When Victor arrived at the castle, his first priority was to confront the countess and clarify the reasons behind his sudden summons, as well as certain aspects that disturbed him.
Walking through the hallways, he noticed a convoy in the courtyard unloading wagons and ferrying cargo into the castle storehouses, presumably containing the personal belongings of Sylvia and Cliossa.
Striding quickly inside, he discarded his cloak to a waiting maid and marched toward the sitting room.
In the gloomy chamber, which Victor had long since grown accustomed to, the countess sat regally at the head of the table, glowing like a diamond inappropriately placed in this dim environment.
Flanking her to the right was Sylvia, engaged in animated conversation. Both women fell silent as Victor entered, studying his greeting.
— Your excellency, kindly refrain from issuing commands through servants or soldiers in my direction, — he declared, omitting customary formalities.
The lord resented anyone daring to issue orders on his own property, and despite his fondness for the countess, he refused to undermine his authority before his subjects.
— Go check on your knight; something's amiss with her, — Cliossa ignored his frustration.
Victor intended to repeat his request for her to take his concerns seriously, but deferred, deciding that time permitted this discussion later. Presently, Linnea's condition took precedence.
Wheeling around, he exited the salon and turned right toward the staircase ascending to the upper floor.
Linnea lay in his private chambers, surrounded by maids hovering near the doorway. Clearing the room, Victor entered to find a priest performing incantations by her bedside.
He inferred this was a diagnostic spell, analogous to MRI scans on Earth.
Priests learned this technique early in their training, detecting illnesses and demonic parasites that thrived within human bodies, consuming victims' life force.
Interpreting the results, however, required nuanced judgment. Absent systematic medical education, priests accumulated experiential knowledge over lifetimes.
Victor stood three steps behind, awaiting conclusion. Upon cessation of the spell's illumination, Linnea retained a subtle luminescence.
Human beings, even in this magical realm, did not naturally emit light. Recalling similar cases failed to yield matches, indicating either a novel phenomenon or ignorance of the previous body owner.
When the priest withdrew, Victor discerned something uncanny.
A delicate filament, barely visible, emanated from Linnea's chest. Examining it closely, he realized the priest had overlooked it.
— Have you determined her condition? — Victor inquired.
— My lord, aside from internal bruises I've healed and Liert's disease, she appears healthy. The luminous effect eludes my comprehension, — the priest admitted.
Deep in thought, Victor mulled over the diagnosis. The priest bowed and departed, prompting the lord to vacate the room.
Once alone, he approached Linnea and gingerly touched the thread emerging from her chest.
Three interface windows popped up before him, but a fourth, adjacent to the followers list, captured his attention.
"Class Stone Used"
Details were vague, compelling Victor to consider what this stone represented and its function.
Flashbacks flooded his mind: recalling the rainy day when he tucked a glowing stone beneath her breastplate to warm her.
"That was the class stone? But what benefits does it confer? Which classes exist? The interface provides no info!"
Paladin understood little of his system's mechanics, nor did it offer tutorials. Reflecting briefly, he tugged the thread toward the "Followers" pane, whereupon a new option appeared: "Add".
Selecting it yielded no visual feedback, but an additional window superimposed itself.
"Choose Follower Class":
• Light Cavalry• Heavy Cavalry• Archer• Assassin
Over a hundred diverse categories populated the list. Victor hesitated, uncertain which suited Linnea best, ultimately settling on the fencer class.
Light bathed the room, drawn toward Linnea's chest, vanishing instantly.
A new follower entry appeared in his interface. Curious, he tapped her name, revealing detailed statistics.
Linea Klint — Human — Class — FencerStrength
35Agility — 59
Luck — 33
Intelligence — 14
Skills: Blade Storm, Deadly Strike, Frenzy, Tradeoff.
He marveled at her expanded repertoire, surpassing his own abilities. Skills activated by touch provided explanations.
Blade Storm: Attack speed increases by 200%; duration: 10 seconds (cooldown: 1 hour).
Deadly Strike: Activation chance: 0.1%; deals 1000% base damage.
Frenzy: Boosts damage by 100%; lasts 1 minute (warning: user ceases defense).
