Chapter 22 - Answers Without Witnesses

Winter was already drawing to a close when Mari came home from the village with snow on her hem and color in her cheeks.
“Arien,” she called before the door had fully closed. “Father Varix had a message from Sir Samwell.” Terry’s hand stilled around his pipe, but Mari came in smiling. “The knight has chosen you as Will’s companion. You are to report to the estate in two weeks.”
For a moment, no one spoke. Then Alia whispered, “Our Arien?”
Mari laughed, short and disbelieving. “Yes. Our Arien.”
Arien smiled before he could stop himself. After the winter they had had, even good news felt strange.
What excited him most was the possibility of finally gaining access to written knowledge. For the first time since arriving in Erador, he might be able to learn without relying on overheard conversations and carefully chosen questions.
Books meant answers without witnesses. More than anything, he found himself longing for a quiet library and enough time to read.
The next two weeks passed too slowly whenever Arien thought about the estate and far too quickly whenever Mari remembered another rule he was expected to obey. By the end of the first week, her list had grown long enough that Arien was beginning to doubt he could remember all the ways he was apparently capable of embarrassing the family.
Between lessons in obedience, chores, and stolen practice, the snow began to melt. Dirty patches remained along the road, and the air smelled of wet earth.
On the last evening before the visit, with his new clothes folded beside the bed and Mari’s warnings still ringing in his ears, Arien opened his Status.

Name: Arien Race: Human Profession: Child Traits: child, Emissary of ▉ Lvl: 7 Experience: 720/800 Stamina 80/80 Mana 239/270
Endurance: 8 (7+1) Agility: 8 (7+1) Strength: 8 (7+1) Perception: 19 (17+1+1) Intellect: 27 (25+1+1) Wisdom: 12 (11+1) Vitality: 17 (13+1+1+2)
Free points: 0
Skills 4/6:

Mana Sense (uncommon): lvl 17 (+3) Mana Manipulation (rare): lvl 14 (+7) Lightning Aspect (rare): lvl 7 (+6) Fire Aspect (uncommon): lvl 4 (+4)
Available for allocation:

Foreign Language Learning (common): lvl 4
Water Aspect (Uncommon): lvl1 Domestic Animal Husbandry: (common) lvl 3 Unshakable Mind (rare): lvl 2 Danger Sense (uncommon): lvl 3 Wind Aspect (uncommon): lvl 1

 
The numbers were better than he had dared hope. Mana Sense, Mana Manipulation, Lightning Aspect, and Fire Aspect had all grown, some considerably more than others.
His growing mana reserves let him practice longer, but increasingly complex configurations drained him quickly enough that training all day remained impossible. For the next few levels, Vitality would have to carry more of the burden.
Finally, the day arrived.
In blue wool trousers, a burgundy shirt, and a black vest better than anything he or his siblings had ever owned, Arien walked beside Mari along the road to the knight’s estate.

