Within the packed dirt courtyard, Rozalin and Hendrickson stood exactly 50 paces away.

"Are ya sure about this, Miss? I don't mean to be rude, but I think you're underestimating this old man a fair bit. You can still change the rules if you want."

Hendrickson looked across the field with discomfort plain on his face.

His opponent replied, "No, this is fine. Prepare yourself. Don't make any excuses if you lose."

Hendrickson sighed, staring at the robed woman in confusion. While he was hesitant to truly complain, he felt that the conditions set forth by her were too favorable for himself. It was quite vexing to the Knight-Captain. The woman known as Rozalin set forth a series of changes to the duel format that he'd never heard before. The summary was as follows:

Neither of them could move forward or backward. She would cast a single Bolt-type Spell at Hendrickson and if he blocked or otherwise survived it, it was his victory. He was confined to a box the length of his sword on each side. No jumping. If he dodged, it was her victory. She would take no liability for any property or medical damage sustained.

That last condition left the man a bit flabbergasted, yet he pressed on.

Hendrickson had judged the woman to be a hybrid-type mage, and that she appeared to be noticeably lower leveled than he, plus less experienced. This was going by the strength of the Mana signature she gave off. Regardless, while not impressive by any means for his age, the Knight-Captain was promoted as such for a reason. Strength.

For a level 32 warrior-type knight, blocking a bolt-tier Spell was easy, even without a shield. Taking one head on would scarcely pose much injury, too. The only real issue was his wooden training sword being destroyed in the process, but Hendrickson wrote it off as an acceptable loss. He wanted to figure this woman out more, especially before she set foot near Aryana. That was assuming she still intended to travel to the Biron estate.

Their bet stood, the question now became what element she would use? He was betting on Earth or Fire for a few reasons. Using an average mage as a basis, he assumed her proficiency in her elemental Bolt of choice was four or five. Wasn't she more of a Healer, anyway? Even if she'd reached six, to him a Fire Bolt of that caliber was still ...

Hendrickson sank deeper into thought, trying to figure out what was going through the enigmatic woman's mind to make such a wager. Perhaps she'd given up on winning and just wanted to probe his strength? Shouldn't she use a higher tier Spell, then? He'd still have agreed.

Then again, once he won, if she were on guard he might not discover much about her throughout the evening. Either way, he figured Amalia would be happy to have her master over for dinner. It wasn't like Hendrickson had much to lose. All in sporting fun.

Rozalin's muffled voice came across the field lowly, "Are you prepared?"

Hendrickson internally sighed one last time, before putting on a cheerful face, "Aye! Give me your best shot!"

Even with his sharp hearing, he failed to capture her response. Rozalin muttered quietly to herself from across those 50 paces.

"Oh, I plan to."

Magical energy began to come to life, as the Mana around and within the small figure began to swirl. Hendrickson watched as it grew more turbulent, taking form. Rozalin slumped lower to the ground, appearing to kneel. A chill began to permeate the air, before the water contained within it began to gather and crystallize.

What first struck Hendrickson as odd was the speed at which the ice formed. The air was rather dry today, yet the water droplets were plucked out of the air as if gathering from a small stream.

He frowned. Ice?

For her part, Rozalin was completely oblivious to the Knight-Captain. Her attention had gathered on a singular focal point. Amalia stood to the side, concern on her face. After all, Amalia knew what kind of trouble Rozalin's odd manner of thinking could cause better than anyone. Val and Mrs. Hendrickson had paused their conversation to oversee the event. Their tea sat untouched.

The air continued to chill. The warm, Spring weather had all but vanished from the Hendricksons' training field. An Ice Bolt had materialized, hovering an arm's length above the diminutive sorceress.

"Level five, then?" Hendrickson quietly judged her prowess, his brow cocked.

He adopted a stance, bracing himself to counter the Spell's impact. While not as weighty as an Earth Bolt, Ice Bolts were generally faster and had nearly as much force. Sharper, too.

