LATER THAT NIGHT
Achilles blinked wearily as he sat up in bed. For the second time in twenty-four hours, he tried to remember where he was.
Yes, he was in Sir Azarah’s mansion. What had woken him?
“Wrong?” asked Achilles, yawning. “What do you mean?”
Though his mind was a little foggy from sleep, Achilles quickly understood. He agreed. If he was a guest here, he should investigate and make sure nothing was the matter.
He dressed quickly, then put Virgil’s sheath into his belt and drew the blade.
The hundreds upon hundreds of eyes spread out from his shadow and covered the floor and walls of the room, though they were transparent and he could clearly see what was behind them.
There were fewer than a thousand now, but still a staggering number.
Achilles cracked open the door and looked through. There was only darkness beyond. Though lamps lined the walls, they were all extinguished at the moment.
“No, I promised Sir Azarah I wouldn’t use any more of your power until we had a conversation about it.”
Achilles retreated into his room, then found a candle and a book of matches which had been left beside the bed. He lit the candle, then carried in his left hand while holding Virgil in his right. He suddenly realized that he did not have the orc’s axe, which he had used as a shield previously.
The villagers must have left it behind when they carried him to safety. That was too bad.
At this moment, Achilles’s Armor Class was only 10. He wasn’t wearing any armor, and didn’t have any magical effects on him that would boost his defenses.
This made him feel exposed. His defenses were much lower than when he had fought the orcs.
Achilles ignored him. He carried the candle in front of him, creeping through the hallway. He strained his ears for sounds of any further noise.
There was another crash from below! A crunching, snapping sound followed it.
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Then the undeniable sound of someone crying out in pain!
Achilles was filled with anger. He didn’t know what was happening, but with Sir Azarah gone, he was surely the only person in this mansion who could put up a fight against whoever had invaded the house.
He would do what he could.
Achilles glanced down the stairwell, but saw nobody in the hallway which connected to the bottom of the stairs. He crept down, squinting as the candlelight created sharp reflections on all the polished surfaces around him—
He heard an unmistakable sound of fabric rustling from the other side of the doorway!
It was only a passage, with no door actually in the way, so it seemed that somebody was hiding just on the other side.
Achilles grit his teeth, put Virgil in front of him in a defensive position, and then leaped into the other room, turning to face whoever it was!
There was a rush of movement around him, and then suddenly Achilles found himself with a dinner fork at his throat!
The butler, Lanter, stood before him. Maybe six centimeters separated them. Achilles’s sword was by the butler’s neck, and Lanter, of course, had his fork to Achilles’s throat.
Virgil laughed, but did not comment.
“Young Master,” said the butler, “what are you doing out of bed? Can I fetch you anything?”
“What the hell is going on?” growled Achilles. He did not lower his weapon. “Are you betraying Sir Azarah?”
Contempt flickered through the butler’s eyes, but then he pulled away the fork and set it aside on a nearby table. “The mansion is being burglarized. It is no concern of yours. Please return to your chambers, Young Master. I will ignore your hasty accusation. I understand that it is born out of concern and a desire for justice.”
Achilles frowned. “Burglarized?”
“Yes. One of Sir Azarah’s formal duties as a high-ranking Imperial Knight is to guard a certain number of platinum ingots from the Imperial treasury. It is a decentralization strategy, so that one natural disaster or raid will not render the entire empire penniless.”
The butler glared past Achilles, his face in the candlelight full of naked hatred that was far more than what he had shown toward Achilles.
“It is a butler’s duty to care for the estate while his master is absent. It is the duty of every manservant, but the butler’s most of all. We have been betrayed by one of our own, and so the insult given to me is ten times worse. I must ask you to excuse me, Young Master, for I must attend to this inconvenience before the intruders cause any further damage to the estate.”
Though there was still the possibility that all this was an elaborate ploy for Lanter to get Achilles out of the way, since, of course, he was only a butler while Achilles was a warrior, Achilles felt deep in his heart that he believed Lanter.
Since Virgil did not contradict this feeling, Achilles trusted it.
“I’m going to help you,” he said. “It’s the least I can do to pay you and Sir Azarah for making me your guest.”
In the candlelight, the most tiny hint of a smile seemed to appear at the corner of the butler’s mouth. “It is my duty to provide whatever is required, Young Master. If you desire to amuse yourself in this manner, I will be happy to assist.”
Lanter pointed to the far end of the room, where there was a closed door.
“The passage on the other side of the door leads to the foyer. The intruders have stationed several guards there. They have also stationed guards in the secret passage which leads to the vault, assuming that servants would go through this passage. I will go through this secret passage if you can handle those in the foyer.”
He continued. “I have seen only commoners, no combatants with levels. They have equipment and some training, however, so they can still kill you if you leave your guard down. All humans, however. They have blown open the wall in the foyer, allowing them another entrance into the vault. Once you clear the foyer, pass through and meet me below.”
Achilles grinned. “Thank you, Lanter. I’ll see you soon.”
Then he raced to the door, sheathed Virgil so he could open it, rearmed himself, and sprinted down the corridor to engage the invaders.