The estate that I found myself on was minimally staffed for secrecy’s sake. Which meant that I was left in charge of preparing most meals though My Handler would occasionally make simple sandwiches from leftover meats. That evening, I decided to prepare a simple meal of stew and bread, perfect to counter the cold wind that had begun to blow in recent nights. Unfortunately, my Handler also took this as an opportunity to quiz me on my progress towards gaining skills in Linguistics and Sociolinguistics.

As I stacked the birch logs in the cast iron stove’s fire box, arranged kindling around them, and struck a match, he asked, “How would you address a baron from Rugir?”

“I wouldn’t, if I could avoid it. Nobles are always trouble,” I said without thinking as I adjusted the dampers until the fire was crackling cheerfully.

“You must be able to blend in wherever the agency sends you. Now answer the question,” My Handler said with a shake of his head.

“I’d call him either “lord,” or if I’m being formal, then lord of whatever land he manages.”

“Correct, but only if you’re a servant. If you’re supposed to be his social equal in any way, then you use what?”

“‘Mister’ . . . or rather ‘monsieur,’ in Rugirian,” I answered, not entirely sure if I was correct as I checked the temperature of the oven with my hand.

“Good, though your pronunciation is atrocious. So, we will practise.”

I was rather satisfied that I’d been right, as I’d spent countless evenings after dinner reading through books on many countries’ nobility and the stupid rules that went along with them.

With the fire stoked and everything ready, I began to prepare for our meal as my Handler started to speak to me in Rugirian.

He asked me conversational questions about the weather, beast racing, and topics of politics, and I did my best to respond, but my Rugirian was rudimentary at best. I felt frustrated as I kneaded the dough I’d started earlier in the day, working it perhaps a tad more fiercely with my fists than it needed. I placed the dough in the oven just as my Handler switched to Abbaion, and the shift in language caught me off guard, and I let my hand graze the oven, giving me a small burn. The smell of baking bread filled the kitchen as I diced onions, carrots, and potatoes, and I shifted my mental thinking into the rougher and more guttural Abbaion, a language I was much better at. I even managed to imitate my Handler’s accent as I answered him and simmered the vegetables in a cast iron pot.

We continued our back and forth, the conversations switching between a half dozen languages and topics. All the while, my Handler complained at my mispronunciations and mistakes. Dear gods and goddesses, save me from my Handler’s complaints! “Oh, you sound like a little baby,” or “My poor ears, what language are you speaking right now?” And on and on it went.

I would have continued except the smell of baked bread filled the kitchen, and I heard a loud growl from the wolfman’s stomach.

“We’ll take a break for dinner,” he said, a hungry expression on his face as he inhaled the aroma of the bread and cooked stew.

When the bread was finished, it had a slightly burnt crust with a fluffy interior. I arranged two pewter plates on the white tablecloth and scooped generous helpings of stew onto each before bringing them over to the table.

We had no sooner taken our seats than a thunderous knock rattled the door. My Handler stood suddenly and snapped an order, “Stay here.” He straightened and lost his relaxed posture. It was the martial instructor and soldier I saw in him again. “If I tell you to run, you run this time. Got it?”

I nodded but couldn't help asking, “What’s wrong?”

“Very few know I live here. Even fewer would dare to come here. Either this is someone I trust implicitly, or someone has come to kill us both,” my Handler answered. The door at the entrance rattled again as someone banged, and the agent moved.

I darted to the dining room entryway, my heart pounding in my ears. I forced myself to remain still and silent as I spied on the angry wolfman, his heavy boots echoing off the cold marble floors of his home. The sound of metal on metal ringing through the house told me that my Handler had armed himself, likely with the sword he kept near the door. My heightened senses reached out to the door, searching for clues of who stood on the other side. I inhaled deeply and was met with a heady mix of sweat, salt, and tangy citrus, altogether reminding me of the sea and sailors.

The door hammered open, but there was no sound of clashing steel. Instead, the wolfman's deep, guttural voice echoed through the room as he snarled in Rychanian, “Eli, what are you doing here? How do you even know where here is?”

A gruff voice replied in the same language and accent, “Giorgi, the agency sent me. I apologise for the intrusion into your private residence.”

