Let's head to the town

As Sebas and I descended the steps of the mansion, the town spread out before us, bustling with life. I made sure to wear my armor, its weight a comforting reminder that I could blend in, at least on the surface. The last thing I needed was to be exposed as an undead and have a mob banging on the mansion’s doors. Sebas walked beside me, his presence as calm and composed as ever, a stark contrast to the anxiety bubbling inside me.

The closer we got to the town gates, the more aware I became of the guards stationed there. They were chatting among themselves, laughing and relaxed, but the moment they spotted us, their demeanor shifted. Their eyes narrowed as they assessed us, particularly me. I could feel their gaze lingering, analyzing every inch of my armor, probably wondering who I was and why I was there.

One of the guards, a tall man with a stern expression, stepped forward. He had the air of someone who took his job very seriously, and his tone reflected that as he spoke. “Halt. Identify yourself and state your business,” he demanded, his hand resting on the hilt of his sword.

I hesitated for a moment, not entirely sure how to respond. I mean, what was I supposed to say? "Hi, I’m your lord, your undead overlord, just popping by to check out the town?" Before I could fumble my way through an answer, Sebas smoothly stepped in.

“Good morning,” Sebas said, his voice as composed and polite as ever. He reached into his coat and pulled out a plaque, engraved with an intricate emblem. “I am Sebas, the butler of Lord Xertia. We’re here on official business.”

The guard’s eyes flicked to the emblem, and for a split second, his brows knitted together in confusion. He clearly wasn’t expecting this. “Lord Xertia?” the guard repeated, doubt lacing his words. “I don’t recall hearing about a lord with that name.”

“Lord Xertia is the rightful ruler of this land,” Sebas continued, his voice carrying a quiet authority that left little room for argument. “His return is of great importance, and he wishes to visit the town today. We expect no trouble.”

The guard looked at Sebas, then back at me, suspicion still evident in his eyes. “I’ve never seen this emblem before,” the guard muttered, though his tone was less confrontational now and more curious. He leaned in to get a closer look at the plaque, his eyes scanning it carefully.

“That is because it is a symbol of the highest order, one that not many are privileged to see,” Sebas explained, his tone patient. “Now, if you would be so kind, we’d appreciate it if you allowed us to pass.”

The guard exchanged a look with his companions, uncertainty flickering in their expressions. But the emblem, whatever it represented, clearly held some weight. After a tense pause, the guard took a step back and bowed his head slightly, his earlier hostility replaced with a begrudging respect.

“My apologies, Lord Xertia,” the guard said, his voice now much more formal. “I didn’t recognize the emblem. Please, forgive the intrusion.”

The other guards quickly followed suit, bowing their heads as well. “Welcome back to the town, Lord Xertia,” they echoed, this time without any hint of suspicion or hostility.

Sebas nodded in acknowledgment, his expression unreadable as always, and we walked past the guards into the town. As we moved through the gates, I couldn’t help but let out a small sigh of relief. 

"Say, Sebas, my name is Xertia?" I asked, the name still feeling a bit foreign on my tongue.

Sebas nodded, his expression as composed as ever. "Indeed, my lord. Xertia Van Haulus is your full name."

"Wow," I murmured, a little taken aback. "That sounds... noble-like!"

"Then does that mean I have a family of noble status?" I asked, feeling a sudden curiosity about my origins.

Sebas shook his head gently. "No, my lord. In the past, you told me you were but a peasant who rose through the ranks to become a great knight. Your contributions were so significant that you were bestowed a noble title."

"I see..." I muttered, trying to piece together the fragments of a past I couldn't fully remember.

As we walked, I noticed the stares from bystanders. Maybe it was the menacing armor I wore or the massive sword strapped to my back, but the attention was palpable. Now that I think about it, the guards didn't seem to recognize me—their own lord. I wondered why.

"Sebas," I began, my voice tinged with unease, "in the past, was I a good lord...?"

I couldn’t shake the fear that I had neglected my responsibilities, leading to my own subjects forgetting who their lord was. But then again, hadn't I just fought a lich for this town? Talk about being ungrateful.

"You were a great lord, my lord," Sebas reassured me. "One probable reason the guards do not recognize you is that you haven’t told your name and asked the townsmen to refer to you only by your title. Also, the people remember you by your signature armor, which shined with a brilliant radiance. If you wore the armor you always used to wear, they would recognize you instantly."

I nodded, absorbing his words. So, it wasn’t that they didn’t care, it was just that I wasn’t exactly presenting myself the way I used to. 

As we walked through the bustling town, I took in the sights of various stalls lined with animal hides, handcrafted trinkets, and other items that perfectly suited the fantasy setting I found myself in. Everything seemed to be in its right place, until I heard a sharp cry.

"Thief!"

I turned to see a woman pointing at a figure darting through the crowd, cloaked in a robe. The other townsfolk looked on but didn’t react immediately. It was only after the thief swiped another item from a nearby stall that the people sprang into action, chasing after the culprit. The thief was quick, deftly avoiding the many hands that tried to restrain them.

As the thief neared me, I reacted on instinct. My hand shot out, grabbing hold of the figure. The thief, startled by my sudden action, tried to dodge, but I was faster. My grip closed around the thief’s wrist, it was strangely thin and small, almost delicate. With just a little more force, I could easily snap it, but I held back. The thief struggled, trying to wrench free, but my grasp was firm.

"Okay, settle do—?!"

Before I could finish, the thief pulled out a dagger and struck at my arm. The blade connected with my armor, but instead of biting into the metal, it merely glanced off, sending sparks flying. My armor, just as Sebas had said, was of the highest quality, not a scratch marred its surface.

The thief’s eyes widened in surprise, but determination quickly replaced it. She tried again and again, slashing at my arm with frantic energy, but each strike was met with the same result, deflected blows and more sparks. I couldn’t help but note the strength behind her strikes, surprising for someone so small.

"L-let go!"

The thief’s voice, high-pitched and trembling, betrayed her youth, it was a girl. Her resistance faltered, and she finally went limp in my grasp. As I held her, the townspeople gathered around, their eyes burning with anger, some even with bloodlust. The intensity of their glares sent a shiver down my spine.

"Let's go," I muttered, deciding to hand her over to the authorities. The thought of what these townspeople might do to her if they got hold of her was unsettling. I had to remind myself that this wasn’t my old world, everything here was different. I just hoped the concept of justice wasn’t too far removed from what I knew.

As I began to drag the now-limp thief, I caught a glimpse of her face beneath the hood. She was a young girl, with fiery red hair and matching red eyes. Her eyes were filled with tears, and blood trickled from her mouth where she had bitten down hard. Her expression was one of raw determination and anger, as if she were willing to do anything to escape.

She locked eyes with me, her gaze piercing through the visor of my helmet. Then, without warning, she bit down on her lip again, drawing more blood, and raised the dagger high. Her intent was clear—she was going to cut off her own arm to free herself.

"You crazy!" I thought, yanking her arm towards me just as the dagger grazed her skin, drawing a thin line of blood. Before she could make another attempt, I covered her arm with my hand, shielding her from further harm. Sparks flew as she continued to strike at my armor, the sound of metal on metal ringing in my ears.

Sebas, seeing the commotion, moved swiftly. With practiced ease, he disarmed the girl, sending the dagger clattering to the ground. Then, with a quick strike to her neck, he rendered her unconscious. The girl’s body went limp in my grasp, her struggle finally over.

I looked down at her, still trying to process what had just happened.