Tradeoff: +500% boost to strength, damage, agility, luck in exchange for reduced lifespan (warning: irreversible loss).
Final skills bore warnings, confusing Victor. Despite incomplete understanding, he recognized grave implications. Unrestrained, Linnea might impulsively activate Tradeoff, risking mortal consequences.
Closing the window, he stumbled upon gray buttons below.
Remove — Delete follower permanently.Block — Disable selective skills.Kill — Execute follower instantaneously.
Reading these descriptions stunned him. Could he terminate a life with a single tap?
Terrified of accidental activation, he vowed extreme caution.
— What happened? — rasped Linnea, disrupting his introspection.
— You've made another idiotic decision, — he chastised sternly.
Warnings propelled him to educate her, lest she unwittingly seal her fate.
"No regard for her feelings, pride, or dignity. Losing her is unacceptable. I've invested too much worry in her injury, compounded by her chronic illness."
— Y-you... insult me again, — she wheezed weakly.
Victor fetched water from a silver pitcher, lifting her to sip. Replacing her gently, he composed himself.
— I don't insult; I state facts. Moreover, note this: — he paused dramatically, placing the glass aside, fixing her gaze. — Continue recklessly, and I won't wed you.
Silence descended. Linnea flushed crimson, clutching the blanket up to her chin.
— Who says I'll marry you? — she squeaked delicately.
— I haven't asked; I asserted fact, — he retorted authoritatively, exiting the room with a final glance. — Recuperate; we have work ahead.
Alone, Linnea simmered in embarrassment, her heart thudding wildly. Encountering such decisive masculinity was foreign to her. Typically, she dominated decisions, never submitting to another's will.
Conflicting emotions swept through her: resentment at being deprived of agency versus elation at a man capable of firm resolve.
Outside, Victor lingered in profound unease.
Brazen confidence masked underlying fear. Leaving her rooms, he wiped sweat from his brow, his heart racing.
"What have I done? Wasn't I supposed to consult her opinion? A-a-aah! When did I transform into such a macho jerk?"
Attempting to compose himself, he rifled through his inventory, locating stacks of class stones. Numbering around a thousand, they clustered in a dull heap, emitting faint luminosity.
"If I could assemble an army of warriors like Linnea, who could oppose me?"
System mechanics remained opaque, but the prospect of shaping warriors with varied skills enthralled him.
Topmost on his list was Alganis, loyal and steadfast, deserving recognition.
Steadying his resolve, he proceeded to the training grounds, where the captain spent most hours.
Exiting the corridor, he encountered Cliossa and Sylvia, flanked by servants.
— Departing somewhere? — he inquired, feigning surprise.
— Yes, we'll reside temporarily at Baron Selitas', — Cliossa replied, her wicked smile reminiscent of a naughty child. — Evidently, there's insufficient accommodation in your domain, so we'll wait there until you sort this out.
Relieved, Victor approved. Managing the current chaos weighed heavily, and knowing Sylvia safer elsewhere mitigated his stress.
The girl embodied a ticking bomb, liable to explode unpredictably.
Empathy guided him; pitying her victimhood amid turbulent events, he absolved her of blame. Deprived of positive influences, parental negligence amplified her struggles.
Residing with Cliossa offered no guarantees of character improvement. Should she mimic the countess, additional headaches loomed.
Specifically troubling was Cliossa's unpredictable agenda. Trusting her was implausible; even if royalty requested compliance, she'd refuse without personal incentive. Motives eluded him.
— I'll inform the baron of your plans, — he offered diplomatically, but was cut short.
— Unnecessary; messengers from Selitas arrived en route here, extending invitations, — Cliossa dismissed him, advancing toward the exit. Following protocol, Sylvia curtsied to Victor and scampered after her mentor.
Momentarily stunned, Victor assessed the situation favorably. Courtesies like curtsies implied Sylvia respected his dominance in the domain, alleviating friction.
Eventually, he would appoint her mistress of his lands, empowering her fully. Within his jurisdiction, however, absolute submission was mandatory. Absentee governance demanded delegation, minimizing reparations upon his return.