James's mind froze. He didn't think he'd heard that right. No, he couldn't have heard that right. What was this guy even saying?
"I'm sorry, what?!"
Hans shrugged. "You did tell me to stick with the kids. They want to come along with you. Besides, I've got business down South, so following you isn't a problem. And the people I was investigating here led me to believe there maybe a few problems with the criminal underworld in the capital."
"What about taking the children home?"
"Don't worry about that. Their clan can invite us from anywhere. It doesn't matter where they are, as long the clan leaders deem it safe for us to enter their village."
"I see," and he walked in silence the rest of the way.
It was not two hours later when the man servant Benisen returned to James's room. James found himself in his father's office for the second time that day.
"What do you want this time James? To fire some other employees who've served us for almost thirty years?"
"Aren't you just a little above thirty father?"
The Duke just smiled. "I may not be as talented at magic as you, but they did always say I aged gracefully."
"So what, you have more grace than me, your Grace?"
His father's face went flat. His face didn't so much as tweak.
"Alright, I need money."
"How much?"
"A lot."
His father raised brows at him. James did not back down.
"I have to send a trio of servants ahead to the capital. Then I have to visit a black smith and update my wardrobe too. Are those satisfactory reasons?"
"I was going to give it to you anyway."
His father got a paper from one of the smaller books. A cheque, James realised. He hadn't known they had these kinds of things here, mostly because the hero was a broke ass, and when he'd finally got loads of money he'd kept it in a spacial storage ring he'd obtained in his travels.
**************
The black smith was an easy man, and keen for the business. He had Hans try out a few of the swords he had on display. Hans even wanted to just buy one of those, but James thought the one he wanted didn't suit him right.
In the end they agreed he'd come back and get it in three days when it was time to leave.
The seamstress Ben had chosen on the other hand, was not so easy to deal with.
"These are some weird designs. Creative, I'll give you that, but I think silk will be better. And what's with the short sleeved ones that look like a letter?" she'd asked.
James didn't want to explain himself. He didn't want to explain why he intended to be as different from the rest of them as he could. Rather than try to wrestle for prestige, he'd just do what he wanted.
"Mistress Sylvia, was it? Just try and make what I've ordered, won't you? Then I'll see about rewarding you with a few more gold coins, and a bevy of fashion ideas that ought to make you famous in no time."
"I guess your gold's good—"
The old woman tapped her foot and bit her tongue as she studied the drawings he'd given her.
The only clothes he'd been comfortable in since coming here were the commoner's tunic and breeches he'd worn that day he'd gone to the desolate place.
The materials they used for most of his clothes were chaffing. And they were so very bright. A few droll coloured clothes wouldn't be amiss.
It was going to make him stand out too much in the capital, but that he could deal with. Looking like a peacock, though; he shuddered.
Now the thing about traveling with Hansworth and the fox children, he wasn't so sure how he was going to deal with that. And that wasn't his only problem on getting back to the mansion.
"What is the problem? Why are you hesitating? I told you to have a list of guards. About six knights will suffice."
"I'd normally say that's a small number, but—"
James raised his brows in question when the man didn't say anything else.
"But none of the knights want to go with you."
James paused, his inked feather freezing just before it touched the page again. He stared at the young strawberry blonde knight in front of him. It was weird they'd sent such a young one to be their representative.
"Then I'll just speak with the captain. Where is he?"
"He is in bed, my lord."
"At such a time? Does he have watch tonight or something?"
"No!" The man looked indignant. "The captain was injured, in a cowardly ambush by a noble he's sworn to protect."
"Oh," was all James could say to the revelation. "I see."
And he could. He'd fallen into the role of late. Taken to the privilege. He had almost forgotten that moment, the moment he'd let his killer instinct show.
He bent back down to his work. Ignoring the man standing in front of him for a good long while.
"My lord—?"
"Oh. You're still here?"
"Yes. I thought that maybe you'd have some kind of instrction as to—"
"You thought wrong."
