Choose Your Knight Mentor

At the Red Scarf Restaurant, Aaron sat across from Carthness. Though there were only two of them, sixteen dishes filled the table.

Baldur's Gate gin gleamed in chilled crystal glasses. Duke Kenness took out an envelope, pressed it against the table, and slid it toward Aaron. "Take it."

"This is..." Aaron opened the envelope, and his pupils widened slightly.

Inside was a gleaming gold note!

With this note, he could redeem 1,000 gold coins at any Church of the Lady of Wealth, the Lady of Joy, or the God of Craft throughout the Realms!

The Realms' currency was very, very, very complicated. In the northern Realms alone, six kinds of coin circulated.

Platinum coins—gold coins—electrum coins—silver coins—billon coins—copper coins.

Their exchange rates were not entirely fixed, either.

In Cormyr, the local names and values were: one Three Crowns (platinum coin) = ten Gold Lions (gold coins) = twenty Blue Eyes (electrum coins) = one hundred Falcons (silver coins) = one thousand Thumbs (copper coins). The country did not mint billon coins.

Coins from different places varied in purity and exchange rate. Silverymoon also had a habit of minting unusual high-denomination coins that disrupted the market. The result was a chaotic currency system across the northern Realms, not to mention the unavoidable problem of coins weighing too much in large transactions.

That ran counter to the Lady of Wealth's vision of tearing down every barrier to trade and letting commerce flow freely throughout the Realms.

So the Lady of Wealth had invented these "gold notes." Each bore a trace of her divine power. Using them made trade far easier for merchants to transport and conduct, with a strongly positive effect on commerce and the circulation of currency throughout the Realms.

So where had the Lady of Wealth gone, anyway?

"Your Grace, this..." Aaron ventured, trying to gauge the duke's intentions.

A thousand gold coins!

It was neither a fortune nor a small sum.

That was exactly the reaction Carthness wanted. The duke smiled in satisfaction. "I knew your grandfather and father well. Back then... I didn't do much. This is just a little gift from me, so you mustn't refuse it. Keep it. I know there should still be some wealth in the Sallyan Residence—antiques, paintings, armor, weapons—but you're about to undertake something important. You could use some ready cash, couldn't you?"

"Thank you, Your Grace. May the Lady of Silver bless you." Aaron immediately stood, tucked the gold note into his clothing, and thanked him in earnest.

He really did need cash.

If he still could not see what Duke Kenness intended, he would not have been sitting there.

"Use it well." Carthness was all the more pleased to see Aaron accept without the slightest hesitation.

Manuel had raised a fine son.

Carthness could easily have given Aaron a note worth ten thousand gold coins, but there was no need. A measured favor was enough. What mattered was that Aaron remembered him.

As the meal drew to a close, Aaron recalled that all his former clansmen had been exiled to the Great Swamp, the very region under Duke Kenness's command. He asked casually, "Your Grace, may I ask you something?"

"Ask." Duke Kenness was a soldier, after all. He cut into his steak with knife and fork and motioned for Aaron to continue.

"Why exactly was my family stripped of its title?" Aaron finally voiced the question that had long troubled him.

"Your father never told you?"

"No. He wouldn't even let me bring it up. But I want to know." Aaron's voice grew grave. "A man can't spend his whole life carrying that burden."

Duke Kenness set down his knife and fork. A flicker of memory and displeasure passed through his lionlike amber eyes. Seeing Aaron's resolve, he nodded.

"Your grandfather, Earl Salian, fled the battlefield."

"What?" Aaron was stunned.

"To be precise, he was greedy for glory, underestimated the enemy, and advanced rashly. Then he lost his nerve and fled." Duke Kenness began recounting the Tuigan Invasion.

"Our army fought the Tuigan nomad host. The Sallyan and Spoleto families were responsible for the northwest flank. Earl Salian was reluctant to engage and held back his forces. Seeing your grandfather's fear, the brave and loyal Earl of Spoleto proposed that he attack the nomads first while the Sallyan troops lay in ambush at the mouth of the valley. Then they would strike from both sides."

