A Nation's true nobility is a terrifying thing. [King] or [Queen], [Prince] or whatever else might follow after. The fact that those bloodlines grant a Class and Title at birth is scary enough, and that's not even to count the Skills associated. How powerful must someone's Wisdom Attribute be, to resist the powerful commands of [Order] or [Loyalty]?

While the answer isn't clear, I can tell you from first hand experience: The number of servants in those palaces who have willingly throw themselves out of windows on the whims of angry nobles, seem to suggest there aren't many within the normal populace.

....

From the walls, no matter what compass direction a person might hope to look, the town outside the Baron's residence was always in sight to some degree. On the Eastern side, the ocean cliffs and port piled up with homes and buildings. To the North and south, these stretched along, perhaps surrounding some smaller docks possibly cut away, into the stone. Yet, to the Western edge, the population began to dwindle.

There, was the forest. Deep forest- fields too, of course. Cut in here and there, crops and rows of farmland speckled the flatlands between the rolling hills: but it was the trees which held dominance. The invasiveness of them, sinking like roots inbetween lots and structures. Winding along and forming up to find their way in numbers, all the way to the Fort itself. Intrusive, as if trying to find their way to the Eastern cliffs, regardless of the human effort that blocked their path.

Should someone step down past the main gates, farther along to reach the path cut along the fort's slope, they would find the beginning of the trails. Continuing from there, slow and sinking, their feet set upon this path would find the trek into a direction towards the true wilds. Where the foliage would soon have any man forget what direction civilization might stand. Where buildings and the noise of civilization would fall away, replaced by simpler tones. Of leaves, of wind, and of creaking timber.

This was, perhaps for most people, an intimidating concept. Myself, of course, included in the generalization. The wilds were a place I'd barely managed to return from, and not one I was keen on going back into.

I had learned of Adventurers, of course. Those strange people who worked for what all in the area simply called the "Guild." Oddities, no doubt, as they willingly took upon the profession of hunting monsters. I'd assumed, just as Gregory had fished the dangerous waters along the coast, there were a brave few who might do something similar to harvest wild-game.

But, I suspected the career choice wasn't exactly common.

Farther inland, as the forest surrounded and ancient trees completely blocked my sense of direction, it was easy to see how someone might become lost. Without the trail beaten down beneath our feet, without the occasional marker that had been nailed to bark or sapling, one could quickly find their bearing confused. The sun was visible, in part, but not in a sense by which one could easily track it through the thick leaves. The muffled gusts of shifting branches, the occasional crack of twigs... just knowing what might be out there would surely keep all but the bravest from taking the risk.

And I did know, to some degree. Just one encounter with a real monster had been more than enough for me. Enough to turn every rustle of leaves, every whisper of wind catching the odd branch, into another beast. Thoughts racing, believing that danger was stalking me just a surely as any hunter followed prey.

No, the woods were not the place for normal folk. A rabbit for dinner couldn't possibly be worth the chance of becoming dinner for something else.

Of course, the Baron was hardly someone I could use to judge normal social-norms.

"Not a hare in sight!" He bellowed, drinking heavily from one of the many water skins he'd tied loose to his armor. Dropping it back without care, as the last drops of its contents hit the dirt with a strong scent of spirits. "Not a boar, not bird. John, has anyone ever told you that you've got terrible luck?"

"No, Sir." I answered. "But I suppose that would explain a few things."

"Ha! True, true." The Baron chuckled, leading on as the trail took a lazy turn, winding around a massive tree of thick bark. Among the crevices, I saw an insect the size of my arm skitter out of sight. "You got on just fine in my absence, it seems."

"I did my best, Sir."

"I will admit, I feel badly for leaving as I did. I've a suspicion some of my men made trouble for you."

"Nothing I couldn't handle, Sir."

"Sir this, Sir that... enough with the formalities, John. If I wanted people doting on me, I'd have stayed in." A mighty hand waved. "I've brought you here, so that we might speak on simpler terms."

"Understood."

"Gods, you're a tough nut." He grumbled. "That really all I'm going to get from you?"

"I do have questions, pertaining to my role, as a [Mage]." I answered. "If it would be alright to ask them."

"In good time." The Baron answered. "But this is a hunt, John. This is far from the time to speak of work."

