He headed out from the inn, unable to help himself from exploring the unknown world around him. Into the streets, even as the sun began to set, it remained quite full of life.
What he sought after was a house; not a simple cottage to just be a roof over his head, but a respectable, if not luxurious abode to call his own. After all, the idea of living in the inn wasn't exactly something he was complacent with.
Still, he wasn't all too familiar with the layout of the town, looking to one of the passing denizens for a bit of direction. What caught his eye was a man in a stained tunic, who at least didn't look intoxicated.
"Hey, you," Blake called out to the stranger, "Who's the richest guy in town?"
The citizen stopped, blinking in confusion as he seemed caught off guard by the abrupt question, though answering nonetheless, "That'd be Lord Mather. He owns the mining rights to most of the land in this region–"
"Where's he live?" Blake asked.
Another odd question perhaps, though the lowborn man pointed north, "Well, in the Pearl Sector, of course. That's where all the higher born live around here. You can't miss his manor, really."
"Alright, thanks," Blake set his sights in that direction, giving a pat on the shoulder to the stranger.
"Yeah, no problem…" The confused man nodded his head.
It was through the center of the city, past the abundance of shops, he found the "Pearl Sector" and why it earned such a name.
The houses in the elite area dwarfed the homes of the commoners, made of finer wood, with finely-trimmed hedges to boot.
'Talk about disparity,' he thought.
Even though there were a number of exuberant homes, there was none that stood out more than the colossal manor that looked fitting for a nobleman of high status: The Mather Domain.
'That's definitely it,' Blake recognized.
There were gates of ebon steel that separated the manor from the rest of the city, though he could make out the sight of hedges trimmed to resemble horses and knights, with a marble fountain in the center of the courtyard.
He stopped before approaching the gates, tucking himself around a corner as he glanced at the closed entrance. In front of it was a single guard, dressed in silver armor, though looked to be halfway to dozing off as the grizzled figure let out a tired yawn.
'...Let's try this new skill out,' he decided.
Cupping his hand around his mouth, a natural inclination for his own system brought him to focus his attention solely on the guard as he invoked a whisper:
"Open the gates and let the next stranger you see pass through," Blake whispered.
The focused words traveled through the wind like a gentle breeze, only meeting the ears of the sleepy guard. It was only a few seconds later that the whisper seemed to reach its target, causing the armored man to blink a few times before his eyes opened wide.
[Hypnosis Successful.]
[Fifteen Experience Points Gained.] [16/50]
Like an obedient servant, the scruffy-bearded guard removed the key ring from his belt, sticking the appropriate object into the gate before opening the black steel entrance without a word.
All that was left was to pass, leaving Blake to approach the gates with utmost confidence. He didn't stop to say a word to the guard, only glancing at the brainwashed figure, who let him through without a hitch.
'It works–that's handy,' Blake thought.
In the courtyard, he took in the lavish spectacle of the perfectly maintained garden, finding it to be a scenery he could definitely get used to.
'If I had to guess, that last hypnosis was mainly effective because the guard was tired. He looked pretty strong. Since my ability's effectiveness scales on my target's strength, a pampered nobleman is my best possible target. Weak, but a lot of valuables…I can rise up quickly this way,' he planned.
Gifted such a power, there was no mistake in his mind that the path he was meant to take was one straight to the top. Of course, the very first step in that ascent was right before him–the luxurious manor, and the riches that came with it.
There was only one thing to do: obtain it.
Blake crossed the courtyard, ascending the steps that led to the front doors. He grasped the bronze handle, using it to knock on the entrance.
Behind the door, footsteps were audible before the door was opened up, revealing a woman in a maid uniform. She immediately caught the young man's eyes; she looked to be no older than her mid-twenties, with silken, blonde hair, luscious lips and a bosom large enough to put pillows to shame.
'Woah,' he thought.
The maid greeted him politely, "Good evening to you, sir. I am Freja of the Mather Domain. Do you have an appointment with my master?"
"Something like that," Blake responded, choosing his next words carefully, "Would you let me in?"
[Hypnosis Successful.]
[EXP: +10] [26/50]
Freja nodded her head, stepping aside dutifully, "Of course, come right in."
"Where's, err…Lord Mather?" Blake asked, looking around at the interior.
As expected, the wealth of the nobleman was clear as day through the glistening chandelier that hung from the ceiling, along with the scenic paintings on display.
"Up the stairs, to the left and down the hall," the maid answered with a quiet bow of her head.
"Thanks," Blake said, not wasting any time in ascending the staircase.
Even the steps weren't absent of luxury, made of a rich marble that made his boots feel too dirty to walk on.
As the maid directed him, he took a left upon reaching the stop of the steps, walking down the hall as a feeling of utter power flowed through his body.
He was excited, like a child all too excited to test out a new toy.
'—This new life is pretty great,' he thought as he grasped the handle of the door at the end of the hall, slowly twisting it.
All it would take is a single sentence uttered from his lips to twist the assuredly frail lord's authority into his own. That was, if who waited behind the door truly was of at least average strength—
THUD
The door stopped midway as Blake felt as though it was blocked by a steel wall, looking up at what stopped it.
A shadow cast over him, finding himself absent of words at what he looked at.
"And who might you be? I don't remember being booked for any appointments today."
A deep, strong voice bellowed from the towering figure; a giant of bulging muscles, chiseled like that of a Greek statue. Yet, the mountain of muscle was dressed elegantly in an azure suit, adjusting the golden monocle over his right eye as his bushy, silver mustache twitched.
'—This guy is huge! No way…Is this the lord of this place?!' Blake realized.
The man of wizened age looked down at the stranger with a stone-cold gaze, possessing such musculature it seemed to swell enough to nearly rip out of his attire.
"You're…Lord Mather?" Blake gulped.
"That I am," the giant of a man answered, "And you are?"
The impossible physicality of the lord was not something that he predicted in the slightest—a possibility unaccounted for.
'Do I try hypnosis now? He's old, it might work…who's to say he's just muscular and not all that strong?! Right?!' Blake reasoned.
Just as he parted his lips to speak, a force drove itself into his abdomen. All of the wind was forced from his lungs as he felt his feet leave the ground.
"Pyuh—!" Blake spat out.
It happened too quickly to realize what happened before he found himself flying backward before bouncing off of the wooden floorboards. Even as he landed, only able to look up at the lavish ceiling, he struggled to get his lungs to cooperate with him.
'What happened? Was I hit by a cannon? Everything…burns,' Blake thought.
Heavy footsteps befell the floorboards, undoubtedly belonging to the towering nobleman as the perplexed man struggled to sit up to see him.
"Firstly, you are an uninvited guest in my domain. Secondly, you failed to display any sort of manners. Thirdly, you reek of malice," the esteemed nobleman reprimanded him with strict words, adjusting his silken gloves.
It was only with those words that Blake realized what had happened, though it hardly seemed possible considering the burning sensation that seared in his stomach: the lord had struck him.
"So, I'll ask you one more time: who are you?" Lord Mather demanded an answer, standing over the young man that gasped for air.