Waking up inside that medieval stone keep, I finally understood the kind of exhaustion Clara had talked about.
My body had rested physically, but my senses felt weighed down by lead. Cognitively, my brain hadn't received a single moment of downtime.
It was still frantically processing our narrow escape from the shooter at the dive bar, the lingering images of Clara's figure, and all those tense, charged interactions from the night before. Waking up here meant no sleep, no daytime naps, no dozing off… nothing.
Guess this curse isn't all sunshine and rainbows after all, I grumbled internally. Still, the benefits outweigh the bullshit.
I patted my pockets, and a rectangular weight immediately caught my attention.
Wait... what?
My smartphone!?
Across the room, Clara rose from her canopy bed. The vulnerability from the bathroom floor had vanished; her expression cloaked in the cold dignity of a ruling Countess again.
"Hey, good news!" I blurted out, pulling the device from my sweatpants. "I brought my phone through!"
"Do not use it," she replied instantly.
"Why? What's the worst that could happen?"
"I explained this to you yesterday, but you DIDN’T listen," she said, an edge of impatience creeping into her tone. "Foreign objects get their rules distorted when they cross between realms. That thing of yours could no longer act as a Phone, but as an arcane casting focus, or it might tear open a rift and summon a monstrosity."
She gestured with her chin toward a jagged fissure gouged into the stone masonry near the fireplace. "Do not be foolish… as I was."
"Fine..." I muttered, annoyed. "Then why does my handgun fire normally?"
"I do not know. That is why we are going to see the Court Witch." She turned away, running a silver comb through her fiery hair. "Would you step outside for a moment? I need to dress."
"Sure..."
Her mood swung faster than a pendulum. It felt like standing in front of a different person. A bitter wave of disappointment washed over me; last night I had convinced myself that we shared a genuine, intimate connection, but now she was treating me like an inconvenient piece of furniture.
Out in the drafty stone corridor, I wanted to press the power button on my phone. But the screen flickered with a faint distortion. I hovered my thumb over it, but Clara's warning echoed in my ears.
I decided against it. If this glass slab accidentally summoned a dragon, I'd be roasted before breakfast.
I reached for my waistband to check on the Glock.
Shit.
In the chaos of last night, I had forgotten to tuck the gun into my pocket before falling asleep. Heading into the den of an unpredictable Witch without my only lethal leverage made me feel like the biggest idiot on the continent.
I scrambled through my pockets again, but all I turned up were a few candies that had come with the meal.
The heavy oak door swung open, and Clara stepped out, fully composed in a travel cloak and riding attire. "Are you ready?"
Damn, I guess that's it. But she’s so pretty... I can’t believe I’m sleeping with her.
"I figured a noble like you would have an army of maids to dress you," I remarked.
"I have servants," she said coolly. "However, I value my privacy. I do not permit others to attend to my personal grooming."
"Wow, you sound like German.”
“German?”
“Never mind. I'm ready to roll. This is my standard outdoor outfit anyway."
She gave me a slow, critical once-over. I had forgotten I was still wearing a baggy oversized hoodie and faded cargo sweatpants. In this medieval society, an outfit like this made me look like an absolute lunatic.
"The deep woods are cold. I will instruct Sir Richard to provide you with a fur-lined leather gambeson," she said, her lip curling slightly as she caught a whiff of my unwashed clothes. "As for a bath..."
"Can't I just go like this?"
"Suit yourself," she replied, her eyes narrowing in disgust. "Just do not stand too close to me."
[Clara Affection decreased to 37]
[Charisma decreased to 10]
What the actual fuck? The stats could go down?! Well, sure, what goes up must come down, but watching the numbers drop in real-time was infuriating.
It felt like I was being used and discarded. Were the tears, the vulnerable whispers, and the comforting hug in the bathroom just a hallucination? Why did she turn into an icy statue the moment she stepped back into her world?
Swallowing my irritation, I followed her down the winding stairs into the courtyard, where Captain Richard stood waiting.
"Fit him with a furred gambeson," Clara commanded.
"At once, my Lady."
Putting on this armor proved to be stupid. The buckles were complex, the leather was rigid, and none of the squires or guards offered a finger to help. They stood in a circle, watching me struggle like a clown.
[Charisma decreased to 6]
[Reputation decreased to 15]
Oh Jesus Christ, give me a break! Not that anyone here even knew who Jesus was. If this downward spiral continued, my reputation would hit rock bottom before we even cleared the castle gates.
"The retinue is formed, my Lady," Richard reported, his hand resting on his sword pommel. "We ride on your order."
"Let us move."
The knights carried tall lances mounted with triangular pennants bearing a white lion rampant against a crimson field. Was that Clara's noble crest?
[Knowledge increased to 8]
At least the system is still paying out crumbs, I thought.
Our convoy rode out through the lower wards and into the surrounding woodland. The presence of the escort provided a solid sense of security; the knights wore thick steel plate layered over mail, and even the warhorses were barded in heavy leather. The deep gouges and sword notches scarring their helmets proved these men were seasoned killers.
