“Actually, you know what? MOVE HAHAHAHA!”

Jackson wrested control from Ash’s consciousness. Unfortunately for the young teen, the surprise attack left him without any time for ample defense. It was an easy battle for Jackson to overpower the mental defense of the youth who was still inexperienced and green behind the ears.

“Euk! Fu–”

With a last attempt at cussing Ash’s body dropped to the ground. Ash’s body was at an odd angle with his ass stuck in the air. His mouth was agape with saliva leaking out of his mouth; his eyes were glassy like those of a dead fish.

Ash’s body laid there for a cold minute before a flicker of consciousness returned to those vibrant pink pupils.

The previously slack expression morphed into one of mischief, giving away the identity of the body’s possessor. It was Jackson who was in control now. Wiping the saliva off his face, Jackson regarded his hands with mild interest before touching his chin in triumphance.

“Fucker give my body back!”

The youth was screaming hard but his mental strength was still exhausted. Jackson’s mental barriers were well fortified in comparison to the easily angered adolescent.

Without paying any regard to Ash’s annoyance, Jackson smirked unnaturally and cheerfully hummed a tune.

“Alrighty! Now that I’m in control, let’s start off with some head hunting.”

With a smirk unbecoming of his body’s age, the overly smug adult who stole a fourteen year old’s body made his way towards his next destination. There was a glint in his eye that suggested trouble. Not that Ash could do anything about what was to come. Helplessly ranting, the teenager continued to cuss Jackson out while gritting his teeth.

“Oh, is that the little master?”

Jackson returned to the training barracks where Ash had trained earlier. The chestnut haired knight who guarded his cage popped out with a flustered expression on his face.

Interestingly, he decided to make his presence known and seen this time around when Jackson visited.

“Is that a familiar face I see? I think it was…what was your name again?”

Jackson decided to adapt a friendly smile in front of him. Unlike a certain pooch, he’d rather not make it a habit of scaring people away.

“Huh?! Ah, yes! I guarded your cage! Gilleon! Sir!”

With a squeak the chestnut haired squirrel knight stiffened and quick-fired his response in fear.

Jackson wondered why the hell he’d bother coming up to him if he was going to be scared, but he soon figured out why.

Gilleon was glancing around anxiously while looking behind him. There seemed to be something that he didn’t want him to see.

“Young master, I think it's best to return at a later time…”

After staring at him suspiciously for a second and eliciting another small yelp from the knight that was surely a trainee, Jackson swiftly looked behind the chestnut haired knight’s back.

Inside his head, there was the sound of cursing that scratched his brain unpleasantly yet amused Jackson to a degree.

“Fucker, stop screwing around, why the fuck are you here! Sto…”

Jackson curiously peered behind the body of the squirrel knight who jumped up to block his view. Unfortunately for the newbie knight, Jackson was much quicker. He widened his eyes at the sight before him.

There was a training instructor and a blond haired boy with glimmering silver eyes standing side by side.

The little boy was dressed in soft cream silk and leathers around the more vulnerable areas of his body. With his glittering hair in a loose ponytail, the young boy around ten years of age had a serious look on his face as the instructor gently explained how to use a sword. Despite the delicacy of his features however, there was a large bandage on his right cheek that presented a pitiful image on the young child.

The boy matched Jackson’s description of Curtis. Judging from the treatment he was getting, his conjecture on his identity seemed to be justified.

The knights around the boy were boisterous and motivated, their faces concentrated in their training regimen. They didn’t seem bothered at all by the presence of their young liege as if it were nothing out of the ordinary.

It was miles away from the treatment Ash received earlier. The boy was in an isolated corner by himself, chopping away fiercely at the training dummy as the knights made sure to avoid him.

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Jackson never really understood how Ash grew up since the story began at the academy. But, seeing the contrast between the two kid’s treatment…there was a flicker of annoyance that lighted in Jackson’s heart before he remembered the punk had punched the little boy in a fit of rage. Then after he thought of the pitiful death of the teen in two years time, he felt himself turning against his rage infused protagonist that took out his anger on his brother.

With a glimmer of determined proactivity, Jackson promised himself to thoroughly rehabilitate his rapid chihuahua.

Peeking back at the chestnut haired knight, Jackson almost saw imaginary ears drooping down on either side of his head.

“I’m sorry, my liege…I believe everyone’s busy with their tasks to supplement any aid for your training... ”

Jackson scoffed and waved his hand.

It was bullcrap if you asked him. There were plenty of relaxed soldiers around. But the moment Ash came into the hall, their faces tightened as if they were met with any unsavory sight.

There was a particular strong glare from the left side of the hall. A man with raven black hair and a gaunt appearance shot daggers at Ash like he was his mortal enemy. A much younger knight by his right side–perhaps his apprentice– scrunched his face in similar revulsion before shifting to a false look of indifference.

Jackson frowned. There was something about the man with raven hair that seemed familiar…the name was on the tip of his tongue but failed to come to mind. After a careful bout of scrutiny he decided to focus on his goal first and foremost.

Jackson already had his plans to find a trainer. Until then…training dogs into obedience could wait.

Waving his hand towards the chestnut knight that was much more sympathetic, he spoke in a nonchalant tone.