I was silent as we continued down the trail. Considering how to best handle this open invitation. The closest I might ever get to ask a question. Any question at all.

It wasn't that I couldn't think of one, as I had dozens, my real problem was breaking the tie between all of them.

"If the cat has your tongue, I'll start then." The Baron announced suddenly, taking another swig. "I've heard it said that the plane you lot hail from, even the peasants have magic boxes in their homes that keep their ale perfectly cold. Is that true?"

"Uh... yes." I almost tripped on a root, as my brain caught up with the fact that the Baron knew about refrigerators. "That's partly true. There's no magic, though."

"How do they work?"

"Do you know of electricity?"

"No, is it important?"

"Ah..." My brain skipped another second, as I went desperately searching for whatever remnants of wikipedia articles might be lingering in my long-term memory. "I suppose the simplest way to think of those boxes, is that that they have lots of metal tubes which take the heat from one place and go about moving somewhere else." I was grasping for straw and I knew it. "If something expands, it gets colder. So there's a specific chemical in the tubes they trick into doing that, show that to the inside of the box, and shuffle the heat outside."

"Sounds an awful lot like Magic."

"I... suppose it does, but it isn't." I found it very difficult to argue with that statement. Especially considering the only reason I felt I could even remember as much as I already had, was because of my Attributes reinforcing half-remembered knowledge.

"What of the strange boxes that heat food up?"

"Those are similar."

"And the metal chariots on roads of black stone? Those which drink oil."

"Complicated, but not magic."

The Baron snorted in amusement. "For fuck's sake. No magic at all, just metal tubes and alchemy nonsense."

"You believe me, then?"

"I believe you're not lying." He shook his head, as he plucked an arrow free. "I've found that you're a surprisingly honest man, John."

"I try my best." I answered. "Seems the safest practice."

"Mm..." The Baron sighed. "Tell me, did you know for sure, or did you just suspect?"

"Suspect."

"You've good instincts, then." The Baron nodded, effortlessly drawing back his bow. "Of course, you wouldn't be alive if those were missing." With a cord that might have been as thick as my finger, and wood as wide as my arm, it creaked in resistance as he turned. Almost leisurely, he let it come to bare in my direction. Arrow pointed with the sharp glow of steel. "Best never to lie to me."

"Understood." I replied, warily.

"This is a relationship of necessity for now, John. Don't think for a moment I am not aware of that. I have been in need of a [Mage], and you were in need of avoiding death." He stated, arrow waiting patiently. Ignorant of the force waiting on the string behind it. "But in time, I would like to see this turn towards trust."

"Trust."

"Aye, it's my belief that a true [Lord] should be able to trust his men. A true [Lord] doesn't need to force those who serve him into compliance." He answered with his bow held perfectly still, as if tied in place by taut cables. A sharp contrast to his words. Then, he continued. "Did you know, in the Kingdom, they only issue bounties on certain monsters as pairs?"

"I did not." I doubted the calm on my face could cover the rapid thunder in my chest.

"It's true." His bow didn't so much as sway, still drawn to full without the slightest sign of effort. "The Guild organizations have strict rules. For these types of monsters, they will only prove payment if you've slain two. In fact, some will even go so far as to fine a man they try to insist otherwise."

"I didn't realize, Baron." I tried not to look at the arrow, brain desperately attempting to think a way out the situation. "I presume there's a reason?"

"Aye, John." He stated, patiently watching me.

"And what might that be?" I pressed, as the hair on my neck started to rise.

"Certain monsters have a troublesome habit of hunting in pairs. If you kill one, their mate becomes twice as dangerous. Twice as reckless." He answered calmly. "Often, the smarter of that number will even seek revenge. Sometimes, they'll cross entire continents, just to get it."

Without warning, the arrow loosed. Singing on the wind past my cheek, close enough for the tip to draw blood on my cheek, then passing on by.

The silent forest exploded into motion, and noise.

I dived to the side, reaction far too late, but still very much in effect.

Behind me, tree and underbrush crashed.

There was a howl.

Not ten paces away, with a familiar roar sounded in horrible pain. Then, with a heavy impact which shook the earth beneath my feet, something fell to the ground.

Picking myself off of the ground, bow unstrung from the tumble and quiver of arrows scattered about the trail, I looked back up just in time to seen the Baron grin.

"It's been a long time since I've had wolf."