Ease Up for a Moment, Regret It for a Lifetime

P.S. I set my alarm for four this morning, only to wake up and get served a mouthful of shit. I'm still so angry my chest hurts. I need a day to rest and recover, so there'll be no update tomorrow.

Aaron had expected the old geezer's tests to be strict.

"So what does Banneret Lucian usually test people on?" Aaron pressed.

"No idea. The old geezer's tests never make any sense." Disma seemed reluctant to say more. "Everyone gets a different test. I promised him I wouldn't tell anyone about mine. All I can say is that sometimes he won't ask you to do what you're good at."

"Let me guess. Banneret Lucian's test for you had nothing to do with fighting," Aaron said.

"Hmph!" Disma snorted. He drained the last of his soup, tossed down his spoon, and picked up his tray. "I'm done, recruit. Take your time."

Looks like I hit the mark. Aaron smiled helplessly as Disma walked away without looking back.

Banneret Lucian had taken only three trainee knights under his wing. If Reynard passed his test, that would leave just Disma and Aaron. How would his father's old friend train and evaluate him?

One thing Aaron knew for certain: Lucian would not go easy on him.

He would have to take it one step at a time.

Aaron ate at his own pace. He was nothing like Disma, who rushed through everything. In fact, the viscount ate at the knightly order every day, even staying for dinner. That impressed the others. Apparently, Aaron really had come to train in earnest.

It was hardly unusual for children of great nobles to bring an entire retinue of servants with them when they came for knightly training.

What probably never occurred to anyone was that Aaron ate both lunch and dinner there because the meals were free. They were served buffet-style, too, so he could go back for more.

I love free food! Whenever Aaron remembered he did not have to pay for his meals, his appetite improved, he dug in with more enthusiasm, and even the training felt less exhausting.

Every meal there was a meal he did not have to pay for!

And while the food was nothing special, there was plenty of meat, fresh vegetables, and fish from the Dragonmere.

Training a warrior was cheap. Given enough meat, a suitable instructor, and sufficient practice, a warrior could become combat-ready in no time—a proper ().

Aaron kept eating as the discussion among several fellow recruits beside him grew more animated.

If Aaron remembered correctly, their names were Muir, Roswell, and Maddom. One was the son of a master blacksmith in Marsember, and another the son of Seabury's finest Master Tailor. Aaron knew little about Maddom, but judging by his appearance, he was probably the child of a minor noble from the kingdom's borderlands. He had received basic military training, yet his clothes were shabbier than those of the other two.

The three did not seem especially close. But the atmosphere in the Purple Dragons all but forced outsiders like them to stick together. Otherwise, they would have a hard time among the locals.

Aaron could hear them talking.

"What are you planning to do tomorrow?" Muir asked breezily. "I can't wait to have a proper look around our royal capital. Want to come?"

Tomorrow was Sunday, the recruits' first day off.

"You go ahead. I need to pick something up in the Lower City. Oh, come on, the butter and cheese here are so bland! A whole week of it has been unbearable. Lady Firehair above, please save us from this food!" said Roswell, the Master Tailor's son. "I can't wait to get my hands on some Elturel Gray Cheese."

Elturel? Aaron remembered it as a city on the Sword Coast. Around the time of his birth, a mighty angel was said to have led a celestial army in an attack on Hell there. Afterward, Paladins and Clerics had come to the city and expanded it, hoping to make it a holy sanctuary on earth.

Elturel Gray Cheese was famous throughout the Realms. It was inexpensive, costing just six silver coins per pound. Blue with black veins, it kept for an exceptionally long time without spoiling and had a strong, spicy bite.

"You like Elturel Gray Cheese? Earth Mother above, I can't stand that sharp taste."

"That's the best part! I wouldn't eat it if it didn't have that bite!"

"But how did you get Elturel Gray Cheese?" Muir had good reason to ask.

The Time of Troubles two years earlier had brought disaster across the Realms. Together with the disappearance of the Lady of Wealth, it had dealt trade a devastating blow. Many trade routes had been cut off, whether by choice or necessity. Cormyr itself had suffered heavy losses during months of the Goblin Wars. The princess had managed to restore some trade in essential goods, but replaceable everyday items like Elturel Gray Cheese had been overlooked. There were plenty of other cheeses, after all, and importing gray cheese offered little profit.