“Whatever. I don’t mind at all~ I just want to see Hubert. Hubert Losre. Do you happen to know who he is?”

“Y-yes?! Hubert Losre…I’m sorry, my liege but the sir knight, is ummm…”

Looking a little scared, he quickly glanced to his right and left as if someone were about to jump him. In a hushed tone, he continued after a brief moment of hesitation.

“ Sir Hubert isn’t someone young master should get close to. From what I heard, he’s a drunkard who barely managed to maintain his position as a knight through his connections…if anything, I believe it's best that you stay away from him as much as possible! I can't imagine how horrible of an influence he'd have on young master!”

Bingo. Jackson admired his own luck and thanked Hubert for his notoriety. It certainly did make his life many times easier.

With a tone of happiness Jackson responded to the knight trainee.

“Gilleon! You’re my last hope!”

Jackson reached out to grab the hands of the squirrel knight. With another squeak, Gilleon seemed taken aback as Jackson approached him with glimmering eyes.

“H-huh, young master Ash!?”

“Please! On a secret mission from my father, I desperately need to find Hubert. If I don’t ask you, I don’t think anyone else would lead me to him.”

“A–a secret mission from the count…”

With a look of shock, Gilleon repeated his words nervously. After a moment of hesitation which he seemed in deep distress, the young knight suddenly brightened his eyes and looked at Jackson with determination.

“Yes! Young master, your humble servant will lead you to him right away!”

With a determined voice as though he was granted a life or death mission, the earnest knight turned around and began walking.

Interestingly enough, it seemed as though the absent count was someone that this squirrel knight respected a great deal amount. To heed his words so quickly...thinking of the demure noble with dodgy communication, Jackson was a little puzzled.

“Fucker stop fucking around with my dad’s name!”

Ash was still yapping complaints inside his head. The long stream of complaints was filtered out extensive by Jackson's ability to dodge bullcrap. It was a trait that carried him well through his years as the internet's most hated writer.

“Heheheh. I don’t wanna hear you complain, you daddy boy! Just be glad I made life easier for the both of us!”

“Fucker, the only bitch who’s better of is you, you son of a…”

Jackson went back to ignoring his protagonist as he maneuvered through the crowd of knights with Gilleon. After walking around the edge of the training hall, Jackson skeptically glanced at their surroundings. They were far away from the rest of the boisterous knights. Yet Gilleon continued to walk further and further away without hesitation until they neared a fortress of wooden crates.

“Here?”

Just as Jackson was about to regret following him, Gilleon came to a stop and vibrantly smiled at Jackson.

“Young master, we’re here!”

“Hahh…where is the man?”

Jackson was a little miffed but it was of no matter to the eager squirrel knight. Whipping his head around, the squirrel knight yelled loudly with a hint of nervousness.

“H-Hubert! Wake up!”

All that awaited the two was dead silence. Looking to and fro, no one appeared. The crates continued to be their lonesome selves, and the two of them were the only company they had.

The expectation inside Jackson’s heart was beginning to fade. Just when he was about to walk off back to the rest of the knights to find someone who knew of Hubert, he heard a groan and a shuffling sound from one of the crates.

“Who the hell…”

A grim voice rang out with a tinge of annoyance colored within it. A limp hand dragged itself out from the side of the crate.

“E-eek!”

With a shriek the knight trainee fell to his ass as Jackson looked incredulously at the crate.

After the hand, a tired man in desperate need of a shave popped out. The man’s matted white hair stuck to his temples and framed a gaunt looking face. His brown skin was a sickly color indicating his lack of health, and his listless dark blue eyes were bloodshot from his lack of sleep. Despite the lack of spirit however, his eyes trained onto the two of them and bore a hole through their bodies.

“E-eek!”

Gilleon screeched a little again. Jackson admired how the trainee had managed to survive so far with how fearful he was.

Jackson recognized him as the knight that glared at him when Ash had visited the hall.

With a frown he looked up and down as if he had eaten something strange. Jackson admittedly flinched a little when Hubert’s eyes shifted towards him. Then again, Jackson wasn't sure if there was any normal 21st century person that wouldn't be intimidated by a trained mercenary.

“...Young master?”

Hubert seemed a little confused as he asked his question.

His invitation prompted Jackson to relax a little. He shifted into business mode.

“Yes, nice to meet you Hubert! I’m A–”

A knife flew at Jackson's temple. With wide eyes, Jackson stood there in shock as Gilleon hurriedly pushed Jackson out of the way and deflected the projectile.

“Young master! Are you okay!?”

With a panicked expression the knight turned around to face Jckson who was still stoned from what just happened.

After a brief moment he collected himself with sweat dripping down his back. Oops. The smile slipped but Jackson melded into superficial ease once again.

“Yes, thanks Gilleon.”

Jackson thought of how close to death he was in the moment as he fiddled around with his neck.

“Well damn…”

“What the fuck is up with this old geezer!?”

Ash sounded as if he were on the verge of starting a fight. Jackson smirked helplessly at his angry protagonist.

“Hubert, what are you doing?! How could you…to young master ....”

Hubert maintained an air of nonchalance as if he did nothing wrong.

“Gilleon. Wake up. That isn’t the young master.”

Hubert's sickly eyes pierced through Jackson.