The Legend of the Meta-Defying Smith Who Saved the Kingdom

The City Guard had the restaurant cordoned off and were already trying to take witness statements when Suero and half his squad arrived, a contingent of Healers arriving at nearly the same time.

"We can't talk to anyone yet; everyone took massive hearing damage."

"Nobody was carrying potions?" Suero asked.

"They all shattered in the attack," the guard captain grimaced. "Only Count Valencian has had the presence of mind to make a report despite his own hearing loss. He reported losing his Classes, and then Marquess Sanchez, er, died, and then there was a flash of light and a loud sound, like a lightning strike. He claims this all happened incredibly quickly. Then, there was a pounding he felt through the floor as his Classes returned, but the threat felt weak, and then it was gone. When his sight returned, there was only a mangled corpse remaining in the center of the room, pounded into the floor."

"Speak plainly, how did the Marquess die?" Suero narrowed his eyes sternly at the nervous guard captain.

"Er, the report is that his head exploded suddenly," the guard captain reported in a quiet voice.

Suero looked around, heart sinking as he failed to spot golden blonde among the heads of black and red hair.

"And what of my retainer? Smith James should have been present."

"The blonde one? Oh, we did get a report, but…"

"But what?"

The guard captain told him of the reports that were trickling in, about a potential kidnapping, a man carrying off two screaming girls.

The Aspirant Knight facepalmed.

"And which direction did he go?"

The guard captain pointed in the direction of the Izguardia Family Manor.

Suero nodded, exasperated. That could be compartmentalized. At least his retainer was alive, and probably had been trying to do the right thing.

The healers did their work in accordance with rank, many of the diners having been nobility, and so the Aspirant Knight was soon able to hear directly from Count Valencian what had happened.

"And you said you lost your Classes?" Suero furrowed his brow.

"Yes," rumbled the heavyset man. Bloodstains soiled the front of his doublet but he had at some point mostly wiped the blood from his face. "It was most disconcerting. The Marquess managed to react first, or he started to, before his head burst right before my eyes. There was no detectable threat or danger, just a moment of surprise and then he was gone. I turned to see what he had been looking at behind me, and as I did I was blinded and deafened."

The Count leaned in. "I know you're the head of the Irregular Monitor Squad," he half growled and half whispered. "Do you suspect the Tower Wizard? He's been known to use Lightning."

Suero bit back a sigh. He had a feeling he knew what had blinded and deafened everyone. Sebastian had warned him that James had been talking about a particularly loud enchantment he was experimenting with.

"We haven't ruled anything out just yet," the Knight told the Count. "However, although the Tower Wizard is known to use Lightning, it doesn't appear to have been the Wizard's usual spell."

The corpse left in the middle of the dining room floor had been smashed to bits with a blunt instrument, not charred and burned from a lightning strike.

"I assure you, once we have a better understanding, you will receive a full report."

"Don't make me wait for the official investigation report, I want a report tonight with everything you know."

"Yes, Count Valencian, as you wish." Suero bowed formally.

The Count turned on his heel and strode off in the direction of his own personal guards, who had been waiting outside the restaurant when the attack occurred.

Suero turned to the guard captain. "Send a runner to the Izguardia Family Manor. Let them know that there was an attack on Puco Rancero, with one death and multiple injuries. That the Marquess died is to remain secret. If my retainer, James, is there, relay that I request he be given protection until I can come to collect him." The guard captain nodded. "Has a runner been sent to the Castle yet?" He nodded again. "What about Army Headquarters?" This time the guard captain shook his head, frowning. "Do so immediately, standard secrecy protocols, for Generals' ears only. They need to know about the Marquess' passing."

Though Suero had had issues with House Sanchez for years, he recognized that the death of the Marquess, the head of Military Planning, was a tremendous loss for the entire Kingdom. The Royal Family and Army leadership would need to be informed immediately.

As the guard captain hurried to dispatch messengers, and call for additional messengers to be summoned from neighboring precincts, the Aspirant Knight entered the restaurant and climbed the stairs to the dining room.

It was remarkably normal-looking for the site of an assassination with dozens of injured persons.

In the center was the corpse, pounded into the splintered floor in a pool of blood. In one corner a blood spatter indicated where the Marquess had died; his corpse remained as it had fallen, untouched. The guard captain had spoken true: there wasn't an intact glass in the entire room, not the glass in the windows, and not the glasses on the tables. Shards mostly littered the table tops. Only one table had been knocked over, but in the direction towards the assailant's corpse, indicating it had been done intentionally rather than blasted back as part of some attack.

Suero stepped forward to examine the assailant's corpse. It was a mangled mess. Whoever had killed the assassin had either been extremely vengeful, or they had been panicking.

