Because of his instant recovery, Achilles had little need to stay in the tiny town apartment any longer. Though he didn’t want to leave his mother and sister, and they didn’t want him to leave, he would only be another mouth to feed unless he stayed in town and did some ordinary work.
“You should certainly go to the frontier as soon as possible,” said Sir Azarah, “but I’ll be insulted if you don’t stay one night at my estate in town before going. I have something that belonged to your father which he’d want you to have, considering you’re following in his footsteps. Please tell me you’ll be my guest for one night!”
Achilles decided his pride would allow him to spend one night in the estates of his father’s closest companion, and he agreed.
So he embraced his mother and Diana, promising he would come and visit them whenever he could and that he would send letters to them. Diana cried, but she eventually let Achilles leave.
Other than the clothes on his back, Achilles had no belongings to take with him. They had few possessions in the village, after all.
A deep ache settled into Achilles’s heart as he stepped out of the room, but he told himself that leaving his family would not be for forever. He would certainly see them again, and when he did, he would be stronger.
He also promised himself that whatever extra money he had from doing the adventuring work, he would send back to his mother and sister.
She’d better accept! Achilles thought. It would be no different from me working a job in town, after all.
Virgil rested on a small table in the tiny apartment kitchen, and Achilles picked up the sheathed sword.
A chill went through his body.
“Why didn’t I heal on my own?” asked Achilles. “Nice to see you again, though.”
“Let me guess,” said Achilles, “it’ll cost me an eye to set up the trigger?”
Achilles sighed and nodded. An icy twitch went through his body, and then he realized a new trait had been added to his system. As described, he would use his class-based heal if he fell unconscious. He immediately felt safer.
Sir Azarah came through the doorway. “Achilles, I need you to not use that thing’s power anymore until you and I have a conversation in private. Do you understand?”
Achilles turned to face him. “I suppose so. You mean I can’t even talk to him?”
Azarah eyed the sheath. “I’d suggest you avoid it. For now, only promise me you won’t use his power.”
Now that Achilles was holding Virgil, even though the sword was still in its sheath, he could see Azarah’s system details.
The man was 10th Level!
Achilles could hardly believe his eyes. He must have such incredible power!
Azarah’s class was called “Swordsmaster,” and he was attuned to three magic items, although Achilles could not identify them. The man had staggeringly high HP, so much that it seemed a whole band of orcs could hammer on him all day without killing him.
This was the power of an Imperial Knight!
Achilles felt dizzy as he realized how much he would need to grow before he reached the capabilities of his father or Sir Azarah.
The knight eyed Achilles for a moment, then said, “Yes, we need to get this sorted as soon as possible.” He pointed toward the front door. “I have a carriage waiting. Take it back to my estate. I have something I need to check before I go home myself. Lanter, my butler, will get you settled in.”
Achilles nodded and left.
The sunlight blinded him as he stepped outside, which made a sense, considering how long he had spent with his eyes closed. He squinted until his eyes adjusted to the sunlight, then realized that he was in the middle of a packed suburb with many apartment buildings all around.
It didn’t seem like a terribly nice place to live, compared to what he had imagined a city must look like, from what his parents had told him over the years. However, it seemed very clean.
This book was originally published on Royal Road. Check it out there for the real experience.
There was not much trash on the roads, nor did he see any stray animals or beggars. Achilles hoped this would be a good place for his mother and sister to live.
There was a shiny black carriage pulled in front of his apartment building, and Achilles stepped forward and talked to the driver. “Sir Azarah told me to return to his estate,” he said.
The driver noticed Virgil. “Oh yes, you will be Master Achilles. Hop in, and we will go at once.”
As Achilles stepped into the carriage, the first one he could ever remember seeing, he felt excitement in his stomach.
So Azarah had known what would happen during their conversation. He had told the driver Achilles might come back to the estate.
They set off, and surprisingly fresh air wafted in through the windows.
Achilles didn’t even have to think before answering. “I told him I wouldn’t use any more of your power, and I won’t. But I see nothing wrong with talking to you.”
Achilles wasn’t entirely sure what Virgil meant by this, but he shrugged. “What kind of class is Swordsmaster?”
That was an interesting thought. Achilles started thinking about what kind of class he might design, but he had so little idea how classes other than Warrior worked that there wasn’t much room for his imagination.
He examined the system traits of his own Warrior class, and realized he had three available weapon proficiencies.
“How do these empty proficiencies work?” he asked.
Achilles thought back to his duel with the orc. “It seems like learning how to use a polearm would be useful,” he said. “Maybe I should find somebody to teach me that.”
Eventually, the carriage pulled up to a magnificent mansion with a wrought-iron gate in front of it. They had come by now to a very rich part of the city, with gardens and shrubs all around.
Achilles stepped out and the carriage pulled away, probably to return its horse to the mansion stable.
Achilles walked to the front gate and tried to open it, but something had tightly locked it on the other side.
“I wonder how I’m supposed to get in?” Achilles wondered aloud, and then jumped back.
A tall thin the man with very pale features and short black hair stepped from behind a shrub on the other side of the fence. He was dressed in a formal black suit and wore pure white gloves.
“Yes?” asked the man in a severe voice. “What do you want?”
“Are you the butler?” asked Achilles.
“Yes, of course. I am Lanter, butler of this house. I repeat: what do you want?”
“Sir Azarah sent me and said you’d help me settle in.”
The butler’s gaze flicked up and down Achilles, not seeming pleased. “A likely story. Then where is Sir Azarah?”
Achilles suddenly felt a tinge of doubt. “He had to do an errand! Look, I know who you are, and I know who your boss is, and I have the sword that he probably told you about, so just let me in already!”
The butler’s eyes were full of contempt.
“We’ve been dealing with some very suspicious characters lately. It appears some people are spying on Sir Azarah and trying to sneak into his estate. You could be anyone in the world, and that could be any sword in the world. It is ridiculous to think my master would send you back without coming himself. Unless you have a writ from him allowing you entrance, I must insist you leave immediately!”
Just then, the carriage driver emerged from between several shrubs inside the fence. He looked annoyed.
“Mr. Lanter!” he said. “I couldn’t find you. Are you having trouble getting the gate open? I keep saying that we should oil the latch, if you don’t mind my saying so, Sir.”
The butler spun toward him. “Oh, so you are back, after all. Please verify my suspicions that this insolent child is an impostor trying to gain entrance into our employer’s residence.”
The driver looked at Achilles with pity. “I’m sorry, Mr. Lanter, but this is the one Sir Azarah was talking about. I saw him come right out the front door and saw Sir Azarah right behind him. I don’t know why he didn’t come back with the carriage, but I’d stake my life on it that this is the right lad.”
The butler’s face was suddenly consumed with frustration at having made a fool of himself, but he showed no anger in his actions as he undid the latch and stood aside to let Achilles in. “Please come this way, Young Master,” Lanter said with a voice like ice. “I will prepare a bath for you immediately.”
“I don’t need a bath,” said Achilles. “I had one just a month ago.”
The butler’s voice became even harder, if that was possible. “Would you prefer orange peel or rose blossoms for your bath scent, Young Master?”
Achilles sniffed his own skin, but it didn’t smell bad to him. However, he decided to be gracious to his host, so he accepted the orange scent option.
The butler bowed deeply to him. “Your room is on the top floor, behind the door with the silver triangle symbol on it. A servant will draw your bath in the adjoining bathroom, and then we will eat dinner in two hours’ time. Please be punctual, Young Master.”
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