Clara rode in the middle, her deep cowl pulled forward to veil her face in shadow. Since I had never touched a horse in my life, I had hoped to share a saddle behind her.
She shut down that idea.
"You. Over here," Richard grunted, crooking a gauntleted finger at me.
Oh, come on... I shot Clara a pleading look, but she didn't even turn around.
"Ride with Sir Richard."
Left with no choice, I ended up straddling the rear of Richard's massive warhorse, clinging awkwardly to his cold backplate. The captain reeked of stale sweat and unwashed wool. Between the two of us, he was definitely the one who needed a bath.
We traveled for hours. Paved roads degraded into dirt tracks, and small hamlets gave way to untamed wilderness until the column finally halted at a desolate four-way crossroad.
"What are we waiting for?" I muttered from behind Richard's shoulder.
"Silence," the captain growled back.
Moments later, the steady thunder of hooves echoed through the treeline. Another detachment of cavalry emerged, bearing azure pennants emblazoned with a soaring white falcon.
Leading the contingent was a young nobleman whose equipment was leagues ahead of the common infantry. His polished steel cuirass was enameled in brilliant royal blue, the pauldrons chased with intricate gold filigree in the shape of falcon wings, and a silk sash of silver and indigo draped across his shoulder.
The guy was undeniably handsome, radiating a youthful charisma. He had blue hair and carried himself with an effortless confidence that made him the exact polar opposite of someone like me.
Besides, the contrast between him and my baggy sweatpants couldn't have been more humiliating.
Watching the way he greeted Clara made my stomach turn.
"My Lord," Richard bowed his head from horseback, and the surrounding knights snapped their fists to their breastplates in unison.
I froze, sitting awkwardly behind Richard like a sack of potatoes.
The noble glanced in my direction before turning his full attention back to Clara. "My Lady, how was your ride?"
"Very well. And yours?"
"Smooth and unhindered," he replied.
"Let us go."
"After you."
Who the hell is this guy? And what the heck was that gaze? Neither of them even bothered to introduce me. I didn't even know his name, and being treated like background noise pissed me off to no end.
Before I could say anything, Richard spurred his horse forward.
Speaking up now would probably just tank my reputation even further, so I kept my mouth shut.
We pushed deeper into the wilderness. After riding for what felt like hours, we finally reached the edge of a stagnant swamp and pulled up before a lone wooden shack.
A witch, choking mist, and a decrepit cabin in a bog. Peak cliché. Based on every fantasy novel I had ever read, this witch was definitely going to pull some shady nonsense, maybe even mutate into a boss monster and attack us.
Unfortunately, I hadn't brought any weapons, except for the smartphone whose magical properties I couldn't even guess.
Then again, if I didn't know what it could do, none of these people did either. That made it the perfect tool for a bluff.
The knights dismounted, establishing a tight perimeter around the clearing.
Clara finally acknowledged my existence. "Dismount."
I looked at Richard, who reluctantly grabbed me by the collar and hauled me off the saddle like a toddler. The man was built like a brick wall.
"Can the boy not even dismount a horse?" the blue-armored noble sneered.
The surrounding guards broke into muffled chuckles.
[Reputation decreased to 5]
What an asshole! Is it a crime not to know how to dismount a horse in this world?
I cursed my own slow mouth! I should have shot back with a snappy insult instead of holding back for Clara’s sake.
I really wished the system would let him see that my affection rating toward him had plummeted to a solid -99.
The retinue took their positions around the shack, leaving Clara and me as the only two permitted inside. Catching the jealousy on his face as the door closed behind us gave me a sweet rush of satisfaction.
"Who is he, anyway?" I muttered under my breath to Clara.
"That is Count Leonardo," she whispered back. "Show some respect. He is our ally."
"He's an asshole," I grumbled.
Clara shot me a glare, but my affection points didn't drop. Hah. Deep down, she agrees with me. Knowing that gave me the confidence to hold my ground.
Inside, the cabin was dark and pungent, smelling of sulfur, bitter herbs, and damp moss. Dried roots hung from the rafters, glass vials filled with murky liquids lined the warped shelves, and a cast-iron cauldron sat cold over a bed of dead embers.
Right in the center of the wooden table rested a polished crystal orb.
"Is that the crystal ball you mentioned?"
"Yes."
[Knowledge increased to 10]
Suddenly, an eerie gust of wind howled through the room. I instinctively grabbed Clara’s sleeve, and she stepped in front of me, shielding me with her body.
She glanced over her shoulder. "Don't be afraid."
A raven swept through an open shutter and landed on the table, dissolving into a flurry of dark mist before taking the form of a young, black-haired girl in tall leather boots. She was dressed in an all-black robe trimmed with raven feathers, complete with black tights. She had striking violet eyes and cute facial features. Unfazed by our presence, she casually reached for a pair of round spectacles on the table and slid them onto her nose.
"You're here," she said.
This was quite different from the witch I had pictured.
Still, I wasn't about to let my guard down just because she looked pretty; she could easily be a thousand-year-old hag in disguise or an outright monster.
I'd read far too many fantasy novels to fall for that.
Wait... shouldn’t there be a notification for my Intelligence increasing?