Paragon of Skills

chapter 283

Jacob looks at the vaguely familiar man in front of him who just challenged him to a duel to the death.

“Who’s this guy again?” Jacob asks.

“Lady Lyssaena’s older brother,” Korim, who has been waiting his turn for personal instructions, mutters under his breath. “He’s Janson Ashenmere.”

“Why would I duel you to the death, Lord Ashenmere?” Jacob smiles. “What have I done, now?”

“Mr. Cabbage, I’ve just heard what you said! Not only you go after my sister’s innocence, but now, not satiated of the white flesh of a dove, you go looking for a mighty red falcon?!”

“What?” Jacob cringes, looking at Korim.

“Helena Ashenvale, Thalric’s sister, is a redhead. Also… she’s a Peak True Diamond warrior who just came back from Ytrial’s Academy. She’s at the second year. One of their Champions.”

Jacob turns to Lancelot who gives him a shrug.

Only a semester has gone by and Jacob has been so busy dealing with all manners of problems that he actually has no idea who’s a Champion in the later years of the Academy.

Sometimes I forget that I’m still a freshman, Jacob thinks, sighing at Janson Ashenmere. He probably likes this girl, right? And he’s jealous?

Jacob wishes he could just undo this thing with a simple explanation.

I’m just buying time, you numbskull! I don’t care about this girl! Or your sister! It’s all a ploy! Just leave me be!

But Jacob knows that his karma is pretty much as good as his bad luck with individuals.

“I am interested in neither your sister nor Lady Ashenvale,” he tries to explain himself. “In fact, I saw your sister as a short-term investment and this girl more as a… key to my future.”

Jacob means that he sees Lyssaena as someone to perhaps teach in the short-term since he’s not going to stay here for too long. Yet, recognizing Lyssaena’s talent and the fact that she doesn’t attend the Academy, he has no reason not to spare some private Tutoring for her. As far as Helena Ashenvale, he considers her more of a means to an end, just a way for him to gain some time and access to the mine. Now that everybody knows about the possibility of a Mithril vein, since no one was able to shut up about it, this will just look like Jacob trying to get into the graces of the Ashenvale and do some business.

Lancelot, however, groans by the side, because he has read Jacob’s mind. But he has also heard his words. And they do not mean anything of what Jacob just thought. In fact, they are way more offensive to Janson Ashenmere than whatever Jacob has said up to this point.

By far.

“I WILL TAKE YOUR DAMN SCALP OFF YOUR HEAD LIKE A ROTTEN PIECE OF LETTUCE OUT OF THE GROUND, CABBAGE!” Janson says, unsheathing his sword and pointing it at Jacob’s face.

“I believe a duel to the death would be unfitting of your station, milord,” Jacob smiles politely. “What if, instead…”

But before he can propose a little bet that would be easily settled, just like with Master Brendev, a shrill feminine voice comes.

“JASON! I TOLD YOU THAT THIS IS NONE OF YOUR BUSINESS!”

Suddenly, a huffing and puffing Lyssaena, Janson’s younger sister, appears in the Sleeping Goose Inn’s courtyard.

“The place is getting crowded,” says a worried Lancelot, who takes out an anxiety-reducing sandwich from his wide sleeve.

Jacob, not commenting on the sleight of hand of his Squire, just watches the brother and sister’s fight.

“This man is a pervert! I don’t want you to—“

“Janson, one more word and I will speak to mother about what you just said!” Lyssaena says with a deafening shout.

That seems to quickly sober up Janson Ashenmere, who immediately pales.

“Sister… you certainly wouldn’t tell mother that…”

“I will tell mother how you just implied I behave! And I don’t care if she banishes me to one of the damn keeps, she’ll have you pay in blood for such an offense!”

Jacob shivers for a moment.

Who the hell is their mother?

“Janson,” Lyssaena says slowly, “I’ll make myself very clear now. I am going to become Mr. Cabbage’s student and if you say one more word, I’m ready to stake my entire life on a trial conducted by Mother.”

