Sam
October 16, 1786, Realm Timeline, Bratislava, The Slovakian Protectorate
This is not going to work…
The Harley frame was anything but what Sam imagined. It was closer to a botched, amateurish plumbing job than a real bike, with a few pipes connected in a strange shape. His attempts to transform it into a cool Star Wars-like pod racer using the magical rope looted from the French Mage had been less than optimal.
The structure—adding a horse saddle duct-taped to the pipes—was unstable, and he was ending up head-down. In truth, he was ending on the ground because he was falling. It worked if he sat laterally, but that was the opposite of the cool he pursued. Making the bloody contraption move on its own had also failed, and having it dragged by a horse was humiliating.
It added a layer of new, sharp dissatisfaction to the overall pile of troubles. The night prior, the same Hungarians he had met on Futak's domain were invited to the Mayor's party. Instead of having a good time, Sam had to hear again about the Outworlders' duty to help the Magyar nobles against the Kingling. Haughtiness of the worst type. If not for the pity he had for the commoners caught in the conflict, Sam would have told them his mind in many bleeps.
Shaking his head, Sam left the garage and returned to the guildmaster's quarters to change his work clothes and wash his hands. He took a shower, put on a casual pair of hakama pants, a warm long-sleeved merino shirt, and wool socks. When he arrived in Penny's office, an open telegram from the base waited on the coffee table.
"It's for you. It arrived a minute ago," Penelope said.
'YOU AND ELIZA HAVE TO PRETEND YOU ARE STILL MARRIED IF YOU WANT THE PROTECTORATES TO SURVIVE. DON'T TELL ELIZA ABOUT THIS MESSAGE.
The Seer'
The problem with getting an official divorce was that there was no Outworlder Civil Registry Office. When Outworlders wanted to marry, either among themselves or with locals, they went to a local priest or the Town Hall. Even Penelope, as a Guild Master, had officiated a few ceremonies. That morning, Sam had woken up with a decision: to speak with Penny and Eliza, like civilized people, and find a way forward to formalize their legal status.
Is the Seer reading my mind or what?
Rolling his eyes, Sam crumpled the paper and went to throw it in the bathroom bin.
"Bleep you, idiot AI."
"My feelings, exactly," Penny said from her desk as she closed the Bounty Register. "What's the AI's angle? And why the secret? She's still having feelings for you, I can see that, but… It's not okay to give her false hopes. Does it fear she'd hurt herself?"
"Honestly, I don't know," Sam said, his voice muffled by the It's obviously related to the negotiations. Everything the AI spouts is gibberish. Except for this."
"Or when it warned us not to bring more than a hundred people on the Realm, or about the impending portal closure, the Renegades, or the French Revolution. It must be important. Just tell me you love me," Penny puckered.
"I do," Sam said.
"Eliza and Tristan are here," Penny said, looking through the window. "Go ahead, I'll join you in a minute."
Groaning, Sam left the room, heading to the training courtyard. Eliza was already doing a warm-up, which Tristan tried to follow as best as he could. Evidently, he lacked the flexibility of the former ballerina. Sam waited patiently, doing his own exercises. Penny arrived a minute later, as promised, together with the Vlach Witch and the toddler. The child had a pacifier in her mouth, munching on it with enthusiasm and chirping happily. The younger woman sat in a rocking chair to the side.
"Who's a good girl?" the Witch said merrily, playing with her daughter. "Lily is a good girl! Look, sweetie. Master Sam is going to trash the bad Imperial. Go, master, beat him dead."
"Hey!" Tristan protested. "That's how you thank me?"
"Thank you? After what you did last night?"
"He did what, exactly?" Penelope asked.
"I went out to buy milk, and he stalked me all the way back. He was going to force himself on me, but I locked the door very fast," the girl ended, looking very proud of herself.
"It's not like that, I swear. I—"
"I vouch for him," Eliza said. "Tristan's the upright type. Stick stuck up his arse and all."
"Thank you, gracious mistress, for your kind words," Tristan said, rolling his eyes. "Many people call that stick honor."
"By the way," Eliza said.
"Pardon me?"
"You have to add 'by the way' to emphasize sarcasm. Many call that stick honor, by the way."
"But it's too obvious, milady," Tristan protested. "Sarcasm is supposed to be subtle."
"Supposed to be subtle, right? Always add right at the end."
A case of theft: this story is not rightfully on Amazon; if you spot it, report the violation.
"Are we going to spar already?" Penny asked. "I have other things to do. Liz against Sam."
Penny beckoned to Tristan, and they sat on a couple of garden chairs, leaving the ground to the other two. They took positions and began their fight. Eliza was moving lightning-fast, as usual, throwing kicks at Sam's face, but with his current high Constitution, they felt more like slaps.
"Sam, you're not serious! Get to grappling," Penny shouted.
"I'll hurt her!" he shouted back.
"Then I'll take your place."
The fight became more intense, with Penny replying in kind to Eliza's kicks, and explaining things from time to time. The former found her target less often than the latter, but each kick carried more force.
"Wow," Tristan said, next to Sam. "Your lover is strong."
"Penny was in special forces. Norwegian army," Sam said.
