It was late in the evening of the night of John's betrayal and Robin's escape, and Tristan had just returned to town to report on his mission.

  "Back already?" asked Matthew. "I thought I gave you three days."

  "Didn't need them, sir," answered Tristan. "From observing him fighting, I can say that all physical Stats are approximately thirty. Processing, too, judging by his reaction times. At least a hundred Stamina. Furthermore, from the way he was drooling over a useless [Cooking] skill crystal, I'd say he doesn't feel like skill points are a heavily limited resource. I've also confirmed he's only ever been to the dungeon once before, and he as good as admitted lying about the effects of his Mark."

  "And I've confirmed he hasn't done anything in Brownroot to have earned extra experience. Stats like that, had he been telling the truth about his Mark, would imply he's at least level nine. Probably ten. That's just plain impossible. Any opinions on what his Mark actually does?"

  "To be honest, the only explanation I can come up with is that it boosts Stats, skill points and experience gain."

  "I was having similar thoughts. It's possible that it simply provided a boost to initial level, but I had a word with Simon, who was next in the queue at his unlock ceremony, and the way he described Robin didn't sound like someone who'd unlocked his System with double-digit initial Stats. It's still possible that the Mark is structured in a way that it is weaker or useless at higher levels, but I think we have enough to send him to Greenhold for a full appraisal. Even if it's a boost that won't remain with him for his whole life, it's still big enough that it would be a shame to waste him in a field. I'll make the arrangements. Get back to him, keep him safe, continue your observations and make damn sure he doesn't waste skill points on frivolous things like [Cooking]. Heck, you can assure him that if he legitimately has a flat multiplier to stat points, skill points and experience gain, he'll never need to cook for himself in his life."

  "Yes, sir," agreed Tristan. "But if you'll forgive me an impertinent question, might I ask why I'm observing him at all? Surely you had enough to insist on a full appraisal simply from seeing him in Brownroot. Or, rather, I should say that there's no need to have a reason to demand a serf submits to a full appraisal in the first place. And why insist I bring along John? As far as I can tell, he has no special qualities of his own, and he's done nothing but hold Robin back."

  "Both of those questions have the same answer, and it's to do with how Bruno became the headman of Brownroot. Suffice it to say that Lord Cargellen ended up owing him a small favour, and taking a gifted individual from the village while such a favour was outstanding would not be a good look for the baron. Helping Bruno's son gain experience for a few days seemed to me to be a cheap way of smoothing things out."

  "Understood. In that case, I will return immediately."

  Matthew watched his guard take back off at a sprint. Privately, he lamented certain aspects of society. To his mind, serfdom was a necessity—the kingdom needed a steady supply of cheap food if it was to thrive, but very few people wanted to be farmers, and incentives were expensive. Encouraging them by means such as increased food prices would destabilise towns and cities, but subsidising them from taxes would be just as bad. Nevertheless, in some respects, the resulting social stratification was too harsh. The serfs knew their places too well, and barely dared to dream of anything more. They didn't want to get involved with the free citizens of towns, never mind nobility. Out of misplaced mistrust, the child apparently felt the need to hide his Mark for his own safety, when in reality, revealing it—if the assumptions about its true nature were accurate—would have had him instantly whisked away into the lap of luxury.

  Thankfully, Lord Cargellen had recognised the problem, and so finding such people had been made a part of Matthew's job. He didn't just tour the villages to ensure the serfs were fulfilling their obligations, but also to pick out those who might better serve Lord Cargellen in other capacities. Admittedly, he'd never found anyone quite like Robin before. He held out hope that once the kid was brought to Greenhold, the baron might be sufficiently pleased to give a reward to his discoverer, doubly so if that discoverer took care of a small debt on his own initiative.

  "I said, Robin stole my spear and... and..." stammered John, stuttering to a halt under Tristan's withering gaze.

  "Bullcrap," the soldier said, simply. "I've not observed him for long, but I can already tell he's rather risk-averse. He wouldn't deliberately trigger the boss while unsupervised. Add on the fact that he hasn't once mentioned replacing his weapon during this trip—not even with a decent steel pitchfork, let alone a real polearm—and it's obvious he would never have stolen your spear and tried to clear the dungeon with it. Now, why don't you try one last time, and this time, tell the truth."

  "I... Uh... I asked him to collect more skill crystals. It's obvious I was slowing him down, so I told him to go alone."

  "And the spear?"

  "He said his pitchfork wouldn't hold up to more fighting, so I leant it to him."

  Stolen from its rightful place, this narrative is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings.

  Tristan facepalmed. "If you leant it to him, why in the hells did you claim he stole it?"

  John didn't answer, fidgeting silently as his face paled further.

  "Does he know about the boss spawn conditions?" demanded Tristan, putting two and two together.

  "... He knows the boss is spawned by killing monsters," claimed John, clinging to technical correctness as if it was a lifeline.

  "And does he know how many?" continued Tristan, who'd dealt with far too many 'clever' criminals to be taken in by that sort of thing, especially given that John wasn't especially good at it.

  "... No."

