I turned up at Bruno's home somewhat before midday. As much as I couldn't stand John, he wasn't the sort of person I wanted to make wait. Making one of the baron's soldiers wait would be even worse.

  Despite my punctuality, I found John already waiting outside, dressed in the same thick, padded clothing I'd seen him wearing in the dungeon, and holding his spear. Oddly, he looked a little nervous.

  ... Ah. Last time, he'd had trussed-up monsters brought to him. This time, he wouldn't. He'd need to fight for real. Apparently, that fact scared him, despite the weakness of the horned rabbits.

  "What are you grinning at?" he snapped.

  "Nothing," I replied. "But are you sure you want to wear that? Aren't you going to overheat while travelling?"

  "It's not as warm as it looks," he replied, which was rather odd. I hadn't been expecting a straight answer at all, let alone one without a hint of snideness. "It's protective."

  "Fair enough," I nodded. I had no protection whatsoever, although my Constitution was getting high enough that I doubted one of the bunnies could inflict a serious injury on me, as long as I wasn't impaled directly by one of their leaps. Besides, his padded overcoat looked rather hard to move in, and I wouldn't trust it to withstand a leap, so I'd rather just wear regular clothes and dodge.

  He didn't reply, although I did notice his knuckles whiten where he was gripping his spear.

  Damn it. I was going to need to be reassuring, wasn't I?

  "You said you were level four? That's more than enough to fight them. With Simon, I'd attract their attention and dodge the..."

  "I'm not frightened!" he lied, interrupting me.

  "If you say so..."

  I certainly was, but that fact had nothing at all to do with fighting monsters. The inspector from yesterday apparently knew I was lying about my Mark, although what he knew, exactly, was up in the air. But he was certain enough to have pulled me off my assigned work—even going as far as to call my farming a waste—and attach one of his own guards to me without seeking any sort of authorisation from the baron.

  I hadn't really considered it yesterday, but there was no way a professional soldier wasn't going to spot that my Stats were way higher than they should be. Mum thought Simon would spot it, eventually, so multiple days with someone whose job was fighting would leave me with no hope.

  That being the case, it would probably be a good idea to spend some of my unused stat points. If I wasn't going to fool him anyway, and if I was willingly going to work for the baron, it might help my cause to show off a bit.

  Rounding my Stats up to thirty would be a decent start.

  And if I was putting ten points into everything, I might as well put some into Stamina and Mana, too. Not that I had any Skills that consumed Mana yet, but I was hopeful I would soon.

  That left me with twenty unspent points, along with one hell of a rush. Not quite as good as the unlock euphoria, but that sensation of being able to run to the moon was back in full force.

  "What are you grinning at?" demanded John.

  "Nothing," I answered, bringing up my Status simply so that I had something to focus on.

  I should have spent the points first thing in the morning, really. Maybe even last night, although I wouldn't want to guess at the result of combining a Stat rush together with the effects of buying [Stealth] and immediately raising it to the maximum stage.

  If you come across this story on Amazon, be aware that it has been stolen from Royal Road. Please report it.

  "So, you're the pair of brats I'm supposed to babysit, huh?" asked a voice, taking me completely by surprise. "Sheesh. You're supposed to have spent every spare waking moment in a dungeon, yet you jump when someone speaks to you?" he continued, this time focusing on me.

  "Sorry, my mind was elsewhere," I admitted, having been staring so intently at my Status and trying not to look like I was in the middle of a Stat rush that I'd kinda forgotten the rest of the world existed.

  He didn't reply immediately, instead inspecting me from top to bottom. Then he moved onto John, who squirmed uncomfortably under the soldier's gaze.

  While he was sizing us up, I responded in kind. The man was holding a bladed spear that looked somewhat more professional than John's, with a full metal haft and cutting edges at the sides of the head instead of merely ending in a point. He also had a short sword at his side, and was wearing a chain mail hauberk, along with a metal cap, bracers and greaves. A tabard over the top was embroidered with a decorated shield. It was a design I'd seen before, back in the town, at the entrance gate. The shield was divided in half, the top half containing four loaves of bread and the bottom a blue sphere. I'd thought it strange that guards would use bread as a decoration, but with my boosted Reasoning, I decided it was actually to mark something as being associated with the baron, or maybe the local canton.

  "It's nice to see one of you has prepared, but what the hell is up with your equipment?" demanded the soldier, once again focusing on me. "No armour whatsoever, and a weapon that looks like it would shatter in a stiff breeze."

  "I don't have access to anything better, sir," I replied meekly. "It's plenty good enough for stabbing bunnies."

  "Think that's the first time anyone has ever called me 'sir'," he said, deflating somewhat as one type of incredulity was replaced by another. "I suppose you are just a serf. It's not as if you can get hold of proper stuff, even if you could afford it, which I doubt you can."

  I caught John smirking a little out of the corner of my eye. His nerves had made him a little more tolerable, but it was apparently going to take more than some horned rabbits to prevent him rising to bait that obvious. Thankfully, he refrained from saying anything out loud, despite what he was so obviously thinking.

  "Whatever. You pair are John and Robin, I believe? I am Tristan. I will be escorting you to the dungeon, where you will slay horned rabbits for a period of three days, before I return you here. Any questions?"

