The spear’s shaft met the edge of a sword in a cascade of sparks, both weapons spared from damage only by virtue of their quality and the thick mana coating them.

Rowan took several hurried steps back in response, trying to stay well out of range of his sparring partner’s retaliatory strikes. The spear demanded he keep his enemies at a relative distance.

In spite of that, he needn’t have bothered, really. His partner’s follow-up strikes steadily grew slow and sluggish. Their initial ferocious power trickled away into nearly nothing, in spite of the swordsman’s best efforts to keep supplying mana to his strikes.

The man was beyond flagging already, so Rowan chose to end things with a blisteringly quick jab and swipe of his weapon.

The jab struck precisely against the sword’s blade, parrying it aside and opening the man’s defense. A step and swipe then introduced the shaft of his spear to the man’s head, who promptly folded with a startled yelp.

“You ass! You know how much that hurt?” Blake hissed, one hand pressed gingerly against the side of his head while he squinted blearily up at Rowan.

In response, Rowan grinned and offered him his hand. “Not my fault that you don’t know when to stop. If I need to keep reminding you with little boops every once in a while, I’ll do it. Better me than some monster or demon out in the field.”

“Little?” Blake looked away and grumbled. The Radiant hero looked tired and resigned, even more than his weary body suggested. “Like I’ll be making it out of this town any time soon...”

For just a moment, Rowan had no clue how to respond. The anguish and worry in his best friend’s voice was enough to give him pause. Of course, he promptly rallied and bopped Blake again, making it a point to poke the sore spot on the other hero’s forehead.

Ignoring the pained hissing, Rowan dragged Blake towards one of the benches. “Stop that. I keep telling you, you’re gonna be fine.”

Rowan stuck to that prognosis, no matter how bitter, tired, angry, or frustrated Blake became. And he seemed to be rotating through those emotions every hour, at least.

It wasn’t like Blake ever took those emotions out on others. Even Rowan, insistent on keeping him company as he was, was spared from any emotional outbursts. Somehow, that was worse for the hero, though.

Instead of lashing out or arguing or doing anything at all, Blake insisted on bearing all the emotional turmoil squarely on his own shoulders.

The loss of his class due to a corruption attempt by a demon? His fault. The loss of his army who were nearly slaughtered to the last soul? His fault. The fact that he was surrounded by three women, one of whom was set on upsetting every sentient creature within a thousand-mile radius? His fault.

To be fair, some of that might have even been true. The loss of his army and his garbled status window were direct results of his recklessness. If he hadn’t insisted on charging ahead in an attempt to eliminate all threats before his party could get stronger, he wouldn’t be in that mess.

Unfortunately, Rowan could somewhat understand his motivation.

Being summoned to a different world wasn’t exactly easy on a person’s psyche. Rowan himself had struggled, singled out due to a bad heart card and an even more problematic divine patron. It wasn’t every day that a former patron god of a kingdom claimed a hero, after all.

He was even forced to rely on a singular patron in the form of a frontier baron, sent away to that faraway frontier, and then pushed into defending a small village from a large demonic horde.

Rather importantly, however, Rowan wasn’t forced to do all of that in total isolation. He had Olivia with him — who had rapidly grown into more than just a friend — and the sincere support of Baron Kayden Sutton, limited as it was.

Blake didn’t really have that.

The king himself chose to take the hero in, but the more Rowan heard about the reality of his best friend’s circumstances, the less ideal they sounded.

Blake was lauded as a hero. A savior. The chosen of Goddess Sarina herself. For most, the status might go to their heads, overwhelming the responsibilities that came with the corresponding power. For Blake? It just forced him into a corner. His frustratingly self-sacrificing personality constantly drove him to try and live up to people’s hopes and dreams, and the responsibilities of being the hero.

So, when each of the heroes were eventually sent to the front line to engage in combat against the demon, it wasn’t exactly surprising that he’d ended up acting the way he did.

At least he wasn’t acting like Kayla. Rowan shuddered thinking about his other friend and fellow hero. She seemed to take to politicking like she was born for it, but Rowan was far more unnerved by the way she always showed up just a little late.

Just a convenient step away from preventing things from getting out of hand.

