"You wanted to see me, Boss?"Tarquin Wroe entered the living area and approached Tycon, who was wrapped very warmly in a blanket in front of the fire. In his hands, he slowly sipped on a heated cup of wine.
After Bucket left, Tycon had conveniently discovered a prominently displayed wine rack in the corner of the room. Tycon commandeered the wine as his own, much as he commandeered the entire estate.
Delicious.
Tycon examined Wroe. Wroe was half-head taller than he was. His light-blue hair was a few ilms longer, where Tycon kept his short enough to not need excessive styling. He wore leather armor, reinforced by metal shoulders and a chestguard. Unlike Tycon"s dark, peaked hood, Wroe had a white hood. That and the white clothing underneath his armor matched well with his somewhat obvious angelic bloodline.
Tycon glanced down at Wroe"s side, frowning with disdain at seeing his longsword.
"Indeed. I wanted to discuss something with you, old friend."
As frustrated as Tycon was at the whole situation, he couldn"t help but feel a deep kins.h.i.+p with both Wroe and Dragan. He hadn"t many memories of them, but he wasn"t too worried. More memories would come and he could always inquire about whatever was missing.
Tycon poured a second cup of wine for his companion, which Wroe smilingly accepted as he took a seat for himself.
"Should we get a third cup for Dragan?" Wroe asked.
"Nah. We"ll start ahead of him. The wine would have all been gone, otherwise," Tycon chuckled.
The pair clinked together their cups in a friendly toast, draining them in smooth, practiced pulls.
Tycon took the wine bottle and again, filled the cups with the sweet red.
"Well, what"s up, Boss?" Wroe inquired.
Tycon gently swirled the wine in his smooth, wooden cup, letting his gaze wander about the room, "I was just wondering about your swordplay tonight."
Wroe placed his wine cup on the table beside him and smiled sheepishly, "Oh? You saw that, huh? It"s the… Zarovich-style blade forms, I learned it when I was in--"
"No, no," Tycon held a palm up, interrupting him, "I mean to say… Why didn"t you fight at range?"
"What? Because... I don"t have a ranged weapon. Well, I earned an Expert badge with a crossbow, but..."
"No, wait, hold on," Tycon drained his wine cup, trying to think. His concern was steadily rising.
"What is it, Boss?"
Tycon decided to be clear, "Magic, Mister Wroe. Why didn"t you use magic?"
Wroe laughed derisively, "Haha. I don"t know any magic, Boss. That"s silly."
Tycon"s eyes set into a confused glare, "What the... but the... Arms? And when the ceiling ate the corpses?"
"Oh, yeah, that was kinda weird, huh?"
"And gathering information about Bucket"s whereabouts? All those screams we heard around that time?"
"I just... kinda hear voices, sometimes?"
Tycon was standing and yelling at Wroe, "And I was told you IDENTIFIED the DARK MAGIC surrounding the MANOR?!"
It was all he could do to not begin strangling the man. Wroe felt his Boss"s rising anger and stood up, trying to calm Tycon down.
"Boss, I just-- kinda, sorta felt it! Do-Don"t be mad!"
"I"M FURIOUS!"
"Boss! Boss!" Wroe put his open palms forward, "Can we just all caaaalllm--"
« SYSTEM! Inquiry! What cla.s.s is Tarquin Wroe? »
[System response: Tarquin Wroe, Bronze-Rank Duelist]
« System, inquiry! Just to be absolutely, perfectly clear, does the Duelist cla.s.s have any magical capabilities? »
[Negative.]
Tycon"s eyes widened in surprise at the System"s answer. He began to gnash his teeth, trying desperately to rein in his anger.
"Shut up! SHUT UP! Shut the h.e.l.l up, Tarquin Wroe, and follow me!"
…
Tycon kicked open the door. Inside was Barza, snoring like an innocent child, yes somehow also like an ugly, roaring beast, trying to attract an equally ugly mate.
« System, inquiry: What cla.s.s is Barza Keith? »
[System response: Barza Keith, Bronze-Rank Ruffian]
"Pah, as bad as I thought," Tycon cursed aloud.
