Chapter 10: The son of the duke

"Uh? Huh? Who? Why?"

"It's common courtesy, young master. Please don't act ignorant and get ready quickly. I have to arrange the servants and take care of last night's incident so I can't help you prepare, do you need me to send someone over? Severing is busy right now but I can order him to take care of things faster."

Alaric blinked a few times with a puzzled face before shaking his head from side to side.

"No, no need. I can manage on my own."

"Alright, young master."

Click

As soon as Ranger left, Alaric turned to Ian with a peculiar expression.

"Can't I avoid it by faking sickness?"

"No!"

'Why do you want to avoid anything by faking sickness? Are you a 7-year-old?'

The young man clenched his light-brown, almost golden, hair with both hands. "Aaah I thought so..." He then began pacing around the room, mumbling 'What should I do what should I do', under his lips.

"Why would you want to avoid it by faking sickness? It's just regular tea time; don't be so nervous over it," commented Ian while sitting on the bed.

"Hmm? Yes, yes! A normal tea time, there should be nothing special about it, right? Nothing can go wrong!"

"What can possibly go wrong?"

"I don't know. Nothing, right? Yeah, nothing. I should go get changed, then."

Seeing his master, Ian doubted things would go alright. Plus, his conversation with the man was cut in the middle so he was left a little bit annoyed. He had a nagging feeling that he shouldn't leave this young man alone or he might regret it later.

"Do you want me to follow you?"

"Huh?" The golden-haired young man stopped in his tracks. "Why would you? Aren't you injured? Get some rest. That doctor is coming to visit you soon."

"Will you be fine on your own?"

"...."

Alaric's lips curled down like an arch. It was a comedic expression Ian had never seen in anyone else.

"...But you are injured," mumbled the boy under his lips.

"I think..." The blue-haired servant's brows drew together and leaned a little bit close, "That Old Ranger will be definitely mad if young master Alaric doesn't make a good impression on young lord Barnett."

"....."

Alaric's expression turned into a grim and nervous one in an instant.

'Even I'm scared, to be frank.'

He said that to frighten Alaric, but he didn't want to imagine that outcome either.

"B-But... You are... Injured..."

. . . . . . . .

"Good evening, young lord Blicra!"

The golden-haired son of the count bowed to the other man in the room. The pale-looking servant standing behind him also lowered his head in respect.

"Yes, hi, good evening, young master Alaric."

The son of the duke, a young man with dark brown hair and green eyes, and a gentle expression, smiled at Alaric first, then reached out a hand for a handshake. He led the youngest child of the count to a couch and sat down opposite him. The table in between them was filled with various kinds of dessert and tea.

'I... I wish I hadn't come...' Ian couldn't take his eyes off of the sweets, the sweets he couldn't eat.

"I heard about what happened to you last night. Bandits should be really daring to attack the son of a count," Barnett said while offering Alaric tea and cake. "How are you, young master? You didn't get injured, did you?"

Alaric responded while scanning the tea with a strange expression, "No, I am perfectly fine, thank you for your concern."

"That's good to hear. Your face looked really haggard so I thought I might've dragged you here in a bad time."

"No everything is fine."

"Aha, right."

"Yeah."

"Hmm."

"Uhm..."

The two noblemen exchanged greetings and casual talk in a friendly manner at first, but as soon as the greetings were over, the room went silent. It was as if no one knew what else to say.

'Did the both of them practice a few lines of dialogue and hoped for the other to continue the conversation?' Ian believed that was probably the truth.

"Hmmm..." After some time, Barnett finally started a conversation after seeing that Alaric had completely given up and focused on his cake instead. "I heard that your carriage was destroyed, how are you planning on continuing your journey?"

"Uh? I don't know. Sir Ranger should take care of it. He said that the count will send a new carriage soon."

"Hmmm..." The young lord tilted his head from side to side. "Won't that take too long? Our schedule is tight as it is, will you manage to make it to the empire on time?"

Barnett Blirca, the second son of Duke Blicra, was known to be a knowledgeable scholar who had zero interest in politics. The reason why he was going to the empire instead of his older brother was to help the future lord of the dukedom as his brother and supporter. Knowing his personality, one could say for sure that whatever he said or did wasn't to insult or ridicule Alaric but out of pure concern.

"...Will it take that long?"

"I'm sure it'll at least take two to three days."

"Uh..." Alaric dazedly stared at the tea in his cup, "Then can I use this as an excuse to avoid the banqu-"

"Cough cough cough!"

The young man's words were cut off by sudden, loud coughs.

"Cough cough ah, cough!"

The blue-haired servant had his back bent and was coughing as if having a fit, too loud that it echoed in the room. Alaric put down his tea almost immediately and half stood up from his seat.