She had saved his life from the final boss of the monster horde and she dispatched the ugly thing threatening the village of Felton’s Mill. But she only acted after far too many lives were lost, a crucial officer in the baron’s army was out of commission, and Rowan himself was about to die. She looked unbothered by it all, floating from up on high.

Likewise, she only showed up to Blake’s rescue after Rowan had done all the work and passed out with his fellow hero, trying to take them into her own custody.

Rowan was more than a little glad she’d been foiled there. Or allowed herself to be foiled.

This way, he could at least cling to the notion that she wasn’t purely malicious and that some of his friend’s former personality was still present.

“I still don’t understand why you insist on these daily practice sessions,” Blake grunted, collapsing onto the bench bonelessly and throwing his head against the wall it was built into with a dull thud. Rowan winced a little, and Blake winced a lot.

“Because you’re getting better, dumbass,” Rowan grumbled, plopping himself down next to him and reaching for one of the pitchers of blessedly cool water the serving staff had laid out for them. He filled two glasses, then pushed one into Blake’s hands. “And I mean that in all sorts of ways. Now drink.”

“You know, it’s not good to chug down water immediately after an intense workout. Especially cold water,” the Radiant Hero complained, but did as he was told.

Rowan couldn’t help but roll his eyes. “That’s only true when you don’t have a magical physique and healing powers. I’m sure whatever issues the water would have caused are irrelevant to you now.”

He meant it too. Already, the mana slowly seeping into Blake’s body was visibly improving the hero’s complexion. Rowan could literally watch his cheeks, flushed with exertion and slicked by sweat, return to normal.

It was all thanks to the card Rowan could share with the other hero thanks to his latest class, [Spear of Unity]. Designating someone as his knight allowed them access a duplicate card from his own deck. His epic tier regeneration card was doing wonders for Blake and he felt good about his choice, regardless of the man’s current status.

Unfortunately, while it was able to treat a part of Blake’s injuries and keep him in relatively good physical condition, it could do frustratingly little for the metaphysical wounds. Being nearly crippled with corruption and then having said corruption violently purged through a spear to the chest had done more than just fracture Blake’s class and set him back in levels. The other hero’s stats weren’t even showing up properly, and a weakness had gripped his body unlike anything that conventional healing could fix.

And people had tried.

Olivia, with all her amazing alchemy skills, failed. The few healing-oriented mercenaries found in the city of Rest’s Remorse were likewise helpless. Even an inspection by the baroness, Olivia’s mother and Kayden’s wife, Camilla Sutton, failed to produce any meaningful results.

As far as she could tell, Blake’s body was working just fine.

The first clue they got was when they forced Tamara, the resident exiled mage of the kingdom, to take a look at him. According to the woman, Blake’s mana was on the fritz, rampaging through his body and refusing to properly settle.

At least Rowan’s card seemed to be doing something for Blake’s state. Even when he was perfectly healed up physically, the card kept drawing on mana, and he was seeing a slow improvement to his condition.

Being active and sparring at least a little also seemed to supercharge the process, pushing Blake to relative health even faster, which is why Rowan was regularly tormenting him in spite of his protests. He definitely, definitely wasn’t thoroughly enjoying teasing his friend.

Blake seemed to have a few things to say on the subject. “You’re impossible and I hate you,” he grumbled, even if he did so with a slight smile.

Rowan immediately clutched at his chest, pretending to slump against the other hero. “Your words have slain me where I stand. Very well, then. Abandon me in favor of your harem… I mean, party. I totally meant to say party.”

Rowan knew he’d won that particular exchange when Blake flinched and gave him a look of total betrayal.

“Don’t say that. Never say that.”

“It’s not my fault they’re acting like they’re all married to you already and have complete authority over your autonomy and how you should spend your time,” Rowan said, his bitterness only slightly faked.

There was a princess he desperately wanted to hurt just a little. You know, in the name of equality, and all that.

Before Rowan could convince himself that stopping himself from punching such an annoying person in the face just because she was a woman would be misogynistic, sexist, and generally not the right decision, Blake interrupted his thoughts.

“I don’t know what you’re thinking about, but stop it. I don’t need a mind reading skill to know it isn’t anything productive.”

