The fortnight after the system’s return was a masterclass in monotony. From the outside, Ray Croft’s life was a still portrait of convalescence. He was the quiet, pale child, always with a book or a wooden toy, his movements slow, his voice soft. He was a ghost in his own home, haunting the edges of rooms, his presence barely registering to his preoccupied family. This placid exterior concealed a secret, Herculean effort. Every day, behind the closed door of his room, the quiet work continued. His body, the nine-year-old vessel he was saddled with, remained a frustratingly weak instrument. The Grizzled Veteran’s internal roars of disgust were a constant companion during his physical training.

“Higher with the block!”

“Are you trying to stop a sword or welcome it in for tea?”

The Veteran would bellow in his mind as Ray struggled to lift a heavy, leather-bound book as a makeshift shield.

I weigh forty pounds!

Ray would think back, his arms trembling with the strain.

This book is a fifth of my body weight!

“Excuses are for gravestones!”

The Veteran would retort. The gains were agonizingly slow. Each Crude rating from the system felt less like an evaluation and more like a simple statement of fact. His mastery in Martial Stances had crawled to a meager 2.5%. While the Cognitive Aegis prevented the crushing headaches, the sheer physical exhaustion was immense. It was the humbling, infuriating reality of his situation: he had the knowledge of a seasoned warrior, but the body of a child. His mental training was far more fruitful. He spent hours practicing Sleight of Hand with his river stone, the Charismatic Conman acting as a patient, if sarcastic, mentor. He had recently made a breakthrough by learning to use one hand to create a distracting feint while the other performed the action.

[SKILL ATTEMPT: MISDIRECTION (SLEIGHT OF HAND)]

[PERFORMANCE EVALUATION: ADEPT]

[Host successfully integrated a secondary action to create a convincing feint, demonstrating a deeper understanding of the skill's core principle. Standard Mastery Gain.]

[Mastery Gain: Sleight of Hand +3%]

It was a small victory, but it was a victory nonetheless. He was learning not just to use the skills, but to understand the theory behind them.

When the physical and mental exhaustion became too much, he retreated to the one place in the keep that offered both sanctuary and opportunity: the library. The Greywood library was a shadow of its former self. Gaps on the shelves stood like missing teeth, evidence of a slow, desperate selling-off of valuable tomes over the years. A thin layer of dust coated everything, and the air was thick with the scent of decaying paper and memories. To Ray, however, it was a treasure trove. He activated Partial Immersion with the Eccentric Scholar, and the dusty room transformed into a landscape of discovery.

“Fascinating!”

The Scholar’s persona chirped in his mind, its excitement a palpable buzz.

“The cataloguing system is archaic, based on the pre-Unification model of the Second Kingdom! Utterly inefficient, but historically significant! Focus!”

Ray mentally told the persona.

“We need context, the world, the major players.”

“Yes, yes, of course.”

“Geopolitical context is the bedrock of all strategic analysis!”

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The Scholar conceded. He pulled down a heavy atlas with a cracking leather spine. The map was of the continent of Aethelgard. For hours, he sat on the floor, cross-referencing the atlas with a crumbling history book. The Scholar’s mind worked at a feverish pace, absorbing and cross-referencing data. He learned of the three great powers. To the north was the Kingdom of Valoria, a militaristic, expansionist nation built on human supremacy and martial prowess. The Scholar sniffed disdainfully at their description.

“Do they view 'magic' with suspicion? A fool's errand.”

“One cannot dismiss a fundamental force of the universe simply because one lacks the intellect to comprehend it! Brutes.”

Then he found his own home. The Kingdom of Eldoria, a land where magic was woven into the very fabric of society, governed by a council of mages and nobles. The book confirmed that the Croft family’s fiefdom was located in a remote corner of Eldoria.

“This explains your father's inherent respect for tradition and lineage, but also his distance from the centers of true power,”

the Scholar mused.

“Your family are a provincial nobility, far from the arcane council's influence.”

Finally, his eyes fell upon the entry for the Free Marches of Solara. It was described not as a kingdom, but as a dynamic confederation of city-states and powerful fiefdoms. Its entire ethos was built on free trade and fierce independence, a place where gold was king and contracts were sacred. The description of its governance captivated him: a Council of Syndics where power was not based on birthright, but on economic and influential might. The text called it a "cutthroat political landscape where alliances are temporary" and "betrayals are common".

[SKILL ATTEMPT: INFORMATION SYNTHESIS (ECCENTRIC SCHOLAR)]

[PERFORMANCE EVALUATION: ADEPT]

[Host successfully connected new geopolitical data with existing knowledge to form a comprehensive threat assessment. Standard Mastery Gain.]

[Mastery Gain: Information Synthesis +5%.]

“Of course!”

The Scholar nearly shouted in his mind, the pieces snapping together with crystalline clarity.

“The Argent Hand, with its secrets and manipulation, and the Gilded Wolves, with their high price and lethal efficiency, are not anomalies."

"They are the natural products of Solara’s environment!”

“They thrive in a culture where gold is the only god and betrayal is just another business expense!”

The world was getting bigger, its tangled webs more complex. Armed with this new, richer understanding, Ray knew he could no longer put off the most dangerous part of his preparation. He needed to scout the target. He needed to case the fortress that was his father’s study. For this, he slipped into Partial Immersion with the Gritty Detective.

“Alright, let’s see the layout.”

The Detective’s voice growled, cutting through the Scholar’s academic enthusiasm.

“The library gives us the history, the study gives us the evidence.”

From the main hall, he had a perfect vantage point. He would sit with a pile of wooden blocks, appearing for all the world like a simple child at play, while his mind was a whirlwind of observation and deduction.

“Subject: Lord Alistair Croft.”

“Creature of habit.”

“Enters the study at 9 AM, post-breakfast. Door locks, key is on his person at all times.”

“Exit at 12 PM for a midday meal. Duration: one hour. Re-entry at 1 PM. Locked the door.”

“Emerges at 6 PM for supper, the midday meal is the window."

The Detective’s gaze then shifted.

“Complication: the maid, Rina. Her cleaning schedule coincides with the midday window.”

“She moves from the master chambers to the west wing, which includes the study.”

“She has her own key, a skeleton key for the household staff. "

"She’s the X-factor, the witness, the potential alarm.”

He watched her for two days. She was diligent, quiet, and predictable. She would enter the study around 12:15, and emerge around 12:45, giving her just enough time to finish her duties before the master returned.

“So that’s the play!"

The Detective concluded grimly.

“We have a fifteen-minute window after she leaves and before he returns.”

“But that’s no good if we can’t get in.”

“We can’t get past her. Which means she can’t be there at all.”

Ray sat amongst his blocks, a thoughtful, serious expression on his nine-year-old face. His mother Lady Eileen, passing through the hall, smiled softly at him.

“What are you building, my dear?”

She asked. Ray looked up at her, the hard-boiled internal monologue of the detective momentarily silenced. He looked down at the haphazard pile of blocks.

“A castle.”

He said, his voice small and innocent.

“Hmmm a castle.”

The Detective echoed in his mind as his mother walked away.

“And we’re about to figure out how to sneak through the front gate.”

He had the layout. He had the schedule. He had identified the primary obstacle. The initial reconnaissance was complete. The "what" and the "when" were solved. But as he stared at the unassuming study door down the hall, the biggest question of all remained: the "how." How could a nine-year-old boy, in a house on high alert, possibly get into a locked room in the fifteen minutes he had, when the only other person with a key was supposed to be inside? The problem required a different kind of expert. A specialist in deception and misdirection.