Kelima just stared at him with wide eyes and disbelief written all over her face. That silence went on for five very long seconds. Then, words exploded from the girl.
“What? Do you think I’ve been chasing after you this whole time because I want to be here? Are you out of your mind? I don’t care how pretty you are. No man alive is worth the kind of trouble you cause. And, on top of that, you have the personality of a crab-bear that’s fresh from molting! I’m here because my parents sent me here, you insufferable doom magnet!”
“First,” said Terry, holding up a finger to emphasize his point. “What in the name of all that is holy is a crab-bear?”
Really? Asked other-Terry. You didn’t find the name crab-bear sufficiently descriptive?
Stay out of this if you’re not going to be helpful, snapped regular-Terry.
I find it very helpful to keep your ego punctured, said other-Terry.
Oh my god, just shut up, said regular-Terry.
Fine, said other-Terry. It looks like she’s going to kick your ass in this argument anyway.
“Which part of the name did you find confusing?” asked Kelima as she radiated scorn. “Was it crab or bear?”
Terry had to suppress a sigh of frustration as other-Terry’s howls of laughter rang inside his head. I’m already tired of this, thought Terry.
“Let’s just skip past all of the small talk and get to the point,” said Terry. “Why did your parents send you after me?”
Some of the anger and scorn faded from Kelima’s expression to be replaced with a bit of sheepishness.
“They heard that you’ve gotten yourself on the wrong side of The Church. They feel like that was at least partly their fault since they’re the ones who put you in a room with Bishop Syndar.”
Terry blinked a few times as he tried to mentally sort out all of the Church people he’d beaten up, killed, or threatened. It took a little while.
“Was he the guy who was very impressed with himself at that party?”
“You seriously don’t remember anything else about him? It’s not smart to offend powerful people and then forget about them.”
Terry shrugged and said, “He didn’t seem that powerful to me.”
“I didn’t mean in a fight. I mean he has political pull. He can send people after you. Did you not realize that?”
“Oh, he did that already,” said Terry before pausing to think. “Well, I think it was him. It was definitely Church people.”
Kelima tilted her head to one side before her eyes went wide again and her mouth formed an O shape.
“That was you?” she demanded. “You’re the one who embarrassed all those church soldiers and left Alment Kingsten on death’s door?”
Terry searched his memory again. There had been that one guy. He had been blathering something about being some kind of knight, hadn’t he?
“The douche knight?”
“What’s a douche?” asked Kelima.
“Doesn’t matter,” said Terry not wanting to get stuck trying to explain that. “It’s just an insult. Yeah, that was me.”
Kelima reached up and started to massage her temples like she’d suddenly gotten a bad headache. Heaving a breath, she continued.
“My parent think it’s mostly my fault since I’m the one who had you brought to our manor.”
“Well, your parents are off the hook. It’s definitely not their fault. I was already on The Church’s bad side before I met any of you.”
“I told them it wasn’t their fault,” said Kelima triumphantly.
“But it’s definitely your fault that I pissed off the bishop guy because I wouldn’t have been there if not for you.”
Kelima pointed a finger at him and said, “I wouldn’t have done that if you’d just had a conversation with me. It was the polite thing to do.”
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“I didn’t want to have a conversation with you, which you knew perfectly well. The polite thing to do would have been to accept that and leave me alone. Or does politeness only flow one direction in your petty little world of nobility?”
A dangerous look flashed in the girl’s eyes before she took a couple of breaths that appeared to steady her a little.
“That’s the other reason they sent me. You’ve made it a habit to offend every noble you’ve gotten within fifty feet of. They decided that you needed someone to help you avoid that kind of trouble. The Church has to at least pretend that they’re not a bunch of murderous hypocrites and manufacture excuses to send people after you. Nobles won’t pretend. They’ll just send people and keep sending them until you’re dead.”
Terry’s kneejerk reaction was to tell the girl to go home. He definitely didn’t want an etiquette minder following him around and telling him to act like a timid coward whenever someone with a smidge of power or authority was around. That would be endlessly irritating for him and ceaselessly frustrating for them. On the other hand, he’d made zero effort to ingratiate himself with anyone except the Adventurer’s Guild since his arrival in Chinese Period Drama Hell. Granted, he’d expected to have a spectacularly short life in this new world. So, he hadn’t really seen the point of playing nice with anyone.
