Though the butler, Lanter, had told Achilles he would have a servant draw his bath, by the time Achilles climbed up the rich stairs of polished, dark wood and went down the hallway and found the room with the silver triangle on it, he found the bath was already prepared.

The tub was filled with steaming water, and the delicious scent of oranges filled the air. There was a little table nearby which had bars of brilliant white soap and a mug of hot tea upon it.

There was no servant in sight. Achilles frowned, looking around. Something seemed strange. “I don’t know how long it takes to heat all that water in a town like this,” he said, “but surely it takes more than the minute I spent walking up here.”

Virgil seemed amused.

“What, you know the answer?” asked Achilles.

Achilles pondered this as he walked to the bathroom door, closed it, and locked it. Then he took off all his clothes, folded them somewhat haphazardly, and dipped a careful toe into the water.

He had never taken a hot bath before, not one ‘this’ hot, and he was worried at first that it would scald his skin off.

However, the water was actually quite comfortable, and he slipped into the elaborate marble tub.

“I didn’t notice any system elements,” Achilles said thoughtfully. “So there’s something I missed. I’ll need to pay closer attention from now on.” He paused, then grabbed a bar of soap and begin scrubbing his skin.

Usually, soap made his skin extremely dry, but this seemed to be very fancy stuff. It left his skin feeling smooth. That was strange and felt somewhat girly.

said Virgil.

Achilles felt irritated that Virgil wouldn’t simply tell him, but he considered this to be part of his training toward eventually becoming an Imperial Knight, and he said nothing.

He gave up the soap, however, and simply scrubbed at his skin with his hands to dislodge dirt. The smell of the oranges was nice, but he didn’t need to have smooth, feminine skin.

“Something I just thought of,” said Achilles. “I haven’t seen your thousand eyes again. Or ‘my’ eyes, rather. Not since waking up. Why is that?”

“Why on Earth does it work like that?” asked Achilles. He had left Virgil on the table which held the bathing supplies, and he now had an urge to draw the sword and see the eyes again. However, the air was fairly cold outside of the bath, and he was too lazy to get out just for this.

Virgil laughed.

“That sounds like it’s intended to be some kind of limitation,” said Achilles, “but I’ll always be wielding you, so what does it matter?”

said Virgil, though his voice sounded begrudging.

Achilles smiled. “You consider them to have rescued you?” he asked. “How bizarre. Considering they chained you up and then sent you away so that no one could use you.”

said Virgil.

“Well, hopefully you don’t feel badly about ‘me,’ then. Seeing as how I intend to use everything you’ll give me to become an Imperial Knight.”

It appeared Virgil was hiding something, or perhaps several things, but Achilles could not tell what.

laughed Virgil, reading Achilles’s mind.

Extremely annoyed that the sword could simply read whatever he thought and that he had no way of hiding his true intentions from it, Achilles finished his bath, dried off with the impossibly soft towel which also lay on the bath table…

… and then realized his old clothes were gone and a new set of clothes was folded on the bath table, waiting for him!

Achilles simply stared at the clothes for an entire minute.

The whole time, Virgil laughed!

said Virgil.

“What on Earth are you talking about?” asked Achilles. “I didn’t go to sleep or anything! I was paying attention to the room the entire time. I didn’t see my old clothes teleport away or anything. I only just barely noticed these new clothes were here!”

Achilles had no idea how to respond. Eventually, he shook his head. “Some kind of magic spell,” he said. “So this is the power of a wizard, huh?”

The sword’s laughing became even harder.

Achilles frowned. He quickly dressed himself in the tunic, shirt, and belts which had been left for him. They were made of the richest material he had ever felt, though they looked plain and not fancy at all.

“Ten eyes? That’s a lot. I don’t know that it’s a good idea for me to spend that many… Anyway, I promised Sir Azarah that I wouldn’t use any of your power until he and I had a conversation about it. But what does that Feat thing do?”

Suddenly, Achilles saw something like a spectral book floating in front of him. He reached out and opened it, and saw that each page described a different Feat, along with prerequisites for it and how many eyes it would cost.

Some Feats required him to be at a certain level in a certain class before he could take them, while others had requirements like proficiency with cooking, but allowed him to specialize in different forms of cooking and even poison making.

“This is amazing!” he said.

said Virgil, his voice eager.

But Achilles shook his head. “I really want to,” he said. “But I’m a man of my word and I’m going to wait until I talk with Sir Azarah.”

Virgil sighed, and the book disappeared.

he said.

Achilles ignored these words, but he unlocked and opened the bathroom door and flinched as much colder air from outside blasted his wet skin. By this time, it was close to dinner, so he left Virgil on the bed which had been provided for him and went downstairs.

He knew, at least, that it was very rude to carry weapons at the dinner table. His mother had used to tease his father about that when he was still alive. They sometimes acted like they were pretending they still lived in the big city of the capital.

Achilles felt wistful for a moment.

His whole life was changing. It was one thing to wish for it all his life, but another thing entirely for it to come true.

“I’ll see you soon,” he said to Virgil.

As he descended the staircase leading to the first floor, walking underneath gigantic framed portraits of people who were probably Sir Azarah’s ancestors, Achilles considered that Virgil was almost the first friend he’d had in his life.

Sure, there had been a few other boys in the village he occasionally spent time with, but he never felt like he understood them, and it never seemed that they understood him, either.

Yet, it was as natural to talk to Virgil as it was to talk with his mother and sister.

“I trust your bath was agreeable, Young Master?”

Achilles jumped in shock, nearly falling down the last couple of stairs.