Dromas Barony Being a Poor Sod

I stood before the lake, checking my appearance in the water's reflection. I looked like the average adventurer, if not for the distinct, noble quality of the <Mirage Cloak> covering me. The fabric shimmered faintly in the sunlight, clearly a cut above what commoners or even lower-ranking adventurers could wear. It was one of my favorite treasures, and I had too many of them to count at this point. But the <Mirage Cloak>? It held a special place.

With a shrug, I removed the cloak and stuffed it into <Dubon's Ring>.

"Nice. Now I look like a proper adventurer," I muttered, examining myself again.

In the rippling water, I saw an average-looking man staring back at me. My skin was fair and healthy, showing that my decade of hiding hadn't completely ruined me. My body had grown strong from all the magic training, and my long, unkempt dark hair added a rugged charm—or so I liked to think. There was a bit of stubble under my chin, which made me look older, though I hadn't bothered to groom it in a while. Honestly, this was the first time I'd seen my own reflection, since the Tower of Mirage didn't have mirrors.

I decided to test out a new spell. With a quick incantation, I cast <Mirage Clone>, attempting to summon an illusory copy of myself. The clone appeared beside me, a perfect reflection down to the messy hair and stubble.

"This'll be a nice saving spell," I mused, impressed with my handiwork. I dispelled the clone and dropped <Psychic Invisibility> too, letting my true form stand before the lake.

I stared at my reflection for a while longer, admiring it until I grew bored. It was a relief that my skin still had some color and hadn't turned vampire-pale from being cooped up indoors for so long. I knew spending too much time inside could be bad for my health, so I made it a habit to get my daily dose of Vitamin D. Every morning, I'd climb to the topmost floor of the Tower of Mirage and bask in the sunlight for a while.

I wasn't even out of this forest yet, and already, I felt nostalgic.

I relied on <I Believe> to continue my journey, leaping effortlessly from tree to tree, using the spell to propel me forward as I toured my surroundings. It was an adventure in its own right, albeit a quiet one. After eight days of nonstop travel, I finally reached the nearest city on foot. The sight of ships coming and going in the harbor greeted me, their sails billowing in the wind. It was a bustling place, full of life and energy, a stark contrast to the solitude I'd been living in.

"I'm coming home," I whispered under my breath, though I wasn't sure who I was talking to.

Or in this case, Randel Eir Dromastus was coming home. The name felt almost foreign now, like a character I'd been playing rather than the real me.

The voyage of approximately 27 days ended in a flash. I am proud to say that patience was one of my stronger virtues—27 days of waiting was nothing to me. When the ship docked at the port city of Erandel, I felt a small sense of relief wash over me. I had made it back. From here, my destination lay to the west: Dromas Barony, the place I once called home.

With the Nation of Anera being a safe place, my leather armor became unnecessary. Fending off pirates, bandits, and highwaymen had been an unpleasant experience, but I managed just fine with my skills. I wasted no time in buying expensive clothes befitting a noble, replacing the rugged gear with something far more appropriate. The fine silks and tailored cuts felt strange on me, but if I wanted to blend in as Randel Eir Dromastus again, I needed to look the part.

I sold my old leather armor to a local armorer, finding them unsightly.

As I strolled through the bustling streets of Erandel, I reviewed what I knew about myself—things I could cross-check through the diary of the late Randel Eir Dromastus, whose identity I had assumed. Summoning the diary from <Dubon's Ring>, I flipped through its worn pages. I was fortunate that people in this world had a habit of keeping diaries, a practice that saved me more than once.

The diary had always been a fascinating read, like peeking into the life of someone else—because, well, that's exactly what it was. My name, according to this book, was Randel Eir Dromastus. I hailed from a family of knights, sorcerers who had earned their titles through knightly duties. The Dromastus household had a history that spanned only about a hundred years, a fledgling noble line by the standards of this world. I was part of the second generation, the eldest son who had once been expected to carry the family name forward.

Now, though, as I read the entries with fresh eyes, I couldn't help but think of how trashy I had been for running away from the <Academy > all those years ago. I had left the Dromastus household to fend for themselves, knowing full well the responsibilities I was abandoning.

"So much for being a good son," I muttered under my breath, closing the diary with a sigh.

The closer I got to Dromas Barony, the heavier the weight of my past actions felt. What would I find when I got there? What would be left of the family I had run from?

Inside the horse carriage.

