The trio arrived in a spacious yet simple room a few minutes later. The butler mentioned that supper would be served shortly and that they only needed to ask if they required anything.
Luke noticed a flicker of unease in the old butler's expression as he departed swiftly. To an observer, the sight might seem odd, but Luke had a good idea of the reason. William would undoubtedly be in a foul mood after losing the wager in the courtyard, and it was likely the servants would bear the brunt of his frustration today.
Once they were alone, Kayson approached Luke with an incredulous look. "How did you do it? Back at the Academy, you were barely competent with anything but a bow."
Luke shook his head. "You saw the duel. I was lucky to come out on top. If Ryder hadn't underestimated me or let his anger get the better of him, I would have lost."
This was an honest assessment. Only now, after facing a skilled opponent with a spear, did Luke grasp how close he had come to death. He could read and anticipate Ryder's moves, but his body's reactions had been slow and rigid.
Without the instincts granted by his weapon proficiency, Ryder's first thrust might have pierced his chest, ending the duel before it began.
Kayson frowned, clearly unconvinced by Luke's explanation. Still, he chose not to press the matter. Resting a hand on Luke's shoulder, he sighed. "Whatever the case, I'm just glad you're okay."
"I'd say he's more than okay," Stoddard interjected, his tone tinged with rare approval. "Ryder was a strong opponent. Even if it was luck, you did well to win."
Luke and Kayson exchanged surprised looks before turning to the long-faced man. Luke smirked. "That almost sounded like a compliment, Lieutenant Commander. Could it be you're finally warming up to me?"
"You're imagining things," Stoddard replied flatly.
Luke, in high spirits, decided to let the matter drop. While the duel had exposed many of his shortcomings, it had also reaffirmed the value of the system's rewards.
True, the consequences of failure were severe, even ridiculous, but that wouldn't matter as long as he didn't fail. Yet, even as the thought crossed his mind, a cold realization tempered his optimism.
'I can't afford to be complacent,' he thought grimly. 'A single misstep could mean my death.'
Luke didn't know when the next system mission would arise, but he resolved to be ready for it—mentally and physically.
Reflecting on his previous mission, he acknowledged his rashness in deciding to burn the granaries. At the time, it had seemed like the best option, but in hindsight, it had created more problems than it solved.
With the fortress now under their control, the army faced a food shortage during the ongoing siege. Luke hadn't foreseen the enemy's swift arrival back then, but now, he realized he needed to think things through more carefully in the future. If he had, perhaps he would have noticed the signs sooner.
After all, the system mission had provided enough clues for him to piece together the conclusion.
Luke found a chair and sank his weary body into it, letting out a groan of relief. Muscles he'd rarely used before ached from exertion, but in that moment, he felt genuinely happy.
"Still, you shouldn't take such risks, brother. While the spear might not be my primary weapon, I'm still far more proficient than you," Kayson said, sitting down across from him.
Luke nodded, outwardly agreeing with the statement. There was no way to explain to his friend that he had gained two decades' worth of spear experience overnight. The best approach was to demonstrate his progress gradually.
As if recalling something, Luke asked, "Did you fight in the siege yesterday?"
Kayson shook his head. "I was handing out orders from the back while our shift fought. By the time I woke up, you'd already breached the fortress."
'Oh crap, he doesn't know…' Luke thought, realization dawning. His upgraded stats had enhanced his abilities significantly, but since Kayson hadn't been in direct combat, he wouldn't have noticed any changes.
'I won't spoil the surprise,' he decided, smirking inwardly.
An hour passed before a knock at the door broke the silence. A few maids entered, bowed politely, and set down steaming bowls of chicken soup alongside freshly baked loaves of bread. The mouthwatering aroma immediately stoked their appetites.
Having subsisted on little more than legumes and grains for the past week, the trio eagerly dug in, savoring every bite. While the hospitality left much to be desired, the food more than made up for it.
By the time they finished, not a crumb remained.
Kayson leaned back with a satisfied belch, rubbing his full stomach. "Ah, that hit the spot."
'This guy is supposed to be a noble?' Luke thought, raising an eyebrow in mild disgust. Maybe it was a testament to how comfortable Kayson felt in his presence.
"I hope the meal was to your satisfaction, dear guests," the butler said, bowing slightly.
"Is there any dessert?" Kayson asked, picking at his teeth with a fingernail.
"I'm afraid not," the butler replied with a respectful nod. "However, we do have ale or warm milk, should you prefer a nightcap."
"Gods no," Kayson balked, recoiling. "You won't catch me drinking that horse piss."
The butler nodded again, directing the maids to clear the table. He then turned to Luke, addressing him formally. "Commander Drakon, the City Lord requests your presence in the reception room. One of our maids will escort you."
The room froze, but Luke quickly masked his unease and rose from his chair, his body protesting slightly from the strain. "It's probably about the reinforcements," he said, trying to reassure both himself and the others.
Though William had made things difficult for them upon their arrival, Luke believed the man had his limits. As City Lord, William's position wasn't yet secure. Any overt hostility toward Luke could lead to consequences—stripping of his title, or worse, punishment by the King.
This political uncertainty was likely why William had promised to send reinforcements to the fortress even if Luke lost the duel. Still, Luke couldn't help feeling a twinge of unease as he prepared to meet with the City Lord.
