Pierre frantically pranced about the palace with his eyes darting in every direction, of every corner in every hall he entered, searching for someone.
During the incident when he was flung into the tree, He was sure that he had failed his mission and death awaited him, but upon waking up in the infirmary, swathed in silk bandages, he was surprised to realize he had survived.
He had to show the liege—king, rather, gratitude for it.
Thankfully, no one in the palace had seen his face before or knew that he was the one they called Nameless.
He had been under training to serve the Previous King Alwen. Unfortunately, the latter did not live long enough for him to be included among the royal guards, causing Counsellor Rictor to send him and two others on a journey to retrieve the long-lost Royal.
Along the line, the other two encountered miserable fates, leading him to lead the Prince through the Thorns forest while enemies chased them from behind. Luckily, they lost them when a powerful beast attacked.
Now that he was alive, Failure to protect those he was due to serve was the highest level of shame.
As Pierre walked, lost in his thoughts, another person's shoulder collided with his, jolting him out of his reverie.
When he turned, a man with hair draping along the sides of his face stared back at him.
"My apologies, I got a bit carried away." The Latter apologized while fiddling with a brush in one hand.
Pierre squinted as he noticed the grey robes on his persona, "Are you someone new?" He asked, "I've never seen your face before."
"Oh," The Artist tapped against his chest, introducing himself, "I am Ian Owan. His majesty recruited me to serve as his personal guard."
To Ian, this was a better excuse than saying, 'My master resurrected me to serve him from the dead in order to save his skin.'
That would clearly bring more trouble than he would want to deal with, especially if he needed to familiarize himself with this alien country.
Unfortunately for him, his response had roused Pierre's interest. "If that's so true. Then where is his majesty now, and why aren't you with him?"
Ian's smile faded as he scratched his head, then let out a nervous chuckle.
Pierre deliberately slid his pal, toward the hilt of his blade, tensing his body, as he spole in a low, threatening voice, "State who you truly are or I will strike you down now."
The two were now in a face-off in one of the Castle's hallways.
Ian watched, frozen in place as Pierre's hand reached the sword's hilt, and it finally clicked.
"Are you perhaps the King's guard who was incapacitated?"
Flummoxed, Pierre kept his expression stiff despite knowing that word of his failure was already spreading.
"What has that got to do with my question?"
"Because if you are, you shouldn't be twiddling with authority when his majesty had an attack because of your absence?"
"What?"
Ian clicked his tongue twice and shook his head with pity, "Poor you. You don't even know. My my, what a failure of a protector."
"Why you—" Pierre's fingers tightened, ready to draw out hid blade when a loud bellow from the end of the hallway cut through the tension.
"That's enough!"
The duo turned their heads, detecting Rictor walking along with a few guards.
For some reason, both of them chose to remain as the Chancellor stopped in front of them and gave them a stare.
It wasn't particularly cold or judging or stiff, just a simple, unexpressive stare but neither participant saw it that way.
For Pierre, it was a tenacious one that made him lower his head. Precisely because one of the few people to have ever seen his face was the Chancellor.
Rictor turned to Ian and gave the Light user a much shorter stare.
For Ian, it was more of a mistrustful gaze, scaring him witless about his act. 'But I'm not the one' He thought, yet couldn't voice it out for a strange reason.
"Here in the palace, brawls are forbidden. If you want to fight, use the sparring area."
After that, Rictor walked away with the soldiers marching along with him.
"I haven't spent a day here and I'm already being berated," Ian grumbled. He stole one last glance at Pierre to jab at him, "If you always feel the need to bark. I'll always have time to humble you."
Pierre said nothing but returned a scowl as he walked the opposite way.
~~~
Now back in his room, Ryan calmly rested on his bed and let out a breath of fresh air. "Quests." He muttered, and a floating tab appeared.
[No of Uncompleted Quests - 2
The Panicked Lord
Lord Lancer of Arkorn came to your court and pleaded for your assistance in dealing with bandits and monsters that have halted the town's production.
Reward - 200 Wealth or more.
Progress - 0%
Researchers Vision
The researchers of the National Academy have let you in on their upcoming project. Something which would make non-affinity users capable of using weapons. They claimed it would increase your nation's combat strength.
Reward - ???
Progress - 0%]
As he inspected the details, a ton of questions rushed into his head, but he suppressed them to keep his cool.