More and more Mana continued to gather into the Ice Bolt, which only increased in size. Hendrickson grew more skeptical. This was beginning to have a passing resemblance to the Ice Lance spell.

Mimicking higher tier Spells was indeed possible for the Bolt-tier Spells, but it was inefficient. Shaping a Fire Bolt to be round and then increasing its explosive potential was silly when the mage could just properly learn a Fireball Spell instead. In addition, accelerating them to the same speed was needlessly strenuous. Accuracy, speed, power, and consumption were all inferior.

Yet this was indeed still an Ice Bolt, not an Ice Lance or the likes. He knew that much.

Tension filled Hendrickson, as it continued to grow in size. Wouldn't she run out of Mana at this rate? Sure, its magical and physical density had increased, but how would she propel it? Hendrickson looked at the small figure.

His eyes grew large.

Rather than decreasing, the Mana signature she gave off was slowly growing. Despite pumping in a needlessly large amount of magic into that Ice Bolt, it was as if she hadn't spent any of her own Mana. What's more, it had increased!?

... He'd been played.

Hendrickson quickly looked around the courtyard, spotting one of the gate guards spectating the match. He hollered over to the man.

"Josef, sword!"

The guard was taken aback at first, before hastily making way to the open shed, emerging a second later with a proper sword. He tossed it over to the Knight-Captain, who hastily discarded the fragile, wooden one.

Well over half a minute had passed, yet the magical energy was still growing. A large puff of chilled air was expelled from the small woman's covered mouth, surprisingly visible. Unknown to Hendrickson, it wasn't an exhale of cold air, so much as Rozalin giving up on maintaining a set of pseudo-lungs. Her whole body was chilled and sustaining damage from both the frigid energy and overexertion. Only the bare minimum attention could be given to her form.

Hendrickson felt badly about having outside help. He'd complained about being underestimated, thinking this was another upstart who was belittling all his years of experience. Yet now he was the one who'd been shorting the woman before him.

His own Mana surged through his veins as his muscles bulged and he gripped the sword hilt. The Ice Bolt was even larger than the size of his own torso, jagged, and aimed directly at him. He took a low stance, digging his heels firmly in.

He yelled, an eager smile on his face, "Let's go, then!"

The chill came to a crescendo. The Ice Bolt inched backward several feet. It slowly, then rapidly rocketed forth.

Over his many years, Hendrickson had trained and acquired many Skills for dealing with both humans and monsters alike. His experience truly was not something that could be underestimated. Despite his age, pound-for-pound and among his own level, there were few knights his better. A series of buffs and Skill activations ensued.

— Greater Reinforce Weapon! Overdraft! Accelerate Senses! Turtle Stance!

Hendrickson braced for impact as his perception of time slowed down. The Ice Bolt reached a speed comparable to even an archer's arrow. The 50-pace distance was crossed by it in a mere 1.2 seconds. With Hendrickson's accelerated state, that seemed to stretch out for over two seconds.

Hendrickson brought his blade, now glowing faintly with magical energy, diagonally down on the Ice Bolt. Originally, he intended to smash the Bolt to pieces once it came his way. That didn't seem possible anymore. He now realized he couldn't deflect it straight upward, else risk it flying out and hitting someone in the streets. He couldn't deflect it straight down either, or risk his footing. He had to redirect it to the side and into the ground.

In that briefest moment, a question she'd asked him before they started struck him as odd.

"The courtyard walls are pretty sturdy, yes?"

He'd noticed all too late what her aim had been. What a vixen.

A smirk briefly appeared on his lips. His veins bulged and his bones let out a small pop! as he activated one more technique specific to his Class.

— Void Slash!

A black arc was formed, followed by a sharp and shrill clang! The sound of metal striking an equally hard object deafened the ears, followed by a large boom. A cloud of dust blew upward from the packed ground, leaving several small streaks across the field.