"Shh. Listen. There's a place called the Dragon Tooth Tavern in the Lower City. It's a Dragon's Tooth Gang hideout. Their boss, Marlon, can get his hands on all sorts of cheap smuggled goods. Gray cheese is just one of them."

"A lot of what he sells costs less than it does on the open market. Take a look if you're interested."

By then, the three had nearly finished dinner. They seemed to realize this was not the best conversation to have in the order's great hall. The Purple Dragon recruits glanced around. Seeing Aaron bent over a pork chop, they agreed on a time to meet the next day and went their separate ways.

The Lower City? The Dragon Tooth Tavern? The Dragon's Tooth Gang? Marlon?

Aaron racked his memory. Marlon's name sounded familiar.

Where had I heard it?

Think. Think.

That's it! Aaron remembered.

Marlon of the Dragon's Tooth Gang! He had heard people mention him in the Three Crowns District—not because of smuggling, but because the gang could help "deal with" cats.

One of the edicts the Princess Regent had issued after ascending the throne forbade harming cats. But what if a noble no longer wanted a cat they had taken in? Or if a vicious stray attacked someone who could not fight back without breaking the law?

The Dragon's Tooth Gang was willing to "handle" such problems. Hand a cat over, and they would take it out of Cormyr on a fishing boat. Then it would "accidentally drown and get eaten by the fish."

That service had earned the gang a measure of notoriety even in the Three Crowns District, so close to the royal palace.

It was more than playing with fire. It was a business that risked their lives. Only the Lady of Silver knew what would await them if the princess found out.

Aaron said nothing. After finishing his meal, he rose and left the knightly order.

It was now late May, 1360 by the Dalelands calendar.

This was his first day off since he had begun training with the order: Sunday. Followers of the Lady of Silver, however, always prayed to the moon at night. As a chaotic good goddess, Selûne asked little of her followers. She had few rigid doctrines; sincerity was what mattered.

The next day, free at last from training, Aaron slept until well after sunrise. He ate the breakfast his aunt had left him. The weather was beginning to warm, so he changed into a short-sleeved shirt and trousers, then sat down in the study to write and think through his next steps.

Sunlight shone outside, and tree shadows swayed. The study was peaceful and quiet. A glass of juice, chilled with well water and served in an engraved crystal goblet, added a touch of elegance.

Aaron reviewed what he had gained over the past week and what he hoped to accomplish next, writing each point down.

He had joined the Purple Dragons, met the Princess Regent, secured himself a magic tutor, drawn on his father's connections, and made a few friends.

Those were his gains for the week.

The viscount then took stock of what he had yet to achieve.

First was the Warlock Mepham. After Princess Regent Alusair believed Aaron's account, Cormyr had issued a nationwide warrant for him. But Aaron could provide almost nothing to identify the man. He had never even seen Mepham's face, making the hunt exceedingly difficult. A week had passed without a useful lead. All they knew for certain was that the Warlock remained somewhere within the kingdom's borders.

Next were his enemies in Suzail. Their failed attempt to assassinate him had prompted a citywide search by the Queen's Blade. For now, they had gone to ground and ceased all activity. With nothing to trace, and with his current strength and resources, Aaron could not uncover them. He could only stay on guard.

Finally, there was the question of his powers.

Aaron leaned back against the soft chair and held out a hand. A knot of twisted purple-gray energy shimmered alongside thin, multicolored flames.

Child of Chaos. The four great powers.

He had unlocked more than fifteen percent of Slaanesh's Power. If he kept up his current pace, learning to wield it freely would only be a matter of time.

He had unlocked less than five percent of Tzeentch's Power. Even that little bit came from Selûne, the Lady of Silver. A trace of freedom and change lay within Selûne's divine portfolio, so her blessing allowed Aaron to wield a sliver of Tzeentch's power.

Nurgle's Power and Khorne's Power remained tightly sealed, without the slightest sign of opening.

For now, both were beyond Aaron's reach. He did not even intend to raise his warrior level yet. His goal during the six months of Purple Dragon recruit training was simply to learn and master a warrior's abilities, and perhaps pick up a few more combat techniques.