"Ian? Are you alright..." his words came to a stop after he and Ian's eyes met.

'What the fuck are you thinking, talking about avoiding a banquet in front of another noble?' Shouted Ian through his eyes which were baring into Alaric's soul.

"Uhh..." The young master's face paled.

"Is something wrong?"

At Barnett's question, Ian wiped his mouth and bowed his back clumsily, having an apoplectic look on his face.

"I'm sorry for disturbing you, young lord. I'll stay farther away not to bug you any longer."

The blue-haired servant limped away from the noblemen and stood near the door. Barnett's forehead creased slightly while surveying the servant with an observant gaze.

"Is that servant alright? He doesn't look well."

"He's..." Alaric's eyes nervously darted around. "He is injure-"

"I'm alright, young lord, thank you for your concern."

"Hmm?"

The son of the duke shifted his gaze between the master and servant but didn't ask any further.

"Regarding your issue, I can help you for a while."

Seeing Alaric tilt his head, Barnett Blicra explained in more detail, "As I said, it'll take at least a few days until the count sends a new carriage for the young master, and that way, it'll be too late for you to arrive at the banquet on time. That's not something either of us wants to happen, so I can help you out and lend you my carriage until we arrive at a city where you can purchase a new one for yourself."

Alaric opened and closed his mouth multiple times without managing to give a response. It seemed like the young lord interpreted Alaric's speechlessness as something else as he continued on explaining with a good-natured smile plastered to his face.

"Don't take me wrong, I don't have any intention of indebting you or things like that. It's simply that if the count is in trouble because of showing up late for the banquet, our family too will be in danger, or maybe the whole nation. You know about the emperor's tamper, right?"

"Uh!?" The young count's amber eyes flickered in realization. "I understand your goodwill but I can't-"

"Coughhhhhh!"

Alaric's body jolted up at the sudden shout-like coughing. He didn't need to turn around, as Ian was standing right in front of him, behind the young duke, drilling into Alaric's soul with his dark blue eyes. Their gazes met only for a brief second but that was enough to give the young man cold sweats all over his body.

"I-I can't decline such an offer, young lord."

He changed his answer to what seemed to be the right one according to his attendant's actions. Barnett gave the two of them a suspicious look but said nothing else.

The conversation in the tea time ended on a positive note. Young master Alaric was guided outside by the host, lord Blicra, and returned to his room under the surveillance of his guards. His attendant followed him silently all the time. Once the two of them entered the room and closed the door behind them, Alaric threw himself in his bed with an exhausted expression.

"Why did you force me to accept the offer?"

The blue-haired servant rolled his eyes as he unbuttoned his vest.

"It's an opportunity for you, young master. It'd be better if you befriended the young lord while he is by your side. I told you before, the more backers and supports the better."

Ian threw his vest aside while talking under his breath in a nagging tone, "Should a servant teach you the basics?"

"But I," Alaric's gaze lingered on the faint blood stain on his servant's white shirt for a brief second before shifting elsewhere. "I don't want to become a count anymore."

Under the judging gaze of the servant, Alaric wiggled uneasily and lowered his head.

"I'm serious. I don't want that position. I've talked things out with my family and father agreed to watch after her for a while as a test. If she does well, she can continue her education."

The count wasn't unaware of the deeds his daughter committed against her brother, but he couldn't punish or outcast his dear child because of them. His love for his firstborn was so deep that he overlooked her attempts at killing his brother. Elaria didn't have the position of the family's next hair, but she was still the loved child of the count. She was probably what would be called the golden child of the family. Alaric never received much affection from his parents even in childhood, unlike his older sister.

Count Poqlen was always sorry that he couldn't give Elaria the status she wanted so he spoiled her in many other ways, from giving her lots of money to finding the best candidates to marry her. Now that Alaric has given up on his position, the count would happily accept the offer and look after her.

"The young lady won't become a proper countess."

"We can't know until we give her a chance."

"A chance!" Ian chuckled, yet his expression didn't look happy at all. "You gave her a chance and this is the result!"

"...." Alaric's apologetic gaze once again fell on Ian's wounded waist. "We had an agreement... She promised that she won't try to hinder me anymore. Father was there as well. He reassured me that he'll keep her in check. I'm sure she was being honest. I-I don't know why would she try to kill me again when I gave her the thing she wanted."

Ian sat on a sofa and pulled up his shirt. The wound wasn't bleeding anymore and the blood on the bandages was dry. He decided not to change the bandages for now and just bear with it.

"For some reason," Ian lowered his shirt back to cover the wound. "You seem to have suddenly gone nave, young master."

"It's called giving people a chance, not being nave!"

"Call it whatever you want."

"Hey, wait wait!"