Hendrickson stood there, briefly panting. A drop of sweat had formed on his brow, more out of nervousness than exhaustion. His hands were ringing. He looked at the blade in his hand, only to realize a crack had formed near the hilt. He then stared at the woman before him, incredulity plastered on his face.

She was still exuding Mana, tendrils of the stuff escaping her body as if they couldn't be contained. Hendrickson racked his brain for an explanation. Neither of the two said anything for a long time, both studying their opponent. Finally, someone else interrupted the two.

"Roz, what the heck are you doing! You could've hurt Mr. Hendrickson! Plus the field's all torn up now! Ahh, seriously!?"

Amalia pulled at her hair, gaping in disbelief at the ravaged spots where the solid block of ice had shattered to pieces and barreled into the soil, scratching out several grooves. It really was quite the mess.

Perhaps ironically, of the two, Rozalin was in far worse shape. While not weak to Ice the same way as Fire, the prolonged exposure to frigid Mana had done a number on her squishy flesh. She was also down two small doses of Mana potion she'd been saving, and her Core was aching from the effort.

Hendrickson looked down, then back up at the woman in front of him. He then burst into a hearty bout of laughter.

"Hahaha! Like pupil, like mistress, I suppose. You gave me quite the fright there!"

As he strode across the field, Rozalin's mind continued to work. Hendrickson had been little more than a sitting duck, yet that still hadn't been enough to best him. She'd fully expected him to dodge when faced with that, hence she angled the shot to hit the ground just before the stone wall. Doing so would cause its momentum to decrease before impacting the wall.

Yet that man had deflected it. A bit of anger welled up in her, before realizing her gambit had failed. She knew Hendrickson was strong, but just how strong was this freak? And since when was a sword a baseball bat!?

Caution toward him multiplied as she realized there was no way she'd survive a frontal assault from Hendrickson. She didn't know the old man's level, but it was obvious to Rozalin that her knowledge on Skills and Classes was woefully inadequate. How strong were some of these knights? Why was there such a large gap? Had she struck any of those bandits like that, except perhaps their leader, she was positive they'd have been turned to pulp, or at least skewered!

Regret filled her. Had she known he would take it head on, she would have used a different angle.

Fatigue overcame Rozalin, causing the slime to stumble forward and drop her cane. Though her Mana was still nearly full, her Stamina had been shredded to pieces and a fifth of her HP was gone. She needed a moment to recover.

"Roz!" Amalia yelped, before rushing forth to help her up.

With a bitter feeling in her stomach, Hendrickson approached her.

"That packed quite the punch! Y'alright there, Miss?"

Awkward silence ensued, with Amalia placing herself slightly between the two. The beastkin's attention anxiously went back and forth, her brows furrowed. Finally, Rozalin spoke up in an unsteady tone.

"... What's for dinner?"

Hendrickson blinked, before chuckling to himself.

"I take it ya don't mind coming over, then?"

Another pause. Rozalin's reply came a bit more stable this time.

"Don't make me repeat myself. I don't like going back on my word. I'll stay."

A wry grin appeared on Hendrickson's face before he replied, "We're having grilled lamb and chips, plus a bit of vegetable soup. Hope it meets your satisfaction."

He paused for a moment.

"Heh, ya didn't notice, though?"

At this, Rozalin's addled mind focused upward on Hendrickson. The Knight-Captain turned to look across the field, before shrugging.

"I'm glad you'll join us, but I'm also a man of my word!" he replied, raising his hand in a pinching motion, "My left heel went about this far outside the area. It's kind of you to agree to stay anyways, despite you winning the bet!"

And with that, the slime woman's mind froze—chilled even more than the surrounding air. An excessively smug grin was on Hendrickson's face.

... "What?"

----------------------------------------

Ah, I hate everything.

A most curious predicament had befallen me.

Below me lay Amalia's thighs. Above me was a warm, wet towel. Yet as I sat submerged within the heated steam bath I so deeply coveted, despite having obtained victory, the entire occasion was fouled by one simple fact.

I won, but I lost.

Truly, that man was infuriating. Almost as maddening as my big mouth.

