A warlock and a bard walked into a tavern called the Lady Luck Tavern, spent the last ten copper pieces they had on two cups of cheap wine, and drank them down in one breath. After that, they could not even afford dinner, and their horses were going hungry too.
With empty pockets, the two brothers-in-arms discussed where to make money. Capable people could travel anywhere under the sky, and even in years of disaster, they did not have to fear going hungry, much less in a prosperous agricultural town. The winter wheat in the fields was slowly ripening, and the grapes in the wine cellars were faintly tart.
Traveling merchants gathered in the tavern were hiring guards, while adventurers discussed taking commissions to hunt goblins. Stan negotiated with the owner behind the counter, asking to play music and tell stories there.
"Hero stories from another world, fresh settings you've absolutely never heard before! Spider-Man from New York City, a billionaire who fights in iron armor, a super-soldier frozen after a great war. There's sure to be one you like."
Stan's silver tongue won him a job as the tavern's resident performer. He had already secured his dinner.
After finishing his wine, Skyl asked the owner about Daggerford's history and customs.
He had originally planned to work as a cook in the tavern, but they did not need one, and they were also worried that these two penniless fellows would steal food.
Once he heard that adventurers could earn money by providing training to the local militia, Skyl immediately went out onto the street and asked the passing guards whether they needed a martial instructor.
The thin man in a white robe was not particularly tall either, which made people seriously doubt Skyl's abilities. The local militiamen had arms thicker than his.
Skyl smiled and said they might as well let him try.
Although Daggerford's lord was the ducal family, the organization that managed the town was the Council of Guilds, which counted as a bourgeois government. If Skyl wanted to serve as an instructor for the militia, he had to undergo the Council of Guilds' evaluation.
Seven other adventurers were being assessed alongside him. There were fighters, rangers, and rogues, and among them were humans, half-elves, dwarves, and halflings. Every one of them was an experienced old hand who had been through all kinds of hardships. By comparison, Skyl's temperament seemed more suited to standing in a temple and reciting scripture to passing commoners.
His experience wandering Wildspace had left a few small mementos on Skyl's incarnated body, such as the scar at his temple, with more on his arms and chest, the loosened rims of his ears after frostbite had healed, and his rough, callused hands. These traces left by suffering did give him a little credibility. After all, people were willing to believe that someone who had endured hardship could temper real ability from it.
There were eight competitors in total, and only three would be kept in the end.
That made things simple. Everyone had come here to make a living. No one had connections to pull strings. Money was earned entirely by ability, and a single contest would decide the outcome.
Skyl's physical condition might not even have matched that halfling rogue's. He needed nutrition and exercise to recover a healthy physique. However, his combat skills were outstanding. With a single Eldritch Blade, he defeated the fighter, and when he competed in archery against the ranger, they were evenly matched. On top of that, he understood how to train soldiers, so he stood out from the group of adventurers.
Adventurers came and went through Daggerford, and the militia's training instructors also arrived and left without staying long. Skyl took an advance on a week's wages, but it was only a few dozen broken silver pieces, not even enough to buy a bottle of the local specialty blended wine. Even so, he was very happy. He took the money back, bought fodder and beans for the horses, and had a big meal with Stan.
After accidentally spending all the money, Skyl had no choice but to lodge with a local family. As for Stan, he was very popular in the tavern, so the owner arranged a small room for him to use as a bedroom.
Skyl stayed in the home of a militiaman. This family worked as carpenters and had a small house built from wood and stone, a livestock pen, and a yard piled with plenty of lumber. The ground was covered in soft wood shavings, making every step feel light and floating.
The militiaman had witnessed Skyl's martial skill, so he respected him greatly and introduced the members of his family, his elderly mother, his hardworking and simple wife, and a sixteen-year-old daughter named Mia.
The girl had not yet come of age, but she could already work no worse than many adults. She wore a black-dyed coarse linen dress, her eyes bright, her expression joyful, as if she were always ready to greet you. Her fair face, fine figure, and gently swinging ponytail of brown hair could always make a young man's heart stir.
When Skyl arrived, the girl was being scolded by her mother. Because it had rained yesterday, she had forgotten to bring several strips of dried fish hanging in the yard back indoors. Now the salt frost on the dried fish had been washed away by the rain, and the meat was giving off a rotten stink. Such a loss truly should not have happened.
The warlock's arrival made Mia even more embarrassed. Across her reddened cheeks, even the fine freckles seemed to want to flee.
That night's dinner was salted fish with black bread.
Skyl was preparing for a magical ritual. He intended to summon the Infinity Scepter over from his true body. His main body had no use for this artifact anyway, so it might as well help him look impressive. Then he could bind the Infinity Scepter with Pact of the Blade, making it both his weapon and arcane focus. He could use it to cast spells and repel enemies, or swing it around to hit people and chase off dogs. It was truly a model tool for a spellcaster.
He worked four hours a day. The rest of his time was spent preparing ritual materials, wandering around Daggerford, or going to the tavern to mooch meals from Stan.
The militiaman's daughter was very interested in the warlock. Whenever she had free time, she came to speak with Skyl and ask about the world outside Daggerford.
"Why didn't you bring in the dried fish that day?" Skyl casually asked after they had grown familiar.
"I was busy reading." Mia smiled awkwardly. "I want to become a merchant, but I need to read, and I have to know arithmetic too. Dad thinks I won't need to do such hard work in the future. A girl going out on trade routes is too dangerous."
"I can teach you." Skyl's encouragement was always very practical. "Being able to learn is a good thing."
The people of Daggerford were not highly educated, which was also a common situation across Faerûn.
After teaching one student, Mia, Skyl still felt he could do more. Since there were so many hours in a day, using his free time to drink was worse than earning some tuition. So he decided to open a small school. The Council of Guilds welcomed this very restless outsider.
And so Skyl truly opened a classroom, and Stan was dragged in to serve as a teacher too.
What they taught was mainly language and arithmetic, along with more practical applied courses, and even magic.
Skyl had repeatedly refused Dumbledore's invitations at Hogwarts. He had not expected that after leaving the magic school, he would instead become a teacher again.
He missed those days more than he had imagined.
Mia was Skyl's first student in Daggerford. She did not have any talent for spellcasting, but her sharp, eager attitude toward learning made the warlock feel she was someone worth cultivating.
After he had stayed in Daggerford for four days, the duchess came to meet him once. During Skyl's first interaction with Lady Morwen, he noticed a few points of suspicion.
However, as an outsider, Skyl had no intention of exposing the abnormality in the duchess.
Until the day Mia died.
//Check out my P@tre0n for 30 extra chapters on all my fanfics //[email protected]/Razeil0810