Janson Ashenmere goes, if possible, even paler, now resembling a freshly washed white blanket.

“Sister…”

“Do you understand or not, Janson?” Lyssaena’s tone goes deeper now.

“I do,” the man says, biting his lower lip. “But this…”

“No ‘buts,’” Lyssaena says. “Get out.”

“I—“

“Get out!”

Janson obeys and, after shooting one more withering stare at Jacob, leaves.

“Mr. Cabbage, I deeply apologize about this,” Lyssaena says. “My brother is a fool. Please, forgive him.”

Jacob rubs the back of his head and nods cautiously, “sure. And, as for what you said, I was already thinking of accepting you as a student. But…”

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“Whatever you say, Mr. Cabbage,” Lyssaena puffs out her chest. “I’ve never doubted you for one moment.”

WHAT?! Korim and Lancelot, who assisted at the drama Lyssaena stirred up the first time she met Jacob, can’t believe how shameless she is. WHAT DO YOU MEAN NEVER DOUBTED HIM?! YOU CALLED HIM A FRAUD!

“Alright, then. Just don’t create any more trouble or disturbance. I’m trying to keep a low profile,” Jacob sighs.

“Boss,” Lancelot coughs. “It’s not going that well…”

“Master,” Korim adds, “the public shaming of Master Brendev and the bet… I don’t think that’s a low profile.”

I’m never doing an undercover mission ever again, Jacob thinks.

At least, when he’s out there as a Champion, especially after defeating Nimirea, he could claim some manner of respect. As Mr. Cabbage, instead…

Jacob instructs Korim, Lyssaena, and Thalric once again, using the Grimoire to give each of them a detailed set of instructions on what to do. Then, he turns to the toughest nut to crack.

[Grimoire Analysis]

[Heir of the Sun (Imperium) - Lv. 1]

[Fourteen Critical Flaws have been found.]

That’s… a bit much.

Usually, a Skill would have a bunch of minor flaws and a couple of critical flaws, with the highest number he had seen of them of… five? Maybe six?

Fourteen is… insane.

The problem with Critical Flaws, furthermore, was that they were like a load-bearing wall while minor flaws were much smaller, almost decorative walls. So, one could easily fix a minor flaw while not worrying about the big picture. But, when it came to the critical flaws, one had to take them all into account.

That’s why the fix…

The Grimoire’s suggested fix made Jacob’s eyes water. It was about… three pages? He reckoned about three entire pages of finely written corrections that one would have to, most likely, try to apply all at once. If this was a Silver Rank Skill, it wouldn’t be the biggest problem in the world; Lancelot could have just taken some of the backlash from the Skill while trying to learn.

However, Heir of the Sun is no ordinary Skill. Unlike anything else that Jacob has thrown at his incredible Squire, this is a Skill meant for the very, very peak of existence.

Hence, as he does, Jacob has started hatching a plan.

“Lance, go get yourself as much food as you possibly can and then take a read at the notes I gave you. Do that in the privacy of the room.”

Lancelot nods meaningfully at the mention of privacy, but then something surprises him.

“Boss, when you mean as much food…”

“How much did we get from the bets?” Jacob cuts him off.

“More than two hundred True Diamond Coins,” Lancelot says, making everybody else stop their training and stare at them in disbelief. They all know that Mr. Cabbage and his eccentric assistant made a lot of money, but that sum…

Korim, who had been there, is still shell-shocked.

But all this shock is nothing compared to what comes when Jacob opens his mouth again.

“Spend all of it on the highest grade of food you can find.”

Lancelot, who, among the present, is the one more prepared for Jacob’s insane plans, almost has a heart attack then and there. The sheer insanity of the proposal, even to a gourmand like him, makes him take a moment.

“Boss, you certainly don’t mean all of it, right?”

“I mean all of it, Lance. Get on it.”

Lyssaena wants to start screaming at Mr. Cabbage that that’s the biggest waste of money she’s ever heard of. Of course great food marginally improves one’s constitution, but how does it make any sense to spend two hundred True Diamond Coins on so much food?! Won’t it go bad?! Have they lost their minds?!

