Even though he was done harassing Chrisly's team for the moment, he wasn't going to leave just yet. It was important to see how he handled his humiliation. All things being considered, nothing that bad had happened. A couple of his team members had been ambushed and embarrassed a little in front of a bunch of villagers. If they kept moving and stayed focused on their mission then the effects would be minimal.

Alan was counting on them handling it not so well, and he wasn't disappointed. Gaf had previously been afforded some respect by Chrisly, most likely because he was a more capable warrior than Caleb and Brynna. That consideration was gone as Chrisly literally beat the man around the head, slapping him to punctuate his points. Caleb also received some rather rough treatment, but he at least was initially confused as to why. It wasn't until Brynna explained what had happened that he started to physically shrink from the haranguing he was getting.

While the villagers had 'left' the area, they were no doubt somewhere nearby, listening to all of this. Every time Chrisly complained about how they had let themselves be humiliated, how they had let the others get one over on them, how pathetic they were, it just reinforced in the people's mind how terrible Chrisly's party looked. The man was doing all of Alan's PR work for him, and he didn't even realize who his true enemy was. He hadn't connected the dots and realized that the busboy he was looking for was the one who was driving the effort against him.

Then, Alan was handed another gift. It was already dark and rather than returning to their town where Alan would be unable to follow them, the adventurers chose to stay in the village for the night. The tavern had been built with a few rooms on the second floor, and they had been mostly empty till now. The only time they were really occupied was when a caravan from one of the nearby settlements came in and they didn't want to make the trip back the same day.

Alan left most of Lyonel's party in the fields surrounding Elstree, and took only Hector with him. He was both the stealthiest of the group and the one with the best perception. The two of them followed the party as they made their way back into town and entered the tavern. Sitting outside in the shadows, they were still able to hear as the group demanded rooms for the night. There were only three rooms available, so of course Chrisly took one while the others had to share. Brynna and Caleb were put together and Gaf split the third room with the still unnamed last member. After standing on Hector's shoulders, Alan had managed to climb up the side of the building and was peering in the window at the end of the hall.

The party seemed to be showing their ineptitude yet again as they failed to set a watch. Alan wasn't sure he fully trusted the seeming lack of security, and reminded himself to be careful. After waiting another hour after the hall lights had been dimmed, he slowly pushed open the window and slithered inside.

It took him a full two minutes to creep his way to the first door, moving slowly and carefully to ensure his footsteps were silent. Once outside the door, Brynna and Caleb's, he waited another minute with his ear pressed to the wood. He couldn't hear anything other than possibly some gentle snoring. Slowly moving from door to door he repeated the process for the other two rooms. Nothing seemed out of place, until he switched over to his aura senses. They were always running these days, but now he focused on what it was telling him.

Each of the doorknobs had a web of magic surrounding them. He hadn't noticed before because there was some type of shielding around the web, but his focused senses were able to pierce through. Alan had only a little exposure to wards and magical traps, so he couldn't tell exactly what they would do, but he knew enough to be wary. Draining the wards was an option, but if the mage or mages were experienced enough, that might alert them to something being wrong. With how sloppy they had been about everything else, it was a risk Alan was willing to take.

Starting with the mages' door, he moved his hand as close to the doorknob as he could before the trap started to react to his presence. Then he slowly started pulling on it, sucking the mana out of it and releasing it into the air. There were two types of mana in the web, air and sound, and he drained them both. Soon enough it lost its form and the entire thing dissipated.

In addition to the spell, the door itself was locked. Fortunately Hector had gotten a set of lockpicks at one point, and Alan had borrowed them before coming up. Not only had he trained for this in the Army, but his initial rogue class had given him some added knowledge of the process. It took him only a minute to activate the tumblers and open the door. Inside was a single bed with two lumps under the sheets.

Now was the tricky part. He had tried to be gentle with his treatment of them so far, but that wasn't really an option here. He could have poured the last of his sleeping potion in their mouths, but since they were only naturally sleeping and not unconscious from lack of oxygen, they would probably wake up as soon as the liquid hit their lips and before it had a chance to start working. If he trusted Lyonel's team to make their way to the tavern and climb up the window without being seen or heard, he could have used them to make this easier, but he couldn't. He would need to do this the hard way.

