- Idris POV -
As I walked toward the training courtyard, servants stiffened on sight, they could feel the mana humming beneath my skin. I kept physical enhancements cycling through my body to train efficiency.
Three years have evaporated since Alaric's first lesson, and Wilfred, who was basically my shadow, had stopped guarding me personally after I started learning with Alaric. Now I only see him in passing or when I leave the estate to go to the city.
Turns out, mages are uncommon unless you're nobility. In fact, the majority of people have no mana core or an extremely small one.
As Alaric described it, my method of magic classifies me as an Enchanter. Thus, I'm learning enchanting in general as my primary magic, which is mainly used on items. I can make things searing hot, for example.
I, however, am obsessed with self-modification, making Alaric very curious about me.
Apparently, enchantment battlemages are extremely rare. Usually, people become battlemages to make up for a lack of mana. As battlemages are already hard to find, which one would want to engage in even closer combat?
'These NPCs will see the might of buff stacking on a melee build! Being a normal mage would be awful in close confrontations.'
'Although... as of now, I have no method for ranged battles other than using what little other spells I know, like fireball.'
'Bleh. I've learned speed enhancements to close distance, but I need to learn flight or teleport as well.'
My secondary focuses are still utility spells and illusion magic. Illusion magic is the farthest behind as its practicality is limited compared to the others.
'The only uses I can think of are faking attacks and hiding my identity.'
'Hmm, maybe I could create a passive aura effect to intimidate others.'
For utility spells, my currently most used are 'Cleanse' and what I've dubbed 'Sonar'. Cleanse is self-explanatory, why would I want to be dirty? Sonar, on the other hand, was created by me. There may be similar spells in existence though. Essentially, I send out pulses of mana to sense my surroundings.
Pretty neat, right? Can't be assassinated now!
Coming out of my thoughts as I arrived at the courtyard gate, Wilfred stood drilling two wide-eyed younger guards, probably new recruits given their posture.
"Wilfred! Training the noobs I see! How have you been?"
The guards flinched at my voice. Concern flashed in their eyes, thinking I might attack them, physically or verbally. It was probably their first time meeting a noble's child, and the fact I was circulating spells didn't help.
Wilfred, however, realized I was just practicing and smiled at my appearance.
"Young Master. To what do we owe the visit?" He gave a quick, small bow.
"I need hand-to-hand combat training." I canceled my spells.
"Hand-to-hand? May I ask why?" He raised an eyebrow, already guessing the answer.
"Enchantment's pretty useless if I hit like a girl. Gotta defend myself." I threw out a few mock jabs.
"So do you know any trainers?"
"All Ducal Guards learn hand-to-hand or small arms combat, Young Master. I've been training for decades."
As he dismissed the two recruits, who fled like spooked deer, he set his weapon aside and began to take off his gloves. Scars lined his arms like cracked pottery.
-----
Moments later
-----
In the courtyard, Wilfred bent into a stance, knees coiled, and palms open with his dominant hand in the back.
"It's not about hitting hard. It's about how and where you hit." His palm jabbed at a spot near my elbow.
My entire arm went numb after the hit. I could barely clench my fist, even circulating the spells was difficult.
'Damn! Numb limb? That's basically stun lock!' My eyes widened.
"Aim to disable or hit vital spots." He began to point at different spots on my body.
"The solar plexus and liver are very important spots to hit when fighting. One will take your breath, the other will drop you to your knees without even realizing it."
"Ah, crit damage. I get it." I smacked my arm while getting feeling back.
"...Oh, ahem. Critical areas." Noticing Wilfred's curious gaze, I clarified.
"Try attacking me... with strength." Wilfred got into a defensive stance.
I began to circulate my enhancement spells during my attack when Wilfred lightly hit my elbow.
My spells fizzled out, and I lost the mana I used to create them.
"Eh?" I looked at Wilfred inquisitively.
"Magic fails when your focus breaks. This is why you train under pressure." He instructed before resetting his posture.
-----
3 Years Later
-----
The courtyard crackled with tension as guards formed a wide ring around two men, while some held their breaths at the clashing of steel that gleamed under the evening sun.
At the center, Wilfred moved like a shadow, fighting with a dagger in hand. His leather armor whispered as it stretched from his quick movements. Everyone's gaze, however, was on the other man fighting him.
His opponent flowed around his strikes with unnatural grace, parrying every blow that came his way. But similarly, he couldn't get a strike in either, Wilfred read his every move.