"Your grandfather agreed. Earl Spoleto attacked, and the nomad vanguard saw him charging in as though ready to fight to the death. Their nerve faltered. After an unfavorable first clash, they withdrew, giving Earl Spoleto a small victory."

"But when Earl Salian, waiting in ambush at the valley mouth, heard that Earl Spoleto had won with his forces alone, he forgot everything but claiming a share of the glory. He immediately ordered his troops to advance, abandoning the original plan."

"Earl Spoleto had only beaten the Tuigan vanguard. The main nomad army soon arrived, and he could not withstand it. He withdrew, intending to draw the Tuigan into the valley as planned."

"Then your grandfather learned that Earl Spoleto had been defeated and the nomad army was approaching. Already out of the valley, Earl Salian panicked and fled with his troops, leaving Earl Spoleto to the nomads."

"Earl Spoleto reached the valley mouth and found it empty. Surrounded by the Tuigan, his force of more than 3,800 fought bitterly for eight hours before every last one fell. That included the earl, his three sons, his two daughters, and nearly all his collateral relatives. An eight-hundred-year-old family died out that day."

Aaron: "..."

Thanks. I'm angry already.

"You probably can't imagine how furious His Late Majesty was when he heard. It was the first time I had ever seen him so angry." Duke Kenness looked away, turning his silver cutlery in his hands. "Only your father was spared. As a Purple Dragon Knight, he had remained at His Majesty's side and taken no part in it. His Majesty therefore did not punish your branch of the family."

"So did that grandfather of mine end up on the chopping block?" Aaron was almost speechless. No wonder his father had refused to discuss it.

How could he have screwed everyone over so badly?

"His title was stripped, and he was hanged. His body was left intact. Every other Salian besides you and your father was exiled to the Great Swamp and stripped of the family name. His Majesty's exact words were, 'They are unworthy of it.'"

Duke Kenness toyed with his cutlery, his amber gaze gradually softening. "I'm telling you because I hope you'll learn from it. The past is over. Earl Salian's family has received its due punishment. You are Viscount Salian. You should not have to bear the weight of what they did."

"Your Grace, I have a request."

"Go on."

"The Great Swamp is under your authority now. Could you give me a list of the exiled clansmen?"

"...I'll have someone bring it to you later." Duke Kenness gave Aaron a long look. "But you mustn't tell anyone!"

"And in three days, I'll leave Suzail and return to my territory. Last Salian, this is as far as I can and will help you."

"You're eighteen. That's a little old to begin either spellcasting or the path of a Purple Dragon Knight. You need to prove your talent, child."

"If a fledgling eagle cannot learn to spread its wings, it will never fly."

Aaron's earlier assassination attempt had thrown the Upper City into turmoil. Duke Kenness also sent three guards to escort him all the way home.

More guards patrolled the streets, and the Queen's Blade was searching everywhere.

When Aaron got home, only his aunt and cousin were there. His aunt had just bought several cod at the market and planned to make cod soup that evening. Yuta was playing happily. When she saw Aaron, she called out, "Cousin! Cousin!" and asked whether he had brought her a present.

Aaron did not know whether to laugh or cry. He had gone to meet the princess, not shopping!

With only six months ahead of him, he was in no great mood. He gave Yuta a distracted answer.

"Eleanor came by," Yuta said suddenly.

"Oh? When?" Aaron perked up at once.

"This morning. You weren't here, Cousin. She asked if you were hurt. I told her you were fine, and she stayed a little while before leaving." Yuta counted on her fingers. "Oh, and she asked me to tell you she's taken a commission from the Church. She'll be gone three or four weeks, and she wants you to take care of yourself."

"Got it." Aaron realized Miss Cleric had actually come to say goodbye. He had missed her, and it would be at least three weeks before they met again.

"When can we invite Eleanor over to play again?" Yuta asked, looking up at him.

