“But…,” I attempted to restart after my mental shutdown. “But I thought you were…”

“A man?” Nespolan asked with the sharp click of her tongue to punctuate the rhetorical question.

“Too old,” had been my first thought. It wasn’t the only thing going through my mind, but had been one of them. Absently my head moved up and down.

“High Commander Nespolan is, and has always been, a woman.”

Suddenly I was glad they steered me away from calling her old. “But… I thought… I mean, you said…”

“I do not make such mistakes Lord Sully,” Dorstark snorted.

“Not, he does not,” Nespolan agreed.

I studied her face for a while. She looked younger than Morstaal by a few years, but had similarly weathered and scarred features. Not nearly the same tanned, leathery skin, though Nespolan led a hard life of battle and travel. Despite the masculine appearance, I could see some hint of femininity as well.

Perhaps this too was all just my old world experiences tainting my perspective though. I had a fairly soft life and was usually surrounded by soft people. Why did it matter what her age is, what she looked like, or what genitals she had?

Which, come to think of it, I actually had no idea whatsoever if their physiology precisely mirrored my own. Anatomy hadn’t been a subject we covered and it wasn’t one they studied to any great degree either. Why perform autopsies or study wounds when spells and potions can heal?

Trying to think back on that, I hadn’t seen anyone else naked. Some had seen me in my full birthday suit, so there’s that. None of them had reacted shocked or anything, meaning that I didn’t appear alien to them in any meaningful way.

I even received baths frequently which elicited no odd responses. Although, they could just see me as a weird being from another world and everything about me was odd.

My thoughts spiraled further and further away from the challenging concept of Nespolan being a woman. There were female guards, clergy, and mages. Why not the highest ranking general too?

How had I so thoroughly misunderstood that singularly fundamental fact? I tried to think back on it for a bit to figure it out, beyond my own obvious misconceptions from her physical appearance of course.

“His and hers!” I exclaimed. “He and she… they sound so similar. Have I really been botching that the entire time?” It made me think of ‘nipote’ in Italian, which meant niece, nephew, granddaughter, grandson, and grandchild - all in a single word.

Other languages had similar sounding words for different things, and I had not mastered Norvosian. Pronouns hadn’t exactly seemed important to them either. I was just applying my life experiences to their world. To my new world.

Nespolan shrugged and Dorstark smiled, knowingly. The old cretin had known all along that I was making that mistake, hadn't he?! “Months of setup for a single punchline?” I couldn’t help but to glower at him. Oh, he would pay for this one. I’d have to come up with something really good.

“I apologize for any offense Nespolan.”

“Not necessary. Though being considered a man is moderately insulting. At least you had not commented on my age,” she jested, “I know that you had meant no harm and were simply confused. It happens more than you would think and it never ceases to entertain me.”

Now I really wanted to know… “Is it rude to ask about one’s age?”

Nespolan and Dorstark both nodded. Morslon rolled his eyes.

I nodded graciously. Looking between them again I had to inquire, “Why wait until now to correct me though?” Hopefully that would put the punk on the spot and force him to fess up.

They looked at each other and shared a laugh, at my expense. “To be honest… The longer the person has been mistaken, the better their reaction,” she said, telling me with no uncertainty that they both were in on it. I also was not the only butt of their jokes!

“Do you remember Duke Sativo’s reaction? It took him years before he figured it out,” Dorstark mocked.

“Best reaction I have seen, though yours is a close second, Sully. Certainly the best in such a short time to cook.”

Nespolan I could let slide because she is a royal. Maybe. Unless a good enough opportunity presented itself. Dorstark though? Oh, I’d get him good. One day, when he least expected it.

Sighing in a way that only one so soundly defeated could, I wanted to get this humiliation and embarrassment behind me. “So, just like that - I am a lord?”

“After a fashion, yes. Nespolan declares it so and so it is.”

That was definitely more power than I thought she wielded, aside from the might of the Norvosian military of course.

“Well, yes and no,” she added. “You are a noble because I can declare as much on my own. It is the King who must grant you lands and titles, which he will do shortly after we arrive.”

“Oh. You don’t know what lands or title I will be granted then, do you?”