Perhaps I should never have created a mouth? What good was speaking to people if it was only going to get me in trouble? My complaints toward myself piled up uselessly and endlessly.

And so, I laid near-fully submerged within the tub.

"This isn't so bad, is it, Roz?" Amalia hummed happily above me.

"You're right, I'm having the time of my life," I replied.

"Really?"

"... No. But it could be worse."

I internally sighed as Amalia frowned at me disapprovingly. She then dumped a bucket of lukewarm water on me, to which I lightly Water Bolted her in the face.

Having a built-in spray bottle has its uses. Heheheh.

After I previously managed to pull myself back together, Amalia had helped me walk to the Hendricksons' patio and recover. I'd experimented and theorized on such usages of magic before, but apparently chunking giant blocks of ice at people still took more out of me than expected, even if I took my time to build it up.

Taken from Royal Road, this narrative should be reported if found on Amazon.

Ah, next time I'll drop a house-sized one on him while he sleeps.

Putting my near-irrational dislike for Hendrickson aside, Amalia and I spent a relaxing time 'cleaning ourselves' in preparation for dinner. I'd wanted to refuse after hearing I'd won, but the cheeky smile on that old man's face stifled my words. While it was possible I could just refuse to partake in dinner, I still needed to figure out a way to eat in front of people. If it was just a mouth, it should be doable. Having to rewrap myself as such wasn't practical.

Thankfully there was a rather nice mirror within their washroom, so I was able to get some practice in while Amalia shampooed her hair. For some reason, she stared at me with an unsettled look on her face.

"What?" I asked, slightly annoyed.

"That looks kind of ... creepy, Roz."

I looked back in the mirror. From a normal person's perspective, I suppose it might. I'd gotten rather used to my situation, so I didn't pay it much heed.

From an outside view, staring back was a pink glob in the shape of a slim human, coupled with flesh-toned hands and a rather convincing mouth-area. Everything else was, naturally, pink.

I quietly grumbled over the Link, "It's the best I can do."

"O-Oh. I'm sure you'll get the hang of it. Let me know if I can ... help?" Amalia replied.

Help? I wanted to pinch her face. You're one-third the reason I'm in this situation, you know! Gah!

Moving on, I'd formed a passable approximation of a human face. As tempting as hiding in Hendrickson's bath was, I knew I'd have to face the music sooner or later. Unfortunately, the 'music' sounded like a middle-aged couple instead of a relaxing piano and violin arrangement.

Val and Mrs. Hendrickson were supposedly preparing dinner, while Hendrickson himself tidied a few things up outside.

"Amalia, we need to talk."

Upon hearing my words, the bar of crude soap my little knight had in her hands was unceremoniously clenched and shot directly into my face.

"..."

"..."

Picking the soap out of my head, I tried to ignore that and move on.

"I've come to the conclusion that perhaps I've been a bit ... heavy-handed, in my attempts to train and help you. I hope you understand that all I do, I do with your best interests in mind, to the best of my ability. You're my knight, after all."

I paused, seeking to make sure she was following so far. I received a nod, then decided to slowly press on.

"That being said, I'm sure we both know I am not the best at conversation, understanding people, or ... erm, guidance. Yes."

Another nod. Why did you have to nod to that!?

"Ahem. A-Anyway, I think we need to communicate our feelings a bit better. I've obviously left you feeling like you can't talk to me about certain things, and I know firsthand that is an awful feeling. If we are going to be working together, then we need to be able to trust each other. In the future, I hope you can discuss things with me more openly and let me know if I've done things to displease you."

This time, all I got back was a blank stare.

This stare continued.

Finally, I couldn't take it anymore.

"W-What is it? The soap isn't in my face anymore, so why are you looking at me like that!?"

A pause.

"Roz, you ... you're starting to sound like a normal person. It's scary!"

"Y-You!"

I chucked the soap at her head, missing by a narrow margin.

"Ah! Forget it! If you're going to make fun of me, I don't care anymore! Do whatever you want!"