"When Eleanor gets back, I'll invite her myself." Aaron smiled and patted Yuta's head. "Go play. I have things to do."

Back in his study, Aaron sat down and took out three parchment scrolls.

He had to choose a mentor.

According to the information the princess had given him, three members of the Purple Dragons holding the rank of Knight Captain or higher were willing to mentor him.

The first was Knight Captain Grafni, a female Purple Dragon Banneret in her thirties. Apparently, she had seen Aaron when he visited the Knights' fortress to write his report that day. She had expressed an interest in becoming his Knight mentor.

Aaron barely gave the page a second glance before ruling her out.

The file said she had just divorced her husband...

He wanted to train with the Purple Dragons to improve his skills, grow stronger, and temper himself—not to trade on his looks! A murky relationship between mentor and student that ended in a complete mess was the last thing he wanted.

Besides, she's not quite good-looking enough~

He tossed the parchment aside.

That left only two real candidates.

The first was Banneret Lucian Bachmann, who had visited his home before. He was an old friend of Aaron's father and a master-level fighter.

But Banneret Lucian was extremely strict. More than half the trainee Knights under him failed their assessments. Lucian paid no heed to the formal standards: if he thought a trainee was not good enough, the trainee failed.

Sir Reynard, the Paladin who had saved Aaron, was twenty-one and could unleash a powerful Divine Smite. Even he had yet to pass Lucian's test and become a full Knight.

With just six months and one chance, could Aaron do it?

Aaron grimaced and set Lucian's file aside for the moment.

The second candidate was another familiar face: Ian Hutson, Grand Master and Grand Inspector of the Purple Dragons.

Yes, despite all the scorn Ian had heaped on him that day, the Grand Master and Grand Inspector had volunteered to mentor him. That confirmed Aaron's suspicion: Ian had deliberately used cutting mockery to test him for psychological scars.

Choose Ian Hutson as his mentor?

Compared with Lucian, Ian had many advantages.

First, his rank was higher. Grand Master and Grand Inspector were among the few positions in the order surpassed only by the Supreme Grand Master. Higher rank meant more resources.

Second, Ian was stronger. They were both master-level fighters, but Ian was undoubtedly one or two levels above Lucian.

Finally, Ian had always been lenient with assessments. His failure rate was only around twenty percent. As long as a trainee met the standard, he passed them.

But the man's personality was truly awful.

As Grand Inspector, Ian also oversaw logistics and assets. Over the years, the work had ingrained terrible habits in him.

When a Purple Dragon Knight died in battle, some people mourned, some wept, and some secretly rejoiced.

Ian Hutson's first reaction was to calculate how much compensation would be owed and where he could cut the payout.

When a beautiful woman in high heels walked past, some people admired her, some whistled, and some pretended not to look.

Ian Hutson's first thought was, Her ankles look fragile. A little extra force would fracture one. Level-ten disability, twenty-five percent severance rate. How much would the compensation be, and how could I reject the claim?

Thinking that way for so long had warped Ian's mind and speech. Venom spilled from his mouth. He assessed everything through the logic of insurance claims, calculating its value and belittling every person and thing as much as possible. To him, everything was worthless; the only distinction was between trash with some value and trash with none.

Aaron knew Ian might sometimes genuinely have his interests at heart. But with the way the man spoke, Aaron could endure a few days at most. Six months together... he feared he would lose control and start a fight with his mentor, only for Ian to grind him into the floor.

He was a Sorcerer! A Sorcerer ought to have a temper!

After sitting quietly for a while, Aaron finally made his decision.

I'll take the challenge!

Six months it is!

I'm the Child of Chaos. If I shrink from this, how will I ever reach legendary power? How will I become a god?

If I can't even pass one little test from the princess, what right do I have to be a Warlock's Patron? What right do I have to face those four dear brothers?

What kind of loser settles for merely passing instead of learning something real?

Let's do it! Aaron slapped his palm against the wall.

He wasted no time. The next morning, he took his official letter and returned to the Purple Dragons' fortress.