“I have some ideas as to where he may choose and which titles he would grant. Though I can not say for certain, he will also heed my counsel on the matter.”

We spoke little more about the boon, instead moving on to discuss our first significant stop along the trip back. There were a few villages and one city along the road connecting Orya to Videm. So far we had passed a couple waystations and outposts, but they were all fairly small.

‘Hilltop’ was how I translated the town’s name, Korolm. ‘Kor’ meaning above or atop and ‘olm’ meaning hill. It was an apt enough name as the forests gave way to rolling hills, slowing travel with the elevation changes or winding of the road. Sometimes we would slip around the base of a hill in the valleys between them, other times we went over them.

As we crested yet another hill I finally caught sight of the walls before we had stopped for our midday meal. We would push on to reach it well after nightfall. Of course, that meant little for me riding along, but I felt bad for the countless men and women on foot.

Small plots of farmland were nestled in valleys between hills as we approached, almost tucked away. Farm hands stopped to watch the endless columns march by, slowly surrounding Korolm’s simple wooden palisades. Our section stopped outside the southern gate.

Morslon approached after we stopped, “If you would like, we could stay at one of the two inns, the house owned by my family, or in the baron’s manor.”

Dorstark and I had continued to work on Magic 101 during the extra hours on the road, still trying to get the fundamentals down. I looked at him, receiving nothing but a tired shrug.

“The Mors have a presence in Korolm?”

“We own businesses in most of this region, many of which are operated by lower ranked members of the family - distant cousins and the like. Though I am technically no longer an heir in any line of the Mors, it is unlikely that any would turn us away.”

I cocked my head, “What do you mean that you’re no longer an heir? I thought you were still a noble.”

“I am, though when a noble joins an argenti they often give up their rights of inheritance, direct access to family assets, and things like that.”

“You gave up everything you own to follow me? You are in the same position as Dorstark then?”

He looked to my mentor and shrugged, “Not exactly. Unlike him, I can still have personal possessions. I just do not own much of anything right now.”

“Your own belongings go back to your family when you pledged yourself to me too?”

“It would have all gone to you or back to the family. Being that we are Mors, it all went to Morstaal to do with as he sees fit.”

When we get to Videm, I need to get some books on argenti. As I was all too often reminded, I knew next to nothing about my new world.

“It is too late for us to bother the Baron or your family. We could get a room or just stay in our tents again.”

Since joining team Sully, Dorstark had begun setting up his tent adjacent to mine. Given my proclivity for not being a quiet or heavy sleeper right now, they both chose to share that tent.

“The decision is yours to make Lord Sully,” Dorstark said.

“You do outrank the Baron and whatever relatives I have here.”

Is that really how the noble hierarchy worked? Pulling rank didn’t seem like the best way to make an introduction if it could be avoided, so that cemented my decision against those options.

Going to an inn didn’t seem like a great option at first, then I thought of how great it would be to bathe in something other than a frigid river. As unpleasant as that single experience had been on the trip thus far, I would do it again if given the opportunity.

“Rooms at the inn so we can bathe.”

Morslon perked right up, “Excellent idea Lord Sully.”

We had the carriage drop us off inside the town at an inn Morslon suggested, being the better of the two. I went in and paid for the last two rooms in the establishment as luck would have it. Servants carried everything up to our rooms while we ate a late dinner.

We could have opted for cold water and a tub in our rooms, but this inn had an attached bath house. Despite the added expenses, everything had cost only a few silver so far. Dorstark informed me that the prices were inflated too given the high demand from our caravan.

Not wanting to leave all of our belongings unattended, I asked Dorstark to watch over our rooms until we finished. Then he would have his turn in the bath house.

So, as it turns out, there are no apparent reproductive differences between this human species of my new world and the humans of the old world. Externally at least. There wasn't exactly a quest to be filled for it, but now I knew something I hadn’t before. Yay for learning!

Not that I was ogling. They were just there and naked as the day they were born. Some male and some female; co-ed bathing was new to me as well. I tried really hard not to stare. The ceiling is nice.

More than a dozen of us, together, in a not-huge pool of water. All of them are typical Norvosian heights, which is more awkward than just being naked if I’m being honest. My shoulders are higher than the head of the next tallest among those present.