Head wounds were always tricky. Too soft and it simply pissed off your target, too hard and you risked permanent brain damage or even outright death. Even if you used the right amount of force, different people reacted to it differently. Alan decided to be conservative and err on the side of too hard rather than too gentle. Using the club Lyonel had gifted him, and he had 'forgotten' to give back, he bashed Gaf on the head. His eyes opened only for them to then roll back and his body to go slack. The commotion was enough to wake the other man, but before he could react, Alan whacked him as well. He was groggy but conscious after the first blow so he hit him again. It felt like something might have cracked with the second strike so Alan made a note to check on him after they were down.

Now that they were knocked out he poured half of his remaining sleeping potion into them and then made his way over to Caleb and Brynna's door. With slightly more confidence he drained the ward and then picked the lock. It took less than two minutes and he repeated his attack on them. Knowing that at least Caleb had a constitution class, he put decidedly more force into these hits and neither of them woke even briefly. They both were then given the last of the sleeping potion.

Taking out a long length of rope, Alan made a slipknot with a large opening. He then secured that opening around Gaf's chest but under his shoulders, and lowered him out the window. At the bottom, Hector guided him to the ground and slid the rope off so Alan could lower the next person. While he was busy in the hallway, Hector took out his own rope and bound the mage tightly. He was wrapped in so much rope that he looked like a pig in a blanket.

Three more times they repeated the process until the last of Chrisly's team was down on the ground and Alan hung briefly from the window before dropping down. The short fall wasn't even a test for his improved body. With all four goons thoroughly tied up, he and Hector dragged them out of the alley and left them in the center of the town square. It took two trips, but they weren't going anywhere.

Now Hector left Alan standing there while he rejoined his team outside of the village. This next part was going to be boring. If everything went to plan, that is. Each of the tied up individuals had also had a sock stuffed into their mouth and then tied in place as securely as possible. He was hoping that if they couldn't actually speak then they couldn't use party chat and alert Chrisly to their plight. That was supposed to be a nice surprise for him come morning.

The other thing he was going to have to watch was any of them trying to cast spells. Gaf at least could do it, and he was guessing the one in normal clothes could as well. With their arms so tightly bound to their body they wouldn't be able to effectively use their hands, but it was possible they had a spell that didn't require any somatic component and they would still be able to cause trouble. With the gag in their mouths they should also be prevented from using anything requiring something verbal, but it paid to be vigilant.

Thinking of the last member of Chrisly's group, Alan sent his senses into the man's body. He wanted to see just how bad he had been injured. His Aura was of a decent strength, somewhere between Gaf's and Caleb's, but the energy coursing through it was fluctuating. He also detected some extensive damage around his skull, and even a small crack in the bone. It might make the man wake earlier, but the others would come to on their own eventually, so Alan sent healing energy flowing into the unconscious warrior. He directed the energy toward the man's head and was relieved to see his aura settle down. He didn't actually want the man to suffer any long term injuries, at least not yet. Whatever he had been through, the one minor healing spell ended up not being enough to rouse him.

Throughout the night Alan simply stood above his captives, waiting for the dawn. It didn't take long for them to wake up, but after about thirty minutes each they gave up. No one attempted magic that he could detect, but he continued to monitor them. After another two hours they all started to thrash again, but with their restraints they did little more than shimmy in place.

It appeared that all of his preventative measures worked, because Chrisly didn't show up all night. Alan wasn't expecting him to arrive with the daylight, either, but he wasn't surprised to see villagers start to appear on the street. The Aristocrat seemed like the type of slothful man who would sleep in, so it should be a little while before he woke up and realized there was a problem. In the end, someone else ended up getting the man.

It was about what Alan had expected to happen. As a whole, the entire population of the village hated Chrisly and his party. Not only did they represent a power that the serfs could never have, but they were also poor examples of people. From what Pixel had described, they were treated as second or even third-class citizens in the wider Network, and had no doubt experienced plenty of disrespect and condescension before coming here. Then when they arrive in their new home, surrounded by other serfs, they find another group of elitist assholes who treat them just as bad if not worse.

All of that is to say that no one in Elstree had any positive feelings for the adventurers. They were a necessary evil to safeguard the village, but that was it. When one of their own got one over on the belligerent group, they celebrated, at least internally. Given the choice, none of them would side with Chrisly over the busboy. However, it was inevitable that the offer of a reward and the threat of a punishment would get to some of them. It wasn't even necessarily a lack of character on their part, they had become cogs in the system and were simply comfortable with their place.

While they might not share every little piece of gossip with Chrisly, the opportunity of seeing the target of his wrath standing there in the middle of town was too much temptation for them. It was no surprise that there was actually a shoving match between several villagers trying to be the first to enter the tavern and wake up Chrisly. The only shock would have been how few of them there were. Unfortunately for these snitches, Cook was already awake and working, and she had a soft spot for her former busboy and protegé.

