Chapter 010:

"Timothy Baek greets the count," Alexander said, bowing with perfect etiquette.

"Ah Timmy, as always you are far too stiff" the count replied as he patted the youth's shoulder warmly.

As he was pulled up from his bowing posture, Alexander studied the entourage surrounding the merchant. They consisted of two burly guards and one dainty secretary. It seemed the count was moving light today. To the group's back, Alexander spied a coachman waiting atop the count's decadent carriage, however, what drew his eye more was not the gaudy thing but rather the silhouette barely present from the window.

'Erika' Alexander thought in a voice not his own.

Badly startled and with an ominous feeling in his gut, Alexander checked the Synchronisation tab in his system.

{Synchronisation Rate: 5.5%}

Somehow he could feel the blasted thing rise at the mere mention of Erika. Instinctively, he realised that the more the rate rose, the larger the influence Timothy’s feelings would have over him

'Aw fuck no,' Alexander exclaimed, mentally sweating bullets. Throughout all his time as a hero, this was still somehow the weirdest thing that happened to him. Being slowly swallowed up by a 16-year-old kid full of equal parts shit and angst; it was horrifying.

But before Alexander could fully delve into his thoughts, the carriage door opened and

Erika stepped out wearing a simple summer dress.

A pang of what could only be described as puppy love shot throughout Alexander’s body and he further lost his absolute shit as he watched the synchro rate increase from 5.5 to 6.

Alexander shifted his gaze toward the count who had stepped back and was now speaking with the secretary. As he looked over, the count did the same and with a wink, he smiled slyly.

Alexander, understanding his intention, scoffed.

'How nice of you to give us some alone time, count,' He thought as he considered what to do next. One thing was for sure: No way in hell would he give in to the kid's urges; he was not sure what would happen if the synchro reached a hundred but he did have a bad feeling regarding it anyway.

Another option was to antagonize her but Alexander ruled that out as well; they say love and hate were sides of the same coin, and he had no idea what effect that would have on the synchro rate.

Erika was close now, close enough for him to see her expression: an odd mixture of guilt, gratitude, and...grief?

Puzzled, Alexander finally made his decision. Much like with his nightly escapades alongside Slim Grim and Big Ed, Alexander resolved himself to act completely unlike Timothy, he chose to act as if she was any random girl he had just met, which she truly was to him.

"Hi Tim," Her voice was just as pleasant as it was yesterday, only now it lacked the venom he had come to expect.

"Miss Schuyler, a pleasure to see you again," He replied, without an ounce of sincerity.

She seemed to have sensed this and bit her lip lightly. Her eyes showed slight hesitation before growing resolved and she moved to speak. "About yesterday-"

But before she could continue, he interrupted her by holding his hand up. "No need, water under the bridge,"

Her eyes widened slightly before regaining their calm. "Ok, deal," she agreed with a smile.

"Erika Schuyler," Alexander suddenly said with a serious expression.

"Yes, Timothy Baek," She replied back, just as seriously.

"Let's get along," He ended by reaching for a handshake.

"Sure," She took his hand into hers and they shook on it.

To the side, Count Schuyler had a mysterious smile on his face.

………………………………………………..

"This smithy is one of the only ones to perfectly match Mister Baek's….unique requirements," The secretary paused, looked to make sure Alexander was paying attention and continued. "The building is distant enough from the central district so as to not draw many eyes, but still close enough so as to remain relevant. It's not newly built by any means but also not dilapidated. Appearance-wise, it's so and so,"

"Yes," Alexander agreed "It does indeed look like a smithy,"

The secretary rolled her eyes before continuing "It is a double-story building with the bottom floor splitting into two general segments, the store-front to sell weapons should mister Tim be so inclined, and the smithy itself which has all the standard tools and equipment ready,"

"Who is the current owner?" Alexander suddenly asked.

Instead of answering, the secretary looked toward the count who nodded toward her and said "The building actually belongs to the Billiams group, a merchant association specializing in real estate,"

"Sir Billiams," the count added, "Is a close friend of mine and so he gave me a decent price, as such, don’t worry about reimbursing me quickly, take your time,"

And with that, the secretary handed Alexander a long scroll containing the specifics regarding the estate's expenses and costs.

Alexander's eyes glazed over at the sight of this but thankfully, his stupidity was accounted for. At the very bottom of the scroll was a final figure: his total monthly fee.

Amusingly, Alexander found that Count Schuyler also accepted a protection fee.

He waited a few minutes and pretended to read the scroll a few times over. At his side, the count nodded approvingly.

This tale has been unlawfully lifted from Royal Road; report any instances of this story if found elsewhere.

"Thank you, count. It's perfect," Alexander said with a smile.

"I'm glad you like it. Now that we're done with business, it's time for gifts!”

After the exclamation, he clapped his hands and his bodyguards brought over piles of what seemed to be smithing materials. Various kinds of metal billets, several types of wood, and even some decorative jewels.

It was much too much.

Alexander's eyes narrowed as he pondered over the count's intentions.

But honestly, it mattered not as Alexander knew something the count didn’t. The future.

………………………………………………..

After an hour wasted on useless pleasantries which included Alexander repeatedly refusing the much too much gifts and the count repeatedly shoving them back down his throat; he was finally free.

Now standing alone before the smithy, Alexander suddenly said out loud: "You can come out now,"

A moment passed before her registered movement in his peripheral vision. A young figure, probably a boy, appeared from his hiding place beside the smithy.

"What do you want?" Alexander asked in a relaxed tone.

Instead of answering, the boy took something out of his bag. A rotten tomato.

"Really now?"

"Thief!" The young man screamed before tossing the fruit toward Alexander.

