I Acquire Overpowered Traits Just By Taking Damage

The hall looked much livelier when night fell. The grey stone had been painted over by the yellow glow of countless candles. The lack of adornments was compensated by the flickering shadows that danced across the walls, moving with the uneven candlelight. In the corner, a troupe played a strange but lively tune that wove through the murmurs of the many guests.

"Sir Jeremus knew the sword like the back of his hand. He was one of my best knights… two decades ago, that is. He was already half-dead when he chose to ride with me to Thornston. I've never seen a death so miserable," the Marquis narrated, half-drunk and oddly jovial given the grimness of the story.

"What happened to him, my lord?" I asked without much thought. The more we interacted with the Marquis, the more we realized that, crude and blunt as he was, he could be surprisingly approachable.

He chuckled at my question. "He fell off his horse during a charge, and if he didn't die bashing his head against the ground, he got trampled by the other horses. He wasn't even able to kill a single enemy."

He forked a bead of grapes from his plate and continued between chews, "I reckon he wanted to die on the battlefield at least. Outside of it, he was useless. A terrible castellan… couldn't care less about the castle or Candor, and always late with the taxes."

Lord Boarsmouth turned his gaze to Clifford, who sat to his right. The feast had been held in his honor after he accepted the Marquis' offer following the duel and swore his allegiance.

"I expect you to do better than him, Clifton. With your youth and talent, there's simply no excuse. I want you to maintain a garrison of at least twenty men, and collect the town's monthly dues of a hundred gold."

I didn't know if that was a heavy demand, and I doubted Clifford did either. What I did know was that he was far too happy to mind either the expectations or the butchering of his name.

"My lord, I swear you will not be disappointed for having chosen me," Clifford said promptly, still beaming.

I couldn't blame him. He had fled Castor to escape his tarnished reputation, and in search of glory and recognition. What he had thought he could only find in the wild lands of Enasses, he had discovered here, in a frontier march of West Minot. And all he had done to earn it was survive a duel that lasted less than ten minutes.

"Your friends, I forgot to ask… what magic did the gods bestow on them?"

As his guests, we were seated on the right side of the table, alongside Clifford. Next to him was Elena, then me, then Edmund. The Marquis' gaze swept over all three of us with a drunken grin.

His eyes settled on Edmund. "You, squire."

Edmund turned his head. Since the incident in Lacquer, he had been tense and reserved. But a dozen tankards of Minotian brandy seemed enough to restore his cheeky, confident self.

"Any tricks you can show us?"

"Tricks, my lord, the mighty Marquis?" Edmund said, his tone surprisingly formal in the haze of intoxication. "Aye, I can show you tricks!"

The chair screeched against the floor as he stood. The knights on the other side of the table, already his allies, cheered.

He chanted, and the familiar tongue of flame I had seen him conjure several times on the ship flickered to life on his finger.

He drank deeply, but instead of swallowing, he stored it in his cheeks. Then, spitting the brandy through the flame, fire roared upward like a dragon's breath. The hall lit in a sudden blaze, shadows flickering madly on the walls. Applause and cheering erupted. Even Elena gasped, and for a fleeting second, a hint of a smile touched her lips.

"Fire, huh," the Marquis said, still clapping. "Very common, but nevertheless useful. Our kingdom needs knights. Prove yourself, and someday you might find yourself among their number."

Edmund bowed extravagantly and collapsed back into his chair, nearly toppling over when he forgot he had pushed it slightly away from the table. He got another round of laughter with that.

I beamed with the crowd, enjoying the jovial atmosphere, until the Marquis' eyes turned to me. I had forgotten that I would also need to demonstrate magic as proof of my pedigree. My only trick was floating on water, but the only water surfaces here were in cups.

"How about you, boy? You look too young. Have you already awakened?"

I calmed immediately. My mind scrambled for an excuse, and the Marquis provided the perfect one without realizing it.

I had just turned sixteen. One wasn't supposed to learn spells so soon after awakening, especially not as a baronet's son—low enough on the ladder that it wasn't surprising it would take years to learn a first spell.

"I have, my lord, just a few weeks ago. I am… a wind mage," I said. If I had said water, the Marquis might get too excited; fire would have seemed like copying Edmund, earth would have mirrored Clifford, and other affinities were too uncommon for low nobility.

"Although I am not particularly ambitious about it. My father himself could perform very little magic; I doubt I'd be any different," I added, ignoring the knowing glances from the three who knew I was lying through my teeth.

"No shame in that, boy. Even without powerful spells, nobles possess stronger physique… greater strength, stamina, recovery. Master the sword, and skill in arms can be just as dangerous as magic," the Marquis said.

"I shall take your advice to heart, Lordship," I replied, warmed by his encouragement. And I meant it. My traits were primarily defensive, and I didn't know if I would be able to gain offensive ones. Swordsmanship could help.

"How about you, girl?" the Marquis turned to Elena, and the hall quieted instantly. She was the only girl at the table, and a pretty one at that. The knights could not tear their eyes away.

Elena shifted nervously. "I awakened half a year ago, my lord. As a water mage."

As expected, the Marquis immediately perked up. "Like myself?"

She nodded, wetting her lips. Then, without further prompting, she lifted her hand. Words left her tongue almost inaudibly. Even with her hair falling in disarray, and the swollen weight of grief on her face, the magic obeyed.

A water orb formed slowly in front of her palm. When it seemed ready to stop, it continued to grow, hanging firmer in place than the one she had conjured weeks ago. By the time she let go, it was twice the size of the previous one. The water fell neatly into her empty cup, filling it to the brim.

It was an impressive demonstration for her age, well deserving of the applause that followed. The Marquis looked especially pleased. "You are your father's daughter indeed. It would seem the march has gained two brilliant mages today."

"What say you? Shall I train you myself?"

She seemed to consider it for a moment, glanced at me, then back at the Marquis.

"I am flattered, sire. But I already have a master."