The narrative has been stolen; if detected on Amazon, report the infringement.

“I’ll just say this much my friend: I genuinely do not know how you live with them.”

“They’re not that bad.”

“Around you.”

And it was true, much to Rowan’s eternal frustration. All three of the women, the princess and two daughters of high nobility, were on their very best behavior around Blake. For the former that still meant being unbearably bossy, but she did it in a far more subdued and classy way.

Catch her away from Blake? Well, as Rowan had learned first hand, she’d insult you, demand you turn over authority over your army, and then order you never to approach your own best friend ever again. Naturally, he ignored her, but that seemed to only incite her anger further, making her even less bearable to be around.

“Speaking of women…” Blake trailed off, and Rowan followed the direction he was looking to see what he meant.

Immediately, his eyes caught on the way light played over the forest green tresses of Olivia Sutton, turning them an odd shade of greenish silver and copper. The sight took his breath away for a second, and the way her green eyes sparkled with amusement in Rowan’s direction didn’t help.

Naturally, he ignored the noises of disgust coming from his best friend as he blitzed across the training ground in a second, sweeping the alchemist off her feet and spinning her around before pulling her in for a kiss to silence her giggles.

“Hey, you,” he whispered quietly, entirely incapable of hiding the giddy happiness that filled his voice.

“Hey yourself. You know, didn’t we go over doing this when you’re all sweaty from exercising?” Olivia teased, but locked her arms around Rowan’s neck and ran her fingers playfully through his hair all the same.

“Like Blake’s good enough to make me sweat,” Rowan taunted just loud enough for the other hero to overhear.

“I resent the accuracy of that comment!” Blake shot back from across the training ground, the smile that playing across his features reassuring Rowan that he wasn’t actually upset.

Naturally, Rowan once more ignored him. “Why do I have a feeling you didn’t just come to steal kisses and hang out, though?”

“Stealing kisses? Me?” Olivia scoffed, then sighed. “Unfortunately, you’re right. Mother needs to speak with you, she’s waiting for us in her study. You should take your friend along too.”

Olivia wasn’t rude to Blake, or confrontational, or anything similar. She did, however, seem keen on keeping a certain distance from him for some reason.

Rowan had noted it but ignored it at first, until he finally couldn’t help but ask her directly what was happening there.

The answer surprised him, as much as it made sense, and it rang in his ears every time he thought back to that moment.

“Listen, I don’t hate the man. If anything, I value the fact that he’s your friend. But, I don’t think I can really be friendly with him as long as he’s actively traveling and associating himself with a Treagon. It’s bad enough that we’re hosting her.”

Rowan understood. He really did. He never pushed for all that many details, but the Sutton house weren’t always barons. They used to be dukes. At least they were until they lost their standing to the Treagon family more or less overnight.

The baron never budged on the subject when Rowan tried to subtly or directly inquire about how such a thing could happen. He was, however, more than happy to discuss how treacherous and untrustworthy Treagons were.

From the very moment Olivia and her mother realized one Mirabella Treagon was now in their midst, they’d both done their level best to entirely ignore her existence. Funnily enough, the woman in question more or less followed their lead herself.

Out of the three spoiled brats following Blake around, she was the best behaved. It was like she didn’t even exist within the walls of the mayor’s manor.

Be that as it were, Rowan did his best to jolt himself back to the present. If the baroness was looking for not just him but Blake too, then it was unlikely that they should tarry.

So, with much reluctance, he separated himself from his favorite alchemist.

“Oi, on your feet lazybones, we need to have a chat with Olivia’s mother,” Rowan called back, making Blake groan and look at him with all the petulance of a child told that they can’t have another five minutes in bed. To his credit, though, he did stand up on slightly wobbly legs with no further complaint.

“You know what I need to do?” Blake griped as he limped his way across the training ground, falling in step with the other two as they adjusted their pace to his. “I need to hire a mage to float me everywhere. Goddess, am I jealous of that class.”

Blake scowled a little, and Rowan wondered if he, like him, was reminded of their likely former friend at the admission.

“Yeah, well, it’s not like you have space to complain. You can make solid constructs out of light and pull all sorts of other nonsense with your heart card. I can only work on stabbing things ever better.”