I could hear my Handler's exasperated sigh before he answered, “It's fine. It must be incredibly important if the agency sent you here.”

“Yes, it is,” Eli declared. “May I come in?”

“My Asset and I were just sitting down to lunch. Would you care to join us?” the wolfman asked and then added, “I am sure my eavesdropping Asset would be happy to give you his portion of the meal.”

I spat a string of obscenities in several languages, relishing in the knowledge that I had mastered so many ways to express my rage. I glanced at the two steaming bowls overflowing with stew and the chunks of buttery bread accompanying them.

Eli gave a throaty laugh. “That would be nice. I’ve never had an Asset, but I will remember this in the future should I take one. Though punishing one of ours for eavesdropping seems counterproductive, no?”

My Handler chuckled, "Maybe so, but then again, he is quite clever. I'm sure he'll have come up with a solution by the time we get to the table."

My hands were already vigorously redistributing the food between two bowls until I created a third place setting with smaller portions of each dish. As I heard their steps coming closer, I rushed to finish dividing the meal quickly.

I was already sitting when my Handler and a bearman strode into the dining room. This bearman was larger than anyone I'd encountered before, standing three heads taller than my wolfman mentor. His arms were as thick as my entire body, his muscles bulging from beneath his fur. Silver hair cascaded down his head, ears, and beard, and deep wrinkles lined his face, making him look much older than he was.

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My Handler gave me a slight nod then waved an arm, gesturing for Eli to take a seat. The chair creaked ominously under the enormous man's weight, and I briefly wondered if it could withstand it.

Eli ate quickly, using the bread to sop up the remains of the stew before licking his fingers clean, finishing the meal before either my Handler or I were even half finished. He belched loudly as he pushed the bowl and plate away. “It was good. I didn’t know you took up Cooking. Finally decided to follow in your master’s footsteps?”

The wolfman swallowed the food in his mouth, set his spoon down, wiped at his mouth with a napkin, then spoke. “My Asset prepared the food. He has a talent for it that I do not. Believe me, I am most grateful for that.”

Eli chuckled. “I see, I see. And how is your training with him going? Is he progressing well? I never thought you would train another, you know?”

My Handler glanced at me then back to Eli. “What has the agency sent you here for?”

Eli sighed. “Fine, fine, enough with the pleasantries, I suppose. I’ve been sent here to give you a mission. It’s urgent and vitally important.”

“I’m not ready to return to the field yet,” my Handler stated calmly. “The agency should know that I’ve only just started training an Asset. So why? What mission could be so important?”

Eli answered bluntly and with just four words. “There is a Hero.”

My heart dropped into my stomach as I heard the words, though I wasn’t sure why. The wolfman leaped to his feet, and his chair clattered to the floor. His disbelief was almost palpable as he bellowed out, “What?! What did you say?!”

Thankfully, his shock had kept me from notice. But my mind was already racing, fumbling for what was causing my anxiousness. Then I recalled my achievement.

Achievements

The Unsung - You have journeyed far, and your actions have saved many lives, though your name will never be known to them. You possess a Heroic Presence.

My heart raced as I tried to make sense of the news. Had they discovered my secret because of my Heroic Presence? I hadn't told a soul, yet somehow, their words struck a chord within me. I didn't even understand what The Unsung achievement was myself, and I felt a deep unease in my gut when I thought about sharing it with anyone, even my mentor.

Eli smiled softly then repeated himself, saying each word slowly and deliberately, “There is a Hero.” He wasn’t looking at me, so I forced myself to relax. I couldn’t draw either of their attention. Thankfully, it seemed they had both forgotten I was there.

“Dear gods!” the wolfman exclaimed with a hint of disbelief in his voice, losing his usually tightly held composure, if only for a moment.

Eli laughed and slapped at his knee, making the chair he sat upon creek loudly as the wood strained to hold his bulk. “And the damned mischievous little brat just had to tell the world.”

I breathed a giant mental sigh of relief. I hadn’t told anyone, so it couldn’t have been me they were talking about.

The wolfman leaned forward, putting both hands on the table, and then demanded, “Tell me we’re sending him into hiding? Preparing him?”

Eli’s humour faded, and he answered, almost looking reluctant to do so. “We are preparing him, which is part of why I am here, but hiding him . . . eh, not so much. It is a long story that begins and ends with Abbaio,” Eli answered, and my mentor cursed.

