Nathaniel froze when the question left Yenne's mouth.
A dark magician.
He blinked once, then twice, before letting out a small, awkward laugh. "No. I mean… I don't know."
Yenne tilted her head slightly, studying his face.
"I've never met the head of the house," Nathaniel continued, choosing his words carefully to avoid suspicion to arise.
"We've never talked. Never interacted. There's nothing to bargain with, even if I wanted to."
That much, at least, was true.
How would he even know? He just arrived in the world which he wrote. There wasn't even a Baron house named Hale.
Yenne hummed softly. She didn't press further, but her expression changed. She was thinking something.
Nathaniel looked away, fingers tightening unconsciously around the scroll.
Head of the house of Hale…
He had no memories. No face. No name. No presence. As if the 'family' he supposedly belonged to existed only on paper. No, it was more like a made up fantasy of a teen that everyone believes in.
The real problem was that if that
This is definitely the System's doing, he thought.
He had written noble houses before. Baron families with vague influence, faceless heads, convenient backstories that existed only to move the plot forward.
But he had never written House Hale.
And yet here he was, enrolled as its heir or son or something in between, with no sponsor listed and no family members recorded.
So this is how you filled the gap, Nathaniel thought bitterly. You just shoved me into a hollow role and called it balance.
It wasn't totally thier fault that they had to make up a house. He had never mentioned a baron, counts or duke household unnecessarily.
Yenne, meanwhile, had gone quiet.
She stared at him, eyes unfocused, as if arranging pieces in her head.
No interaction with the head… unknown background… politically neutral…
Her lips pressed together.
He reminded her of herself.
When she had first entered noble society, she had been invisible too. No one cared where she came from, only that her name now belonged to a house. Whispers had followed her everywhere.
Illegitimate.
Ignored.
Adopted for convenience.
Yenne didn't say it aloud, but the thought settled comfortably in her mind.
Maybe he's like me.
The silence stretched until a deep, resonating sound rolled through the forest.
A horn.
Low. Powerful. Not made to signal danger, but to announce presence.
Nathaniel's head snapped up.
"That sound…" Yenne said slowly. "It's coming from deeper in the forest."
Nathaniel's heart sank.
Right. This part.
He had written this forest. Not in detail, not lovingly, but enough to know its habits.
"Goblin territory," he muttered.
Yenne looked at him sharply. "You know that for sure?"
"Yeah," he said, then corrected himself. "I mean—based on monster distribution patterns."
That was a lie. And not a very good one.
Nathaniel rubbed his temple. He hadn't forgotten this detail. He had just never thought he would need it.
Goblins weren't solitary creatures. They clustered around villages, crude settlements hidden behind wooden gates and sharpened stakes. During the day, they scattered into hunting groups.
Evening was different.
"They always come back before nightfall," Nathaniel said. "The horn is a recall signal."
Yenne's eyes widened slightly. "So that means—"
"There's a village nearby," he finished.
For a moment, neither of them spoke.
Then Yenne smiled.
Not a cheerful smile. Not an excited one.
A sharp one.
They both shared the same mindset. Afterall, he made her personality after himself so that she would be easy to write.
"If that's true," she said, standing up, "then this is an opportunity."
Nathaniel frowned. "You're not thinking—"
"I am," she replied calmly. "Goblin villages mean numbers. Numbers mean points."
She brushed dirt from her uniform and adjusted her grip on the sword. "We don't have to charge in. We just follow the sound and pick off stragglers."
"That's risky," Nathaniel said immediately.
"Yes," she agreed. "But efficient."
He hesitated.
Logically, he knew this strategy worked. He had written characters do it. He had rewarded them for it.
But knowing something on paper and standing in the forest as the sun dipped lower were very different things.
Still… he couldn't deny it.
Even if he had no experience, he had to enter the Velkros Academy. That place is where all the answer to his question lies.
"…Alright," Nathaniel said at last. "But we don't go too close. If it looks bad, we leave."
Yenne nodded. "Agreed. I thought you would say no."
"Sometimes, people have to take risks in life to continue moving forward"
Yenne chuckled at his remark.
"Glad we are on the same page."
They moved carefully, keeping low, using trees and bushes as cover. The forest grew darker as shadows stretched long across the ground. The horn sounded again, closer this time.
That's when they saw them.
Students.
A group of them, gathered near the edge of a clearing. Just beyond it stood a tall, crude wooden gate reinforced with iron scraps and bone charms.
A goblin village.
Nathaniel's breath caught.
There were at least ten students, maybe more. Some wore noble crests, others plain uniforms. A few clutched weapons nervously, while others spoke in hushed, urgent voices.
"They're planning to team up," Yenne whispered.
Nathaniel nodded. "Makes sense. No one wants to take on a village alone."
"Never knew that commoners and nobles can co-exist."
"Well, this concept is new to me too. The nobles are probably going to use the commoners as a bait though."
"I am afraid that you might be right."
He scanned the group quickly.
Too many people. Too many unknowns.
And goblins were beginning to return.
Small shapes moved between trees, some dragging crude spears, others carrying sacks of meat. None had noticed the students yet.
Yenne crouched beside Nathaniel. "We could join them."
"Or stay out of it," he replied.
She glanced at him. "You don't seem to like crowds."
"I don't like unpredictability," he corrected.
She smirked. "Same thing. I am glad we share the same mindset."
"Likewise."
One of the students near the front raised a hand, clearly trying to organize the group. Others nodded, some reluctantly.
They were preparing.
Yenne exhaled slowly. "If we join, we get shared credit but safer odds. If we don't, we wait and take whatever leaks out."
Nathaniel watched the gate.
He knew what came next in stories like this.
Plans went wrong. Noise drew attention. Something bigger noticed.
And he had a bad feeling.
"…Let's observe for now," he said quietly. "No rush."
Yenne studied his face for a moment, then nodded. "Alright. We watch."
The horn sounded once more, echoing through the forest as the last light of day began to fade.
And somewhere beyond the gate, something answered back.
Not yet.
Another horn.
Thump!
Thump!
The sounds shook off earth.
The ground was trembling, the student's looked up in fear.
It was an Orc. A giant one at that.
The Orc led out a terrifying roar that the children of the rich households had never witnessed.
I knew something was wrong. This what happens in every darn story. It's a cliche at this point.