Part of him still felt underprepared for taking on these quests. After all, his understanding of the world was still watered down compared to others, and he needed to upgrade.
The next day, he awoke to the sound of a loud banging coming from the door to his chamber.
Today was his fifth day in the new world, his fourth day as King. Apparently, he had another court that needed to be attended and a banquet the next day.
Instead of officials, though. He was to act as a jury for the common people.
"There's a reason why we have judges for this kind of thing." He mumbled before pulling the sheets up to his face.
It was just the fourth day, and he wanted to take on extra time because he was overjoyed with sleep.
Now in a blue shirt with a brooch at the pocket and black pants. He had to go to the Hall of the Flaming Hand to do a jury's job.
As the doors were pushed open, a crowd of people revealed themselves to the throne before aligning themselves to opposing ends of the hall. The Red carpet had been removed so he could see the hidden stone tiles.
He walked through the crowd, who bowed in turn until he reached the steps and spotted Rictor standing at the right side of the throne.
Two guards were positioned below the stairs as he climbed towards the throne.
"The Jury begins."
The first case was now being presented before the King.
An old woman with a cane to balance herself walked in front of the steps and made a little bow.
"Greetings, your majesty." She managed to say with a graceful tone.
Another fellow presented himself, a big-bellied man wearing expensive-looking clothes and a beanie. "Greetings to the King. May your rule be ever fruitful."
"Thank you," Ryan returned their greetings, leaning in against the chair, "So what is the issue?"
A guard came forward and handed Rictor a scroll. The Old man opened it and read its content with a blank look.
"The Old Lady happens to live in a house in one of the middle-income streets of the City. The Merchant before you owns an estate."
Rictor then looked at both of them for confirmation, and received nods in return.
"Hmmm." Rictor hummed for a while before continuing, "Old Grannz lives in one of the houses of the Merchant's estate and had paid rent for three extra months before the cost of living was raised by a tenth of the original price."
He looked again, seeking approval before continuing, "The Merchant has asked her to pay the extra prices added, else she would be evicted."
This time, Rictor turned to Ryan, who had connected the dots, "Can't they use the extra months it has to fill up that 10%?"
"Yes, my King, however, the preceding rule states that if one pays for services like housing, work, or others in advance. An increase in price means an increase in the advance as a whole, regardless of the duration.
However, a service owner cannot indiscriminately increase prices and would need to wait for a time period of one year before they can execute it."
"I see." Ryan then peered at the Granny, noticing her dress was neither shabby nor haggard but well-off by the little understanding he had of this current age.
"I am an Old woman who lives like the rest of your subjects, my King."
"As shown by my cane. Everyone in this court can see that my little legs have nearly given up on any form of menial labour."
'Clearly, there's not much she can do for this time period.'
Ryan decided to probe, "How did you get the house then?"
The Old Lady, placed her hand behind her waist as her wrinkly face looked at him with half closed eyes, "My young and only child helped me get the house and was paying a part of it before he tragically died in an accident."
"I can't pay for the full increase as I now have a full ten days before I am evicted."
'Ah.'
His mind started to paint a picture that this wasn't a matter of paying. The Landlord simply wanted to kick her out and put a higher-paying tenant.
'Seems that Landlords are the same regardless of which world.'
He looked back at the Merchant landlord, and the latter addressed his case, "Your Majesty. I have a merchant business to run, and the recent rise in beast numbers makes it even harder to manage such a luxurious trade.
Presently, towns like Stonehart are not experiencing a very good time. Those houses that I reserved for tenants like her need to be maintained."
Ryan turned towards Rictor who had been silent about the matter.
Noticing his demeanour, he focused his mind on solving the dispute, "As the Counsellor has stated. It is well known to all people alike. Paying in advance for a service with a cost that can be increased is not beneficial to oneself."
'Whoever made that law must have gotten their head knocked by a carcass.'
He called Rictor and whispered some words into his ears. and the latter whispered back.
"Well then," Ryan said, looking at the Merchant with a smirk. "Since you wish to evict this Old Woman because of a three-month increase in rent. You will legally return the remaining ten days worth."
"Old Granny." He said, shifting his head to her, "The Chancellor owns a set of houses in the city, and he has agreed to allocate you into one."
The whole court was filled with gasps, Old Granny froze in the spot then dropped her cane before falling to her knees.
"Thank you Sire!"
"Thank you Counsellor!"