Fredric all but bounced into the cottage. The boy carried Will’s folded clothing with both arms, grinning from ear to ear. “All mended and clean, sir.”

  William unfolded the tunic and trousers. The bloodstains were gone, the seams neatly stitched, and the fabric pressed. “Hmm, smells nice; is that lavender?” It was better than he expected. “How much?”

  Fredric puffed his chest out. “2 silver and 45 coppers. I haggled them down, my lord.”

  Will raised a brow. He’d spent four times that on a decorative badge that only lasted for a day. Here, that amount had bought hours of someone’s careful labour. He handed the boy 3 silver. “Keep the rest for yourself. Good work, Fred.”

  Fredric’s eyes widened. “For me, sir?”

  William only smirked and set the bundle aside. Then he turned to the elder. “Speaking of which… What’s considered proper pay for a squire? I can’t have the boy running around on promises alone.”

  The elder stroked his beard. “Traditionally, a squire’s service is his training, and his lord provides food and board, my lord. Some coin is given now and then, though not much. A few silvers a week at most, depending on the lord’s generosity.”

  Will nodded, filing the detail away while trying not to laugh at his embarrassed squire. The teenager had squirmed as the elder explained how much he might be paid; his orange freckles soon vanished as his face flushed red.

  In game terms, Fredric had just become a companion NPC. But this wasn’t playing out like the old game, and loyalty wasn’t guaranteed by gaming code. If he wanted the boy to stay and to grow under his banner, he’d need to make it worth his while.

  William scratched the back of his neck. A lot of my coin came from raiding with my guild. He thought back to the goblins and boss lizard he’d killed, none of which dropped loot. “How do adventurers earn coin here?”

  The old man frowned. “Some earn coin from culling threats, my lord. A goblin’s right ear is worth 2 silver.” He stroked his beard. “They also sell the hides of monsters they kill.”

  William thought of the big lizard he’d killed. “How much would a big lizard about this size.” He reached as high as he could. “A little taller than that, be worth?”

  The elder’s eyes widened. “I suppose around 10 gold, my lord.” He tapped his chin. “The hide would be worth around 5 or 6 gold, the bones and some of the organs a few more gold, and the meat makes up the rest.”

  “People eat monster meat?” Will asked in astonishment.

  The old man nodded. “Of course, my lord. It’s good meat.”

  In the game, most kills dropped some loot: coin, armour, weapons, various items, and some kills could even be skinned, but for the most part, they were left until they faded away.

  The narrative has been taken without authorization; if you see it on Amazon, report the incident.

  Damn. I bet the goblins have eaten the lizard corpse by now. Forgetting he had a huge, almost empty storage space, Will shrugged. It’s not like I could’ve dragged it back here on my own.

  ***

  William sat on the elder’s porch, with the repaired armour gleaming in the fading light. His leg didn’t throb like it was trying to kill him, and he was well rested after a good meal served by the elder’s good wife. “Right.” He clapped his hands. “Fred, help me into this.”

  The squire nodded and rushed to bring over the breastplate.

  “How hard can it be?” He muttered, grabbing the piece and trying to slide it over his head like a jumper. He got halfway before realising the straps weren’t lining up. “Wait. No. That’s not… Bloody hell, I can’t see anything.”

  Fredric tried not to laugh. “It, erm, it doesn’t go over your head, my lord.”

  “Then why does it have a hole?” Will’s muffled voice echoed inside the steel. He tugged and managed to wedge his pointy ears through the opening before yanking the rest of his head free; his face was red, and his white hair was standing in all directions. “Ow!” He rubbed his ears.

  Fredric coughed to cover a laugh, though his shoulders were shaking. “That’s for your arms, my lord.”

  “Of course it is,” Will said with complete dignity, though his voice was a little too high-pitched. “And let that be a lesson to you, young squire. That’s how you don’t put your armour on.”

  “Yes, my lord.” Fredric wiped a tear from his eye.

  Piece by piece, and with much fumbling, cursing, and Fredric’s increasing amusement, the armour came together. When the last buckle was fastened, Will stood with his hands on his hips. “There. A professional Holy Paladin ready for anything.” He straightened his long, messy hair and stood in a dramatic hero pose.

  Fredric nodded. “Except for the backplate, my lord. It’s upside down.”

  Will looked over his shoulder. “What? Oh, for fu… fine, fix it.”

  ***

  William hefted his sword and gave it an experimental swing, the weight dragged through the air. Still on the heavy side. The blade gleamed in the twilight. I need more strength. I wonder if the lizard respawns on a timer.

  He noted the fading light. “Alright, Fred. Training time. We should be able to squeeze in forty-five minutes before it gets too dark.”

  The boy blinked. “Me, my lord? Train?”

  “Yes, you. Every good squire learns swordplay.” He chuckled. “Also, I need a target that won’t stab me back.”

  Fredric fetched a practice sword and held it awkwardly in his hands. Will squared off with him, planting his feet wide.

  “First rule.” William pointed his blade. “Don’t stand like that. You’ll topple over if someone sneezes at you. Spread your stance. There… Yep, that’s better.”

  With his brow furrowed in concentration, Fredric copied him.

  “Second rule: don’t grip your sword like you’re strangling a chicken. Firm, but not murderous. You’re not a chicken farmer, are you, Fred?”

  Fredric stifled a laugh. “No, my lord. My pa grows beets, though.”

  Will couldn’t help but chuckle. “Third rule.” He paused. “What’s the cost of a chicken?”

  “Erm. Around 1 silver, my lord.” Fredric relaxed his stance. “Do you want me to buy a chicken?”

  Will nodded and thought about a roast chicken sandwich. “Hmm. Yeah, buy one after training. Now, where was I?” He scratched the back of his neck. “Oh, yeah, the third rule: when fighting in-game. Err, I mean, in a battle, you want to watch your opponent’s shoulders, not the sword. The shoulders tell you where the blow’s coming from.” He smiled. Saw that in a video tutorial once. “Oh, and the eyes are the windows to a man’s soul. Watch them too.”

  The boy nodded as if this were ancient knightly wisdom.

  They sparred with William barking corrections he half-remembered from online videos: “Keep your guard up,” “Step into the strike, and don’t lock your elbows.” His own movements were slow, rusty, and the armour felt like moving through syrup, but the rhythm came together piece by piece. He swung, blocked, corrected Fredric’s stance, and swung again.

  By the time night fell, they were both sweaty, bruised, and grinning.

  A sharp clang of a bell shattered the village’s quiet. Once. Twice. Then again, faster and louder.

  Chapter 011 [Raid Warning: Goblin Raiders]