Chapter 8 - A Familiar Visitor

It would have been advantageous if my father had bestowed upon me books on agriculture or commerce, but those volumes contained knowledge I was unlikely to ever apply in my life.

"Since he instructed me to read them, I suppose I should make an effort," I contemplated.

I had already devised a plan to peruse numerous books that would assist me in my quest for independence. It was rather inconvenient that he added more to my ever-growing list.

I sighed as I ruminated on the multitude of tasks I had ahead of me when something caught my attention.

"A pendant?"

It featured an exquisite large blue gemstone, which struck a chord of familiarity within me.

"Where have I encountered this before?"

It dawned on me that it bore resemblance to the necklace my father perpetually wore around his neck.

"Oh, it belongs to him," I realized.

He must have inadvertently left it behind. Determining that I would return it to him later, I discreetly tucked the necklace into my pocket.

* * *

Upon returning to my quarters, Merilyn had also concluded her errand.

"Did everything transpire smoothly?" I inquired.

She graciously nodded. "Yes, Lady Floyen. As you requested, the letters were successfully delivered to the noble families."

"I appreciate your efforts," I commended Merilyn for her work, observing a peculiar expression flicker across her countenance once again.

Hmm... am I being overly fastidious? I ruminated.

It occurred to me that I used to detest shouldering additional responsibilities.

I shall bestow her with a bonus later. For now, a sweet treat will suffice.

Extending a plate of delectable chocolate cookies to Merilyn, I gestured for her to accept.

"Take these," I offered.

"I beg your pardon?" she queried.

"I have yet to partake in them," I clarified, in case she misconstrued my intentions. "They are freshly baked."

Merilyn continued to gaze at me with a perplexed expression before eventually accepting the cookies and bowing in gratitude. "Thank you."

"Of course. You may depart now."

As she exited the room, I leisurely sipped my tea, contemplating the imminent responses to my letters. Hitherto, I had never deigned to reply to anyone. However, the noble families who had reached out to me now anticipated handwritten correspondences, obligating them to reciprocate. At present, all that remained was for me to exercise patience and await their replies.

Though an arduous and necessary undertaking for the sake of my future, I could only hope for a tranquil existence once I quelled their animosity towards me.

* * *

As always, the royal family remained a subject of intrigue among the nobility.

"With the borders now stabilized, why does His Majesty the Emperor not summon His Highness the Prince back to the palace?" queried one noble.

"Furthermore, Her Highness the Princess will soon come of age. Will they ever grace us with their presence?" pondered another.

The royal prince and princess had never made an appearance in social circles, thus arousing the curiosity of all the nobles.

"Lord Luigi, did you not mention that your cousin serves at the northern border?" inquired a fellow noble.

"I was informed by him that His Highness the Prince is perpetually concealed beneath a helmet, thereby rendering his face unseen," Lord Luigi shared.

"Is there a reason for his incessant helmet-wearing?" probed another noble.

"I do not possess that knowledge. Perhaps he bears a scar upon his countenance or..." The atmosphere grew tense, prompting the individual who initiated the conversation to forestall any audacious assertions. "While that may be a possibility, we cannot pass judgment unless we encounter him in person, can we?"

Swiftly, the topic shifted to a new subject, allowing the gossip to persist. "By the way, has anyone received letters from Lady Floyen?"

After the royal family, the ducal family took center stage as the next topic of interest, with individuals eagerly expressing their thoughts.

"Yes, it appears she has finally undergone maturation," responded a proud noble, who happened to be among the select few to receive a reply.

However, a dissonant voice had no qualms about voicing dissent. "There is no way someone like her could have genuinely changed."

"He is correct! We cannot simply forget her past transgressions! The letters must have been penned by someone else."

Among the numerous nobles who failed to receive a reply from Jubelian, those harboring resentment did not mince words in their condemnation.

"It is peculiar that one who once acted with unbridled recklessness should suddenly embark on such a venture," remarked another noble.

Meanwhile, those who neither received a reply nor harbored resentment voiced their own doubts. The alteration in Lady Floyen's behavior was an inevitable topic of concern within the social sphere, given her influential status and beauty. While they engaged in gossip about her, there existed a subtle undercurrent of envy towards those who had been fortunate enough to receive a response.

This is utterly repugnant, a gentleman attending the banquet silently mused, his disappointment palpable.

"What are your thoughts on this matter, Sir?" someone inquired, addressing him.

In response to the aristocratic gentleman's query, the man's cold eyes bore into him with a penetrating gaze. His lips curled into a frown.

"I find it rather impudent of you to pose such a question," he declared, unapologetically voicing his opinion. With that, he turned on his heels and departed.

"S-Sir Mikhail!" the aristocratic gentleman urgently called out, but his words fell upon deaf ears.

Exiting the banquet hall, Mikhail clenched his fists and ground his teeth together.