The rather robust woman held the door so that none could push past her, but the commotion was enough to wake Chrisly. He called out for his minions to see what the noise was all about, but when none of them answered he figured out that something was wrong. After checking their rooms, he stormed downstairs, and, not finding them there, demanded to know what was going on. The tattletails by the door shouted out that they were being held in the town square by the busboy, and he immediately stormed through the door. Even Cook made way, knowing that trying to stop the man was impossible for her.

So there Alan stood, about twenty minutes after sunrise, as an infuriated Chrisly stalked down the main road. Alan had actually picked him out as he left the tavern, the road was fairly straight and not that long after all, so Alan was ready for his arrival. Either the man slept in his armor (possible), or had actually had the presence of mind to get geared up after realizing his party was missing (also possible, but given Alan's low opinion of the man it would have been a surprise for him to be so thoughtful).

"You!" Was the uninspired first word from Chrisly when he arrived in the square.

Alan was dressed in the regular clothes that he had purchased from the town clothier back when he was just the busboy. He didn't have any of his armor or his weapons out, and he planned on keeping it that way.

Not getting anything from Alan, Chrisly continued to shout. "What is the meaning of this? Release them at once!"

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This was just further proof that Chrisly was not the brightest of minds. If someone had gone to all the trouble of capturing your men right out from under your nose, then why would you shouting intimidate them into following your orders? The village thought of Alan as a mute, so when he answered it came as a shock to everyone present.

"I would think the meaning is clear. You aren't welcome here."

That got the man to stop short. He was only about three meters away at this point, but Alan's answer caused a look of concern to pass over his face for the first time that day. It was gone a moment later and he was back to shouting, but with slightly less confidence.

"You can't tell me where I do and don't belong. You're nothing but a filthy serf, and you're under arrest for striking your betters. Untie my men and come with me." There weren't even any small gasps at his vile curse, but then again, the people were used to such things. There were some shocked titters at the absurdity of telling someone to release the people who would then arrest him.

Alan continued to stand in the same position and calmly answered. "Under arrest? You and what army?" The last was said as he looked down at the tied up adventurers below him.

This stumped Chrisly for a moment, but then he took in how unprepared the 'serf' looked for a fight, and sneered. "I don't need an army to take on the likes of you. You don't even have your spoon this time." The last was said with a laugh.

As banter went it wasn't bad, but what Chrisly didn't know was that Alan was already prepared for this fight. If Alan wore his own gear it would alert the man that he was more than he seemed. Also, unless he killed him, Chrisly would most likely run away to return another day, after convincing himself that his loss was just bad luck. Only by showing his extreme dominance could Alan make a lasting impression. Chrisly would have to be terrified of him, or his own pride would force him to return and confront Alan. Either way that confrontation would no doubt happen one day, but Alan wanted that to be far in the future.

With total confidence, Alan spoke forcefully. "I am telling you again, you are not welcome here. Leave now, and you can have your friends back when your family returns the men you are keeping hostage."

Chrisly's sneer turned into a snarl and he spat out his retort. "I won't be threatened by someone like you. Remember when I'm stomping your head into the ground that you brought this on yourself."

Alan simply smiled and then did his best Keanu Reeves impression and adjusted his stance, left foot forward, arm extended, and waved for Chrisly to attack. A longsword appeared in his hand and he charged forward. Alan half expected the sorry Aristocrat to trip over his captive party members, but he was able to deftly leap over them while bringing his sword around in a slash.

Despite threatening to stomp his head into the ground, that strike would have ended the fight as it cut Alan in half. Or at least it would have if Alan hadn't moved the moment Chrisly left his feet, anticipating the attack. Two shuffled steps to the side and the sword tip whistled harmlessly as it passed by his chest. The momentum from his jump also caused Chrisly to continue forward and Alan simply pushed on his back as he stumbled past causing the man to fall on his face.

The fact that he managed not to slice himself on his sword as he fell, told Alan that the man had at least some skill with his weapon. It was a reminder that he shouldn't take this fight too casually. As awful as the man was as a person, he had no doubt received extensive training from hired experts as he was growing up. He probably wasn't the best student, but the repetition alone would have drilled some skills into the man.

Stepping back a few paces to remove the temptation for a surprise attack, Alan waited for Chrisly to stand. Scrambling to his feet, he once again lunged to attack, this time thrusting with his blade. It was a much better move, and it left him more in control of his body. Unfortunately for Chrisly, Alan had also been well trained, in a variety of ways that this universe didn't seem to value much.

