Author Artemis
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Chapter 125 - Aspirations
🕑 Added 2025-09-29 18:00:13 +0000 UTCSmith Class Skill [Cementation] has been acquired.
Smith Class Skill [Quenching] has been acquired.
“Alright James, now this box. Wedge it in tightly, if you would. The contents are fragile.”
James lifted the box, squatting down and bracing his back before lifting with his legs. The Aspirant Knight had been most displeased with the way James… was lifting things? James didn’t think it mattered much, not with sixteen levels in a Strength boosting class, but the Knight was oddly particular about things.
“I won’t have you breaking your back less than a month after I saved your life, Smith.”
His words were gruff, but his tone wasn’t unkind.
James wasn’t sure yet what to think about the Knight.
But it was the Steward who was directing him now, the Knight having disappeared somewhere to complete his transfer process.
One of the squire boys, still a year or two out from his Choosing Day, called out as James set the box down gently and started pushing it into place in the carriage.
“Wow! Smith, Smith! Do you have the [Strong] Skill? Was it hard to get?”
James tilted his head, looking back at the boy. “Nope.”
It had turned out that James was one of the strongest people in the entire compound, and it was a close thing. Only two other Knights, both double combat classers and with sums in the twenties, could lift or push stone weights heavier than James.
Luckily this was only discovered the day before they left, and James hadn’t been taken from the Smithy to do random chores the entire week.
James finished loading the final boxes, and the Steward showed him how to tie everything down, and the call for morning training went out for the Knights and Squires.
“Now, while the baths are free, go and clean yourself. Thoroughly. We will both be sharing the carriage with our Lord, and we shan’t displease him with foul smells the entire time.”
“Yes, sir!”
James liked the baths.
He hadn’t been fond of them as a child, in his northern homeland, where the water was bracing even in the summer, and freezing in the winter.
Here, in the Knight’s Order, the baths were warmed, and the soap was free, and there were always fresh towels available—though Clara, the Maid, had been terrifying as she explained that he was only to take one per bath.
He bathed quickly, ate a very hurried breakfast, stuffed his pocket with bread, and returned to the carriage in the early morning light. The sun was just cresting the mountains to the east, casting sharp shadows into the Knight's Order compound.
The Aspirant Knight was wearing his full set of plate armor with mail underneath. He had been interested in the cooling strip system James had created in the Dungeon, but the cost of the materials to make another set, and the amount of training necessary to operate it, had dampened his enthusiasm.
Another Knight, also in full armor, was standing with James’ Lord, and after a short ceremony and an exchange of salutes, they both signed a piece of paper, which the other Knight took.
“Safe travels, Suero. And good luck in the Tournament!” He had an odd sort of smile on his face. Almost a sneer.
“Hmmm…” The Aspirant Knight rubbed the base of his helmet with his gauntleted hand. “I dare say we shan’t make it in time for the Tournament this year. You know how it is with travel. But I believe my performance in next year’s Tournament won’t disappoint.” There was a challenging fire in his eyes, though the rest of his expression was carefully schooled and neutral.
“Oho? I’ll look forward to that. I bid you safe travels.”
The Aspirant Knight nodded, turned on his heel, and entered the carriage. The Steward followed, then waved James in.
And then they were off. There were two bench seats within the carriage, facing each other. The Knight took the seat in the back, facing forward, filling up the entire bench with his armored bulk. The Steward sat on the driver’s bench, driving the pair of draft horses, with the front panel folded down so that a fresh breeze could enter the carriage interior. The windows of carriages lacked glass in those times, and instead used a system of wooden panels that could be latched open or shut depending on the weather. James himself sat on the remaining bench inside, facing the rear and his Lord, with his back to the Steward.
“Mind yourself, James,” the Steward said from where he was driving the carriage down the slope, through the city streets of Corto, towards the gate and the road beyond. “Others can see you as well. Comport yourself such that you are a credit to your Lord.”
“Huh?” James grunted. He sat back down on the bench and stopped gawking at the city and every little thing they passed.
It was the Knight who chuckled, the sound reverberating within his helmet. “Sit still for now, Smith. Once we get away from the city you can look around all you like.”
“O-oh, yes sir.”
James sat, but his head continued to turn back and forth as he caught glimpses of tall buildings with balconies ensconced in wrought-iron; planters filled with vines dangling down the walls, stalls full of what must have been a dozen kinds of fruit he had never seen before, although he did recognize the apples, and the rest of city life that he hadn’t seen before.
The people.
So many people!
In a minute they passed as many people as he had ever met in his life, and the next minute they did it again. And this continued for nearly an hour as they made their way to the city gate.
They were waved through, hardly stopping, and an hour later when the last farmhouse was well behind them, Suero spoke.
“There, we’re far enough now, Sebastian.” He removed his helmet, revealing hair damp and pressed down from sweat. “Phew, that breeze feels good.”