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Mari had apparently saved the final examination for the road.
“Are you allowed to speak before Sir Samwell speaks to you?”
“No.”
“Are you allowed to ask about money?”
“No.”
“Are you allowed to stare at Lady Helii?”
“No.”
“Are you allowed to touch anything?”
“No.”
“Are you allowed to sit if no one tells you to sit?”
“No.”
After twenty minutes of this, Arien began to suspect that dealing with nobility mostly involved standing very still and hoping no one noticed him.
He finally breathed a sigh of relief when they rounded the last bend and Sir Samwell’s estate emerged from behind the trees.
He had to admit he expected something different. He wasn’t sure why, but he had assumed their liege lord would live in a stone castle surrounded by a moat and walls.
Instead, on a slight hill cleared of trees stood a single-story timber residence with a steep roof and red-painted window frames, glass panes glinting in the pale sunlight. Several farm buildings stood around it, while a thick hedge served in place of a wall.
It was no castle, but Arien liked it immediately. Everything looked solid and well cared for. A broad covered porch ran along the front of the house, with a bench beneath it and animal skins folded over the back. Bare fruit trees dotted the yard, and several ducks paddled across a small pond nearby.
They passed through the unguarded gate when a broad-shouldered man approached them. It took Arien a moment to recognize Kreft, the man who had driven Sir Samwell’s carriage the first time they met. Up close, with old scars crossing his exposed arms and face, he looked even more like a soldier than a coachman.
He gave Mari and Arien a quick once-over before approaching.
“You must be Arien? My lord is waiting for you,” he said in a deep bass voice, then, without waiting for a response, turned and motioned for them to follow.
And Arien did, stealing another glance at the scars across his arms. Arien wasn’t sure whether Kreft was a soldier, guard, or something else, but the scars made the army explanation easy to believe.
His mother, who had hesitated for a moment, quickly rushed to his side.
“Just Arien will do, you surely have other matters to attend to,” the man said without even turning around.
His mother stopped. One of her many “no’s” had been “do not question orders,” but she still looked reluctant to leave him.
“Mom, I’ll manage,” he whispered in a reassuring tone.
Mari leaned down and squeezed his hands tightly.
“Can you make it back on your own, or should I send Wod for you?”
“I’ll come back on my own.”
“Remember to behave,” she advised, then quickly walked back the way they came.
Arien followed the man through the heavy doors.
What if he did something stupid and Sir Samwell sent him away before the day was over? What if Will decided he was boring and wanted nothing to do with him?
Arien pressed a hand to his cheek hard enough to sting. He needed to stop inventing disasters and simply keep walking.
Arien followed Kreft into the entry hall and slowed.
Stone flags covered the floor, darkened where snow had melted from boots. A long rack held heavy riding boots, polished shoes, indoor slippers, and muddy work footwear, while cloaks, fur-lined coats, scarves, and damp gloves hung from iron hooks above a bench. The air smelled of wet wool, leather, smoke, and cold.
“Come on, come on, nothing will bite you,” the man’s voice reached him, and he realized he had stopped uncertainly in the middle of the hall.
He hurried after Kreft.
The next room served as both receiving hall and family room. It was spacious and bright, with rugs and animal skins covering much of the floor and a large fireplace burning cleanly against one wall. Hunting trophies, a few paintings, two swords, and an enormous axe decorated the walls, while deep armchairs surrounded a table near the hearth.
What Arien noticed most was the air. Despite the fire, there was no smoke.
“Welcome, boy,” Sir Samwell said from an armchair, his long legs resting on a footstool. “Allow me to introduce my children and the people in my service.”
The red-haired woman standing a few steps away from him winced slightly at the phrase, but said nothing.
“This is Will, who will be your companion. Next to him stands my daughter Sylviane.”
“Nice to meet you,” he said, bowing slightly.
Sylviane was thin and straight-backed, with chestnut hair braided so tightly it looked almost painful. She stood beside the armchair with her hands folded in front of her, watching Arien as if she had already decided to remember every mistake he made.
Will looked nothing like his sister. His blond hair refused to stay flat, and his tunic sat crooked on one shoulder. He marched up to Arien with all the solemn dignity a six-year-old could carry.
“May the gods be pleased with our meeting. Welcome to our home. What is ours is yours,” he said, extending his hand.
The boy could be at most a year older, yet he sounded as though he were receiving a visiting dignitary.
Arien looked uncertainly at Sir Samwell, but the knight only rolled his eyes and smiled, shaking his head.
He extended his hand, and the boy grasped it and shook it enthusiastically. Surprisingly, Will’s palm was heavily callused and much rougher than Arien’s.
“This is Kreft, my former subordinate from the army, who chose to come with me after I was ennobled,” the knight continued. “And this young lady will be your teacher from today onward. Her name is Velyn. My wife and eldest son are on a trip near the capital; you will meet them when they return. Any questions?”
“No, my lord. Thank you again for your help,” he said, bowing low, trying not to stare at Velyn.
That was harder than it should have been.
She looked about twenty, red-haired, composed, and far too polished for the smoky, muddy world he had grown used to. A simple green dress that was better made than anything Arien usually saw in the village. She stood straight and watched him with quiet curiosity.
Arien looked away a moment too late.
Wonderful.
His first teacher in this world, and he had already stared too long because she looked like everything he had been missing: books, answers, and a world larger than farms and pastures.
“In that case, good luck. Kreft and I have rounds to make, so we’ll leave you to it.” Samwell rose, tousled Will’s hair despite the boy’s offended look, and left with Kreft.
Velyn looked over them in silence.
“Now,” she said, her smile polite and very thin, “we can begin properly.”