Eric was summoned to Issho-Ni early the next day, despite it being his registered day off. This didn’t exactly come as a surprise to him, as he expected that Ehran would want details of the attack that he’d repelled. So, he rolled out of bed before the sun peeked through his window, and dressed in the dark. He achieved this quietly so as to not wake Emma, and scooped up his weapons before slipping silently through his bedroom door.

He buckled the swords onto his belt as he rattled down the stairs, and was halfway across the entry hall when a voice called out to him, stopping his progress. Turning around, he saw James running over, a wrapped parcel in his hands. The young chef thrust this parcel at him, and Eric took it, noticing that it was very hot and smelled like roasted meat.

“For your lunch, sir,” James panted. He’d clearly sprinted all the way from the kitchens upon hearing Eric’s footsteps. “It will be good cold as well.”

“Oh,” Eric said, surprised and touched. He juggled the package for a moment, then slipped it into his satchel. “Thanks, James. I’m sure I’ll love it.”

“It’s just a simple sandwich,” James replied, having regained his breath. “But I did the best I could.”

He stood in the doorway as Eric jogged down the stairs and turned onto the street, waving jovially. Once his master was out of sight, he retired inside. Thankfully the streets in the Royal District were almost deserted at this early hour, so Eric had a clear run to the gate leading towards the city. His estate was positioned on the outer ring of properties, but he still had to run nearly half a mile before reaching the exit. It provided him with a good morning workout, not to mention a way to warm up his muscles every day for training.

Three Maravino were posted at the gate to keep away outsiders, and they glanced round as they heard Eric running up to them. Their tense stances faded once they recognized him, and one even gave him a brief salute, clamping one fist to his chest. Eric returned the gesture the best he could mid-run and zipped past the man. He heard the Maravino laugh as he bolted out of sight, but ignored it. He had to slow down once he made it into the lower reaches of the city, as there was a lot more traffic. Farmers and tradesmen all had early starts to their day.

The amulet bouncing at this neck drew the eyes of everyone he passed, and he heard many cries of ‘good morning sir’ or ‘greetings, my lord’ as he tried to slip through the crowd quickly. He’d questioned Samuel a few days after earning the amulet and realized that he wasn’t actually a lord. The title of Chevalier was a rarely used one, only recently brought back as an honor for skilled warriors. Many would call him a lord in mistake, but he didn’t have all the burden that a noble would. Strictly speaking, he was still independent of the Queen’s authority.

Eric had been in Milagre long enough to discover a few shortcuts for getting around the city quickly. The most common one he used took him off the busy high street, around the Market District, and put him out near the southern gate of Milagre. Issho-Ni was only a few hundred feet back along the Queen’s Road from there, but the lack of traffic along the side route saved him nearly twenty minutes of time. The entire trip from his estate to Issho-Ni was just under two miles, a perfect distance for a morning warm-up jog.

Issho-Ni was relatively quiet given the early hour, though a few warriors and apprentice could still be seen moving around, bleary-eyed and stumbling. Those would be the patrol teams coming off-duty, Eric thought. Everyone arriving at the dojo for the first time in the day would have already warmed up like himself and were bright-eyed and alert. He spotted Ehran at once in a corner and was surprised to see that he belonged firmly in the former party. He called out to him and hurried over.

“Ah, Eric,” Ehran said, barely stifling a yawn. “Don’t worry, you’re not in for training today. I just wanted to let you know about a change in your training.”

Eric nodded slowly, wondering where this was headed. His training was already intense, leaving him dead tired every night. What more could Ehran pile on? “Alright. What’s up?”

“For one, you should know that your steward still hasn’t been found,” Ehran replied. He sat down on the floor and let out an exhausted sigh. “I’ve been looking for him all night.”

“You were searching for him?” Eric asked, surprised. “But I thought the Maravino were handling that?”

“Well, I took a special interest in this case,” Ehran explained. “Samuel visited me last last night to let me know that you had been attacked. Good job on beating them back, by the way. But he shared his concerns about how they got in and his suspicions.”

“Suspicions…” Eric said slowly. He remembered the way that Samuel had reacted to the steward, and how something had felt off even to him. “Don’t tell me.”

“That’s right,” Ehran nodded as if he’d read Eric’s mind. “Samuel suspected that he might have something to do with it. So we looked him up. There’s a sketch of your steward in an old wanted poster from ten years ago.”

Ehran pulled a folded piece of parchment from his robe and held it out. Eric took it and unfolded the old paper carefully, revealing a picture of his steward. There were fewer lines in the face apparent in this image, but it was undoubtedly the same man. The reward set for his capture was eight hundred gold pieces. He whistled softly in surprise. Then he caught the reason for the bounty. Matthew Ciayol. Wanted for the attempted murder of his lord, Aren Rainhall.

Unauthorized duplication: this tale has been taken without consent. Report sightings.

“He tried to kill the last lord he served?” Eric spluttered. “How come nobody has recognized him?”