  "Yes, s... I mean, Tristan," I said, raising a hand. "How are we splitting the loot?"

  Given the difference in social standing between the three of us, I wouldn't have any recourse even if he demanded it all himself, which was why I was carrying a sack of recently harvested produce, large enough to feed myself for the three days. I was hoping he wouldn't, though, not only so that I could buy something tastier at the base camp, but also collect some new skill crystals.

  "Loot? What loot? The dungeon spits out skill crystals worth a handful of copper at most, and we're not stopping to dismantle every corpse you create."

  ... Or alternatively, the difference in social standing might be sufficient that he didn't even see the loot as loot, which suited me just fine. If John thought the same way, even better.

  "I want first refusal on skill crystals, then," he demanded, shattering my hopes as he glared at me, daring me to refuse. "I'm looking for something specific that the dungeon drops on occasion."

  "Oh?" replied Tristan. "I suppose for you young 'uns who still don't have all the basic Skills you want, the skill crystal drops are useful. Whatever, let's get going."

  We set off at a pace exceeding what Mum had set previously, with the predictable result that John was soon left breathless, unable to keep up.

  "Out... of... Stamina..." he panted.

  "Oh? You made it further than I thought," grinned Tristan.

  "... What?"

  "Well, you're in low-single-digit levels, and I doubt you've invested your free stat points heavily in Stamina. It stands to reason you wouldn't be able to sustain that pace, even if you weren't dressed in that heavy coat with a spear strapped to your back."

  "Then... why...?"

  "I was just interested, is all," replied Tristan, turning to me. "Very interested."

  That caused John to turn to me in turn. "You... You aren't... even... breathing... heavily..." he observed.

  "Undisturbed breathing and not a bead of sweat on your forehead, despite the fact that you're carrying a sack in one hand and a pitchfork in the other. Not a backpack and a holstered weapon, but in your actual hands. Do you have any idea how much harder that makes it to jog efficiently?"

  "No?" I admitted.

  "You'll have to take my word for it, then. Let's take a breather and let John recover."

  Was that a test? He'd deliberately set an unsustainable pace to watch how I'd react? That implied that it wasn't a case of me not being able to hide my Stats once we were in the dungeon, but he'd been ordered to actively investigate.

  "What's going on?" asked John once he'd got a bit of breath back. "Really?"

  "And what's that supposed to mean?" I asked.

  "I'm not stupid. Dad said that Matthew thinks you have too much 'enthusiasm' and 'initiative' to be left as a farmer, so he sends you to a dungeon? That makes no sense. Not to mention the way you supposedly claimed to have spent ages in the dungeon, which I know is a pile of crap. I've only seen you there once."

  I glanced at Tristan, who had pulled a book out from somewhere and was reading, apparently not paying the pair of us any attention.

  Not that I should trust appearances. My Memory stirred, pointing out that I hadn't once seen him turn a page.

  "I didn't claim I'd spent ages in a dungeon," I denied. "I just said I'd been to one."

  "So, what then? You're supposed to get one extra stat point per level. Even if you are magically level five, somehow, how can you run like that without breaking a sweat? Did you pour every single one of your free stat points into Stamina?"

  I sighed. There wasn't really any point pretending, was there? Mum's opinion that I wouldn't be able to hide hadn't been wrong. If I'd kept my skill increases to the legally mandated schedule, never spent any free stat points and took active care to not seek out extra sources of experience, then maybe I could have hidden, but if I did that, what would be the point? That certainly wouldn't be 'freedom'. It would have the advantage of not being torn from my family, at the cost of wasted potential. Whatever my future held, I had no intention of it being wasted.

  "No. Not at all," I said.

  "Then how?"

  "Ask him?" I said, thumbing at the soldier.

  "Huh? What?" he asked, acting as if he hadn't been listening to our every word.

  "John was just asking how I could run so far."

  "Hmm... Let's see. At the pace we were going, coupled with your unbalanced load, you'd need at least a hundred Stamina."

  John smiled a little, that number apparently being less than he was thinking. At level five, with the lie I'd told him about my Mark, I'd have fifty stamina anyway. I'd only have needed to invest ten of my twenty-five free stat points to reach a hundred. It was well within range.

  "Of course, the fact that you show no signs of exertion doubles that requirement, easily."

  The smile vanished. Two hundred was possible, but I'd have needed to devote almost all my stat points to achieve it.

  Besides, I didn't have two hundred.

  "That's assuming your other physical Stats are low, though," continued Tristan. "Which, from the smooth way you were jogging, they obviously aren't. I'd say... a minimum of twenty points of Strength, given that you're seemingly unbothered by the weight of your equipment. Even higher Dexterity to offset the balance issues caused by running with your hands full. Maybe a smaller amount of Constitution, to help mask the physical signs of spending small fractions of Stamina. A minimum of fifteen points, say? With those physical stats, you'd be back down to a hundred Stamina."

  Darn. No way was all that possible at level five, even if I was getting one extra point in each Stat per level.

  John's mouth dropped open. Then it closed again as his eyes narrowed.

  "You lied!" he shouted as realisation dawned. "You lied about the effects of your Mark!"

  Tristan did not look the slightest bit surprised at the accusation.