  "So you sent him out under false pretences, hoping he would trigger a boss encounter. I'm not even going to try to guess what you were thinking when you did that—probably nothing at all—but it since seems to have occurred to you both that Robin was unlikely to get killed, and that when he complained, your stunt would get you into trouble, rather than him. But, instead of admitting your mistake and trying to make it right, you doubled down, concocting a ridiculous story about him stealing your spear in the hopes he'd be the one taking the fall?"

  Once again, John failed to answer.

  "Even if he'd just been a regular serf, your plan would never have worked. Under the previous baron, sure, but our current one has rather more respect for his vital workforce. Even if a noble made the accusation, we no longer lock up accused criminals without at least some investigation. Do you think our guards don't have Skills that help them tell truth from lies? Are you a master deceiver, capable of defeating such Skills? No, Robin would have got a slap on the wrist for illegal use of a weapon, and you'd get a slap for illegal arms distribution. Greenhold's guards would probably leave you both locked up for a few days, just to express their displeasure at you wasting their time, then send you home. But, as I said, that would only have been if Robin had been a regular serf."

  John's pale face was joined by a nervous tremor as the knowledge that he'd royally screwed up finally wormed its way into his head.

  "You're lucky he doesn't seem to have come out yet. I'm going in to find him before anything happens that you regret. Then you will apologise to him. And he's going to keep your damn spear."

  The angry soldier marched out of the dungeon's entrance hole and into the day-lit meadow, the grass rustling in the dungeon's fake breeze. A few groups of newbie adventurers—who'd been only too excited about hunting down a 'criminal'—were given a dressing down about the importance of using their brains, along with some new instructions, and then he set out to find his charge.

  Robin was, alas, nowhere to be found.

  Tristan frowned as he pulsed [Adept Tracking], looking for any signs of the kid, but there was nothing, even after conducting several loops around the entrance. That was inexplicable. Having spent most of the day with Robin, studying his movements, observing him closely enough to guess at his Stats, [Adept Tracking] had more than enough material to work at full efficiency. The kid's footprints should have been detectable for around twenty-four hours, yet there was nothing. Not even a sign of their first hunting trip, despite his own footprints along with John's showing up perfectly.

  He conducted wider loops, in case the heavy footfall near the entrance was confusing his Skill, and finally something pinged. Rushing over to the signature's source, he found a torn sack, skill crystals and food spilt across the grass, the damage too severe to have been inflicted by a regular mob.

  Tristan said a rude word.

  Being a professional, he avoided jumping to conclusions and spent a few minutes conducting a search. He knew exactly what crystals had been found earlier in the day, and assuming another ten before the boss would have been summoned, six were missing, including [Cooking] and [Blacksmithing]. He found the spear. He didn't find any blood.

  "Damn that brat," he muttered, not elaborating on which of the two kids he meant. It was likely he meant both.

  He stormed out of the dungeon, forcing John up the stairs despite the time of night. When the young villager started struggling, Stamina almost drained, Tristan simply dragged him the rest of the way by the hair, ignoring his pained cries. "Be thankful I haven't cut your damn head off," he snapped, which was enough to shut the kid up.

  Matthew—dressed in nightclothes and looking rather dishevelled, which was understandable given the time of night—peered at Tristan. Then he looked down at John, who was practically grovelling on the floor, before once again looking up.

  "Explain," he demanded.

  "This imbecile set Robin up. Thought it would be fun to get him to accidentally trigger a boss encounter while I wasn't there to protect him, and then falsely accused him of a crime to get a bunch of adventurers hunting him in the hopes of stopping me finding out."

  "... And Robin was killed? Damn it. What a waste."

  "No. He's alive. For now."

  "Then where is he? Why are you back here without him?"

  "He fled. He has no food, water or equipment. We need to find him soon. We need an expert tracker."

  "The heck? You have [Adept Tracking] yourself, don't you? You should have gone after Robin immediately, instead of reporting back."

  "I do, and I would have, except that Robin could almost completely blind it; I couldn't even pick up trails that I myself walked alongside him earlier in the day. I could detect myself and the imbecile, but not Robin. No-one saw him leave, despite the imbecile arranging for a watch to be kept on the dungeon entrance. No-one in the dungeon, no-one on the surface. No-one. The only explanation I can come up with is that he has [Expert Stealth] and it's interfering with [Adept Tracking]."

  "A C-rank Skill less than two months after unlocking his System?" asked Matthew, eyes narrowing.

  Reaching level five would have been impressive, however it was achieved, and might have been sufficient to escape a life of farming even if no-one would go out of their way to force the issue. Ending up with thirties across all Stats, along with hints of increased skill points and experience, was enough to warrant reassigning one of his personal guards as an escort and immediately finding the kid a new home in Greenhold. But a rank C skill? On top of stage five [Farming]? That was a minimum of seventeen skill points.

  It was enough that Lord Cargellen would take personal interest.

  And now Matthew was going to need to admit to losing such a promising individual.

  "I'm returning to Greenhold to speak to Lord Cargellen in person. Go ahead of me, stop by Brownroot, and pick up Robin's parents. We need to know everything."

  "Yes, sir," agreed Tristan.