Instead of moving his whole body, Alan used his high dexterity and focus to bend himself out of the way, the sword just barely missing his shirt. Using his left hand he pushed the flat of the blade away, opening Chrisly's torso to attack. Parrying his blade so easily was something that would have been beyond him in his old life. It was something you trained for, but it wasn't practical in real life situations, no matter what martial arts movies said. However, with talents like quick hands and parry, it was relatively simple.

Taking two steps forward, Alan was now almost chest to chest with his opponent. It didn't give him great leverage, but he didn't want to put too much force into his own blows. It wasn't out of concern for hurting Chrisly, it was because the man was wearing armor and he didn't think his fists would appreciate striking metal. Instead he used two palm strikes to push him slightly off balance and then followed it up with a headbut to the man's unprotected face.

Blood erupted from Chrisly's nose and he fell back on his butt. Alan's foot struck out and hit his hand clutching the sword hilt, knocking it free. The same blow to the side of his head would have ended the fight, but the lesson he hoped to teach hadn't been learned yet. Backing up, Alan let Chrisly stand once again. As he did so, another longsword appeared in his hand, this was the drawback to fighting someone with spatial storage.

It seemed that Chrisly could learn something, because he didn't try for any finishing blows this time. Instead, his next round of attacks were more controlled, small swings or thrusts meant to inflict damage but not kill his opponent outright. Unfortunately for him, they were just as ineffective as his first attempts. On the other hand, he wasn't leaving himself as open, so Alan spent most of his time dodging and waiting.

Finally seeing a small opening, Alan used his left hand to add a push to a swing of the sword, imparting extra momentum and bringing his arm around more than Chrisly intended. Then Alan reached out with his right and clamped down on the man's forearm. Chrisly was wearing a set of metal bracers, but the inside of his forearm was only covered in a soft leather underpadding. Bringing his left knee up at the same he yanked down with his right arm, he snapped the bone.

The longsword clattered to the ground and it was finally time to drive the lesson home. The man's armor protected his chest very well, but he wasn't wearing a helmet or anything significant on his legs. Without the threat of a large metal blade, Alan was free to slap the man silly. He started with a hard left open handed blow, followed by a right, and then a backhand from his left hand again.

Chrisly already had blood coating his mouth and chin from the broken nose, and now he had two bright red palm prints on his cheeks and a cut next to his left eye. The bewildered Aristocrat was literally stumbling around, unable to focus though the pain of his broken arm, the sting of the blows to his head, and the utter disbelief in the situation he found himself in. Alan grabbed his healthy left arm and wrenched it behind his back before sweeping his legs out and driving him to the ground, face first.

Fortunately for Chrisly, his knees hit first and so he didn't snap his neck or crack any ribs. The feel of the dirt from the street digging into his face was enough to refocus him on what was happening. With his mouth only centimeters from Chrisly's ear as he laid on top of the man, Alan once more made his demands.

"Elstree is no longer open to you or your men. Drag your sorry self out of here, and when you get back to mommy and daddy, tell them that if they don't send back our people, then we'll keep your friends. And tell them that if they go that route, the next time we see one of their people, we'll kill them. That means you too."

Chrisly was almost sobbing as he choked out a reply. "You can't do this. Without us how will you keep your town safe?"

Alan chuckled darkly as he answered. "You, keep us safe? You're the one lying in the dirt, pal. By the way, in case you haven't noticed, the whole village is telling you to leave."

That wasn't strictly true, but now that Alan directed Chrisly's attention to it, he could hear the watching villagers chanting 'Silver Spoon'. They had initially thought that Chrisly was going to murder him, but as the fight unfolded and they watched one of their own drive an Aristocrat into the ground, they were beyond ecstatic. It also helped that this particular nobleman was particularly vile.

"I also know that you guys didn't take out those insect adventurers. I know because I was the one who did it." Alan told him.

It finally dawned on Chrisly that nothing was what he thought it was. Anyone with even two brain cells to rub together should have realized that an unarmed serf, no matter how much skill or training they had, could never beat an armed adventurer with opal classes. The difference in their bodies capabilities were just too drastic. For some reason that hadn't occurred to Chrisly before now, but hearing that Alan had taken out three adventurers at the same time, that finally drove home the idea that Alan was an adventurer himself. Of course, he had no idea just how many classes Alan really had.

