“What name did your parents give you?” under the squinted look of a grey-eyed investigator, Robert sighed inwardly.
“Robert. Hadn’t changed after the previous five times you asked.”
Answering the same questions just with different wording wasn’t a hard task but was quite boring. A bald man in formal black attire, with a bushy mustache and piercing deep-set eyes was methodically checking his story. He even placed a huge book with records on the table before him and read something from time to time. At least all this interrogation was held in a small room, filled with hundreds of books and a huge table in the center, and not in jail. Still, Robert even had to undress to show his scars to convince the investigator. The good thing was that the tattoo on the inner side of the forearm wasn’t seen, hidden in inactive form. The image of an open maw with a whirlpool made of vague figures would make him look like someone directly from a creepy sect.
“Tell me your most vivid memory from childhood. Oh, by the way, how old are you?” new attempt to catch him on lies.
“I don’t know when I was born and the duration of the year, but I guess I am a young adult?” followed Robert's answer while he was thinking about it. “In comparison with Gregory, the guard that led me here, I think I am slightly older. Maybe between seventeen and nineteen? Oh, and my most vivid memory is when I was eaten alive by some bear… or wolf… or any predator with huge fangs that I forgot after it literally chewed me for some time before spilling out,” Rob raised his left arm to show one of the scars once again.
“That happened when you went with your father into the woods, right?”
“No, never said that. It might be like that probably, but I don’t remember, can’t assert confidently,” without blinking Rob declined this open trap.
“Were your parents gatherers like most of the inhabitants of Posionleaf village or merchants that came for trading?”
Wow, Poisonleaf… no wonder that every damn plant in the forest was venomous…
“There is a possibility for both, but I just don’t know. Don’t remember any road trip. No wonder with my empty head.”
“How did you manage to hide in the cellar during the attack?” The pause was not even a few seconds long and a new question emerged.
“Opened the hatch and dropped down, I guess? Everything was like in a mist, or more likely, in a fire and smoke. I was acting on sheer instinct in an attempt to survive.”
“Have you ever traveled somewhere? Maybe to another village?”
“Don’t know, but maybe not. As you can see, I am quite weak and any long walk is too hard for me,” Robert raised his thin arms to demonstrate, ignoring the fact he answered a similar question less than a minute ago.
“When did you notice that you can feel spiritual energy? Was it after or before the attack on the village?”
“Never, I don’t feel anything,” Robert declined instantly, but before he added a new remark, he got another question. And another. That continued for at least a full hour before the investigator finally closed the book and went silent. Stroking his mustache, he seemed to be in deep thought. His other hand was nervously hitting the table as if something bothered him. However, Robert didn’t have even the slightest fear inside him. That endless stream of questions might make someone stressed enough to make a mistake in testimony, but for him after tens of exams about military tech and psychology training, it was like a walk in the park.
“So, now you can tell the truth, or we will go with a painful way. You speak too freely for the ordinary villager. You are not in any records of the residents. Those scars are quite horrible indeed, but it is the first case for me, when injured got so the loss of memories for so long, while not losing ability to speak. So, tell me, ROBERT, who are you and what is your true goal?”
The dead serious face of the investigator with no emotions pictured on it was quite intimidating… for anyone, who wasn’t yelled at by trainers. Moreover, their main goal of that pressure was exactly to make future operators stress-resistant. Most of them changed their behavior drastically after confirming that their wards could handle the war. That’s why Robert sighed again before answering. He had a random thought about the possibility of lie detection using the magic, but discarded it, as he didn’t have any better option than to just keep his story until the end.
“Dear mister investigator, I really don’t remember anything before the attack. I don’t know why I can speak in such a way, but I have no knowledge of basic things. The guard’s sergeant even had to correct me when I tried to address him as a sir. I don’t think any sane man can say that, knowing the possible dire consequences. I don’t know if I am from the village or was taken there before an attack, or what marked me with such scars and who healed my wounded body. However, I do know that I am ready to join the militia willingly and maybe I would be even glad to be there, as I don’t know where to go or who I can ask for help. My only fear is not your “painful way”, but that militia will refuse to take me in because of my body sickly physique. I really don’t have any idea what to do in such a case.”
