The place that Luke had directed him to go was standing quietly at the far edge of Luminos City. It was not where one would normally expect to find a legendary knight.
The street itself was narrow and half-forgotten, wedged between the aging warehouses and the neglected training yards that had clearly seen many better days. The rusted iron rings still hung from the wooden posts and the broken practice shields leaned against a wall as if it was abandoned after a long war.
A faded wooden sign creaked gently in the wind, showing a name of this place which was Tasco's Barrack
The words had been carved deeply into the wood but the time had worn the edges into smooth dust.
Baston stood across the street for several minutes before approaching.
The building was not impressive. Compared to the polished academies and the noble training halls that scattered across the city, this place looked almost embarrassingly ordinary.
However, he did not dare to underestimate it.
Luke had spoken of this place with an unusual tone. It was not of admiration and warning but something in between. That alone made him curious.
The fat boy slowly approached the entrance while he was observing everything around him.
The windows were open but there were no voices came from inside. The courtyard behind the gate was quiet with no students, guards, and waiting customers.
For a place that supposedly charged one hundred thousand pounds for a single week of training, the emptiness felt almost unnatural.
Baston rubbed his chin thoughtfully. Either the business was terrible or the customers who came here were not meant to be seen. The second possibility was far more interesting eventually.
He then pushed the wooden gate open and stepped inside.
*****
Before coming here, Baston had asked Luke about the owner of this place.
Luke had given him only a short explanation that Tasco had once been a famous knight.
The man was not the type to be praised by the bards in the grand halls but the kind whose name circulated quietly among the soldiers and the mercenaries.
During his youth, Tasco had fought countless duels and battlefield skirmishes. His swordsmanship had defeated many rising warriors of his generation.
Some said he once fought three knights at once and survived while the others claimed that he had killed a wizard with nothing but a steel blade. There were many stories but such legend was fragile thing.
They faded quickly when the world moved on. When the younger heroes rose to prominence, the older names disappeared like the footprints in the sand.
Tasco had no noble title, no land, and no powerful family. When his fame faded, nothing remained to support him.
Many retired knights in such situations ended up drinking away their lives in small villages but the man had chosen a different path.
He came to Luminos City, the most expensive one in the region. A place where even the merchants struggled to survive and a place where a single mistake could bury a man in debt forever.
Still, the man stayed and strangely, he endured.
Baston found that detail the most interesting because surviving in Luminos City required more than a skill. It required more toward the connections or secrets.
*****
The interior of Tasco's Barrack was bigger than Baston expected.
The first room contained training equipment that was scattered across the wooden floor. Some tools were well maintained while the others were cracked or broken.
A row of battered practice dummies stood along the wall with their wooden bodies covered in deep sword scars. Several archery targets rested at the far end of the room. The floor itself bore countless scratches.
He walked slowly through the training hall while examining everything carefully.
There was no receptionist, no students, and no assistants. The place was just full of silence and that silence felt strange.
For a man who was charging such absurd fees, one would expect several eager customers that were lining up outside. But here, there was nothing. Perhaps, the price had kicked several promising talent or perhaps, the man was kind of eccentric.
Only the faint smell of old wood and metal that welcomed him.
His gaze eventually settled on a small door at the far side of the hall.
However, before moving toward the door, he slowed his steps. Something about the place felt unusual.
At first glance, the barrack looked ordinary. A retired knight's training hall was supposed to be rough and simple. The broken tools and the scarred wooden floors were expected in such places. Yet, the longer he looked, the more subtle details began to surface.
His eyes drifted toward the battered practice dummies that were standing along the wall. The wooden bodies were filled with sword marks but those marks were strange.
Most training cuts from the amateurs were uneven. Some were shallow while the others were wild and crooked. The dummies at somewhere else looked exactly like that which were full of chaotic scratches from several inexperienced students.
Here, however, the cuts were different since they were clean and precise.
Every scar seemed to have been carved by someone who knew exactly where the sword should land.
Baston stepped closer to one of the dummies. His fingers brushed lightly against a deep diagonal cut across the wooden chest. The mark was smooth and straight, too straight that ordinary people would not be able to leave such mark.
"This wasn't made by the beginners…" he murmured softly.
The same pattern repeated across several dummies.
It was clean slashes, controlled strikes, and something else that evoked the dreaded feelings. There were very few stab wounds. For a knight training hall, that was unusual.
Most beginners favored thrust attacks because they were easier to perform. But here, almost every mark came from the slashes.
His eyes narrowed slightly. That means Tasco's teaching style must emphasize the cutting techniques. He filed the observation quietly in his mind.
His gaze then shifted toward the archery targets at the far end of the hall.
Several arrows were still embedded in the straw. He walked closer and he found something strange again. The arrows were grouped tightly in the center, too tightly that it was hard to do manually.
Even the experienced archers occasionally missed the exact center by a small margin but these arrows were clustered so close together that some shafts nearly touched each other.
He tilted his head. Either several expert archers trained here or one person practiced repeatedly with terrifying accuracy. The second possibility made more sense anyway.
If Tasco truly was the only instructor here, then the arrows likely belonged to him only.
He looked around again and the silence inside the hall suddenly felt heavier. This place might appear forgotten but the traces left behind suggested something different.
Someone had been training here seriously, very seriously and not long ago. The dust on the floor near the targets was still disturbed with the fresh footprints.
He crouched slightly and examined them.
It was the boot prints which were big and heavy, certainly not the steps of the children or the students. These belonged to the adults, supposedly several of them.
Baston slowly straightened. In the end, there were customers after all. They simply weren't here today or perhaps, they trained sometime ago when the ordinary visitors would never see them.
That possibility made him even more curious.
One hundred thousand pounds for a week of training was truly expensive. At first, the price sounded absurd, but now, he began to wonder if that price was intentionally designed to filter the people.