He wasn't about to abuse his authority by forcing men to serve him. That would make him no better than those big shots he'd hated so much in his old world.
"I've heard your message. We don't have any further business, leave me."
"But, sir... I thought you needed—"
"I will admit I acted in a rash manner when I attacked that man. I will be the first to say what I did was wrong, and I'd even be willing to apologize. You and your fellows reactions might be correct. I mean I didn't even know that man I attacked was the captain."
"Well...um—"
"You're dismissed, sir...no, don't tell me your name, I probably won't remember it anyway."
But now that left him with a problem. How the hell was he supposed to get guards?
He hadn't been thinking long when a smile crept onto his face. No one hated nobles more. Besides, it wasn't only nobles who exploited others. Perhaps that particular trait should be reserved for those people too hungry for power. He wanted someone he could commiserate with, in a way, and he knew the perfect candidates.
************
"No! You are not using the route that goes past the town of Uluth!"
James tilted his head to look at his father in affected confusion.
"Yes I am."
"No you're not."
"Yes I am."
"No... you're not!"
"Yes—"
"James, I feel like you're just trying to play games with your father. More importantly, which knights will you be going with?"
"None of them. They are bitter about my attacking one of them the other day. Apparently it was their captain."
"What?! Are those fools not aware you are going to be their Duke in the future?"
"I suppose rumors of my wanting to abdicate might have made their way to them somehow. And I don't want to use my status like that."
"But like you said to Gray—"
"Don't worry about it. I'm not angry or anything. At least they have a good reason for their animosity. Gray was just being a jerk."
"Nonetheless," his father now spoke with a calmer air. "I will have words with them tomorrow. I will have the most talented of them escorting you if—"
"Nah, don't worry about it. I already took the liberty to hire my own protection."
"What...what do you mean hire?"
"A few mercenaries. Nothing to concern yourselves with. And I'll have Hansworth travelling with me as well."
"What the hell are you thinking?! A bunch of mercenaries can't protect you the way knights protect their lord. They can't sacrifice themselves for you if—"
"I doubt it will come to that. Besides, I hardly even need their protection. I have Hansworth after all, and yes I trust his abilities that much."
"Do not let the fact that you attacked an unsuspecting knight captain make you overconfident, son. You want to pass via the town of Uluth as well. You're putting yourself in way too much danger."
"I'm only doing what I can for the family's reputation. Me showing up in the capital is bad enough, but I will not have knights, my reputation isn't the best, and I'm not going to change who I am when I reach there. I'm going to remain the unapologetic punk I am. Reporting something to the capital that I'm sure the crown is curious about might be the best I can do to negate some of the damage I'm going to do."
"...I see..."
"What I expected you to say was, 'I think sending you instead of Crest was a mistake. You should stay'."
His father gave him a small smile, and then all his attention was consumed by his food. But he spoke a few moments later.
"No. I will trust that you know what you're doing. That you know what you've been doing all along."
"What is that supposed to mean?"
His father chuckled. "I'm a politician too son. I understand the need for masks more than most."
Perhaps the thing about masks was accurate, but James was no politician. He hated politicians.
"How did it go?" he asked Hans later, in the privacy of his room.
"The proprietor of the dining swan doesn't know you're the mystery client. I met the leader of the mercenaries myself, and he is really strong."
James nodded. "Of course she is."
"I said he—"
"Talon?"
"But how do you know the names of a whole crew of mercenaries? Aren't you supposed to be...?"
"What? Some bratty noble famous for being scum. I see things, Hans. I know things. You should know this by now."
"Yeah..."
"Don't forget to go by Sylvia's place to get those of my clothes she's dealt with when you go to pick up your sword. The rest will be sent to the house at the capital."
Hansworth bowed in reply. James gaped at the space where the man had been for minutes. Something weird was going on in the man's head. James shook his head. That had nothing to do with him. At least he hoped it didn't.
Now, to make sure he picked a carriage that wouldn't stand out too much on the road. He was going to meet the black bandits in two days.
Or rather the six claws, as they preferred to call themselves in the open.