"Now I'm going to get off you in a moment, and what are you going to do?" Alan asked with all the menace in his voice he could muster.

Chrisly didn't answer at first so Alan pressed down with his arm, forcing Chrisly's face harder into the ground. The pain and humiliation finally overcame his pride. "I'm going to leave here, and I'm going to send home the villagers we are holding."

"Good, and don't forget, if I see you again, I'll kill you." And with that, Alan pushed himself off of Chrisly's back and stood up. The beaten Aristocrat had a much harder time standing himself, as one of his arms was broken and he was no doubt concussed. Once on his feet, he didn't even look at the people around him. Alan had truly cowed him, and his only goal was to get as far away as he could. Stumbling slightly he set out for home.

Alan stopped him with a word. "Wait!" And then he bent down and grabbed one of Chrisly's swords. With a toss he sent it back toward its owner. "You forgot this."

Chrisly didn't even try to catch it, instead stepping to the side and watching it fall to the ground. Then he slowly bent over and picked it up before resuming his forced eviction. It brought a whole new meaning to the term 'walk of shame'. He never saw Alan retrieve the other sword and store it in his ring.

The chants of 'Silver Spoon' continued until Chrisly entered the grassland at the end of the road, then the crowd of spectators rushed forward. The fact that they had thought him mute, but then heard him talking was seemingly forgotten. As was the fact that he was clearly not really a serf, and therefore a recruit from the tutorial. For the moment he was still their busboy, their hero, their Silver Spoon, the man who braved the wilderness to help the settlement prosper, who stopped an odious man from taking advantage of one of the villagers, the man that stood toe to toe with an aristocrat and sent him running scared.

A few of them tried to lift him onto their shoulders, but that was too much for Alan. He knew it was important to his plans to get the adoration of the villagers, but their praise still embarrassed him. It was a little ironic that he worked so hard to get where he was, but felt that his efforts weren't truly worthy of such acclaim.

The plan had been to deal with both Chrisly's team and the Bodarians before he tried to claim Elstree. Chrisly's team was now out of the picture, or at least should be, but the other recruit team was still unaccounted for. Still, Alan felt like it was the right time to accelerate his plans. Also, once he had the resources of the village, it should be easier to locate the missing party.

Scanning the crowd, he was finally able to locate mayor Roger. He was standing on the steps of the town hall and cheering along with everyone else. Alan felt bad about not being able to include the Corellians in this moment, but he didn't have a way of letting them know from here. Maybe they would figure out that the fight was over from all the cheering, but he wasn't going to wait any longer.

Slowly pushing his way through the crowd, Alan soon enough stood before the mayor. "Mayor Roger, I apologize for misleading you, but I am not from any of the nearby villages."

Roger snorted before answering. "Yeah, I kinda figured that out. The way you moved, I could barely follow it. There's no way you aren't an adventurer."

"You're right, I am. My name is Alan and I am a human from a planet called Earth. I'm here to see if you can find it in you to surrender the leadership of the town to me."

"And what will that mean for us, and for me?" They were fair questions, but it would have been easier if he just said yes.

"I have no interest in replacing you. You're a good leader and your people love you." The rest of the village was giving them a little space, but Alan was talking loud enough to make sure they could hear what he said. He wanted them to know how much he valued all of them. "As you probably know, one of the tutorial parties has to claim your village to move on to the next tier. I intend for that to be me. I've already accepted the surrender of the beast people, and the Nivex are no more."

Roger was relieved to hear that Alan was going to work with him and not take him out. He had no doubts after watching him fight that he could have done so. "And where is the rest of your party?"

"There's just me. I don't have a party." That statement was potentially dangerous. If the mayor followed that fact all the way to its logical conclusion, he might realize that Alan would have all eight classes. It wasn't necessarily top secret, but the fewer who knew about it, the better. His classes gave him power that few if anyone else in the tutorial had, and it would be better if that power came as a surprise to his enemies.

There was a moment of silence after Alan's last words, but Roger soon recovered and turned to address the villagers present. At this point the entire population was here in the town square.

"Well, how about it Elstree? Do we accept this man, Alan, as someone worthy of claiming our fine village. Shall we allow him to put his claim on our hard work?"

There was no pause before the villagers answered with a resounding cheer. It was so loud as to be almost unintelligible, but it was definitely a yes. Then it morphed into another round of 'Silver Spoon'. He might have played his hand a little too strongly there.

It was much too loud for a casual conversation, so Alan leaned over and called out to the mayor. "So, I don't actually know how this next part works. How do I 'claim' the village?"

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