After a brief farewell, Luke stepped out the door, only to freeze in his tracks. The maid tasked with escorting him to the reception room was none other than the femme fatale, Victoria.
'Not again…' Luke groaned inwardly, a cold sweat forming on his back. He was still haunted by the last time this woman had escorted him.
"Please follow me, my lord," she said softly, her tone polite yet laced with an unsettling calm. Turning on her heel, she began leading him down the hall. Her swaying hips were as hypnotic as ever, but Luke knew better than to stare. That kind of distraction could have consequences—potentially lethal ones.
For a fleeting moment, he dared to hope that she might not have any ulterior motives this time. However, upon reaching their destination, that hope evaporated.
"In here, please," she said, pushing the door open.
"This isn't the reception room…" Luke murmured, dread curling in his chest.
Victoria clicked her tongue in annoyance, stepping forward and grabbing the front of his robe. With little effort, she maneuvered him into the room, essentially manhandling him.
While some might find such treatment exciting—especially from a stunning woman—Luke felt nothing but pure, unadulterated fear. He knew he was in no position to resist and reluctantly complied.
He turned his head, scanning his surroundings. They were in a bedroom. Candlelight flickered softly, illuminating a large bed pushed against the far wall. If anyone saw a maid dragging a guest into a room like this, the scene would undoubtedly spark the wrong assumptions.
But for Luke, such a possibility didn't even cross his mind. He was too focused on survival.
"What are you doing?" he asked warily. His disguise meant little to her; she had already uncovered his true identity. His family name, based on the Greek word for Dragon, was one of a kind in this world.
Victoria narrowed her eyes, irritation evident on her flawless face. "I should be asking you that. What were you thinking, coming back here?" she hissed.
Her accusatory tone caught him off guard, momentarily overriding his fear. "Do you think I'd be here if I had a choice? Why else would I put up with this ridiculous disguise?" he retorted, gesturing to his face.
"Keep your voice down," she snapped. Victoria cracked the door open, glancing into the hallway before shutting it again. Then, moving with deliberate precision, she advanced toward him like a predator stalking prey.
Luke backed away instinctively, only to find himself trapped as his legs bumped into the large bed. Losing his balance, he fell onto the mattress, now in a completely defenseless position.
Victoria rolled her eyes, exasperation flashing across her features. "Get up, you idiot. I'm not going to hurt you," she muttered, crossing her arms. "I can't believe they actually made you a Commander," she added under her breath.
Luke felt a twinge of humiliation but held his tongue. Drawing attention to his incompetence would only make things worse.
"What do you want?" he asked, forcing his voice to remain steady. "If the City Lord summoned me, won't he get suspicious if I don't show up soon?"
Victoria scoffed, her expression filled with disdain. "He's preoccupied with one of the maids at the moment. We've got at least half an hour before he's… finished."
Luke swallowed, his mouth suddenly dry. He didn't need any further clarification about what William was doing with the maid, but a pang of jealousy struck him. Back on Earth, he had lived a sheltered life, never finding the right woman to share it with before being thrust into this world.
"As for what I want…" Victoria began, her gaze lingering on his disguised features. Her eyes softened briefly, betraying a flicker of vulnerability. "You said you wanted to help me."
Her tone was uncharacteristically gentle, but Luke remained on guard.
"I did say that. Only because it involved the death of my father," he replied curtly.
She nodded, seemingly unbothered by his bluntness. "I've uncovered a hidden force within the city," she said, her voice taking on a more serious edge. "They pose as soldiers, but they're not under the City Lord's command."
Luke's curiosity sharpened instantly. His mind raced with the possible implications.
'Are they the King's men?' he wondered before dismissing the thought. No, the King wouldn't send his troops to a city under false pretenses—not without a specific reason.
"I believe they're connected to the coup that led to your father's death," Victoria continued, her piercing gaze locking onto his. "As for their origins… I have an idea."
Luke's expression darkened. "Who are they?"
Victoria's fists clenched, and her voice turned icy. "They're from the Theocracy of Lhair."
"What?!" Luke exclaimed, his shock reverberating in the quiet room. The Theocracy of Lhair—an expansive and theocratic state to the west—this far into the Marxx Kingdom? "That's impossible…" he muttered, struggling to process the revelation.
"I am certain," Victoria said firmly. "Their mannerisms, their behavior—it's identical to the fanatics who serve that psychopathic Bishop."
Luke's thoughts spiraled as he tried to piece everything together. If the Theocracy of Lhair had infiltrated this far into the kingdom, it meant the conspiracy ran far deeper than he had imagined. What had first appeared to be a simple coup to seize control of a city now seemed like a single thread in a vast web—a plot that could threaten millions of lives across the realm.
But something about Victoria's involvement gnawed at him.
"Why are you investigating this?" he asked, his suspicion plain. "What's your stake in all of this?"
It was one thing for him to be involved—his father's murder had forced his hand. But Victoria's motivations remained a mystery. What could possibly drive her to risk her life uncovering a plot of this magnitude?
Her face stiffened at the question, her lips parting as though to respond. But before she could speak, the sound of footsteps echoed from the hallway outside.
"We need to go to the reception hall," she said hurriedly, her composure snapping back into place.