Heavy silence enveloped a small room. The investigator was still looking with the same expression on his face and wasn’t even blinking. Maybe this atmosphere would lead some weak hearted to break down, but Robert felt only hunger. His empty stomach was desperately in want of food. Therefore, when it finally growled, Rob tried to ignore the loud sound but was met with a laugh from the other side of the table.
“Good, good. You can go now. Maybe I will see you again in the future. Hope so, because I like your confidence, calmness, and possibility to speak clearly under pressure. Would like to have such a helper in my work. Wish that confidence of yours will help you on the battlefield,” completely dropping his intimidating demeanor, the investigator pointed to exit.
“Wait, that’s it? I am not complaining and quite happy with the outcome, but at the same time slightly confused,” Robert muttered in surprise.
“See, this manner of speech I was talking about. Yes, that’s it,” he smiled with the edges of his lips before continuing; “I am indeed one of the Baron’s main investigators and have to admit that I am a quite important person. On the other hand, you are not. I am sure that you have hidden something, and you are not a common villager, but your body weakness and inability to feel spiritual energy are already confirmed, which decreases your threat level by a lot. Together with your future in the militia, where you would physically be limited in movement, decision, and information, that makes danger non-existent. So, it’s not hard to set you free to serve our Baron, especially on a battlefield.”
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Confirmed? When? How? Was it some kind of magic device?
“If I did break under pressure and confess to something that I definitely hadn’t done… because I was telling the truth earlier… but if I did that, then you would send me in prison for further investigation. However, you don’t have enough free time for some random no one, who doesn’t pose a threat but could be used as free meat. Hm, I understand,” unwittingly concluded Robert before thinking carefully about speaking his thoughts in loud.
“Good point. I would be glad to have such a helper without a doubt, but with the war nearing and your misty background, I wouldn’t risk betting on “random no one”. Could be your plan, for example, to hook my interest and take you in. So, exit is there and don’t waste my time anymore. It was pleasant break in affairs, but it had ended already,” this time his tone was cold, and Robert hastened himself to leave the room.
That was surprisingly strange… at least I can confirm that no one gives a shit about me. That is good, but it also hurts my ego. Am I not a real envoy of God from another world? I am almost like an MC but without proper looks! Wait, most MCs are weak and ugly in the beginning, but later they will transform into a completely new person with changed looks, mentality, and body with six-pack abs. So, there is still a chance! I already have needed pathetic starting points that can lead me to become a butterfly like them! Stop, not night butterfly… that is completely different! Abort your imagination, Rob! Turn it off right now!
Continuing joking inside his head, Robert walked outside of the building. He even broke into laughter when he imagined himself in the place of a night woman in a tight red leather dress, on high heels, with a scarred face covered with an unkempt beard, and a thin body without any muscles. What a scenery it might be – award for best Halloween costume guaranteed. At least his lengthy footwalking with the help of his adaptation ability slightly boosted his physique again. Rob was sure that any true newbie would grow by a lot in the first months, so no wonder that after two weeks and literally supernatural restoring power, he gained some endurance. Still, there was a lot of space for future progress.
Envoy of Wepwakor (candidate) – Tier 0
Strength 3/23 Agility 5/17 Endurance 6/25 Toughness 6/15
Vitality 6/16 Perception 9/14 Mind 40/50 Core 14/20
Mana regeneration (7): 1% in apr. 117 seconds
Current level of mana – 100%
Abilities: Adaptive
Traits: Remolded, Envoy, Spirit, Anchor
Gregory and Jonathan met him with dissatisfied glances. The long wait clearly didn’t make them happy, but no questions or remarks followed. They just showed him where to go and hurried him. Both didn’t speak, only walked forward in visible hope to finish the boring task as fast as possible. Robert even had thought about apologizing just to strike up a conversation and gain some more info about the difference between militia and personal guards, but their faces showed zero chances of achieving that result.
Soon, they were on the outskirts of the village, where a huge camp made of tens of tents behind a short wooden fence was located. You didn’t have to be a genius to figure out that it was some kind of training place for militia. Nearby buildings were also set for use, from storing equipment that was unloading from carts before Robert's eyes, to administrative function, where he was taken by silent guards. His registration into the militia took no longer than a few minutes. The local clerk only asked for his name, age, place of living, and presence of distinctive features. Under the watchful eyes of a middle-aged enlister, Rob had to show his scars.
