Coen found himself a quiet spot near a small pond and was currently enjoying the relaxing sound of murmuring water and splashing of colorful fish, from time to time breaking the still surface of the water to catch a passing fly. Whenever he heard the chirping of a bird, he had a strange feeling he couldn't really explain. It was as if something was trying to burrow itself into his head.
"Herub. Have you found anything useful?" He asked while undoing the belt with the sword and dagger attached to it.
"Hmm... ah? Yes, sure. For now, I found every deposit of unrefined iron and copper in the proximity of 10 km. Not much game, though."
"Doesn't matter. Something that could help me in assessing my current strength?"
"There is something I wanted to tell you about that. I can see your status, statuses of many people we have seen today, but I can't ascertain the strength of that old knight, Sir Ronan."
"Hmm. That gives us something to think about." Said Coen, with a hard-to-read expression. He sat down on the grass after removing a few stones and put a straw of grass in his mouth. When he put his back against the closest tree and undid the sheathed sword from his belt, he finally sighed with a relaxed expression.
"Anyway. Could you tell me how strong I am?"
"I suppose it would be better for you to see it yourself. Here, take a look."
As soon as Herub finished talking, a transparent screen appeared in front of Coen. It was black with a silver frame running along the edges. There was nothing fancy about it, excluding the silver ornaments in its corners.
At the window's center, he saw his stats.
Name: Coen de Varitia
Age: 17
Class: none
Profession: knight errant
Strength: 18
Agility: 15
Vitality: 17
Endurance: 11
Magic affinity: Fire, 31
Mana pool: 100/100
Skills: Sword Fencing(A+); Dagger wielding(B); Spear Wielding(B+); Assassination(B); Concealment(A); The Arts Of Fire(C+); Archery(B+); Crafting(B); Theft(A)
Traits: Horus' eyes; Nerves of Steel; Masshit's Chosen;
Death's Adversary; Strategist
Coen was surprised to see the theft, assassination and concealment skills. Then he thought that it must be from the time when he was still a squire. Coen used to rob the nobles coming to the castle. As for the traits, he was sure that some of them were given to him by the angel of death, and the others were there from his past life.
"Let me explain the basics. According to the system, the stats of an ordinary human being that can't use mana look like this:
Strength: 7
Agility:9
Vitality:6
Endurance:5
As for the magic affinity, it depends on a person. In that regard, the highest stat I have seen in the knights' headquarters was 9. I guess Masshit has helped you here as well."
"Is there anything else you know about this system?" Coen was getting sleepy and wanted to keep the conversation as short as possible.
"No. That's all I know so far."
"Well. Thank you, then."
Coen stretched and laid down on the grass and, putting his palms under his head, closed his eyes.
He didn't even notice when he has fallen asleep. In his dreams, he saw the faces of his family and people he deemed close and left on Earth. He wanted to hear their voices, but they stayed silent, only looking at him from afar. No matter how hard he tried, there was no way to get close to them.
Coen woke up from the cold wind piercing his bones. The walls of the keep he could see above the trees were now basking in the golden rays of the sunset.
*Skraaa*
Coen turned his attention to the source of the croak. Then he noticed a black raven sitting on the hilt of the sword he put on the nearby rock. Once again, he got that strange feeling of something crawling in his head.
"Damn it. What is this about?"
Before Coen started seriously thinking about his current condition, he got startled by the sudden splash of the water in the pond. He couldn't see what caused all the commotion as the vegetation surrounding him was getting in his way.
*Caw*
Apparently, the bird hasn't left yet and was now curiously eying the small iron details of the belt. Coen tried to shoo the raven with his hand, but after he fastened the belt and put the sheaths in order, it got back, now sitting on the branch of a nearby tree. After a moment of staring at the human, it screeched and spread its wings, finally flying away. Coen followed it with his gaze for a moment but then turned away and started walking in the direction of the previous commotion. When he got out of the bush, the first thing he noticed was a group of young people in flashy clothes gathered at the pond's coast. Most of them were observing the surface of the water. All of them were talking vividly, pointing their fingers at something. Some of the young ladies clothed in long dresses exhibiting as little skin as possible were giggling while covering their lips with fingers. The young men accompanying them were wearing colorful tunics, pants, and in most cases, red shoes with long points. They were noisy, laughing and yelling at their colleagues standing in the shallows with long sticks in their hands, avidly poking at something struggling in the water.
Coen got intrigued at what could give these young people so much fun. Only when he patted one of the colorfully dressed men on the shoulder did they notice him.
"What is going on here?" He asked.
The young man, still laughing, turned to face the asking person.
"Hahaha. Would you look... Ah! It's you, young master Coen. Haha. Sir Coen, should I say?" The expression of surprise he had on his face quickly disappeared, curiosity taking its place.
"How come I find you here? You have never enjoyed visiting this place."
"Ah, well... I had my circumstances. Now care to let me in on the reason of this commotion?"
Coen knew this guy. He was the eldest son of the viscount Krokiet. The previous owner of this body has met him maybe twice or thrice, and it so happens that he didn't have a favorable opinion of this person.
"That? Nothing special. Just a slave. Wanna make a bet for how long will she stay afloat? Not that long, I guess..." the young heir of the Krokiet household sent a quick glance in the direction of the pond. When he turned back to Coen, the latter was already gone.
"Coen, what are you going to do?" Herub decided to ascertain her predictions.
"I took over this body and got its memories. I didn't inherit the feelings nor the way of thinking, though. That's why I don't want to have blood on my hands just yet." He answered while pushing the sheathed weapons wrapped in a belt to another young master he passed by.
Coen knew what kind of fate awaited the slave that somehow picked a lord's interest. In their eyes, slaves were expendable and provided entertainment. What entertainment, a curious person might ask. Well, it depends on a lord. Most people of both worlds weren't aware of how many different purposes a human body can serve, though.
After a few seconds, he got between the boys poking the drowning slave with the wooden poles, pushing them aside without uttering a single word. When he walked past them, Coen threw himself into the water, swimming towards the struggling person. At first, people on the shore couldn't notice the change in the situation, thinking that Coen was one of those boys who tried to attract the girls' gazes with how "brave" they were. After Coen pushed aside those standing in the water, though, they started to feel a slight change in the atmosphere. The laughs and yells gradually subsided, and now the crowd was only gazing at the person pulling the slave out of the water with surprise in their eyes and closed mouths.