Maxwell floated closer to his sleeping personal butler and let the tugging force carry him to his body. The sensation he felt is akin to emerging from a deep dive. One's body breaks against the surface of the water and takes in a fresh breath of air. When Maxwell opened his eyes, the weight change immediately dawned on him. His bones are tired and the joints are aching. And yet, he felt strength from them. These calloused hands have seen a lot of chores and experience. And from the arms, he realized that his clothing has changed to that of a butler. Maxwell stood from the chair, still groggy from the momentary sleep, and looked at his reflection in the well.
Alexander stared at him. Unlike the similar experience Maxwell had before, this one has no shred of familiarity. He knows that the person in the reflection is him, and he fully recognizes it as a separate person. Looking at his mind, it seems that Alexander's memories are privy but to himself. Maxwell dusted off his uniform and went to the Gazebo where Gilliard was waiting.
"Kid, is that you?" Gilliard asked.
"Yes, it is me," Maxwell said in Alexander's voice. It sounds deeper now that the voice is coming from his throat and he could hear it inside his head. But still, Alexander is young so the pubescent tone is ever-present in the overtones.
"My… my… that minor talent is quite the handy one. That would put the Scylla family to shame with their flimsy illusions and espionage. I am eagerly awaiting what your old man would do with that kind of power in his vicinity. So kid, can you still open your status window?"
Maxwell said the words and, even though his current body is a commoner who is unconnected to the pantheon, Alexander's status window opened.
Name: Alexander Chenier
Title: [Butler]
LVL: 2
HP: 100/100
MP: 0
Race: 3/4 human and 1/4 beastkin (dog)
Sex: Male
Age: 15
Attributes:
Smelling LV3
Durability LV1
Swordsmanship LV1
Maxwell had read about them but it surprised him to see that Alexander is of mixed race. Non-human races tend to avoid Andorre since the enemies by the border hate their kind as much as they hate magic. Gilliard is another story since he can protect himself. This mixed ancestry must be the reason these things that Maxwell could smell. He thought that Alexander must have stuck a grain of wheat up his nose because he could smell it everywhere. It just means that his sense of smell is so strong that he could smell the wheat fields a few kilometers away. This heightened sense of smell also means that he could smell the reek of alcohol coming out of Gilliard's mouth. By the Pantheon, Maxwell wished that toothbrushes and toothpaste exist in this world.
"Hmm… If that is what your status window says, that must mean that you are restricted from using your holy blessings? Try to conjure a small pillar of flame in your hand, just as I taught you." Maxwell opened his palm and five pillars of red burning fire appeared from his fingertips. The pillars converged in the middle of his palm which formed an even bigger pillar of flame. "I guess wrong then. Get accustomed to your new body while I'll take a small doozy to get this damn headache off of my head."
Gilliard took one last swig from his leather canteen and conjured himself an illusionary bed in the gazebo. Looking at the manor window, it seems that Deidrick is nowhere to see the slothful act.