It was a gross oversimplification, of course, and Rowan had to admit that he was offered several choices to branch out into magic over his various tier evolutions. Unfortunately, any childish desire to wield cosmic forces fell to the wayside in the face of practicality and choices that wouldn’t mess up his entire build.

Even then, there was plenty he enjoyed about his class, and more as time went on. There was so much to be gained through increasing spear mastery, subtle mana manipulation, and more. And that wasn’t even mentioning the possibilities his latest class evolution offered.

If he could just get around to designating more [Knights], he could get bonus stats, passive experience gain, and a steady path to greater power. Just the stats alone, like a few more points in perception, wisdom or intelligence would be amazingly beneficial. The ability to better sense his mana, to grow it, and manipulate it better, would be huge.

That was a pretty big and frustrating if, though.

Finding people worthy of knighting was proving to be profoundly frustrating, and everyone seemed to have an opinion of their own on what would constitute a perfect [Knight]. From their stat spreads, to their current tier, to vetting their loyalty, dedication, and character.

Further complicating things was the fact that he could only designate a replacement after a year if he was ever forced to strip someone of their status as a knight, as well as the limited slots he had available.

“Jealous, Rowan?” Blake taunted softly and bumped into his friend’s shoulder, a smile taking the edge off the words as he winked.

Rowan was thoroughly amused that Olivia stiffened, her hand briefly squeezing down on his own a little tighter than necessary.

“Yes, actually. I can do wild things to hurt something, but actual, honest to goodness magic? Bleh. Not that it would work with my stats, of course. I know that. Still doesn’t stop me from resenting you a little. Especially since you have so many stats in wisdom you can actually get creative.”

“Yeah. All my wisdom stats.” It was Blake’s turn to wince, and Rowan briefly regretted his comment. He firmed his heart, though. It wasn’t like they could endlessly dance around the subject without ever bringing it up.

“Anyway, I was thinking—”

Rowan never did get the chance to share his splendid idea, because the figure of the baroness practically teleported in front of them. All of them flinched back, her sudden presence and the slap of the slightest bit of her aura more than enough to startle them.

Even though he was at the epic tier himself, there was an edge to the baroness’s aura that Rowan had nothing but healthy respect for.

“There you are. I thought I was clear that this was a matter of some urgency,” Camilla snapped, her eyes briefly flickering over to Blake before dismissing his presence.

“You said to meet you in your study. We’re on our way there, mother. You didn’t say I needed to hurry,” Olivia groused, but quickly shut her mouth when her mother leveled an unimpressed look her way.

“Just… follow.” Camilla sounded equally tense as she did upset, in a way Rowan had come to associate with dealing with annoyances too important or too powerful to just make disappear.

“What’s going on? It’s not the kingdom, right? We came back only recently, and the number of epics we killed this time around should be enough to keep the local monsters in check for quite a while,” Rowan ventured, trying to get a sense of what they were about to be dealing with.

Unfortunately, the baroness grimaced and nodded her head. “There’s a messenger that arrived quite suddenly at our gates. They’re not accompanied by an honor guard, but they did present the official writ of royal authority. They want you and your party present, for some reason.”

The way she looked at her daughter suggested that she wanted her as far from the messenger as possible. Still, Rowan liked to imagine he saw a tiny bit of worry when she looked at him.

“And of course, there’s no other explanation or warning he saw fit to offer?” Olivia gritted out, trying to crush Rowan’s fingers in a fit of rage. It was a good thing that his strength did reinforce his body a little, and his alchemist was so averse to investing in body stats.

“Her. And obviously,” the baroness replied in a clipped tone of voice. “Now, I want you to do as we practiced. No obvious shows of emotion. No weakness.”

Rowan wanted to sigh, but he did as was commanded. He briefly relaxed his facial muscles, letting them slip into an expression of indifference marred only by the slightest smile. Then he locked them in that position, straightening his posture as he went.

The whole exercise was frustrating at the best of times, let alone when he wanted to brain the king’s messenger with his spear.

Still, the baroness had been putting his party through rigorous social training just for such occasions.