Most of them looked at me more than once, turning away if we made eye contact. The mix of signals I was picking up were all over the place - curiosity mostly, but also some obvious disdain.

Trying to strike up a conversation proved to be a terrible idea when I was quickly hushed. It seems that silence was preferred while relaxing. I tried to enjoy it.

After the more conspicuous glares lingered too long, my enjoyment dwindled. I left before Morslon just to be away from the looks of the others. One day I would probably have to put up with court politics, but it did not feel like this was that day.

The room was much smaller than my tent, which I surprisingly missed. Though I rarely slept through a full night peacefully, the anxiety of being surrounded by unknown people had passed. Until now. It returned in full force as I laid in bed, not surrounded by people.

Even the bed was terrible by comparison to the one in my tent. It was itchy and scratchy. The thought of so many others sleeping on it didn’t help at all. Lumps and something poking me made it even more hard to actually fall asleep, nothing at all like the princess and the pea. Her story had nothing on this miserable experience.

At some point exhaustion, and ten milligrams of melatonin, won the battle versus discomfort. The tossing and turning due to the terrible bed and new environment woke me up more than my nightmares normally would have. Every time I got up, I checked to ensure the door was locked. A couple times I got up to check more than once too.

It occurred to me that I could lay my camping mat on top of the bed and my sleep system on top of that, which I did. Unconsciousness came a bit easier with the change, thank the gods who left me alone.

It was still dark when I sat up in my bed suddenly. Heartbeats passed as my thoughts sailed through the fog, trying to figure out why I woke up this time. Again. For the damn millionth time tonight. But this was different.

“...heard something. I think he is up boss,” someone tried to whisper from across the room.

“You ox, he is now if he was not,” replied a hushed woman’s voice.

My heart raced as I strained to see who it was. They weren’t voices I recognized, so that was probably a bad sign.

“That means we have to kill him, right?” The ox’s whisper was a bit over eager for my liking.

I reached for the weapon I kept next to my bed, thankful for my apparently well warranted paranoia and foresight. There were two of them and one of me though. And they wanted me dead.

“Just make it quick and help me load up,” the boss woman quietly ordered. “They want everything we can get.”

“Yeah Dokmir,” A third voice entered the chat, “Especially the…”

The sound of a sharp smack had cut him off, “Forsaken moron,” she rebuked.

They weren't as quiet now which sent my wholly ordinary danger senses to tingling. I gripped the sword with both hands, wishing I had grabbed the gun under my pillow.

‘Oof,’ the ox yelped when he hit the bed.

I swung the sword in that direction. The keen blade met little resistance at first, sinking deep into the assailant’s meaty body… somewhere. Then it came to a sudden stop and pulled out of my hands.

Ox choked out a wet scream, then fell onto my bed. On my legs. With my sword embedded in him.

“Fucking, fuck fuck,” I thought eloquently in an entirely rational manner, given the situation. I started to lay backward and twist to reach under my pillow.

A globe of light appeared in the middle of the room above the remaining two. It wasn’t as bright as daylight, but it was enough to daze each of us. I fared better than they did, having turned away from the door.

“Fool,” she hissed.

The distraction bought me enough time to grab my pistol, flick off the safety, and turn back to point the shooty end at them.

The woman stood there shielding her eyes with an arm and white knuckling a sword in the other hand. Slightly behind her stood a skinny man with a gaunt face and broken smile. His hands moved around in circles, waxing on and off in the air. Dorstark’s display on my balcony came to mind the beat before I squeezed the trigger once. Twice. Thrice.

Rounds erupted from the barrel and tore through the caster. He barely remained on his feet, stumbling back. I fired two more times before turning to the woman as her own shock wore off. The blade was held high in the air above her as she charged, howling.

I shot her before she made it two steps. I didn’t stop.

*click*

*click*

*click*

*click*

*click*

Taking in the carnage, the empty gun fell to the floor from my limp hands. The heavy set man lay on the bed, rolled to his side from where I kicked him off me. My sword still protruded from his chest, hilt toward me. It looked like I had stabbed him through the middle of his ribcage, beneath his heart. I could see where the sword sliced through his side before coming to a stop in his spine. His dead eyes blankly stared in my direction.