Thalric, whose lifeview has been shattered since the moment he first entered the Inn, doesn’t even question it anymore. He simply gets back to his training routine, ignoring the fact that the outrageous statement has made his ears bleed.

“Mr. Cabbage, may I ask why you want him to buy so much?” Korim asks tentatively. “Are you perhaps looking to organize a banquet?”

“Banquet?” Jacob frowns. “No. That’s all for him. I mean, it might take a day or two to eat all that, but I trust him.”

Now, even Thalric has to stop.

It doesn’t matter how high-quality the True Diamond food Lancelot can buy, the sheer volume of it, through two hundred True Diamond coins, must be, at the very least, a hundred times the physical volume of an entire Lancelot!

How is he supposed to eat that much food in two days?!

Yet, instead of seeing a perplexed reaction by Lancelot, they find a man on his knees, hugging Jacob’s waist.

“Boss, I knew you were a generous God! A divine prince of mercy! A heavenly harbinger of greatness—“

“Let me go!” Jacob scoffs. “Don’t be ridiculous and stop wasting time. I don’t care if you need to buy high-level True Diamond monster corpses or materials for cooking and bring them to a chef. I know nothing comes close to your instincts when it’s about eating. I just want you to eat as much as you can. Do your worst.”

Lancelot suddenly feels an impulse to shed this mortal name and acquire an epithet that would resound throughout eternity.

Then, he looks up, thinking that the name he has in mind is not that great.

Fatty is a bit plain as a name, Lancelot thinks. Heavenly Fatty? Earth-Shattering Glutton Fatty?

Seeing his Squire daydreaming, Jacob slaps the back of Lancelot’s head. The momentum makes Lancelot faceplant and bury his head like an ostrich.

“I’ve got business to take care of,” Jacob sighs. “Go do your thing or I’m taking the money back.”

“Of course, my liege!” Fatty screams in half-terror, emerging from the ground like a vision of greed, like the worst sins of greed and gluttony just personified. “No food shall remain untouched!”

Jacob feels a tinge of fear since for a moment, even just a moment, a heaven-shattering aura comes right from Lancelot’s stomach.

Lancelot’s thread is in motion, Jacob thinks, walking through some half-empty street. The Corruption shall be taken care of by Sir Lucas’s daughter. And as far as Sir Lucas goes, he’s doing a little investigation on my behalf.

Now, all that is left to do is to have Thalric’s sister accept him as a temporary Tutor until she goes back to the Academy. That will give him the right cover to protect Ashenmere.

They might use civilians as shields, Jacob thinks. Nimirea was definitely scrupulous when it came to this, but I don’t think any of the remaining Dark Champions give two damns about this. That means, I’ll have to arrange things very carefully. But, if I can convince Ashenmere’s nobility to listen to me, I’ll be able to save everyone. No blood shall be shed on my watch.

“You’re not welcome.”

Jacob looks at Harvald Ashenvale with a complicated expression. He’s been shown to the inside of the Ashenvale Keep, which stands on a hill right outside Ashenmere, watching over it, protecting it. He knows that the man was the one with Master Brendev back at Lily Hall, but Jacob had assumed that it would have just played in his favor, that seeing how competent he actually is, especially after healing his own damn child, the man would have rolled out the red carpet for him.

Yet, he’s in a gray room, with even grayer decorations, with only one man standing on what looks like a gray chair more than a throne.

And there’s only hatred in Harvald Ashenvale’s eyes. There’s only hatred for Jacob.

I can’t keep meeting idiots, Jacob feels his blood boiling. A bunch of innocents’ lives are at risk! What the hell is this man thinking?!

“I said, you’re not welcome,” Harvald Ashenvale continues, now putting his arms onto the throne and releasing the aura of a man at Intermediate True Diamond Rank. “If you don’t leave now, Tutor Cabbage, I will—“

Jacob cracks his neck.

“You will what, sir?”