Fuming to myself, I decided to get dressed. Amalia walked over while I was wrapping myself up. Unexpectedly, I found myself in an awkward hug from behind.

"Thanks, Roz. I'm sorry I made you feel bad. I got caught up in my own feelings and should have considered yours more."

...

"Why didn't—"

You ask? Talk to me sooner?

Annoying memories bubbled up.

"Gah! Why didn't I get a point of Charisma for that nonsense! I was so articulate! Boxes damn it!"

Yes, that was a good enough conclusion. If there was something worth lamenting, that must've been it.

After pushing Amalia off me and ignoring her vacant stare, I finished clothing myself. For a minute, I thought she was going to say something more, but she just shook her head and dried herself. A while later and we finally made our way out and spoke to Hendrickson. Dinner was ready to be served. While I still wasn't in a great mood, food was usually a fine distraction.

And given I was still nervous, I could use a distraction.

"So, Amalia tells us you're on an adventure, of sorts!" said Mrs. Hendrickson.

Ah yes, my favorite. Small talk.

"Something like that," I affirmed, looking at Amalia and wondering what else she'd mentioned to them.

It was bad enough I had to focus on forming a proper mouth and handling cutlery. Now they expected me to talk? If only they knew how bothersome this was! Words, of all things!

"Max here was quite the adventurer in his day!" Mrs. Hendrickson continued, nudging a grumbling Mr. Hendrickson, "A bit of a rogue, too! Always getting into trouble or rushing off on some business or hunch. Why, you should've seen him at the Harvest festival nearly 30 years ago!"

His face turned a light shade of red before coughing, "Teresa, perhaps we can save the embarrassing stories for another night?"

Oh? ... No, please do go on.

As I eagerly listened to Mrs. Hendrickson divulge some comedic, yet ultimately useless bits of information about my foe, she soon directed the conversation back to me. Curses.

"So Rozalin, how did you happen to meet Amalia and Valduin? You three seem like quite a trio."

I looked at Mrs. Hendrickson, then at Amalia and Val. How should I respond to this? I met Amalia right as she was about to be raped and enslaved by bandits? And I met Val as she was about to have her organs harvested by the very same bandit group? Lovely conversation piece, that.

Out of the corner of my vision, I saw the cheery mood on both Amalia and Val's face lessen, replaced by an awkward and frozen half-smile. Fantastic.

"... I met them while out on a casual stroll and they started following me, so I put them both to work. Who knew finding good help was so easy?"

My obvious deflection seemed to have gone over Mrs. Hendrickson's head, as she responded with interest and continued chatting away about non-consequential topics. Perhaps she was just being polite.

Max, however, stared at me with a frown for a good while before he continued eating his dinner. I wanted to give him a hard glare back, but I was still lacking the majority of features that compose your average face. A shame.

Dinner would eventually end, and the conversation was more often exchanged between Val and Teresa. The elf was really pulling her weight by keeping the questioning off of me. Good job, Val! Heheh...

Relief did not last long when Teresa directed the topic toward a board game, which apparently Amalia and Val had taken a liking to. Before I realized, the three had left toward the parlour to play it. I was left with a small amount of food on my plate and a cup of water in my 'hands'.

Eh? ... Hendrickson is still here. How did this happen?

Alright, that means I need to get out o—

"Please forgive Teresa for being insensitive, even unintentionally. Amalia confided in me a few personal matters she hasn't mentioned to my wife. Apologies."

Tch-! I appraised Hendrickson as he bowed his head. A few matters, huh?

"... There's no point in you apologizing to me on Teresa's behalf. I wasn't offended. I just wanted to spare Amalia's feelings."

"Still," he said, "I'm sure even for you the memory's a bit unpleasant for the dinner table, no?"

I tilted my head. Unpleasant?

"How much did Amalia tell you, exactly?"

Hendrickson frowned.