Only certain individuals could afford it and only certain individuals would come.
He glanced toward the closed door again. Behind it, the retired knight probably was waiting.
A man who had survived inside Luminos City without the noble support and a man whose training hall attracted some mysterious clients.
Baston smiled faintly, "This place might be more interesting than I expected."
Only then, he finally walked toward the door. His instincts told him that someone was inside. Taking a breath, he raised his hand and knocked.
"Excuse me…" he called calmly, "I'm looking for Sir Tasco. Are you inside?"
The silence answered him. For several seconds, nothing happened.
Baston frowned slightly. Perhaps, the old knight had gone out. Just as he prepared to knock again, the door slowly opened and an old man stood behind it.
His beard was long and messy, covering much of his face. The deep wrinkles surrounded his eyes but those eyes themselves were sharp, too sharp like the swords that hid beneath the rust. The old man studied him without speaking.
The silence stretched before the old man finally asked, "Why are you looking for me?"
Baston straightened slightly, "I want to train here for one week."
For a moment, the old man said nothing. By then, he raised one eyebrow.
"You?"
His eyes moved slowly from Baston's head to his feet then back again, "You must be joking…"
Tasco stepped fully into the hall and the difference in presence was immediate.
Even without armor, the old man carried the quiet weight of a seasoned warrior. His posture was relaxed but Baston could tell this was his mighty confidence. It was the kind that came from surviving countless battles.
Tasco crossed his arms, "Look at yourself… Your body carries more fat than muscle. You would collapse before the first training session ended. Anyway, this place is not for the beginner."
Baston expected that reaction. Most people judged him the same way which was exactly why his puppets worked so well. However, he did not explain that.
Instead, he said calmly, "I have the money…"
The old knight stared at him before he suddenly burst into laughter, "Ha! Ha! Ha! You're serious?"
Baston nodded, "I am..."
Tasco shook his head, "I've seen many foolish nobles waste their parents' wealth but this is new. You plan to throw away one hundred thousand pounds just to prove you can hold a sword?"
Baston tilted his head slightly, "What if I last one day? I believe I can last more…"
Tasco stopped laughing, "One day?"
"Yes…"
Baston continued calmly, "I will pay the full amount in advance and you only need to train me. If I quit before the day ends, the money is yours. There is no need for refund. I will leave and never disturb your business again."
The old knight rubbed his beard thoughtfully. The offer was tempting. One hundred thousand pounds was not a small amount even in Luminos City yet he still hesitated.
"Such words are cheap," he said slowly, "What if you change your mind later?"
Baston smiled faintly, "We can formalize it with magic contract. Such agreement must be recognized between us. If either side breaks the terms, the punishment will be severe."
Tasco's eyes sharpened slightly. No people in Luminos dared to violate those ordinary contracts, not to mention the magic contract that could hold everything.
The old knight stared at Baston again, "Hmmm…"
He tapped his fingers against his arm before he sighed, "Fine… If you want to throw away your money so badly, I'll take it…"
Tasco then led Baston to a small desk near the wall. There was a crystal device sat on top of it. It was a common magical instrument used in Luminos for the transactions.
Baston removed his Luminos card and inserted it into the slot. The numbers soon appeared above the crystal which was 100,000 pounds.
He pressed confirm and the crystal flashed briefly. The transaction had been complete. Just like that, one hundred thousand pounds vanished.
Even he felt a small sting but the quest mattered more. If not for the specific objective tied to his next victim, he would never spend such an absurd amount.
Tasco examined the device before he nodded, "The payment has been accepted. Now, your training starts now…"
Without another word, he walked toward the weapon rack and picked up two steel swords. He tossed one toward Baston. The fat puppet caught it then the old man brought out a training armor.
"You'll need this..."
Baston shook his head, "I don't need such armor."
The old knight frowned, "Are you sure? You'll get hurt…"
"That's fine..."
In truth, Baston did not care. This body was only a puppet. Any damage it received could simply be repaired later. The armor would only slow its movement.
Tasco shrugged, "Alright… It's your choice..."
*****
Both men walked toward the center of the training hall. They faced each other and their steel swords glimmered under the dim light.
At first glance, it looked like a duel but Tasco merely said, "Attack me three times first. I'll judge your level then..."
Baston nodded and he tightened his grip on the sword. Inside the old book, the real him observed everything carefully through the puppet's eyes. This was exactly what he wanted which was a chance to fight with a true knight.
The puppet quickly rushed forward, "HA!"
Baston raised the sword high and brought it down in a powerful chop. Tasco did not move his feet. He simply raised his sword.
"CLANG!"
The swords collided. The impact felt like striking a mountain and the puppet was instantly pushed backward. Looking at its arm, it trembled violently. If this had been his real body, his wrist might already be broken.
Tasco watched quietly since the customer this time was quite interesting.
The fat man did not cry out and he did not drop the sword. Even as his arm shook, he tightened his grip. Most amateurs would already be whining but this one stayed silent.
"Again!" Tasco said.
Baston charged once more, "HAA!"
This time, he thrust the sword forward. A straight attack but Tasco deflected it casually. By then, he flicked his sword upward.
The force nearly knocked the sword from Baston's hand. The puppet staggered and its arm shook even harder than before.
Inside the old book, he imagined the blisters that would have formed on his real palm. However, the puppet still held the weapon.
Tasco smiled faintly, "Not bad... Your technique is terrible but your strength is unusual."
He raised his sword, "One last attack... Show me everything you have."
Baston inhaled slowly. Inside the old book, his mind sharpened.
This was the moment. He needed to observe the knight carefully and he needed to observe every movement, reaction, and hidden technique.
The puppet tightened its grip, "Here I come!"
Eventually, it rushed forward for the final strike.