There was blood everywhere. Splattered on the walls, pooling on the floor, and soaking into the bed. My legs were covered in it and the metallic tang in the air hit my nostrils.

I gagged. I dry heaved. My dinner made a cameo appearance all over the bed and the corpse.

The door exploded inward, showering me in a few chunks of wood. Morslon stood in the opening mouth agape with Dorstark immediately behind him.

“Lord Sully!” Dorstark rushed in and looked around.

“I… I… Killed them all.”

“Yes, I see that. Fine work my lord.”

“Thank the favored gods,” Morslon said, shaking in the doorway.

My mentor looked over his shoulder, “Morslon, inform Nespolan directly.” The younger man began to run off as Dorstark shouted, “And the town guard.”

He surveyed the scene a bit more in depth before realizing the room was being bathed in magic light. “Did you cast this?”

I shook my head.

“Alright then, is there anything I should know before the others arrive?” He said in a low tone as he neared the bed.

The hall filled with other guests trying to get a peek inside to see what happened. Dorstark walked to the hall and tried to clear them away with a steely gaze, which didn’t quite work. When flames began dancing around his hands everyone backed off, deciding they needed to be somewhere else.

Absently, I dwelt on the fact that it was only the second time I’ve seen him cast any sort of fire magic. For someone whose specialty was that exact area of magic, he didn’t use it much. Nor did we talk about it often, with him going so far as to shut a conversation down if I prodded too much in that direction. My thoughts veered toward his pyrotechnic display that day. The heat. The concussions.

“Sixteen times…”

He extinguished his hands now that the hall was free of lookiloos, “What?”

“I shot them... sixteen times.”

Dorstark walked back in, squatted next to the boss woman’s corpse, and looked at her. He looked up at me and then around the room frantically, “Where is it?”

He stepped over the bodies and looked around me on the bed, then to the floor, then under the bed. I heard it being dragged. The gun was then hidden away in the folds of his robes as boots pounded down the hall. They were commanded to stop outside the room, out of sight from me, as Dorstark addressed them.

Their voices weren’t quiet. He explained to them that I had been attacked, but needed to be cleaned and rested before entertaining an audience - investigation or not. They balked at first until he raised his voice, declaring who I was and my accolades as if he were a courtly herald. “This is Lord Sully the Demon Slayer, champion of the favored gods, savior of the High Commander, beloved friend and honored guest of His Royal Highness, King Neskorin. You will allow him to refresh himself after this battle.”

The announcement seemed as much for them as it was for me… and somehow for the others staying at the inn as well. It was just too loud and well out of the norm for him.

It helped. This wouldn’t be a good look and rumors would likely spread. I hopped off the bed and grabbed a canteen. I swished and spit onto the bed before walking out of the room to follow Dorstark to theirs, head held high. In my sleep wear… a nightgown.

He closed the door behind me, leaving me alone in their room. Bloody footprints marked my path from the door, then round and round in circles as I paced.

A tub and change of clothes he selected were brought in, then bucket after bucket of water. I just stood there waiting for it to be filled. Once it was, I got in and cleaned up. The frigid water was refreshing. That finished, I walked out of the room fully dressed - boots, robes, and minotaur leather cape.

The captain of the guard awaited me in the gory room, bowing as I entered. “Lord Sully, please accept our utmost apologies for allowing this transgression within our humble village.”

“Allowing?” I asked, raising an eyebrow.

“Nay, my lord. Not directly.” He looked nervously to Dorstark before looking back. “It is… I mean, it happened in our town and we accept responsibility for not keeping the peace.”

My mentor almost imperceptibly shook his head at me, silently telling me to calm myself and tone it down. He had read me like a book and was probably right. The regal feeling was intoxicating in this moment after so much adrenaline, excitement, and horror. I felt comforted hiding in it.

“Of course...”

“If I may, Lord Sully? I believe we should wait for High Commander Nespolan before proceeding with any conversation.” The high mage plowed the statement through without hesitation. I nodded, because Dorstark typically knew best.

Minutes passed before the sound of more boots came up the stairs and down the hall. “Out of my way,” Nespolan barked. He pushed his way into the room, eyebrows raised in admiration as he took in the scene. “Sully, are you harmed?”