Olivia, naturally, needed no such training. She fell into the role easily and naturally, like it was second nature. The trouble with Rowan’s favorite alchemist wasn’t that she hadn’t received etiquette lessons.

It was that she typically chose to forgo them.

Surprisingly, even Blake followed their example. The other hero was, all of a sudden, the perfect study in royal posture. The fact that he could pull that off still didn’t surprise Rowan as much as the fact that the baroness had spoken so openly in Blake’s presence, though.

It seemed that, even if she disliked the man, Camilla was willing to take Rowan’s word for it that he was at least somewhat trustworthy.

Then their unfortunately short journey was over, and they were stepping into the atrium of the mansion where guests or important figures were supposed to be greeted.

Except, instead of a whole array of servants on both sides, the space contained a much more interesting cast of characters.

Representing the manor and the mayor’s seat was Henry, Rowan’s chamberlain — as odd as it was for him to still have one. Rowan’s party members, the wolf kin twins Milena and Marcus, stood by his side like bodyguards.

On the opposite side was a woman wrapped in a traveling cloak.

She was surprisingly young, by Rowan’s estimation, around her early twenties. Her clothing, what little of it he could see under the cloak, was made out of rich and vibrant fabric. Unfortunately, most of it had flecks of mud, and the entire lower half of her cloak seemed caked in it.

Whatever message she bore, it was important enough to make her rush all the way from the kingdom to the frontier.

Of course, things couldn’t possibly end there. It wasn’t enough for them to have to deal with a messenger of the king. So to even things out, standing between the two sides like she was the star of the show, was Princess Amanda.

Behind her, the other two members of Blake’s party stood, though they looked uncertain and hesitant at best.

That didn’t stop the princess from shooting Rowan the smuggest look possible.

“I apologize for forcing you to wait,” Rowan started them off, stopping a respectful distance away and forming the final point of the social square they found themselves stuck in. “I was training with my fellow hero, and we hadn’t received prior notice of your impending arrival.”

All of that was a polite way of saying, “What the hell are you doing here, lady?” but the woman just smiled and waved his excuse away. “It is no matter. My arrival is rather sudden, I know. However, his majesty felt that delaying this matter would be unbecoming.”

“We are ready to serve at his majesty’s leisure, of course,” Rowan said, lying through his teeth.

Judging by the smug look of victory on the princess’s face, it was very likely that they might need to kill the messenger and then check if Blake was okay with them offing one of his party members.

At least it wouldn’t be that hard to do it, seeing as she’s basically just a healer. That was the only comforting thought Rowan could manage. Rebellion would not exactly be the best solution to whatever problem the king was about to throw their way, but it was one he was surprisingly willing to commit to.

The messenger took that as her cue, extracting a rather large roll of ceremonial parchment. Frankly, Rowan wanted to sigh. Most of the kingdom used paper, an ‘innovation’ made possible by one of the previous heroes.

That the kingdom’s officials insisted on parchment was a matter of tradition, and while it did add to the atmosphere, it all felt a little contrived. The grandiose way the messenger spoke didn’t really help, either.

“In the name of his majesty, I am here to proclaim the following edict:

“Rowan Clairfont, the summoned hero and champion of the kingdom, for his part in the most efficient rescue of Hero Blake and his party, is declared a Marquis of the kingdom. He is to be granted Rest’s Remorse, which is hereby declared a city, and surrounding lands up to the kingdom’s existing borders as his fief. He may establish up to three lesser settlements within these lands, and may lay claim to the subsidy relevant to his rank annually whether it be in terms of coinage or in cards.

“Olivia Sutton, member of his party, is granted the title of Viscountess, and granted the right to establish an additional city within the confines of her ancestral lands as an existing noble. She may lay claim to the subsidy relevant to her rank annually whether it be in terms of coinage or in cards.

“The twins, Marcus and Milena of the hero’s party, are hereby recognized as honorary nobles of the kingdom attached to the holdings of Rowan Clairfont, granting them the right to establish one minor settlement each which falls under their autonomy and outside of the authority of the local Marquis. They may also lay claim to the subsidy relevant to their rank annually whether it be in terms of coinage or in cards.

“You have the thanks and friendship of the royal family, and we wish you the very best in your future endeavors.”