“Wow, if you are alive after that, you got to have good luck,” commented clerk before quickly writing something on yellow parchment, “For your understanding, I am currently making notes about your appearance, so if you ever try to desert, guards can find you for further execution. Oh, don’t worry, no tiring prison – Baron doesn’t like to waste money. Quick hack of an axe and everything is over,” a genial and even kind smile on enlister’s face was quite contracting to his own words.
“Thank you for your worrying. Always was of afraid of dark cold cells,” joked Robert to lighten the mood.
“Hey, our prison has a standard and is meant for valuable persons. Even great knights can find it comfortable, not speaking about some uneducated villager,” feeling offended, his tone changed dramatically. He hastily finished his writings before giving Robert a metal token with a familiar emblem of two moons above a bonfire with two tiny swords in the right top corner. It seemed it was engraved on metal together with an eight-digit number.
“Don’t lose it because without it you can’t get your monthly payment. On the contrary, its price will be deducted from it. Your squad number is one. Report to your sergeant and follow his orders from now on. Now, leave,” Rob was again pointed to the door. To his surprise, on other the side, no one waited for him. Both Gregory and Jonathan had already left, again not bothering to say goodbye. That was quite understandable, but made Robert feel lonely for a moment.
Am I that dependable on others? Finally, I was freed from the strict system with rules and orders, which was military, but I am happily jumping again into the same thing… Nah, I don’t have enough personal strength or understanding of this world to bet my life on it during incoming apocalypses. I am not a teenager trying to prove that I am not like others. The triangle in the world of squares and circles. Yep, not me defiantly.
Walking among tents in search of anyone who could help, Robert confirmed his suspicion that right now training camp was just gathering people and was not operating fully. Negligence in any army wasn’t rare, so he wasn’t surprised that he wasn’t taken directly to his squad. Moreover, if he wasn’t there on time, he was sure that punishment would follow. In addition, that warning about deserting from the clerk didn’t seem to be empty words as he already saw a few poles with ropes on them. At least such treatment showed that militia here was not used as meat shields despite all his thoughts on this matter and the words of the guard’s sergeant. The reason was simple - if it was true, then nobody would send him in free roaming across the camp, the fence would be at least twice higher, and armed guards would keep future soldiers under intently watch.
“Hey, vagabond, who are you and what are doing here?” a deep loud voice sounded behind Robert’s back, making him flinch from the scare. Quickly turning around, he faced a huge metal figure in plate armor. That armor not only covered every possible gap but also had lots of stiffening ribs across it and just by the look was really thick. On the contrary of Earth’s medieval armor, the shoulder pads were symmetrical, definitely prioritizing foot fight and not usage of a long spear. At least such a conclusion Rob made after glancing over the figure. Despite this, the armored man had even sabatons, which were basically metal boots, just to protect every single part of his body.
Another noticeable difference from his native world was a very long two-handed sword, which the knight carried on his shoulder. It looked like more a fantasy weapon from a movie or game than the real one, but Robert remembered a brief explanation about the abilities of such warriors. Covered with their own energy, their swords could easily cut through steel. Together with a formidable physique that could rival giant Gregory, it made a lot of sense. The knight in that way got a long reach, a full variety of thrusting or slashing moves, and enough weight to make hits stronger while being protected by his armor. The latter exclude the need for a shield while the longer blade of the sword worked better than ordinary halberd and similar polearms in such conditions. In addition, the ability to cut the steel made usage of hammers a real waste. As Roberts understood, the knight didn’t even need a sharp edge of the sword, relying mostly on energy. That’s why two-handed swords were quite a logical pick. And they were cool too.
“Sir, my name is Robert, and I am a new recruit of the first squad in search of my sergeant to report,” hastily explained Rob after bowing as deeply as possible, inwardly praying not to mess up with unknown customs of greetings knight. Finally, after a second wait that in Rob’s mind lasted an eternity, the knight silently pointed in the direction before continuing his way.
That was very stressful. I need to adapt as soon as possible - the death because of the wounded pride of a random knight sounds like an awful idea. Don’t think that my spirit body can resurrect me after being beheaded.