Without batting an eye, he caught the deadly projectile and tossed it back.

The boy's eyes widened in surprise as he dramatically rolled on the ground, successfully avoiding the attack.

As he studied the boy's now soiled clothes, Alexander wondered whether the dodge was worth it.

"You're skilled, but you are still a rotten thief!" The boy said as he took something else out of his bag.

Alexander was somehow disappointed to see that it was not a fruit this time. It was a gun, or at least he thought it was a gun. The device, which the boy supported on his shoulder, was a long, metallic cylinder with a trigger at the base.

"80% chance it's a gun," Alexander muttered to himself.

When the gun's trigger clicked and a controlled explosion shot a projectile out, he muttered to himself again, "99 percent chance it’s a gun,"

Tilting his head ever so slightly to the side, Alexander smirked as the projectile passed him harmlessly.

"Smells like….baked potato,"

A splat sounded out as the potato hit the wall and exploded into hundreds of pieces, painting the wall in goo.

“So like, what’s your deal?” Alexander asked as he began to approach the boy who in turn took a couple of steps back as he reloaded the gun. Evidently, it wasn’t easy to reload the spud cannon and the boy struggled to shove the starchy mass down the metallic shaft.

“Wait, don’t say anything let me guess, you are jealous of my looks,”

This seemed to grab the assailant’s attention as he stopped what he was doing and looked toward him, saying “No I’m not,”

Alexander, who was now closer, paused briefly at how honest the boy looked. ‘Oi, oi, oi, isn’t that a bit too straightforward? Aren’t you supposed to throw an insult back instead of answering truthfully? Don’t you know how to banter?’ He thought to himself as he felt oddly irritated. Unbeknownst to him, he had sped up his pace slightly.

Seeing that he received no reply, the boy went back to re-loading his gun as he stumbled backward.

Bang!

Another projectile shot and another potato dodged by Alexander who side-stepped seconds before it hit him.

Seeing that his foe was now too close for long-range attacks, the boy immediately dropped the gun and reached for his bag.

“What’re you gonna take out now? A carrot sword?”

Unfortunately, the legendary sword did not appear as what the boy took out was powder.

Alexander’s eyes narrowed as he watched the boy blow on his palm, scattering the powder ‘This might be serious, what is it? Poison?’ He closed both his eyes and halted his breathing while he quickly retreated.

But while doing so he couldn’t help but notice an odd taste in his mouth, ‘Is this?’

“Fucking garlic seasoning, really?” He yelled as his eyes exploded open in anger before widening in surprise

Amid the plumes of garlic powder, stood the valiant figure of a 15-year-old kid with a dark-colored bowl cut. He had a determined expression on his face as he gave his all into throwing what he held in his hand…another rotten tomato.

Now fully exasperated, Alexander extended his leg and caught his foot on that of the kid’s. With a pull, the kid lost balance and Alexander caught the hand holding the tomato, “Here, have a snack,” He said before ramming the rotten produce into the kid’s face.

With a pained grunt, the youth fell to the floor after which Alexander sat on him, bringing the fight to a close.

‘Not my finest moment, I will admit,’ He thought to himself as he felt the kid squirm beneath him.

“Ready to talk now?”

………………………………………………..

His name was Arin Erikson, fifteen years of age, average appearance with a pitiful haircut.

“It’s the easiest way to cut my hair,” He had said when Alexander asked.

He had a family but they left a while ago. Alexander did not particularly care why, nor did Arin care to elaborate.

“They just left. Didn’t want me to come along,” That being said, they weren’t fully evil as they left him with a decent sum before leaving.

“What about the smithy?” Alexander finally asked the big question.

“I had my eye on it,”

“Excuse me?”

“Do you have trouble understanding me? Should I simplify?” He said before tilting his head innocently.

The fact that he genuinely did not seem to have any ill intentions pissed Alexander off even more. ‘Cheeky brat!’ he thought as he breathed in to cool himself off. “If you wanted it, why didn’t you buy it?”

“Insufficient funds,”

“What?”

“It means that I did not have enough money,”

“No I get that, I just mean…Ah forget it, Fuck off,” Alexander found that talking to him took a lot out of him so he wanted to put the matter to rest and he entered the smithy.

Unexpectedly, the kid followed him inside while eyeing Alexander carefully. “Hey, Timothy-,”

“Mister Timothy,”

“Why are you saying your own name, are you confused?” Arin asked with a tilt of his head, genuine concern in his eyes.

‘I’m an adult. I’m an adult. I’m an adult. I’m an adult.’ Alexander thought to himself before giving up and answering the question. “I'm firing up the forge,”

“How’d you know that I wanted to ask about that?”

“A hunch,” Alexander said before stoking the fire some more. Once it was sufficiently hot, he chose a random billet from the pile and stuck it into the forge.

Tongues of fire licked the steel billet, slowly changing its color from cool silver to a roaring orange.

Having felt that it was hot enough, he took the billet out and placed it on his anvil, afterwards he picked a particularly large hammer from the count’s selection and began his work.

With the rhythmic banging of his hammer, the smell of molten steel, and the sheer heat of his forge, he was instantly transported back to his youth in another world where a piss-poor Alexander had to make do with forging shitty little knives for shitty little brats.

It was surprisingly honest work considering the situation at the time.

He now had a smaller hammer in his hand as more delicate tweaks were needed. With a rough shape in place, now it was time to chip away the excess, to hammer away the untidy bumps.

It was only as he studied the blade’s evenness that he remembered he had a guest.

“You’re still her-” Alexander stopped himself from continuing. The boy was acting weird. He stood stock still, staring at the unfinished blade.

Alexander recognized this look, it was one he had envied greatly.

It was the start of an obsession.