"Sorry?"
"You know, Norway…"
"No?"
"It's next to Sweden."
"Ah, she's a Dane?"
Same country here and now, I guess… "Yeah, something like that."
"She fights well."
"She does, and she isn't even awakened."
"You mean she's not a First Order?"
"She is a First Order, but she doesn't have the Interface."
"I see…"
"I'm done!" Eliza yelled, raising her hands up.
"Five more minutes," Penny said, but Eliza shook her head and went to lie down on a chaise-lounge, closing her eyes and enjoying the sun bathing her face.
"Our turn," Sam pointed at a rack with wooden sparring weapons. "Show me what you have."
"Where are the protections?" Tristan asked, frowning after trying the spear with a blunt tip, putting it back, and flourishing a wooden staff that was undoubtedly making a better weapon in his mind.
"We don't use protections; we take care."
"It's not the same," Tristan said. "You can kill someone with a wooden sword as easily as with a real one."
In fact, Sam agreed, but there were two factors behind his choice. One was his control and his vast experience at sparring, and the second was that he could take hits that would have maimed or killed a normal person. He picked a shinai but switched to a bokken a second later, the perfect weapon to prove his point.
"Indulge me this time. You know what? I'll bet you… err… a ducat, you won't be able to land a hit on me."
"Nah, I trust you on your word," Tristan said.
"Smart choice. Now, come at me with that staff," Sam beckoned.
Tristan saluted and began his assault. He didn't restrict himself to using the staff only like a spear, his weapon of choice; he switched from thrusts to cuts or slams fluidly. At first, Sam fought naturally, then had to activate his Prediction to anticipate the hits.
"Try some tricks, it's okay," Sam said.
"Hm…"
The next second, one of the staff's tips hit the ground in a sweeping motion, throwing dirt toward Sam's face, and Tristan threw a kick toward Sam's head, trying to imitate Penny and Eliza. Covering his face with his sleeve, Sam stepped in, stopped the kick with his shoulder, and hit the boy in the stomach with the bokken's hilt. Tristan fell down on his knees, gasping.
"Roll!" Sam yelled, slamming the bokken down, hitting an inch away from the youngster's head. "You don't get second chances in a real fight."
"Bleep!" Tristan blurted, darting away on all fours, then rolling and getting up.
"Tip: don't kick above the waist, it's a waste of energy, and you expose yourself."
"Are you using magic?" Tristan asked. "You didn't even look at me."
"I am using a bit of magic, yes. A form of enhanced awareness."
"I'll switch to a sword; it's faster," Tristan said, going to the rack and choosing what was, technically, a saber.
The new weapon was indeed faster, and Sam had to activate his Enhanced Speed aside the Prediction. He tried to hit Tristan, but the boy had good footwork.
"Why are you pausing between attacks?" Tristan asked. "It makes you predictable."
"Moving all the time is no less predictable to the trained eye. Plus, you lose a lot of energy. Now try to parry," Sam said, activating The Pretense. His sword, immobile, blurred, and appeared to move in three directions. One appeared more solid than the others, and Tristan took the bait, going for it and leaving himself wide open. A strike to the wrist, one that would have cut the hand in a real fight. A tap on the elbow, disabling if it was real. And finally, the bokken rested on Tristan's shoulder, near the neck.
"Wow," the young man said, lowering his saber. "You're strong."
Sam shook his head. "Don't worry. With a bit of practice, you could beat me. You're a natural."
"I can beat you now, if I had a horse," Tristan laughed.
Sam rubbed his nape. The boy was, again, right. "Any progress?" he asked.
"One in intelligence and leveled to twelve," Tristan said.
"Good," Sam nodded. Penny, show the boy some karate," Sam said.
"Just for a few minutes, I have a meeting soon," the woman said. "Only hands and feet, Tristan."
Their bout must've been spectacular, because there were a lot of aaahs and wows going around. Sam didn't follow it, closing his eyes and summoning his character sheet. He had leveled up to nine during the fight and had six free points to invest, on top of a point he gained in Intelligence during the fight. He rose three of his Body stats—Athletics, Constitution, and Dexterity—to a round value, reexamining the result.
Name: Samuel Klingner
Class: Samurai
Level: 9
Stats:
Body
Strength: 29
Athletics: 40
Constitution: 20
Dexterity: 20
Endurance: 29
Speed: 19
Mind
Intelligence: 27
Wisdom: 29
Perception: 30
Knowledge: 40
Focus: 30
Willpower: 19
Bushido
*Arcane Intimidation: 29
Insight: 18
Mana Capacity: 22
Strike Power: 15
Soul Resonance: 19
**Reputation: 12
*A unique form of Arcane Power, this stat grows your magical powers while intimidating your foes. An intimidated target is more vulnerable to your skills.
**This stat influences your social standing. Below 20, your class will perform like Ronin and miss the bonuses a full-fledged Samurai has.
Skills:
Passives:
System Interface / Universal Translator / Stability
Combat:
Warp Dash / Iaijutsu Strike / Prediction / Enhanced Speed / The Pretense.
I expected my reputation to be higher. Overall, it's not bad. Guess I'll have to do some leveling up soon.