be a good start."

"Indeed. Who would you kill next?"

"No idea. The leader of the city guard? The chancellor of the mage university? Maybe just a few of the most powerful citizens of the city, so that everyone is fighting over their succession."

"I think it's time I showed you the strategic points of the city." Jago went to the map on the other wall: "If you want to help me, you have to get to know the city better first. Every neighborhood. Every gate. Every little corner."

He clenched his fist: "I don't really have time to play city guide. But I can't be everywhere. And I neglected to train a successor early on. I thought I still had plenty of time."

Weylan opened his mouth... and quickly closed it again.

"I know what you were going to say. How could the old geezer think he still has time." Weylan hesitated, then nodded.

"Well, I’m a level 12 house servant. A class at Master level has some advantages. Every level above 10 increases life expectancy and slows down aging. I still have quite a few years ahead of me. Now it's time to decide which quarter you want to start in. Before I die of old age after all."

"The Centaur Quarter."

"Of all things? I would have taken that last. The most interesting things there are the blacksmiths, weapons and armor dealers."

Weylan hesitated. Then he replied: "I've always wanted to see centaurs. I only have the fanciful descriptions of the few bards who came by our village."

"Well, then we can get you a weapon too."

Weylan raised his short sword, which now had a normal grip again, briefly in confusion, as if to remind Jago. He waved it away: "You can't walk around as a house servant with a magical weapon. That would break our cover immediately. I'll have a sword sheath made to hide its magic from casual glances, but as soon as you draw it near a mage, you'll be exposed. What do you think would be most suitable for you?"

"A longsword?"

"Longsword..." Jago looked him up and down scrutinizingly. "I don't know if that's the right weapon for you. A sword requires a lot of training. It's unwieldy to carry and has limited defensive capabilities. At least when used without a shield. A sword is almost completely useless against plate armor. Chain mail and leather armor can only be penetrated with skill and strength."

"In the city, hardly anyone walks around in metal armor. Here, people wear cloth armor at best. Maybe with the exception of a few revenants."

"Don't underestimate cloth armor. A gambeson with enough layers of linen fabric is hard to penetrate. Cloth armor is the reason why there are swords that are not just sharp, but insanely sharp."

"Then what should I use instead of a sword?"

"A warrior chooses his weapons according to his opponent. Warhammers against armor, swords against lightly armored opponents, two-handed weapons against infantry with polearms, and so on. You, on the other hand, need something with reach that requires comparatively little practice. A spear would be ideal. It's just more unwieldy than a sword. In the city, however, you mainly need something that is easy to carry. It certainly won't hurt if you learn how to use the weapon you have. We will start your training with a short sword. Later on, you will train with a quarterstaff. A staff is useful in the wilderness, has a long reach and enables many fighting techniques. You can also use both techniques with your wonder sword. The special techniques for sword staffs will follow much later."

"What do we start with then?"

"As I said, training with the short sword. No matter where you are, you can always have a short sword at hand. As long as revenants are swarming all over the city, no one will think anything of it if you carry a weapon for self-defense. I'll get you a concealed back scabbard. With a girth or cloak over it, it will only be recognizable to the initiated. Or if you sit down the wrong way, of course." He hesitated briefly, sighed and then added: "You'll get the weapons at my expense. I don't want a cheap blade to break and splinters to hit my face during training. We'd better get you something decent right away."

The two of them spent two hours cleaning up the room and wiping away the blood. Jago disposed of the body through a trapdoor in the corner of the room. "I'll deal with it later. I still have a few elixirs and disposable artifacts for that sort of thing." He then pulled out an aquamarine sphere wrapped in silver threads from a hidden drawer behind a painting. He held it in the middle of the room with his hand high above him and spoke a command word: "Draikliening!"

A wave of bright blue, shimmering light swept through the room, removing dirt and the last remnants of blood. Jago swayed briefly, feeling his mana pathways burning. What little magic he had was completely consumed by the spell. But now, there was no more evidence of a fight.

The steward looked at his apprentice and concentrated on his status to see if there were any skill changes. He saw the new "Resist Pain" skill, already at Layman IV, "Mana Control," a skill he had no reason to have, at Layman I, and two new feats, while the number of open feat slots had not changed. Even the class had changed. With anyone else, he'd suspect dark sorcery or possession, but he knew this boy truly lived in interesting times. "Before we leave, is there anything you need to tell me as my apprentice? I've just updated your status, and there are some strange changes."

Weylan shuddered. "Well, there was an accident with one of Archmage Malvorik's artifacts. I was struck by something like shadow lightning. Long story."

"That must have been quite painful. You trained the resist pain skill faster than I did at the assassins' training camp."

"How do assassins usually train to resist painl?"

Jago gazed into the distance, remembering a week of pain and suffering. This time it was his turn to shudder. "I remember rubbing salt and healing potions. And a cheese grater."

His apprentice went pale. "Good thing I don't need that training anymore."

Jago resisted the urge to laugh. "You're barely at Layman IV! You need to reach at least Journeyman rank to reliably resist torture and interrogations. You just got a head start, which is great!"

"It is?"

"Yes. That way we can skip the boring parts and get right to the cheese grater. But that's something for tomorrow." He gestured for his apprentice to follow and left the room.