"Said she was alone at night, pinned to a tree by two men before you showed up. I can guess the rest. She also said you were investigating some local 'bandits' when you'd met Valduin, and that the conflict turned ... lethal."

Given the frown on his lips, Hendrickson seemed to be looking at me disapprovingly. I wanted to scoff.

"Ah, yes. Amalia's made me quite aware that for a civilian to kill bandits without sanction is illegal. Apparently, when one is beset by bandits they are supposed to somehow apprehend over a dozen armed men without killing them. Do you disapprove, Knight-Captain?"

I watched Hendrickson swirl his cup around, pausing for a long moment. Melancholy seemed to overtake him before finally shaking his head.

"Forgive my false impression—I meant nothing of the sort. My mind was elsewhere, as maintaining the roads' safety is part of a knight's duty. Perhaps the magistrate might frown upon such acts, but ... sounds like self-defense to me, eh?"

Without my notice, some tension left both my body and manner of speaking.

"I'm glad you're somewhat open-minded," I replied, causing Hendrickson to smile wryly.

"Laws are meant to protect people. In my years I've learned that should they fail to serve that purpose, sometimes it is best to ... use common sense and good morals."

Oh?

"Still," he continued, "Forgive me if I'm being rude, but I'm having trouble picturing you fending off a score of men. You seem to be rather ... resourceful, yet I can't imagine how you did it. Even I would need a hand or two against those numbers to get out unscathed."

"Unscathed? Hmph."

Figures he'd start prodding now that we're alone. Annoying.

"How about I tell you how I fought them off if you tell me why my knight chose a Class after spending time with you? My development plan was ruined."

Realization seemed to strike the man. Or perhaps guilt? Hard to say.

"Ah, that's ..." he trailed off, scratching his chin.

While watching Hendrickson at a loss for words was entertaining in one sense, this was less an offer and more of a pointed command. If he didn't provide a satisfactory answer, then that gave me ample reason to get the heck out of here before he could snoop more.

Two can play at this game, Hendrickson. Don't think I can't pump you for info!

It struck me as odd, but the man seemed to slump in his chair a bit, his eyes growing dimmer. While I thought this meant I'd be receiving no explanation, that was quickly corrected.

"It's a bit silly, really. And I truly didn't mean to influence the young lass on something so important. She'd asked me if I'd heard of a Justiciar before, and I certainly had."

Hendrickson's gaze swept across the room, to my left. Curious of what he was looking at, I noticed a portrait of three people. While a bit of an assumption, it appeared to be of a younger Mr. and Mrs. Hendrickson, the former of whom had his hand clasped on the shoulder of a teenage boy.

Curiosity formed, soon to be sated.

"My kid, Samuel," he said, motioning with his hand before returning his sights on me, "Good head on him. Taught him everything I knew, aside from a few dirty jokes."

A short chuckle came from the man.

"Always a heart o' gold, wanted to become a knight like his pops. Fight off dragons n' robbers n' save fair damsels in distress. Talented and sharp. I remember when he was 11 years old and I bought him his first real blade. Hah! Should've seen his face, all lit up."

While Hendrickson reminisced, I closed off my vision for a moment. There had been several paintings in the Hendrickson house that I'd loosely noted.

Part of me didn't want to ask.

"And then?"

With a small shrug, I received my reply.

"Why, he became a knight of course! Knight Justiciar of the Fourth Paladin Order, Squadron B. Sixth youngest to be accepted in their lengthy history, mind you! Drafted and ready to serve at the ripe age of 16."

The paintings on the wall told me the outcome. I didn't need to look at Hendrickson's face to deduce the rest. In that photo he'd pointed to, Hendrickson looked a good 15 years younger. The family portraits seemed to be around three years apart. Unless they hid more somewhere, the one he’d pointed to seemed to be the most recent.

"... I'm sorry for your loss."

Hollow words that did nothing.

"Mm. Right, well," he said. After clearing his throat and a hearty swig of mead, conversation resumed.