"Ruffian sounds like a Rogue variant. But from the way that guy fights, he should be more upfront and domineering… We"ll need to change that."
Tycon slammed the door shut.
…
Tycon kicked open the door. Bucket was startled awake, "Dad?"
"Nope, Quay"s still missing. Might be dead. It"s just me. Every day you live, you learn of pain and suffering."
"O-oh, okay," the boy pouted.
Wroe frowned and in a hushed tone he whispered, "Oh, come on, Boss, really?"
"Shut the h.e.l.l up, Wroe."
Tycon stared at the half-elf boy in the bed, who had quickly nodded back to sleep.
« System inquiry: What cla.s.s is Bucket? »
[System response: Bucket, Unranked Novice]
"Well, at least that"s good news."
"Boss, what"s this all about?" Wroe prodded.
"The Novice Cla.s.s!" Tycon mentally rejoiced, "This means he"ll be able to learn skills from any cla.s.s, even if the mastery rate is lower. And because his cla.s.s hasn"t been determined, we can cultivate his abilities to match his talent… Unlike a certain Duelist."
Tycon again glared at Wroe as he quietly closed the door.
…
Tycon kicked open the door.
A woman with a scar over one eye looked up with puffy, tearful eyes. Her room looked as if a whirlwind had gone through it, a table lamp illuminating all sorts of clothing and personal effects strewn haphazardly onto the floor.
"Was Seldin… Looking for something? The guards seemed unable to summon her to rebuff their attack on the estate."
"Sorry," Tycon apologized, "Wrong room."
The armorless Seldin, in her long white s.h.i.+rt and black skirt, didn"t bother to stand, nor hide her sniveling.
"Wh-who are you guys?" Seldin asked in a quavering voice.
Tycon glanced over to Seldin"s armor. It was still in one piece. The woman hadn"t even tried donning it.
"Could this woman have been tearing apart her room for the past two bells?"
Tycon shook his head and spoke in rapid-fire, "Good-evening,-I"m-Baron-Tycondrius,-s"nice-to-meet-you. The estate is under new management. I"d-like-you-to-continue-working-for-me.-We"ll-discuss-terms-of-your-continued-employment in the… uh, morning? Wear-business-casual-for-the-interview.-Good-night."
« System inquiry: What cla.s.s is Seldin? »
Tycon politely, but firmly shut the door and began to dash away.
"Boss? Wh-why are we running?" Wroe asked while hurrying after him.
[System response: Seldin, Iron-Rank Berserk Knight]
Tycon only ran faster.
…
Tycon kicked open the door.
Barza continued to snore, sounding like a wood saw slowly and violently torturing a tree. An ugly tree.
Tycon took a stuffed doll out of his side-pack and placed it amongst Barza"s belongings. Wroe watched in curiosity, only providing a, "huh, okay."
Tycon shut the door.
...
Tycon kicked open the door.
"Heyyy!" Dragan smiled, drinking from an open bottle of wine. Over a score of bottles laid on the floor, opened and unopened-- more open than not.
The big man and four guards sat in a circle, in various states of undress, seated around a deck of cards. One of the drunken female guards looked up lazily, blinking her eyes in disbelief.
"Huh? Isn"t that the Sir?"
The other, slightly more sober guards looked up in a bit of mild panic. One whispered, "Sh-should we report?"
Tycon stared for a moment. "...No, nevermind."
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Tycon slammed the door shut...
« System inquiry: What cla.s.s is Dragan Ashlord? »
[System response: Dragan Ashlord, Iron-Rank Swordmage]
"...Wait, what?" Tycon raised his hands and asked aloud in confusion.
"They looked like they were playing a form of strip poker, Boss? Did you want to ask to jo--"
"What? No. No! Seven h.e.l.ls, man, no! Just… Just come with me. I"m going to fix you."
"Fix me? Well... Alright, Boss," Wroe hurried forward to walk beside Tycon, "Where to, next?"
Tycon scoffed, "Where else? To the dungeons."