Chapter 22 – HOSTILE NPC TERRITORY

【Valerius PoV】

THE CURSE OF THE CLEANING CREW

My life was a joke.

I stood in the middle of the master bedroom, which was my bedroom now. The place was ridiculously huge. A four-poster bed the size of a small boat dominated one wall. A fireplace big enough to roast a pig stood cold and silent on the other. Sunlight streamed through massive windows, illuminating swirling dust motes and the fact that my life was a total mess. This body belonged to Baron Valerius, a tutorial boss. My one and only purpose was to get wrecked by the game’s protagonist.

No thank you.

The game developers had, in their infinite wisdom, hidden an escape clause. A secret questline. A way out of my grim fate. The key was a specific sword, the “Blade of Atonement,” and a letter. They were supposed to be stashed somewhere in this very mansion. Finding them was priority number one. Surviving was priority number two.

I had already turned my new room upside down. The wardrobe was empty, its contents strewn across a ridiculously expensive-looking rug. I had checked under the bed, behind the heavy velvet curtains, and even inside the decorative suits of armor that stood sentinel by the door. Nothing. The sword was not here.

That left the rest of this stupidly large house.

I took a deep breath. Time to face the final bosses of this level. The maids.

I strode out of the bedroom and into the grand hallway. The ceiling soared two stories high, decorated with a painting of some forgotten battle. Portraits of stern-faced ancestors stared down at me from the walls. Their eyes seemed to follow me, judging my every move. It was super creepy. I half-expected one of them to start talking, probably to tell me I was a disappointment.

A maid appeared at the far end of the hall. Her name was Clara, or something. She was polishing a silver statue with a vengeance. She saw me, and her cheerful humming stopped. Her smile tightened. It was the kind of smile you give your weird uncle at a family reunion.

“Good morning, my Lord.”

Her voice was sweet. Too sweet. Like poisoned honey.

I tried for a commanding, aristocratic tone. It came out more like a squeak.

“I require assistance.”

She put down her polishing cloth with excruciating slowness. Every movement was deliberate. It was a masterclass in passive aggression.

“Of course, my Lord. How may I serve you?”

“I am looking for a particular sword.”

I described the Blade of Atonement. I told her about its distinctive silver crossguard, the worn leather grip, the single sapphire embedded in the pommel. I left out the part about it being a key item in a video game that could save me from being murdered by a teenager. That felt like an overshare.

Clara’s expression remained perfectly blank. It was an impressive level of unhelpfulness. She was a stone wall of polite indifference.

“A sword, my Lord?”

“Yes. A sword. Long, pointy, made of metal. You may have heard of them.”

A flicker of something—annoyance, maybe?—crossed her face before it was gone.

“I cannot say I have seen such an item. The master’s collection is in the armory.”

“I have already checked the armory. It is not there.”

That was the first place I looked. The armory was filled with enough weapons to outfit a small army, but the one I needed was conspicuously absent. It was like looking for a specific Lego brick in a bucket full of them. A very pointy, dangerous bucket.

Clara blinked slowly.

“How unfortunate.”

She picked up her cloth and turned back to the statue. The conversation was clearly over. I was dismissed.

This was not going well.

I walked past her, my footsteps echoing in the cavernous hall. I could feel her eyes on my back. I resisted the urge to turn around and make a face at her. That probably wasn’t very baronly.

The next stop was the library. It was two stories tall, with shelves groaning under the weight of thousands of books. A rolling ladder was attached to the shelves, tempting me to live out my Beauty and the Beast fantasy. But I had a mission. No time for musical numbers.

Another maid was here, dusting a high shelf. This one was younger, with red hair tied back in a messy bun. She glanced down at me, her eyes wide with what looked suspiciously like fear. What had the previous Valerius done to these people?

“Hello.”

I tried to sound friendly. It probably didn’t work.

She nearly fell off the ladder.

“My Lord! You startled me.”

“My apologies. I am looking for something.”

She scurried down the ladder, her cheeks flushed. She curtsied so low her forehead almost touched the floor. It was awkward for both of us.

“How may I be of service, my Lord?”

“A sword. Silver hilt, blue gem. Have you seen it?”

She wrung her hands, twisting the fabric of her apron into a knot. She wouldn’t meet my eyes.

“A sword? In the library, my Lord?”

“It could be anywhere. This is a big house.”

“I… I have not seen it. I only clean in here. I would never touch the master’s personal belongings.”

She looked like she was about to cry. This was a dead end. I was getting nowhere. It was like trying to get tech support from my grandma.

“It is fine. Carry on.”

I left the library, the scent of old books and lemon polish following me. I could hear the girl let out a long, shaky breath as I closed the door.

My frustration was mounting. This was a classic video game fetch quest, but without the helpful quest markers or glowing items. I was flying blind. And my NPCs were actively hostile.

I wandered through the mansion. I checked the dining hall, with its long table that could seat thirty people. I peeked into the ballroom, its polished floor reflecting my scowling face. I even braved the kitchen, a chaotic realm of steam and shouting cooks who completely ignored me. The sword was nowhere.

Maybe I was thinking about this all wrong. It was a secret item. It wouldn’t be left out in the open. It had to be hidden somewhere. A secret passage? A loose floorboard? The kind of thing you only find by randomly clicking on everything in a point-and-click adventure game.

I returned to the grand hallway. Clara was gone. The silver statue gleamed, mocking me with its shiny, unhelpful face.

I stared at the portraits on the wall. They were all so serious. So… baronly. Was it possible? It was a total cliché, but games loved clichés. I walked up to the largest portrait, a painting of a grim-looking dude with an impressive mustache. He was probably my great-great-grandfather or something. I pressed on his nose. Nothing happened. I tried pulling on his ear. Still nothing.

This was dumb.

I was about to give up when I noticed it. One of the portraits was slightly crooked. It depicted a woman with a sly smile and eyes that seemed to know all my secrets. It was the only one that wasn’t perfectly aligned. It was a tiny detail, almost unnoticeable. But in a game, tiny details were everything.

My heart started to beat a little faster.

I reached up and pushed on the frame. It didn’t budge. I pushed harder. A faint click echoed in the silent hall. The entire portrait swung inward, revealing a dark, narrow opening behind it. A wave of musty air washed over me. It smelled like old secrets and dust bunnies.

A secret passage. It was legit a secret passage.

I grinned. I was a genius. I was the king of adventure game logic. I was going to survive this stupid game.

I stepped through the opening. The portrait swung shut behind me, plunging me into darkness. For a terrifying second, I thought I had trapped myself. Then my eyes adjusted. Faint light filtered through cracks in the wall. I was in a narrow corridor that ran behind the main hallway. It was cramped and dusty, filled with cobwebs that tickled my face.

The passage sloped downward. I followed it, my hand trailing along the rough stone wall. It opened into a small, hidden room. It was more of a closet, really. It was filled with discarded junk. A broken chair, a stack of old paintings, a chest covered in a thick layer of dust.

I knelt in front of the chest. It was unlocked. My hands were shaking slightly as I lifted the heavy lid.

Inside, resting on a bed of faded velvet, was a sword.

Its crossguard was silver, tarnished with age. The leather on the grip was cracked and worn. And embedded in the pommel, winking in the dim light, was a single, brilliant blue sapphire.

It was the Blade of Atonement.