Alaric rushed to stop Ian who had picked up his vest and stood up to leave.

"I'm sorry I put you in danger. It was my fault that you got wounded, I know that, please don't be mad."

"I'm not mad because I got wounded."

"Then what?"

Ian huffed a hot breath.

'It's because you are uselessly messing up with the future.'

He kept his thoughts to himself and walked to the door without saying anything else. He left one simple comment before exiting the room, "Wanting to become the next count or no, try to form a friendship with Barnett Blicra in one way or the other."

Click

Just when he opened the door, he saw a man standing right behind it. Severin gave Ian an awkward smile before reaching out his hand. He was holding an envelope.

"It's a response from the county."

Alaric grabbed the envelope, opening it once Severin left. Ian desired to leave as well, but when he wanted to pass Alaric, his sleeve was grabbed by the man.

"Look at this!"

Alaric showed a letter to his face.

"It's from Elaria."

'I don't care?' Ian glanced at the letter with a disapproving face.

[It wasn't me, I swear. I'll find the culprit soon.]

There were only two sentences written on it. Under the letter from the young lord was a full-written page from the count. It explained how their attempt at capturing the doctor failed due to him running away without a trace, and that they would send them a carriage in a few days.

"Look, she says it wasn't her!"

'So what? People can say whatever they want,' Ian rolled his eyes in annoyance and walked past Alaric without responding.

It hadn't walked far when he overheard a conversation.

"There is no reason for us to stay here now that we've captured the bandits. Isn't it better to get moving to find their hideout?"

A male voice responded to the woman, "We'll leave in a while."

"In a while? Why? Do you have business in here?"

"Kind of."

"Hmmm..."

Ian knew who the people were. One was the woman, the doctor, and the other was the person Ian referred to as the black swordsman.

"It's rare. You always rush to get things done as fast as possible. Does it have something to do with that nobleman we saved? You even lent them our horses!"

The sound of conversation was getting closer and closer. Trying to act normal, Ian casually walked forward at a normal pace.

"You talk too much."

As soon as he reached the corridor, two figures came into his view, walking his way.

"Eh? Aren't you that injured boy from last night? Gosh, you are bleeding?"

The young woman rushed to his side as soon as her brown eyes caught the red mark on Ian's shirt.

"No, it's alright, I'm fine," waving his hands, Ian took a step back.

"But-"

"I'm doing fine thanks to you attending to my injury last night. I'm really thankful to you."

The woman's eyes lit up at the remark and her lips curled to a smile.

"I still need to check on your condition."

"Let's do it at a later time."

Smiling, Ian shifted his gaze to the person standing at the back with his arms folded and his brows frowning.

"You also saved me last night so I-"

"What's your name?"

Ian, who had opened his mouth to give the man his thanks, and then have a conversation with the person whom he seemed to know but was unable to remember, closed it with an awkward expression.

"He was called Ian, wasn't he?" At the woman's response, the black-haired youth snorted.

"That's his real name?"

'What the...'

"Yeah, that's my name. Is there a problem with it?"

The young man's eyebrows arched up. "Haven't we met before?"

He completely changed the topic, but Ian wasn't mad. His response came with a smile, "Have we? Where? I'm finding it hard to remember..."

Ian's last words trailed off. He took another step back and distanced himself from the swordsman in an instantious action. A threatening aura was pressing down on him, originating from the black-haired youth. The man's black eyes were as deep as the sky, freighting as if he was staring right into the opposition person's soul, burning with an unknown emotion.

"That blue hair is very memorable, I can never forget it."

"...!!?"

Ian failed to keep a straight face at the spoken words. His hand subconsciously shot up to grab his navy hair and cover it from the people's sight. Slight anxiety rose in his head as various thoughts circled in his mind.

'He knows me. He surely knows me.'

Ian could say that this person had known him since he was a child. He had faint memories of him and was sure that the boy also remembered him. The black-haired man's malice towards him was so deep as if he'd attack him at any moment. Where was this person all this time and why did he appear just now? All of the questions whirled in his head, but the most urgent was the question of how was he supposed to deal with him.

"I have no recollections of you," he paused after barely forming a sentence. "If you give me your name, I might be able to remember."

"My name?" The young man's voice cracked slightly. "Raven."

Although he looked to be ready to kill Ian, the young man was seemingly holding himself back. Ian came to that conclusion after seeing the boy's tightly clenched fists.

"Then... I'll think about it."

Ian didn't wait for a response. He turned around and almost ran to his room. He could hear the woman asking him to wait and questioning 'Raven' if the two of them were friends, but he ignored them all. Ian didn't have the power to fight against that man at the moment. His whole body was wet by cold sweat only by being exposed to the threatening pressure.