As before, the main gate was shut. A guard told him shooting practice was underway inside and directed him to the side entrance.

"Hey, you! Don't move!"

The moment Aaron came through the side entrance, he found a spot and stopped, just as he remembered. Someone shouted at him from one side of the gate. He turned and saw a Purple Dragon Knight in an armored vest aiming a Hand Crossbow straight at him!

"Don't move!" the man shouted again.

Aaron ignored him and deliberately swayed back and forth. With his Extraordinary Charisma, he was especially hard to overlook.

"I told you not to move!" the shooter roared. But Aaron seemed distracted by the fighting in the training yard and kept shifting about.

"Damn it!" Furious, the shooter pulled the trigger. A short Crossbow Bolt sliced through the air and skimmed Aaron's head. The viscount could feel the rush of air through his hair. He instinctively leaned back and ducked, then pitched forward to keep his balance, nearly falling in the process.

The shooter paid Aaron no mind. He reloaded and cocked the crossbow with startling speed, then aimed it at Aaron again as though Aaron were his prey.

Around the shooter, a group of apprentices burst out laughing at Aaron's undignified reaction.

As the Child of Chaos, how could Aaron swallow such an insult? He sprang up and pushed through the crowd toward the shooter, anger blazing on his face. The apprentices parted for him of their own accord.

A straw stem hung from the shooter's mouth. Seeing Aaron storm toward him, he lowered the crossbow with obvious reluctance. "I told you not to move. Didn't you hear me?"

Aaron sized up his opponent. He had tousled, short red hair and dead eyes that seemed to look at everyone through their whites. His defiant face was turned toward Aaron, and with his arms folded, his expression all but said, Are you an idiot?

He wore only a scale-studded warrior's vest. Lean muscle lined his powerful bare arms, while his simple, close-fitting cropped trousers were made of cheap linen and worn in several places.

"Hey! That was attempted murder!" Aaron seized his collar and shouted in his face. "In the name of the Lady of Silver, do the Purple Dragons use living people as targets for shooting practice?"

"Murder? What the hell are you talking about? Are you new?" The shooter grabbed Aaron's collar in return. "Didn't I tell you to stand still? Are you deaf? Why were you moving around while I was aiming? If you want to die, just say so! Go stand over there and watch me put a bolt through that head of yours. It's dumber than a groundhog's!"

Aaron did not need to turn around. He remembered several targets hanging from the fortress wall about thirty meters away, Crossbow Bolts embedded in them.

Almost every shot had hit the bull's-eye. The few exceptions had struck the eight- or nine-point rings.

"I told you you're dumber than a groundhog. If I'd been aiming at you, there'd already be a hole through your head. I told you not to move!" The shooter spat out the straw, along with a mouthful of saliva. "You really are an idiot, new guy. Now get lost before I decide to kill you."

The shooter shoved Aaron aside, turned, raised his Crossbow Bolt, and aimed at the targets behind him.

Yes, that's it. Aaron nodded inwardly. This fellow isn't very friendly. Perfect. You're the one!

"Very good. Excellent. So that's your excuse for firing live ammunition wherever you please?" Aaron reached for the sword at his waist and challenged him. "Sir, you've committed first-degree murder. How do you plead? Oh, no, I was only shooting at the targets! He walked between me and them himself!"

Aaron acted out the exchange with gusto.

Real anger flared in the shooter's dead eyes. This time, he looked straight at Aaron. "Your Lordship, tell me your name."

"Aaron Salian." Aaron closed his hand around his sword hilt.

"Disma." At last the shooter lowered his Hand Crossbow. He reached toward his hips, where a one-handed sword and a blade hung on either side. "I know you. The last Salian. You'll be kissing my boots soon. Otherwise, I don't think you'll leave here alive."

"I'm much more merciful than that." Aaron displayed Red Conrad's Ring on his right index finger. "All you have to do is kiss my ring."

In the same instant, steel flashed free of its sheath!

Updated, please vote, Prostitute~ (End of Chapter)