I shook my head, “I am fine… but you should see the other guys.” As the words left my mouth I was regretting them. Nervously joking while surrounded by the corpses of my enemies should not become normal behavior… Actually, I would prefer to not be standing among corpses at all if I could avoid it.

“I do see them,” she said. “Is this your doing?”

“Yes.”

“What happened?”

The guard captain stepped up to hear the story as well. Morslon and a bunch of guards remained in the hallway, obviously listening in.

It was a short story. I left out the fact that I used a piece of modern weaponry from my old world to kill them. Instead, I told them about chopping into the first guy. Then simply said I slayed the other two without going into detail.

She rolled the scrawny guy over to examine him. Apparently I had shot him at least once in the head, leaving a gnarly exit wound.

The captain looked between the damaged head and me a couple times. He walked over to the larger man’s body and looked him over, stopping to admire the sword.

“They called this one Dokmir,” I said.

“Captain, do you require any further information?”

“That will be sufficient High Commander.” He turned to me, “Again, you have our sincerest apologies Lord Sully. By the will of the gods you are a significant champion and proved able to cast down evil this night, single handedly.”

“Give us an hour and you may dispose of these Captain.”

He pounded his fist to the opposite shoulder in salute, then turned to bow deeply to me before leaving.

Dorstark asked me to take pictures of their faces, which I begrudgingly relented to. Having dead people pics on my phone was not something I wanted. Nespolan ordered their bodies to be searched by his guard, who had absolutely no qualms about rooting around the filth.

After she looked it all over, everything was placed in a large canvas sack and handed to Dorstark. A few rings, some coins, and their gear was the bulk of it. There was a single piece of parchment which had a drawing of my grimoire with some words sloppily scrawled along the bottom - sword, cloak, and backpack.

Numbly I thought, “My grimoire…”

She ordered her guard to investigate the matter and commanded one to work alongside the town’s guard captain.

“Whomever arranged this knew what they were looking for,” she said.

“I do not think they were common rogues. This one could use magic.” I gestured to the gaunt guy and then up at the ball of light that still hovered in place.

The elder mage walked over and pulled up his sleeves. “He was not instructed by the Resolute.”

“How do you know that?”

Lifting his sleeve, he revealed the Resolute’s symbol branded on the inside of his forearm. “Anyone who learns so much as a single spell at the colleges is marked.” He nodded to Morslon who revealed his.

“I thought it was not illegal to use magic outside your organization though?”

“It is dangerous and frowned upon, but nobles do so all the time. Where this one could have learned is anyone’s guess. I would say he’s a road caster though.”

“Road caster?”

“RoadCaster, an unbound magic wielder who spends their life traveling from one place to another. They find themselves attached to unsavory groups with promises of more power, unfounded and impossible as they often prove to be.”

The two words for ‘road’ and ‘caster’ were said together to form the word ‘rocast’, like ‘hill’ and ‘top’ for Korolm. He went on to say that they were often hunted down and imprisoned, or killed. Not because it was illegal to practice magic, but because they were typically criminals. And nobles weren’t…

“What about faking the brand? It does not appear complicated.”

“The Resolute mark is no simple brand. Every one of us is capable of discerning a true mark from a forgery.”

“One of the first things we are taught actually,” Morslon added, wanting to be helpful.

We talked more about the mark and RoadMages for a few minutes, standing in my room. “Can we go downstairs or something? Actually, can we have someone to move my belongings back to the carriage? Guarded?”

Nespolan ordered the last of her guards to stand watch over my room and for another to fetch servants to move everything. I did take the time to remove the sword, with some effort, and clean it. My gun was returned and holstered as well after I loaded another full magazine, chambering a round for good measure. They watched me as I did this, Morslon being the only one unaware that the gun was a weapon.

I was never a hard person. I’ve been to the range a hundred times, but never shot at a living creature before now. Tonight… when I killed people. Still I wouldn’t describe myself as a seasoned combatant. I didn’t want to be alone and couldn’t see myself going back to sleep.

The four of us spoke over some not bad warm ale for a while until our conversation wound down. The other three returned to bed, leaving me with a pair of Nespolan’s personal guards and my thoughts.