The man had seemingly normal attire, with no armor except the metal gauntlets wrapping his forearms and encasing his hands. His clothes shimmered faintly when touched, humming with mana. Enchanted fabric hardening like metal at the slightest touch, yet flowing freely like silk.
His hair, a mahogany red, was long and flowing, tied back and dropping below his shoulders. His build rivaling grown men, hardened by magic and combat, yet everyone knew he was only 15.
It's me, obviously.
Wilfred's dagger flicked towards my throat. Not having time to raise my fist, I sidestepped. as it flew past, I felt the pressure from the air, but that was not the end as it curved downward to graze my shoulder.
A *Cling!* echoed throughout the courtyard like a bell, as my clothes hardened like steel, leaving a scratch.
"He's matching Wilfred in close quarters..." one guard said.
"It's the enchantments. Look, his clothes didn't even tear." another retorted.
"Still terrifying for fifteen." several guards nodded in agreement.
This was the only reason I could go up against a veteran with decades of experience. No other guard on the estate could go against Wilfred without enhancements or handicaps.
With his sudden change in trajectory, his stance went wide, leaving a small opening.
"Speed." I whispered.
My fist shot out, but not at Wilfred. I punched at the dagger's hilt in the blink of an eye. Steel flew through the air as some guards stopped blinking, refusing to miss a single moment of the fight.
But Wilfred didn't flinch as his dagger skidded across the stone ground. In fact, a grin split his face.
"Finally." he said, eyeing me like prey.
He shot forward, engaging in hand-to-hand combat with just his leather gloves. His strikes morphing into streaks of black paint through the air, targeting my joints to disable me.
After parrying one of his jabs, I shot an open palm towards his shoulder. But all I got in return was a chuckle as he ducked downwards, my hand grazing the frays on his tunic.
He pushed in close as his fist raced towards my solar plexus. Taking advantage of my armor, I locked my hands above his head, preparing to knee him while tanking the hit.
'This should end it.' A smug look graced my face.
But as I brought my knee up to hit him, he suddenly dropped even lower.
*Thud*
In a long turning arc, he swept my other leg off the ground. Silence fell as I landed on my back.
"Haa... Okay, old man. Time for round 2?" I sat up.
"Tempting, but it seems I must decline." He pointed behind me.
Following his direction was an opening the guards had made near the gate, where a butler stood.
"Young Master Idris, your father summons you to his study." the butler bowed.
"Very well." I shrugged off the gauntlets, tossing them back to the guard I got them from.
"You've surpassed expectations. When I was your age, I couldn't hold a candle to you," Wilfred smiled wryly.
"Well, I've got you and Alaric training me. It's basically pay to win," I rolled my eyes.
'Pay to win?' Wilfred raised an eyebrow.
-----
My father sat at his desk in his study. There was no chair in front of the desk, so I simply flopped onto the couch nearby.
His sharp eyes tracked me without blinking. After a brief moment of silence, he took a sip of his wine.
"Fifteen, huh. Old enough to get into the business. Time sure does fly." his gaze never leaving me.
My eyes lit up at the thought. I sat up, correcting my lazy posture.
'Main Questline!'
"About time." I grinned. I had been planning out my foundation for years.
"When you were a little boy, I had it planned for you to just handle some ledgers, oversee a mine maybe," he swirled his wine glass.
"But you're very intelligent for your age... Unnervingly so," he took another sip of wine.
"Therefore, choose... What venture demands Abellon gold?"
"Mercenaries."
His wine hovered halfway to his lips, and his grip tightened as he stared at me.
'Let's add some dramatic effect.' I smirked.
Snapping my fingers, I used illusion magic to project a map on his desk.
Gold lines began to draw themselves, weaving through cities to create several paths connecting the empire to the southern subcontinent. With each territory of the empire's vassals outlined, certain states began to glow red.
"Caravans and... warring regions?" He continued to dissect the map.
"Eventually they may join wars, but for a start they will protect merchants. It requires a lot fewer troops to do that." I tapped the gold lines.
He set his glass down and leaned back in his chair, deep in thought.
"The house head will not like us having a mercenary company."
"I will add a clause that gives him priority," I waved lazily.
A few moments passed in silence, the only sound was the tapping of his finger on the desk. Each passing second added weight to the air around me.
"... Fine. Take Wilfred to recruit a captain. I'll give you some money." he conceded.
I rose, my illusion magic vanishing while slowly walking away. At the door, I glanced back.
"Oh, I need some trainers to come here. I need to pick a weapon to fight with."
Stepping out, Wilfred waited at the doorway. Signaling for him to walk with me, he fell into step beside me.
