Bleary-eyed, Harry Reed casually flipped open "The Knight's Return" and before he knew it, he was sucked into the story, binge-reading for five solid hours.
"This is like nothing I've ever read," he mused.
Gone were the tedious build-ups and cliché demons, the asinine kings with faces like donkeys, and those too-eager princesses.
Feeling a thrill rush to his head when the valiant Knight smugly smirked in the face of his detractors, Harry felt an adrenaline surge and almost wanted to charge at demons himself.
When the protagonist summoned an army of knights with a mere shout, Harry could practically feel his own blood pumping – he was ready for battle.
Seeing the four powerful families who wronged the hero's daughter thrown into kennels made Harry's day. It was as if his soul had stepped out for a spa day.
He laid down the book and stared out of the window lost in life's deep thoughts, not even a lavish dinner could snap him out of his reverie.
After dinner, Harry bolted back to his room to resume reading, only putting the book down at midnight. It was then, with a curious heart, that he noticed the author's signature – 'Humble Hero'.
Come morning, the butler Seth received a direct order from the earl himself: Find this 'Humble Hero' and bring him to me.
Sam, a street-wise messenger with a side hustle in locating people, got wind of this and scratched his head. "Who the heck is 'Humble Hero'? And what does he do?"
"The earl read his book a few days ago and loved it – said it did wonders for his mood. Wants the chap brought over. First-person to collect a whopper of 20 gold coins, I reckon," explained an associate.
Sam, knowing the seedy writers of the south quarter, couldn't recall any talking about recent success, except – could it be that adventurer?
But where on earth did the strong young lad live?
A trip to the Adventurer's Guild, and a couple of bribed silver coins later, Sam had Murphy's address. The West End? This guy's no ordinary person.
At 2 Clester Street, Sam was gobsmacked by the grand iron gate and opulent house. Pondering how to approach without awkwardness, a golden retriever caught his eye, rolling joyfully in the lawn.
"Oi, pooch!" Sam whispered to the lawn's occupant, Buster.
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Buster, the intuitive canine, stood, shook off the grass, and trotted over.
"Mister Murphy lives here, yeah?" Sam enquired with a hint of hope.
Buster nodded.
Amazed by the dog's smarts, Sam continued, "Could you fetch Mister Murphy for me?"
The golden bolted for the house and minutes later, Sam was greeted by the young tavern boy.
"Murphy, sir, long time no see," Sam schmoozed.
"Have you sorted that thing out?" Murphy asked flatly.
"Indeed, the earl's all about your book, says it's pepped him right up."
"And what brings you here today?"
"The earl wants to meet 'Humble Hero' himself and hand over the 20 gold coins. Imagine that!" Sam's mouth watered at the thought.
With Sam's assistance, Murphy met with butler Seth and secured an invitation to dine with the earl that evening.
---
"Master's dining with the earl?" asked Pepe, her eyes wide post-dark magic practice.
"Yes, part of the plan. It’s the perfect undercover," Murphy replied nonchalantly.
"And when will you... you know, deal with the earl?"
"Soon, Pepe. Who's teaching you these words, anyway? Terrifying!"
Dinner night arrived and Murphy in his finest, realized that this was bigger than he thought. Not only him but the city's elite were present, smoozing over cold cuts, until Count Reed called for music's end.
"Ladies and gentlemen, thank you for joining tonight's feast. I have a thrilling announcement," the count started, oblivious to the snickers below.
"I've come across a spellbinding book and its author, 'Humble Hero'. Murphy, come up here," he beckoned.
Murphy, feigning naivety, crept to the count's side.
"To keep my word, I'm giving these 20 gold coins to Mister Murphy."
AS the moniker of 'Humble Hero' ached, the earl's next words hit.
"And I officially appoint Mr. Murphy as my literary advisor."
Murphy was flabbergasted. Twenty gold coins to buy me out? Is the old coot getting fresh with me?
Yet, there was no turning down the offer at this point. After all, Count Reed's word was law – it was the earl's personal echo chamber. Murphy had no reverence for the earl, but he knew a flat-out refusal would mean it's time to pack up and play elsewhere.
Quick to regain his composure, Murphy considered that this role as a literary advisor might not be so bad. It was a good cover for the intelligence gathering he needed to do anyway.
With that thought, his resistance waned.
So amidst the audience's perfunctory applause, Murphy summoned all his acting prowess, channeling the image of Alaric in his mind, tearfully expressing that serving as the earl's literary advisor was a blessing of eight lifetimes and formally accepted the position.
The earl snagged a somewhat talented writer, while Murphy got his hands on the coveted twenty gold coins and the chance for more espionage, both looking towards bright futures.
Riding high on good spirits, the earl declared that he would commission thirty copies of "The Knight's Return" to give to the upper crust in attendance.
Murphy might have been appointed as the literary advisor, but he wasn't tied down. In this world oblivious to copyright concerns, the Count simply needed to keep the golden goose of capable authors close by to not fret over the lack of good reads.
Murphy's task was simple: present a piece of his writing to the earl each month, one that had to be up to snuff, or else he'd have to return the twenty gold coins.
Murphy wasn't bothered by this. For one, he had a stockpile of satisfying plot twists from home yet to be penned. Another boon, and possibly the greatest catch of his venture, was the unrestricted access to the earl's vast library.