He looked at James, still sitting, and waved his hand. “Go on, look all you like now.” He chuckled as James lurched from his seat, sticking his head nearly out the window.
Behind them, the city of Corto, nestled up against mountains to the North and East, was receding. There was a river a ways away from the road, but following it parallel, and it passed near enough to the city that the city had expanded out to meet it with a shipping district. River barges and boats with tall masts and off-white sails met at Corto, and brisk business was done. The Knights often spoke of the shipping district and the constant threat of smugglers, and the second most common topic of discussion was dealing with monsters that descended from the mountains and threatened the outskirts of the city.
James turned his head, following the dazzling light reflecting off the broad river, and noted the edge of the tilled fields where the land turned wild again. There were no forests here, and so the farmers didn’t have to fight and toil for every inch of farmland. Instead, there was simply a meadow, land lying fallow, occasionally dotted with small, short, almost squat-looking trees that stood alone. The land was mostly flat around the river, with rolling hills beyond, clad in the green of fresh Spring growth.
The Steward and the Knight started talking, but they didn’t call for James, so he simply enjoyed taking in the scenery until they stopped for lunch by the riverside. The Steward showed James how to feed and water the horses. He had never worked closely with horses before; even though he grew up on a farm, his father had always tilled the land by hand. It was more labor intensive, but as a Farmer, he made up for the smaller fields with higher yields.
Shortly after resuming their journey, the Knight spoke up.
“Now, Smith James, it’s time that we discuss what it means to be my retainer.”
The Aspirant Knight then explained what his aspirations actually were.
“Several generations back, my mother’s family was nobility. The House died out, but it is my goal to lift my family back up into the ranks of hereditary nobility.”
The Steward interjected. “Knights of Iberteria are considered non-hereditary nobility, but the rank is open to anyone who meets the standards and swears the Knight’s Oath of Fealty.”
Suero nodded. “Knights who perform exceptionally well and faithfully can be granted the rank of Baronet, which can be a hereditary noble title, but lacks any lands. Baronets can pass the title down to their heir, but only so long as they serve the Crown, either in the civil service or as a Knight. Promotion to Baron comes with land, and no longer requires direct service to the Crown.”
James opened his mouth, froze, and then closed it again. The Knight narrowed his eyes.
“You may speak. I want you to understand, and if you don’t ask questions, you might misunderstand. As a retainer, the first thing you must do before anything else is understand my will, else how can you carry it out? So feel free to ask questions.”
“Politely and respectfully,” the Steward added.
“O-of course, m’lord,” James said. “So your Lordship wants to become a Baron, then?”
“My ancestors had the rank of Count before the House went extinct. Ideally, I would attain or exceed that rank.”
“The ranks are Knight, Baronet, Baron, Viscount, Count, Marquess, and Duke, in ascending order,” the Steward added helpfully.
“At the very least, I must attain the rank of Baronet, so that my heir can continue to ascend.”
“Your heir, sir?”
“…” the Knight fell silent, and the Steward sighed.
“Our Lord has yet to settle down and marry.”
“You know well why,” he retorted.
“Yes, but your Smith does not.”
“…That is true. Smith James, whom one marries has an exceedingly large influence on their life, especially for those of the nobility. It is not a decision to be made lightly. Even for yourself, commoner though you are.”
“And even moreso, as our Lord’s retainer. Your actions will reflect on our Lord, so at the very least you must not marry a woman of ill-repute.”
“M-marry?!” James stammered.
The Knight nodded. “Yes, marriage. I’m a decade your senior, or thereabouts, but you need not delay marriage and a family so long as me. There are some considerations that need to be made, but Sebastian will let you know if any particular woman who catches your eye would be an ill match.”
“I…” James trailed off.
“You will not go around fathering bastards, James. That would be most shameful as our Lord’s retainer,” the Steward asserted in a clipped cadence.
“N-not that!” James protested, blushing fiercely. “I meant, I was hoping to return home and seek a wife there.”
The Knight frowned, and though James didn’t turn to look at the Steward, he was sure he was frowning too.
With a sigh, the Knight spoke. “Smith James, I understand you may be less than pleased with becoming my retainer in this way.”
James raised his hands hurriedly and waved them. “No, no your Lordship, I couldn’t be more grateful that you saved my life. I thought I was going to die in that Dungeon…” His eyes grew teary, but he forced the emotion down and continued speaking. “And I will certainly repay you for using your precious Elixir.”
The Steward and the Aspirant Knight both sighed.
“James, you’re not expected to actually pay back the amount the Magistrate wrote in that contract.” The Steward said the word like it was dirty.
The Knight nodded. “A retainer is supposed to be loyal of their own free will.”
“But I want to go home,” James said simply.
The three men fell silent for a time.