"I was actually familiar with the Justiciar class and told the lass so. After all, I'd trained my boy since he was a wee sprout. Lotta good that did, but ... other than a Justiciar themself n' a few others, probably no one who knows as much as me. One night, I got a bit loose-lipped after two drinks and recounted some things to young Amalia. Hadn't intended to sway her—and honestly wish she'd reconsidered—but the lass seemed to think being a Justiciar fit her. Said something about fate, all with a frown on her face. Next morn' at breakfast and it was already done."

I wanted to be angry with the man. Who knew that two drinks and an old geezer could derail my plans in such a spectacular fashion? The rational part of me wanted to smack myself in the head.

Instead, a far more serene feeling took over. Casual acceptance, with the faintest hint of remorse.

"I see."

While it was far less than ideal, perhaps it really was fate or a blessing in disguise. I'd learned about the whole implosion deal and rank ups. There was still room for growth. Amalia was significantly stronger in preparation for our future Dungeon raid, so I could worry less. I even felt like the conflict had come to a good resolution between Amalia and myself. Hopefully we could work on communication.

I hadn't realized that we'd both fallen into a daze. Hendrickson yanked me out of it.

"Bah! Listen to me acting like an old housewife, prattling on about old things! Ya said you'd tell me how you pulled off fightin' all those men. You got some grand Spell or secret tricks up your sleeve? Out with it!"

He laughed heartily. The abrupt shift in tone almost made me fall out of my seat. While it was an obvious attempt to change the subject, I was the one who put forth that condition.

Still, how best to regale Hendrickson with that night's events? Reflecting on that fight just soured my mood. My Core throbbed painfully at the recollection. It wasn't a good story to tell. I had no mood to sugar-coat it.

"... The night was a blur. I'd made a mistake scouting and Amalia got shot by an archer who was returning to their camp late at night. Shouldn't have left her alone. Nicked her spine, couldn't even move her legs. I covered her with earth magic. Needed to keep their attention on me instead of Amalia. Got surrounded by over a dozen men. I tried to bargain with them. They didn't care.

"So I used magic, poison, anything I had to throw at them. Tossing acid or dirt in eyes. Slicing throats. Stealing dropped weapons. Treating people like shields. Using fear and psychology, taunts, threats. Wearing them down. It's amazing how effective damaging morale can be."

I shook my head. My gaze went from the table I'd been focusing on, up to Hendrickson, then down again.

"There was their leader. Huge, bear of a man. Shrugged off my ranged attacks. There was a mage. Mm, that one was the worst. All the burns he gave me, so I made his death fitting. Snuck up on another. Then a younger man—can't remember his face. Three stabs through the chest. I recall thinking it was a shame. Barely an adult.

"Then their leader struck me hard enough with a club I was nearly split in half. My mind went dark after that. For a moment I was sure I'd died. That I'd lost to those bastards. Then I saw Amalia had actually gotten up and stabbed their leader in the side while he was straddled above me. I was relieved, proud. Then he dared strike her in the face! So, I mustered up the last of my poison and burned his eyes right out, just like that."

When I looked up, Hendrickson had become a stone statue with a grim look on its face.

I chuckled as sarcastically as my makeshift throat would allow. Ah right, how I managed to survive, correct?

"There was no 'unscathed' or 'trick' to survival. Nothing but wasteful and unproductive violence. The only upside was we'd managed to rescue Val and a few other kidnapped women, so that was a small bonus. Quite the thrilling adventure, wouldn't you say?"

Hendrickson left out a gruff sigh before shaking his head.

"That's a downright horrible tale and I think we're both sorry I asked, eh?"

"Well, you did. Besides, I thought you wanted to know more about me. Isn't that why you've been poking around?"

Hendrickson's hand paused, having stalled in the air right in the middle of pouring himself more drink. My little barb must have struck something.

"... Aye, that's indeed true. I hope you won't take offense, but we've been having a few issues around town lately. Looking into reports of unknown people's a big part of my job. What's more, if you were serious about visiting Aryana, I'd at least like to get an inkling of your intentions, even should they be good."