This tale has been unlawfully lifted without the author's consent. Report any appearances on Amazon.

Or, he supposed, they lacked any Skill to confirm a kill.

With a gauntleted hand he gently peeled back the hood, revealing an unrecognizable mess of gore. But one ear remained intact.

One long, inhuman ear.

He frowned, and pulled the hood back over the mess.

Back outside, Suero ordered ultra secrecy protocols, and had his own men collect the assassin's remains and deliver them, sealed in a bag, directly to the Royal Castle. Only once the corpse was secured were the regular guards allowed inside to investigate and collect the Marquess' body.

Count Valencian would be upset, but he could take it up with the Royal Family if he wanted to push for details.

***

James awoke in an unfamiliar room, his ears fully healed and the blood cleaned. Stains remained on his doublet, but they had dried a dark brown. His toolbelt and his hammers were sitting on a chair next to the bed, and above the door was painted the Izguardia family crest.

He slumped back into his pillow and breathed a sigh of relief.

They had made it out.

He wanted to leap out of bed and dash to Isabella's side and confirm her safety, but…

How could he face her?

She had to know, now.

Know that he was an Enchanter, and that he had been keeping it from her.

He had been careful not to lie, per se, but that was a hollow thing. A petty excuse not to be fully honest with the woman he wanted to marry.

He thought back to his oath. To the desperation of his parents. His mother's tears, his father's roar. He had sworn never to say what his second Class was, on his life and on theirs.

But…

There had been so much uncertainty, then.

He hadn't been courting.

He had just made a life-altering decision, without any preparation, and his parents had been desperate to do what they could to protect him.

Protect him from himself, after he'd already shown his own recklessness.

If they were here now, what would they say?

Would they tell him to continue to keep it a secret, from the girl he wanted to marry?

He couldn't believe that.

He wouldn't believe that.

Surely they would insist that he tell Isabella, and her parents. It was only right. How could a marriage last on a rotten foundation of secrets?

He hadn't been thinking.

He should have realized he would have to tell her.

He could have planned this out better. He could have taken the first step, and now it was too late for that. She already knew, at least as much as that he had kept it a secret, and she had had to take the first step to ask him to open up.

What a fool he was.

First with his Classes.

None of this would have happened had he listened to his parents and Chosen a combat Class.

Then with hiding them in the village.

Perhaps his parents and the Baron could have protected him, somehow.

Then during the trial in Corto.

Keeping to his oath then had accomplished nothing but put his life at risk; everyone at the trial had found out the truth anyway.

And now he was about to lose the love of his life because of his inflexible insistence on sticking to the words of a desperate oath, after his secret was already out.

That wasn't to say that he should just spread around that he had no Combat Class to anyone.

But he had to extend at least some trust to some people.

Carefully. Cautiously.

But he should have learned his lesson in the Dungeon.

No man is an island.

He couldn't just live alone, entirely on his own, relying on nobody.

That wasn't living.

That wasn't even surviving. He had very nearly died. And it was only the Knight's incredible charity that had saved his life.

Literally unbelievable. If someone had told him such a story, he would have said it was a tall tale or fantastic legend.

And yet it had happened. To him, of all people.

He couldn't let an oath made when he was still basically a child continue to define him. He couldn't let the past dictate his future. He couldn't keep relying on luck to see him through as he made the same mistake over and over and over.

It was time to change.

And so the Smith resolved himself to leave the last shred of his parents' protection, and step forward as a man; a fully independent adult.

Even without a Combat Class.

He would make himself truly vulnerable to the three people he wanted more than anything in the world to make part of his family.

Isabella, and her parents.

There was a knock on the door.

"Master James, are you awake?"

"Yes," he replied, surprised at how firm his own voice sounded.

"If you are presentable, Baronet Izguardia will see you now."

James intentionally left his tool belt and armor in the guest room, and was brought to the Baronet's office.

The room had a window set in the back, behind a large desk with a chair that sat empty. Bookshelves full of ledgers lined the walls on the other three sides, and between the door and the desk sat two overstuffed couches facing each other across a low table. Isabella, sharpening a knife in her lap, sat next to her mother on one couch, while the Baronet stood in front of the desk, expression hidden in shadow from the setting sun.

The maid closed the door behind him.

"Take a seat, James." The baronet indicated the other couch.

Scrape. Scrape.

"First," James declared, "I have to apologize." He gracefully performed the deep bow of sincere regret. Now facing the floor, he continued. "I've been keeping a secret, and I must tell you the truth."

Scrape. Scrape.

The Baronet sighed heavily. "Fine." There was a whump as he sat heavily on the couch next to his daughter. "Take a seat, and we'll hear you out."

Scrape. Scrape.