"Wilfred, find me a captain. I'm making a mercenary company."
He halted for a moment, with a shocked expression on his face.
"Oh, and loyalty over strength." I added. Glancing back at him, he regained clarity.
-----
About a week later, I sat in front of a wall of weapons, not a single duplicate in sight. On the sides, a few weapons specialists stood there nervously, along with the head blacksmith.
My father called them in at my request for weapons selection, and I was allowed to order what I wanted from the blacksmith free of charge, my father already paid for it.
Walking along the line, I immediately skipped the daggers.
'Stealth is lame. I already learned hand-to-hand combat, so learning daggers would be a waste.'
The rest of the men followed me with their gazes. Whoever got hired to teach would make a lot of money. Training a high noble is no small feat.
'Swords... too cliché. I've used swords in so many games that they're kind of boring.'
I stopped after passing the one-handed swords.
'Hmm... due to my current combat style, I should probably skip one-handed weapons altogether.'
I decided to walk past the maces and axes.
'Two-handed weapons would give more range, the question is which one to use. I've played with everything in games, but seeing and doing are very different.'
'I guess I'll prioritize reach first off, so off to the polearms I guess.'
Several of the specialists were downtrodden by now. I had passed the majority of the weapons, and the chance of me going back was low.
'Halberd maybe? No... Oh!'
Looking up from my thoughts, I quickly scanned for the weapon that came to mind.
Picking up the weapon, it was seven feet long with a blade at the end. Though the weapons here were basic, as they were made for guards and training, it had a polished sheen to it.
'Glaives might be the best option. The length is amazing, and it supports many different attacks.'
I spun the glaive in my hand, testing its weight.
'With AoE sweeps and my gauntlets covering close range, this pretty much covers all bases.'
Walking over to the training dummy in the center, I twirled the glaive into the proper position before thrusting straight into one of the targets with the blade facing upwards.
Pushing the blade upwards, the dummy proved little resistance, cleaving it in two. Pivoting on my feet, I brought the blade down diagonally on another.
For a moment, the room went silent as half the dummy slowly slid off the rest of the body, hitting the ground with an audible thud.
"Yeah. This is the one." I turned to the blacksmith.
"Make me a glaive. Make it a bit longer than this one, though." I said while raising the glaive in my hand.
"Oh, and some gauntlets too."
Placing the glaive back on the rack, I turned to the specialists.
I pointed at the polearm master without looking back.
"You, stay. The rest, dismissed." I said before leaving the armory.
-----
2 months later
-----
In the courtyard, a man stood in front of me, mid-thirties. No flashy armor, no arrogance, just short brown hair and pale green eyes in normal clothing. You wouldn't know he was a warrior if it weren't for the scar that ran parallel to his jawline across his cheek, pale as old bone, slicing through stubble.
His eyes held the weight of a hundred battlefields, this man had clearly killed many. The mark of war on his face was enough to prove that.
"So this is the man you recommend, Wilfred?" I glanced at Wilfred to my side.
"That's correct, Young Master. Dietrich served twelve years in the northern wars."
'Damn, nomad invasions...'
'He looks alright. Nothing pops except that scar, really.' I scanned him up and down.
Dietrich's stare never left mine. No bow. No flinching at my enchanted clothes or mana circulation.
'Hmm, probably don't need to ask too much if Wilfred vetted him.'
"While we guard caravans for now, this is a mercenary company... Mercenaries go to war. If I contract you to hold a pass or sack a fortress... are you fine with that?"
"Same risks, different rates."
I raised an eyebrow.
"Explain."
"Bandits and armies are different. You want my men to die? Pay what their lives are worth before they march."
"Okay, I'll add a war clause. Separate pay for peacetime and war."
Finally, the unmoving wall gave a quick nod. But then I leaned in with a grave face.
"One of your men violates a farmer's daughter. Your move?"
I peered into his eyes with intensity to show the weight of his answer.
Dietrich's knuckles whitened from his grip, and he narrowed his eyes at me.
"Hang him. Pay the farmer," he said curtly.
'OK! So he's not a reaver, good.' I nodded and sighed.
"You're hired. Recruit thirty men. Just make sure they follow orders, and don't stab comrades. Wilfred will hire the logistics people."
"Simple enough."
Dietrich turned. At the archway, he glanced back.
'Eh?'
'... He just left? We didn't even discuss locations or pay!'
I turned to Wilfred, scratching my chin.
"Err... Wilfred, find a place for them to stay."