The rhythmic clattering of the wheels over cobblestones kept me in a trance, flipping through Randel's diary absentmindedly. But my mind was elsewhere. I always blamed Destiny for throwing me into this twisted, tragic world, but in truth, I was the cruel one. I had abandoned my responsibilities, left my family to fend for themselves, and run away to hide in a tower for ten years. All because I didn't want to play a part in a story that wasn't even mine.

The novel Hero Ender was never a pleasant tale. It was a sick and twisted tragedy, where the supposed villain was the protagonist, and the so-called hero was nothing but an antagonist. In the end, both of them died miserable deaths, and I couldn't help but roll my eyes every time I thought about it. But what made it worse was the collateral damage—Hero Ender wasn't just a personal tragedy for two people. It dragged nations into ruin and plunged the world into a brutal seven-year World War.

That was what I was really thinking about as I skimmed Randel's diary. The war had ended not too long ago, and now the pieces were being picked up. Nations were in recovery, and the world was in a fragile state. If the Dromastus household managed to survive all that chaos, then maybe—just maybe—I could lend a hand. It wasn't like I had much else going on, and I wasn't exactly keen on returning to a life of hiding.

But after that? What would I do if the Dromastus household no longer needed me? The thought gnawed at me. Ambition, perhaps? I had been content with lying low all these years, but if I stayed, what was my next move? Find a romantic partner, maybe. Let's be real—I'm desperately lonely, and a love life sounds more appealing than endless solitude.

And then there was the possibility of furthering my magic. Perhaps I could delve deeper into dimensional travel and figure out a way home, back to Earth. If I could pull it off, it'd be the ultimate victory over whatever twisted force threw me into Magnus in the first place.

But for now, all I could do was wonder. The destination was approaching, and soon enough, I'd find out if the Dromastus household had made it through the war. If they had, I'd stay. If not, I'd move on, figure something out.

Maybe Destiny wasn't done messing with me just yet.

Nearly dusk—

I stepped out of the carriage, stretching a little after the long journey. The roads had been surprisingly smooth, with no bandits or other disturbances. I was happy to know that the area around Dromas Barony had remained safe. Tossing the coachman a silver piece, I gave him a nod as he accepted it with gratitude before driving off, leaving me alone by the gates of the Dromastus Estate.

The city around me, Dromastus City, had a certain charm to it, with its medieval architecture resembling the fantasy worlds I used to read about back on Earth. But as I approached the gates, I noticed something odd—there were no guards. No fanfare, no welcoming committee. It was almost eerie how quiet everything was.

I sighed, cupping my hands around my mouth to shout. "Hello! Anyone there!?" My voice echoed against the stone walls. "Please open the gates, you have a visitor!"

I waited, but there was no response. Great. According to Randel's diary, there was supposed to be an old man, some gatekeeper named Old Tammy, who guarded this place.

"Old Tammy! Are you there!?" I yelled again, wondering if the poor man had retired—or worse. The silence that followed had me considering whether I should just climb over the wall.

Just as I was about to make my decision, a young boy, barely ten years old, came running to the gate. He was small, dressed in ragged clothes, and wielded a dagger that looked like it weighed more than he did. The poor kid was trembling but doing his best to look tough.

"Who are you? You are in the abode of the respected lady! Please state your business," the boy said, his voice shaky as he pointed the dagger in my direction. His attempt at bravado was admirable but honestly, kind of cute.

I almost laughed. "Relax, kid," I said, holding up my hands to show I meant no harm. "I'm not here to cause trouble. I've come to visit the estate. Is your—uh, is Old Tammy around?"

The boy's frown deepened, and he shook his head. "Old Tammy passed away years ago… I'm the only one guarding the gate now."

A young boy, barely able to hold up a dagger, acting as the guard? That was... concerning. If the Dromastus household had fallen to such a dire state that they had children protecting the gates, things must really have gone downhill.

"Alright, kid. No need to get worked up. I'm Randel. Randel Eir Dromastus," I said, hoping the name would mean something to him.

The boy's eyes widened, his grip on the dagger loosening. "R-Randel Eir Dromastus? But… we thought you were dead!"

I smiled grimly. "Not quite. Can you let me in now?"

Without a word, the boy hurried to unlock the gate, his face pale with shock. The heavy doors creaked open. I had finally returned, but the Dromastus household might not be the homecoming I had hoped for.