His greatest asset remained the Chaos power flowing through his veins: his power as a Chaos Sorcerer.

Until he unlocked Khorne's Power and Nurgle's Power, Aaron had neither the desire nor the talent to advance as a warrior.

Why else had he remained only an Apprentice warrior after eighteen years of life and military training from his family?

He truly had no talent for the Path of the Warrior.

That was precisely why his father, Manuel, had been so furious. Before this, Aaron had been utterly mediocre.

As for how to unlock Khorne's Power and Nurgle's Power, Aaron had no idea. One thing was certain: killing a few people or unleashing a few plagues would never be enough to awaken powers so great.

Perhaps it would take a tremendous shock. Slaanesh's Power had opened only the tiniest crack at the edge of death, amid a frenzy of despair and the desperate will to live. Even then, he had needed Selûne, a goddess of intermediate power, to devote herself fully to healing him.

So when is my magic tutor going to show up?

Aaron sat in the cushioned chair with a rueful smile. After a week of training, he finally had a day off, yet the thought of going back tomorrow already irritated him.

No. I can't think like that. I still have too much to do. I can't stop. I can't rest.

Aaron sprang from the chair, picked up his pen, and carefully wrote a sentence on the parchment.

"Ease up for a moment, regret it for a lifetime."

He blew the ink dry and regarded his work with satisfaction.

He would have that pearl of wisdom framed.

Six months of recruit training was still a long time. He could not simply wait around and do nothing.

He had to find an opportunity!

"Cousin, come here a moment."

"What is it, Aaron? I'm busy."

Seated behind his desk, Aaron watched the impatient-looking Robert enter the study and shook his head inwardly.

Robert was clearly planning to go out. Life had grown easier for him: his father had a job, and Aaron was contributing money to the household. That left Robert free to spend almost all his wages as he pleased. On every day off, he went out to eat and drink lavishly until his money was gone.

Westerners don't seem to value saving as much as Easterners, Aaron thought, considering the cultural difference. They were especially fond of using credit cards to spend tomorrow's money today, and payday loans were notorious. Westerners seemed naturally inclined to spend.

Then Aaron remembered the mortgage from his previous life. Perhaps the ancestors had it right after all.

As for this cousin of his, Robert was arrogant, loved to boast, spent money recklessly, and was particularly fond of introducing himself as "Viscount Salian's cousin." His abilities were unremarkable. He was good at paperwork, could do arithmetic, and had fine quill penmanship. Beyond that, he had no special talents.

At least Robert understood that his comfortable life now depended on Aaron. Irritated though he was at being summoned, he obediently sat down under Aaron's sharp gaze.

"How is the guild handling the warrant for that Warlock?" Robert was not entirely useless. As a scribe at the Adventurers Guild, he knew its affairs well.

"Oh, that. The reward is 180 Golden Lions, but you gave them far too little to go on. Plenty of the guild's coin-hungry fighters would like to collect, but they have no idea where to start." Robert shrugged. "They've caught several Warlocks instead. None turned out to be the one you described, but they were still thrown into the water dungeon."

"Uh..." Aaron felt a pang of guilt toward those unfortunate fellows.

Still, as he had noted before, most Warlocks were hardly good people. Most Patrons were supremely powerful beings on the side of evil, so Aaron did not feel too troubled by it.

"Anything else? A major incident? An enormous reward? A new discovery the mercenaries are talking about?" Aaron asked. "Nothing involving slaying a dragon, of course."

Slaanesh's Power still craved fame. It wanted a spectacular achievement that would make everyone know his name.

Aaron was only a tiny step away from raising his level as a Chaos Sorcerer!

"Now that you mention it, cousin... there has been something big lately." Aaron's questions jogged Robert's memory. "The Countess of Arabel, Myrmeen Lhal, is preparing to raise a large army to reclaim her lands from the Orcs. Word is she'll be recruiting adventurers soon! That's a major undertaking."

"Oh?!" Aaron's eyes lit up. "Tell me more!"

A major military campaign was coming?

What better chance could there be to win fame and merit?

Tao Bo really knows how to mess with people's heads. I'm so disgusted I could throw up. I feel awful. Give me a little time to recover.

If you want to blame someone, blame Tao Bo.