It had rained the night before. Not that I saw it. But I smelled the damp in the walls, felt the chill clinging to stone, and saw the way the torches flickered more than usual in the narrow servant halls.
Breakfast duty meant hauling crates. Root vegetables, mostly. My back ached. My palms stung. But I was getting used to it.
[Passive Perk Activated: Fast Learner I][Task Completion Time Reduced Slightly]
Thanks, system. Real generous.
"Don't drop those," Bran barked from somewhere behind me.
Yes, sir. I'll make sure gravity behaves.
By now, I'd mapped the kitchen routines in my head. Five cooks. Three prep lines. Two shouting matches before noon. One slap to the back of someone's head if the broth boiled over.
I was blending in. Earning trust. Leveling up in the art of not dying.
Then I met the rat.
Again.
It was during the quiet moment between breakfast and midday prep. I was returning empty baskets when I heard a faint scratching behind the firewood crates. When I bent down, something small and gray darted under a loose board.
"...You again," I muttered.
The rat peeked its head out. Twitchy nose. Beady eyes. Scar on the left ear. Same one from yesterday.
[Creature Identified: Unnamed Familiar][Bond Level: 2% — Curious Recognition]
Wait. Familiar?
The system chimed again.
[Would you like to name this Familiar?]
You're telling me I've accidentally adopted a rat?
I stared at it. It stared back.
"...Vice President Scamperton," I said aloud.
The system dinged.
[Familiar Name Accepted: Vice President Scamperton]
Scamperton squeaked.
He then darted forward, bit off a small string from my apron, and ran off.
"Hey—!"
Gone.
The rest of the day was a blur of peeling, boiling, stirring, and dodging Bran's wrath. I burned my hand pulling a pot off the fire too fast and got smacked on the back of the head for stirring the stew counterclockwise. Apparently, it's "bad luck."
Bran's superstitions were about as useful as a spoon in a sword fight.
During the midday break, while the other servants huddled for crusts and broth, I sat alone behind the grain sacks. The noise hurt my ears today — the clanging, the scolding, the tension that never left.
I needed five minutes where no one was watching.
That's when I heard a quiet sob. Just one.
I stood up and followed the sound. Around the corner, behind the flour barrels, a young girl — no older than ten — was trying to clean a cut on her knee with a rag. Blood streaked her shin. Her sleeves were too long, her shoes were mismatched, and her expression was one of practiced silence.
I knelt down.
"Let me see."
She flinched. Her lips pressed shut.
I took the rag gently, dipped it in a water bucket nearby, and cleaned the wound. Not deep, but nasty enough to scar.
"What's your name?" I asked.
She hesitated, then whispered, "...Fara."
"Fara. Alright. You keep this clean, alright? If it swells, go to Tarn. He'll know what to do."
She nodded without smiling. Then she scurried off.
I didn't follow. Just stared after her.
This place didn't just break backs. It broke kids.
Back near the well in the lower courtyard, a commotion caught my attention. One of the smaller boys—Hyle, I think his name was—was being shoved around by a couple of older scullions. Kyle, a thin kid with wide eyes and cracked shoes, was trying to defend him.
I didn't think. Just stepped in.
"Problem?" I asked, casually tossing a piece of firewood between my hands.
They paused. Looked me up and down. I didn't look threatening. But I didn't flinch either.
One of them snorted and walked off. The other gave Kyle a shove and muttered, "Stupid dog's not worth it."
When they left, Kyle stared at me.
"You didn't have to do that."
"I didn't. I wanted to."
From then on, Kyle stuck close. Too close. Like a kid imitating his older brother. He tried to mirror my chopping grip. He whispered questions during chores. He even offered me his apple ration when I looked tired.
"Keep it," I told him. "I'm not dying from vitamin C deficiency just yet."
Later, while I tried to return to my work routine, I noticed he was following me again. In the scullery. In the hallway. Even near the latrines.
Seriously, kid, you're gonna ruin my stealth stat.
When I finally slipped through the servants' hallway to sneak a moment of peace, he followed.
So I ran.
Down the old wine hall, past the leaning shelves, across the dripping courtyard. When I reached the back cellar steps, a shadow darted beside me.
Scamperton.
He squeaked. Then slipped under a loose vent. An idea struck me.
"Go left, then right," I whispered.
Kyle, chasing behind, stopped when he saw the gap. The rat squeaked again — as if confirming my bluff — and Kyle turned down the wrong corridor.
"Thanks," I whispered to Scamperton, breathless.
Later, while I wiped sweat from my neck near the storage bins, Maela passed by. She paused and pointed at my hands.
"You've been using your off-hand more."
I looked down. She was right. My left hand was gripping the chopping knife tighter than my dominant one.
"Old habit. Sometimes I like confusing my enemies."
She snorted. "Stick to peeling, jester."
By nightfall, I was sore and half-asleep on my feet.
That's when Tarn stopped me.
"Here," he muttered, pressing something into my hand.
It was a small, dull-bladed kitchen knife. Not standard. The kind you hide.
"Keep it. Don't ask questions."
...That's never ominous.
Tarn's eyes were grim. "Things shift quick in this house. Better to be ready when they do."
I nodded. Just once. And slipped the blade under my sleeve.
Before sleep, I climbed up to the pantry loft and leaned out the open gap in the wall. Wind brushed against my face. Moonlight caught the edges of the courtyard below.
One day, I'll walk out of here under that sky. With my own shoes. My own name. My own damn spine.
Then I heard it. That familiar skitter. Soft claws on stone. A pause. Then a sniff.
I glanced sideways.
"Scamperton," I muttered. "Back again?"
He blinked at me.
I tossed him a crumb. "You watch my back, I'll watch yours."
He squeaked once. Agreement, maybe.
The torch outside flickered.
And I closed my eyes, already planning tomorrow's survival strategy.
[New Task Assigned: Knife Familiarization]Objective: Practice 100 basic swings before sunrise.Reward: +1 Dexterity / +Knife Mastery I (Locked until 100% Completion)
Let's see what tomorrow gives me.