I Acquire Overpowered Traits Just By Taking Damage

The next day we rode back to Candor.

Leofric and the servants were delighted to see us. Apparently, they had half-expected never to see us again. They were even happier to know that Clifford had singlehandedly solved our two main problems: where to stay and what to do for the long-term.

Now we stayed at Candor Castle and served the Marquis. With the servants and our baggage in tow—specifically in a cart we bought, driven by Leofric—we left the town to claim our prize.

Candor was nestled between two hills. To its left was a small hill with the chapel and churchyard. To its right, a bigger elevation held the old, bleak castle overlooking the town from the cliff.

The climb was short and straightforward, especially compared to the climb we had made to reach Boarsmouth. It wasn't the castle we reached first, but the village at its base: a quiet, almost deserted place of around ten cottages.

A smith spotted our approach and stepped out of his forge onto the narrow trail leading to the castle. He wiped his dirty hands on his filthy apron and wrinkled his soot-smeared face as we halted.

"How can I help you, young sirs?" the old smith said, with a coarse drawl. His words were polite, but his expression might have shooed us away just as easily.

"I am the new castellan," answered Clifford.

"Ah. Is that so?" the smith replied, unimpressed. "They didn't even give enough time for Jeremus to settle in his grave. Poor feller… can't even pass down anything to his son."

After our experience in the Marquis' court, we were starting to get used to the ways of the countryside. Back where I was from, a smith calling a knight by name would have called for a flogging—or worse.

The smith turned and hollered toward the castle, only a few yards away. "Lucas! Open the gates!"

The castle was so bland that it could have been mistaken for a natural extension of the rocky cliff. The three-story keep, with the low curtain wall around it, looked like a gray crown atop the hill. Neglect was evident in the cracks and creeping vines. There was no one manning the battlement—or so we thought.

"Lucas!" the smith shouted again, his voice breaking mid-sentence.

This time something moved. A clatter sounded, and a small figure jutted out from the ramparts.

"The new lord is here! Open the gates!"

The boy smiled and quickly disappeared from view. The smith grumbled and stepped away from the path without a polite bow. We didn't mind him and continued toward the castle.

We only needed to wait a few seconds until the gates creaked open. Lucas, younger than me by maybe two years, welcomed us with a wide smile. He quickly picked Clifford as the new lord and helped guide his horse inside.

Behind the gates was an empty courtyard. We expected at least a few soldiers or servants to greet us, but there was not a single soul. After the lively hall at Boarsmouth, the contrast was like a slap in the face.

"Where's everyone?" Clifford finally asked as we all dismounted.

"They went with my father to Thornston and got themselves killed," Lucas replied without missing a beat.

"Father?" I asked.

"I am the son of Sir Jeremus," he answered.

Edmund huffed, stealing a glance at Elena. "What's wrong with you, kid? You look happy telling us of your father's death. Have you no manners?"

The kid extinguished his smile so promptly and unceremoniously it creeped me out. "I am sorry, sir. But he did beat me and my poor mother. I am just happy he can't beat us no longer."

"I understand it is wrong for me to revel at the thought of him bashing his head to the ground, brain matter spilling out his cracked skull, and his body being battered beneath hooves, but I can't help it," he continued with a sorry face. "I am just a young boy after all."

And there I was, thinking there was finally a normal kid around. Now there were three traumatized children inside the same castle. I worried for the future.

We heard another squeak from the hinges. A woman peered out of the door of the keep. When she saw us, she cautiously walked out, shifting her gaze between us and Lucas.

"We weren't expecting… any guests…" she blurted out, stopping near the boy.

"Ah, mother… this is the new lord of the castle. He sounds funny, don't he… talks like he swallowed a frog and it's hopping around his mou—" Lucas said before her hand covered his mouth.

I think he was trying to describe the Castorian accent. I forgot we must sound as silly to them as they were to us.

"Forgive him, my lord. He's just a kid. I am trying very hard to teach him manners, but boys his age are as unruly as wild horses," she said, panic in her voice.

Her unkempt appearance and unflattering clothes hid much from a distance. But now that I got a good look at her, she looked pretty and young to be married to an old geezer. And unmarried, probably was the case. She must be an impregnated whore he was forced to take responsibility for. That would explain the beatings.

"Are you the only ones in the castle?" Clifford asked.

"Yes. Most of the servants had left," she nervously swallowed. She hesitated but continued with a question. "Are… are you going to ask us to leave, my lord?"

Clifford raised his eyebrows. "Well, what do you do here?"

She answered immediately. "Anything you want, my lord. I can cook, clean, do almost any chores… even... uhmm, special favors."

By then I was too young to know what she meant by 'special favors'. But if I did, I should have understood why Edmund and Clifford's faces flushed red.

"And my son… he is a strong boy. He can help around the castle, just as he did when his father was around," she said, petting her son, who oafishly grinned at us. If he was trying to be cute, he was failing terribly.

"And heartless," Edmund chirped in, "which would make him a good soldier."

Clifford cleared his throat. "Well then, you and your son can stay. Guide our servants to the storage rooms and their quarters."

She muttered thanks, bowing as low as she could, and pushing her son's head down to do the same. She then frantically attended to Leofric and the two maids.

As the cart creaked away, we decided to enter the main hall.

It was the smallest hall I had ever seen, barely larger than the parish, and two massive stone pillars took up more space. The high seat rested on a single step, looking more like a dinner chair than a lordly throne.

Aside from the candle holders on the wall, there was no other decoration. But although empty, it was somewhat clean. It charmed me, like a blank sheet of parchment ready to be painted as we wished.

Out of nowhere, Clifford chuckled, lifting his hands in disbelief.

"Who would have known we'd end up in a castle after leaving the ship?" he said. "We have you to thank for this, Master Devon."

It took a while for me to register that my name had been mentioned.

"No. We should be the ones thanking you, Master Clifford. Your duel was impressive."

"Yes, but if you hadn't suggested the duel, I would have been forced to confess the truth. I could only imagine how differently it went," he replied.

"I wouldn't even mind if you take the lord's quarters," he offered.