But, now, he owned a house. He had at least tentatively decided to make a life in this place. He’d also discovered that he was firmly in the difficult-to-kill category of people. If he insisted on infuriating every single person he met who had an attitude he didn’t like, he would probably survive. He’d just never get a moment of peace. Plus, there was something else.
“How long do people live in this world?” he asked.
“What? What do you mean by this world?”
“I mean, this world. The one where we are now, as opposed to the one where I used to live.”
“You’re an otherworlder?” she asked.
“Yeah. The stupidly pretty people summoned me here.”
She mouthed the words stupidly pretty people before she said, “The cultivators summoned you?”
“They did.”
“Why?”
“Something about prophecies, heroes, and armies of evil. I wasn’t listening that closely. But I heard enough to know it was a whole list of bullshit I wanted no part of. So, anyway, how long do people here live?”
“It depends,” said Kelima, her mind obviously still on the cultivators and Terry’s summoning.
“On what?”
“Well, it depends on who you are and what you do. A farmer might live a hundred years. Supposedly, there are cultivators who are thousands of years old, but that’s just a rumor. Adventurers who rank up tend to live a long time, assuming they don’t get killed.”
“What’s a long time?”
“Well, centuries, at least for the lower ranks. Once you get up into rank two and rank one, nobody really knows. Why?”
Terry had to resist the urge to start cursing. If he kept on as he had been, it could mean centuries, maybe even thousands of years of endlessly being hounded by people he didn’t want anything to do with. He could practically feel the ennui taking hold at just the thought of all that hassle. Unfortunately, Terry was pretty sure that he would just keep acting the same way if left to his own devices. He’d never had good social skills, and entire industries in his old world had been devoted to helping people change behaviors that most of them ultimately failed to change. The takeaway from that was pretty obvious. Change is hard. You have to really want it, and he wasn’t sure he wanted it badly enough to do the work on his own. Maybe he did need a minder. He just wasn’t at all convinced that this girl was the right person for the job.
“Explain to me exactly what it is that your parents had in mind,” he said.
“They want me to accompany you and help you avoid—” she paused. “Being you, mostly.”
“Very clever. How about you tell me what would that actually look like in practice?”
Kelima shrugged and said, “I guess it would depend. Pointing out people you should avoid or at least avoid offending. Intervening to calm things down if you're about to make an enemy for life. Assuming I can do it without putting myself at too much risk. Imparting some information about how people are expected to act around nobility.”
Yeah, that sounds awful, thought Terry.
Awfully helpful, you mean, said other-Terry. Look, you’re pretty strong now. You’ll likely get stronger, but you’re not invincible. You aren’t nearly strong enough to make the entire world your enemy and, frankly, that’s the direction you’ve been heading. So, for both of our sakes, stow your social anxiety and let the pretty girl help you.
I never said anything about her being pretty, objected Terry.
You didn’t have to. I can access your memories.
Terry ran a hand through his hair and tried to decide what was for the best. Objectively, she probably wasn’t the best person for the job. He didn’t like Kelima, which made her a terrible candidate for life choice coach. He was also absolutely certain that she or her parents had some secondary agenda for all of this. On the other hand, she was right there, knowledgeable about this new world, and apparently volunteering to do the job for no pay. That made her an appealing choice because it meant he didn’t have to go and find someone, which freed him from a whole lot of person-ing that he didn’t want to do. There was one more thing he needed to know, though.
“Just how long is all of this supposed to last?”
“Six months. My mother figures that should be long enough.”
“And if I tell you to go home?”
“I’ll just keep following you.”
“Why?” demanded Terry.
“Because I’d much rather annoy you until you literally lose your mind than get lectures from my mother for the next six months.”
“Well, shit,” said Terry.
If he were in her shoes, he’d probably keep following him around too. Maternal lectures were a special kind of hell that Terry had experienced far too often during his teen years to casually dismiss them as a motivating force.
“Fine. I’ll play along with this for now. But you better keep up.”
Kelima didn’t look happy about it, but he thought she did look a little relieved. Maybe there had been some punishment she hadn’t mentioned waiting in the wings if she came back early. Shaking his head a little, Terry turned and started walking down the road, resuming his search for the trail. Kelima jogged to catch up with him.
“Hey, did you kill those orcs back there?”
“What orcs?” asked Terry, bending every ounce of his willpower on keeping a straight face.