I knew from my studies that Abbaio was a very small nation, mostly known for its corruption and connections to organised criminal enterprises. Everything from racketeering to piracy. You name the crime, and they were probably neck deep in it. There were even rumours back in Puerto Manada that Catalina worked for someone in Abbaio. There was a reason for the saying, "Never trust an Abbaion with your wife or your purse because you might just wake up with neither." Yet they were a proud people, boasting of all their achievements with anyone who would listen. The problem was that they often overestimated their own worth and importance.

I was more curious about this Hero thing. It made me think of the Unsung Hero Job that was available to me on my Job Day. Was that the same thing?

My Handler sighed heavily, removing his hands from the table and setting his chair back up. He sat and folded his arms. He kept quiet for a long minute before he sighed again, “Of course, Abbaio would boast about bringing forth the next Hero. I’m sure they just couldn’t help themselves.”

Eli nodded as he agreed, “Pretty much. And it gets worse.”

My Handler closed his eyes and pinched at the bridge of his nose. With a heavy sigh, he motioned with a hand for Eli to continue.

“They are proudly sending him to Mancer as a representative of the people of Abbaio. There he will be trained and brought to the highest standard of martial and mystical prowess,” Eli said sarcastically.

My Handler’s jaw parted slightly upon hearing that. “Have they lost their minds?”

I didn’t understand my Handler’s anger. I’d never heard of Mancer, at least, not as a place. Mancer was the term usually applied to those with a magical job, like I could have become a Shadowmancer on my Job Day. There were all sorts of Mancers: Lightmancer, Firemancer, Watermancer, and so on and so forth.

Eli grimaced as he continued, “Not entirely their fault, just mostly. Anyway, immediately following the announcement, there were . . . threats made from certain nations that they were unprepared to deal with. The leadership of Abbaio, in their infinite wisdom, believes that sending the Hero to Mancer would give him a level of protection that the nation state cannot. Be thankful for that. Prior to one of ours stepping in, Premier Flavio Bianchi was about to hand the Hero over to Rychania. That would have been an even greater tragedy.”

“So, what is my mission? Extraction?” the now-much-calmer wolfman asked.

Eli shook his head. “No, you and your Asset are going undercover. We will arrange for him to enter as a student of the Royal Mancer Academy and you as a professor. You will be on the lookout for external threats and deal with them before they become an issue.”

“By external threats, you mean assassins, right?” The wolfman asked, sounding unenthusiastic about the work.

Eli smiled. “Exactly.”

My Handler ignored the reply and instead asked, “And my Asset is to what? Befriend him? Act as a bodyguard against the other students?”

“Uh, no,” Eli answered. “See, we think the dogboy needs something of a wake-up call. Someone to humble him a bit. An enemy . . . no, wrong word . . . uh . . . rival, yes, a rival. One that will make him take being the Hero a bit more seriously.”

“A foil?” My Handler asked with a snort.

Eli smiled again and repeated, “Exactly.”

“When are we expected to depart?”

Eli’s smile turned into a grimace. “Now . . . ish. A Portalmancer is waiting on the road with my wagon. You’ll portal over to Blue Forest and catch a ship from there.”

The wolfman groaned. “Give me the background packages and give us an hour to pack.”

Eli nodded and pushed away from the table. He touched one of the rings on his finger and two large thick envelopes appeared in his hand, which he set on the table. “I’ll see myself out then. Oh, and Giorgi.”

“Yes?”

“It was good seeing you again,” Eli finished with a small smile.

The wolfman returned a softer smile. “You too. Now go away already. I need to prepare.”

Eli nodded and left us.

My Handler sat in his chair for another long moment before reaching across the table and collecting the two envelopes and sliding one of them to me. He looked down at me and in the Rugirian language, his strange, flowery accent back in place, ordered, “Read that, memorise every detail, and then burn it. You have an hour so make it count.”

“What about packing?” I asked.

The Agent smirked and motioned to the satchel hanging across my body. “You and I both know you’re always packed and ready to go. You have been since the day we met. Now, read, study, memorise, and burn. Got it?”

I nodded and picked up the envelope.