Mm, this Hendrickson was much better. It was far easier to understand and have a discussion with someone who was straightforward.

"I like people most when they're respecting my privacy and leaving me to seclusion. If you wanted to know my intentions, asking would be best. It's simple—I owe the noble girl a small and indirect debt, I want to access a library, a noble's goodwill may have worth to me, and money is at least my third favorite thing to have. To summarize, mostly selfish reasons. Satisfied?"

"... How blunt. Ye really don't mince words, do ya?"

"No. Being sociable is Val's job. My to-do list is too large to waste time. I'd rather be efficient."

"If that's what yer callin' it, then that's what we'll go with."

Ah, he's poking fun at me now.

"I'll leave it to you to schedule a meeting time with Biron. He's your friend, isn't he? I have business the next two days but after that is fine. Arrange the details with Amalia, she'll relay them to me."

"Aye, we go back a bit. If that's fine with you, then I'll have a chat with him tomorrow."

"Since we're being frank, one more thing, Hendrickson. Amalia is my knight. I won't let anyone have her, so don't get any ideas."

... You can have Val, though. Or so I wished I could say.

To this, Hendrickson stared for a moment before letting out a chuckle and setting down his drink. He crossed his fingers with downturned palms, hands in front of his face.

"You should have more confidence in the lass. I don't think ya have anything to worry about there. Forgive my poor manners, but I'll be followin' suit—you're not human, are ya?"

That tension returned. For a moment, I felt like the man in front of me had grown a size or two. Intimidation? A Skill? Curious.

"And? Does Biron care who heals his daughter? If so, I've misjudged his practicality and won't waste my time."

Hendrickson's brow furrowed and I think I saw his mouth curl downward for a brief moment. His words became slower and more gravelly.

"I suppose he might not. Tell me, why do you care for Amalia so much? Perhaps I'm being a wee bit of a pessimist, but going so far for people you've no relation to seems a bit much."

"Because I promised. You're a knight, so you should understand promises and oaths, no? Or do people around here give their word so freely?"

"That's the only reason?"

"Yes. Does one need more?"

As I resumed sipping at my drink, Hendrickson did the same. The conversation seemed to finally die down, bringing me relief. Such extended speaking was wearing on me. It didn't help that I wasn't in top condition.

I stood.

"I'll be taking my leave. I've work to do. Thank you for dinner, it was delicious."

"You're welcome to come again, you know."

I scoffed, "Even if I'm not human?"

"Mm, even so."

Sour feelings bubbled up. What a mess of a day. Things like this are why I prefer peace and quiet.

I gathered my cane and made way to the door. Hendrickson had stood up and was a short distance behind me.

"Hendrickson, I believe you wagered me a favor? I'd like to voice it now."

"What can I do for you?" he asked, straightening his posture.

"Simple. Protect Amalia while she's around you. She needs things I can't provide, so since she's training with you I expect nothing to happen to her. If something happens to me in the future, take care of her for a while."

"Ya sure about that? You aren't planning on dying or something, are you?"

Hendrickson's tone turned serious. From quite a distance away, I could spot Amalia, Teresa, and Val still engaging in their conversation and game.

"Of course not. But only a fool doesn't have backup plans when they're available."

He chuckled, "So I’m just a backup plan, eh? Alright then."

With that, I made my escape and returned back to our 'hotel' room. I had much to reflect on. The moon was high in the sky that night, and the relative quiet I normally found solace in was unexpectedly stale tonight.

----------------------------------------

Back in the Hendrickson estate, the lord of the manor looked upon the small departing figure.

Age had lent itself to many wrinkles upon his face, and they did nothing to mask his frown. He, too, had much to think on from the few minutes of conversation he'd shared with the woman known as Rozalin.

A quiet murmur that he alone would hear.

"I'd have done that even without ya askin' me."

A moment later and the frown was erased from his face, replaced with a more jovial expression. He turned toward the parlor room. The evening was young and there was still merriment to be had.