Ehran shrugged. “As I said, this bounty is ten years old. When a bounty goes unclaimed for long enough, people tend to forget. And only people who took an interest in him would notice the similarities. Time, and obviously a lot of patience, has served him well in escaping notice.”

“So he decided to give it another shot,” Eric said with disgust. “I bet the Attosians paid him to give them access so they could take me out.”

“As it turns out,” Ehran said with a sly grin. “That’s exactly what happened. One of the Attosian prisoners confessed just an hour or two ago. Enri told me to pass the news on to you.”

“It’s not enough for them to have an official duel,” Eric said, shaking his head. “They have to be cowards and attack in the dead of night?”

“Well, you’ve already proven to be a dangerous opponent to their lower-ranked fighters,” Ehran said, his eyes gleaming with something that was almost pride, but not quite. “You’re welcome for that.”

Eric let out a laugh in spite of himself. “Yeah, I’m not surprised to hear you take credit for that. Thanks for teaching me enough to hold my own.”

To his surprise, Ehran shook his head. “The people they sent in were foolish and inexperienced. If they’d been capable, your chances of survival would have been significantly lower.”

Eric opened his mouth to reply, but Ehran stopped him with a raised hand. “I’m not saying you didn’t fight well. From what Samuel drew out of the memory of the man who fled, combined with your chef’s testimony, you fought as well as could be expected.”

“Then what’s the complaint?” Eric asked. For some reason, he was feeling defensive, as if Ehran was saying he hadn’t done a good job. He’d managed to defeat most of his opponents with only one weapon, half-awake, and without being injured himself. Ehran held up two hands in a pacifying gesture though, so he stopped himself from speaking more.

“The blame, or rather the faults, do not lie on your shoulders, Eric.” Ehran was more conciliatory in his word choice now. “My point is that you need a guard for your estate. Hire one. Even just two men would be enough. More is better, but two is enough.”

“Because I may not always be able to take care of the threat in time,” Eric repied, suddenly understanding. “Fair point.”

“Exactly,” Ehran said, pointing adamantly. “Your chefs were lucky you arrived before they could be harmed. That may not always be the case.”

“I understand.”

“Good,” Eric said, heaving himself to his feet and yawning hugely. “Now I’m overdue for a nap. Run along yourself, and find people from the guild to do the job. Look for D or C-tier members. Your estate can’t really afford much else.”

“Does my estate have money?” Eric asked, frowning. “I’d never thought to ask.”

“Well, yes,” Ehran said. “Nobody explained that to you? Each estate has an allowance provided by the crown for maintenance and protection. You own one of the smallest, but you still have a fair amount of gold at your disposal each month.”

“I’m guessing you don’t know how much I have to work with,” Eric guessed. “Who would know that?”

“Well, normally your steward has that information. But as he’s currently missing, you should talk to the Royal Clerk. He’ll be able to tell you how your allowance is being distributed.”

“Alright,” Eric said. He adjusted his belt slightly. “Thanks for letting me know. Have a good day, or I suppose night.”

Ehran laughed. “I wish I had enough time for a full night’s rest. I’m sure Calemviir will have a job for me in two hours’ time. See you tomorrow.”

At a loss for what to do now that he’d been dismissed so quickly, Eric stayed a while in Issho-Ni to watch some apprentices sparring. The master in attendance offered Eric a chance to join them, but he politely refused. If today was his first full day off in nearly three weeks, he was going to take advantage of it. He wished the apprentices well and made his way out of the building. The traffic on the Queen’s Road had lessened now that the farmers and tradesmen had reached their destination, so he strolled down the wide street at his leisure.

The Market was coming alive as he passed it, with the day merchants already at their boots, ready for the day’s customers. Suddenly realizing that he hadn’t eaten any breakfast, Eric wandered through the market, picking up a few steaming meat buns. He made a mental note to visit Mandra for lunch, and have more of the delicious strawberry tea. Even better, he thought, he could bring Emma. Make it a proper date.

He ate one of the meat buns as he made his way back to the estate, nodding politely to everyone who greeted him as he went. The street was occupied by the average citizens now, and they were a little more reserved when offering him polite greetings than the farmers. Even the lady at the magic supply shop was more polite to him as he stopped by to buy two small healing potions, welcoming him by name and bowing deeply when he left with his purchase.

He wasn’t sure what it was, but something about his place in Milagre had shifted. Where before he’d been nervous and out of his depth, he now felt more comfortable and at peace. It could have been that he’d spent enough time in the city, he argued, or perhaps it was just a general lightening of his mood. Not worrying about his purpose here every day and just getting on with his new life had taken quite a bit of stress away.

Emma was awake when he returned to the estate, sitting in the dining room and nursing a cup of coffee. She smiled widely as he sat beside her, taking another meat bun from the bag in his hand. He shoved the remaining two at her, and her eyes lit up. She immediately snatched one up and bit into it, making a loud sound of enjoyment. They spent about an hour in each other’s company, not saying much but enjoying the moment of peace. She was probably his favorite part of Ahya, Eric had to admit.