What do I think of this?

A certain woman's pallid visage occupied his thoughts, evoking a chilling smile to grace his lips.

Her intentions are abundantly clear. This is simply another ploy to capture my attention.

Act 2. Why Are You Subjecting Me to This?

I spent the majority of my time confined within the walls of my chamber, indulging in the life of a recluse.

I am utterly bored, I thought, my gaze shifting toward the clock. Dinner was still two hours away, and I pondered about how to occupy myself until then when something caught my eye. Perhaps I should delve into the books my father bestowed upon me.

Since I had no idea when he would present me with another impromptu examination, it seemed wise to seize the opportunity. I began with the volume on tactics, expecting a tedious read. To my pleasant surprise, it proved to be quite captivating.

"Well, well, what have we here?" I marveled.

The book regaled me with anecdotes and cunning strategies, evoking a sense of immersion akin to that of an enthralling fantasy novel. The contents were so engaging and stimulating that I soon forgot about my uncomfortable posture.

Oh dear, my arm has gone numb.

As I shifted my position, I noticed something in my pocket. Ah, my father's pendant.

Marking the page I had been engrossed in, I retrieved the pendant from my pocket. The blue gemstone, reminiscent of the ocean, dazzled my eyes, reflecting silver shards in every direction.

Should I keep it for myself? It appears quite valuable. Temptation lingered, yet I feared the consequences of my father discovering my secret. It seemed wiser to return it to him.

Considering he spends an increasing amount of time in his office, I shall pay him a visit there, I resolved.

Departing from my chambers, I strolled through a lengthy corridor adorned with a myriad of decorative paintings and statues.

"The cleanliness of this place is astounding," I remarked. The maids were undoubtedly burdened with an endless stream of tasks to maintain such pristine white marble flooring. "They must be inundated with responsibilities each day..."

Upon beholding the gleaming suits of armor adorning the walls, a pang of guilt swept over me for the countless varnishes I had purchased. Such thoughts accompanied me as I passed the drawing room, continuing my journey toward the intended destination. Just as I was about to turn the corner leading to my father's office, I overheard voices.

"Do not persist in attempting to convince me any further."

I halted in my tracks. There was someone else present with my father.

I sense familiarity in that voice. Could it be one of his servants?

At that moment, another voice interjected, devoid of emotion. "Consider it a warning, not a suggestion."

If my discernment proved accurate, this apathetic voice belonged to my father. But who could engage him in such a protracted conversation?

Even Derrick, our butler, rarely spent more than an hour in my father's office, and that was already considered lengthy. Yet this individual had been there for five hours since I last laid eyes on my father.

Uncommon for someone to engage him in such prolonged discourse...

The door to the adjacent drawing-room creaked open at that moment. Hastily, I concealed myself behind the corner, fortuitously aided by a nearby pillar obstructing their view.

He shouldn't be able to spot me from there, right?

Glancing down the corridor to the drawing room, I glimpsed my father and a young man shrouded in a black cloak.

Impressive stature, I thought. The man surpassed even my father in height, towering above average. Nevertheless, he exuded an air that transcended mere brawn.

Hmm... he seems familiar. I felt on the cusp of a realization, but the man interrupted my train of thought.

"Cease your futile attempts to manipulate it."

Leaning out further to scrutinize him more closely, my breath caught in my throat.

Having grown up in the company of my father, I had grown somewhat immune to the charms of handsome men. Yet, I found myself unable to resist admiring this individual. His visage possessed an exquisite allure. With raven-black hair and drowsy, aloof, red eyes, his countenance exuded a combination of masculinity and ethereal beauty akin to a master craftsman's magnum opus.

I have rarely encountered someone who doesn't pale in comparison to my father, I ruminated.

Both men possessed a frosty demeanor, yet subtle nuances differentiated them. While my father projected a sharp and intellectual composure, this man emanated a darker and more perilous aura.

An overdue question emerged in my mind. Who is he? This is my first encounter with him, yet a sense of familiarity lingers.

I scrutinized the man once more, taking note of his attire. A black cloak with a hood and a claymore strapped to his back...

He did not resemble a knight or soldier, for carrying such a large sword risked unintentionally harming allies. Nor could he be classified as a thief or assassin, as those occupations necessitated blending in, which would have been impossible with such a weapon. With these possibilities eliminated, I surmised he must be a mercenary or wandering swordsman, unburdened by restrictions on weaponry.

At that moment, my father rested his hand upon the man's shoulder.

"Max," he addressed the man.

Is that his name?

My curiosity heightened, for my father seldom addressed anyone by name.

Who is this man, and why does my father exhibit such familiarity with him?

As I pondered their relationship, my father suddenly glanced around. Hastily, I retreated behind the pillar. Phew, that was a close call.

After regaining my composure, a frown creased my brow. Wait, why was I hiding?