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Chapter 31: Thirteen Years Later
Thirteen years later. The Aindra domain.
Morning sunlight crept over the eastern ridge — first gilding the highest treetops in a thin wash of gold, then flowing slowly down the hillside, across the vineyard, and finally settling on the town in the valley below.
The town was small but full of life in every corner. The stone roads were laid flat and even. The houses along both sides were mostly timber-and-stone construction, the walls a clean white, the roofs covered in dark red clay tiles. Smoke curled from chimneys, pale gold in the morning light, dissolving slowly into the clear blue sky.
Along the street, early shops were already open. The bakery was drifting out the warm smell of fresh bread. From the smithy came the rhythmic ring of a hammer on metal. Several children ran laughing across the paving stones, their voices bright and clear, startling pigeons off the rooftops.
Further on, a small river ran through the town. A stone bridge crossed it. A waterwheel stood at the bank, turning in its slow, steady way, drawing the clear water into the irrigation channels. On both sides of the river, wheat crops spread out in wide fields, swaying in the morning breeze.
The whole domain was like a carefully tended garden. Every inch of ground put to use. Every detail breathing quiet prosperity.
And all of it had its beginning at the unassuming manor on the north side of the valley.
The manor sat on a level terrace partway up the hill, mountain at its back, the town spread below. Calling it a manor was almost generous — it was closer to a farmhouse that had grown somewhat beyond its ambitions.
The stone outer walls carried no elaborate decoration. The windows were plain squares. The portico had only two simple stone columns. But someone who knew what to look for would notice the details: the windows were fitted with glass of exceptional clarity; the flagstones before the door were laid smooth as a mirror; the drainage channels built into the base of the walls were cleverly engineered, designed to carry off even a downpour without leaving a puddle.
At this moment, the morning light was falling on one particular window on the second floor.
Behind that window was a study. Not large. Simply furnished. A row of bookshelves along one wall, books and scrolls stacked in neat order. Several pages covered in writing were spread across the desk, alongside an inkwell and pen.
Sunlight came in through the window and cast a warm patch of light on the floor.
Someone was sitting at the desk.
His back was to the window. The morning light poured in from behind and wrapped him in a soft halo.
He was a young man of around twenty. His posture looked almost casual at a glance, but his back was held perfectly straight — the bearing of someone who had kept to a discipline long enough that it had settled into bone, something that would not slip regardless of circumstance. His golden hair had deepened somewhat from his childhood color, catching the morning light with a warm glow.
Soft strands fell forward, a few brushing his forehead, making that face look all the more refined. The features had the particular precision of the Aindra family, but the lines were sharper now than in his younger years. The brow ridge sat slightly more pronounced, the nose straight, the jaw clean and defined — the softness of boyhood gone, the angles of a grown man settled in its place.
His skin ran a shade darker than the nobles of the royal capital — the mark of years spent outdoors — but that healthy warmth of tone only made him look more commanding.
At this moment, those eyes were lowered slightly, focused on the pen in his hand.
The pen moved across the page with a faint, dry scratch.
A knock at the door. Light, a few taps. The same rhythm as always.
Lucian didn't look up. Just made a sound of acknowledgment.
The door opened.
"Siel" walked in.
Thirteen years had passed. The little girl from back then had grown into a young woman of around twenty. But that face was still the one in Lucian's memory — long blue hair falling quiet down her back, amber-brown eyes the color of lukewarm tea, features as precisely formed as a porcelain doll.
Only the expression was exactly as it had always been for the past thirteen years.
Despondent.
Or rather, more despondent than thirteen years ago.
She set the tray on the desk. On the tray was a cup of black tea, the color clear, the scent rising in a delicate thread. Beside it was a small dish of pastry — the local honey cake, baked golden, giving off a warm sweetness.
"Drink up."
Two words. No "Lord Lucian." No "please." Not even a proper form of address.
Lucian looked up and gave her a glance. Not a trace of expression on that face. Her eyes were half-open, gaze resting somewhere in empty air, as though nothing in the world could hold her interest. The corners of her mouth turned down just slightly, carrying a faint arc of someone who has given up entirely. Her standard expression, unchanged for thirteen years.
"Thank you," Lucian said.
The tea was not scalding this time.
"Siel" drew a sheaf of papers from inside her robes and set it on the desk. The pages were stacked with exact neatness, edges cut clean and even, covered in dense writing.
"Latest registration data for adventurer parties in E-Rantel." Her voice carried that same half-dead tone as always, as though reading out a report she had no opinion about. "Yesterday, three new parties registered. Two copper-rank, one iron-rank. Names, member composition, listed classes — all in there."
Lucian took the sheaf but didn't look through it. "Thank you for your work," he said.
This was Lucian's method for narrowing down the exact timing of the Bone King's arrival.
Of course, he could have the Black Scripture's Seventh Seat — Stargazer — observe the northern plains of E-Rantel directly. An abrupt change in the terrain would certainly be detected.
But Lucian couldn't take that risk.
The Great Tomb of Nazarick had a magical defense system that far exceeded anything this age could conceive of. Any attempt at observation from outside, however subtle the method, could trigger [Anti-Detection Magic]. If the Bone King were alerted, the entire plan could unravel completely.
And in fact, at this moment, the Theocracy's Sunlight Scripture had not yet gone silent. After the Bone King arrived, he would first destroy the Sunlight Scripture, and only after that register as an adventurer.
So Lucian only took the data, ran his eyes briefly over it, and set it down.
Just as he had been doing for the past several years.
"Siel" didn't respond with the usual pleasantries. She only stood there, waiting for Lucian to finish, and then spoke again. "Then there's the matter of domain finances."
Lucian looked up.
"Siel" still wore that expressionless face, but those eyes seemed somehow even more vacant than a moment ago — if that could be called any kind of emotional expression at all. "Not enough." Two words. Clean and direct.
Lucian's brow shifted slightly. "What about the money from the weapons sales?"
"Spent."
Lucian was quiet for a second. "Spent on what?"
"Everything." "Siel's" voice was as flat as someone reading from a ledger. "Expansion of the farmland irrigation system. New grape varieties for the vineyard. Road repairs in the town. Expansion of the schoolhouse. Day-to-day costs of the orphanage. Equipment upgrades for the domain's cavalry. Grain reserves for the storehouses. And your incomprehensible book purchases —" she paused. "That last item cost the most."
The corner of Lucian's mouth gave a faint twitch. He hadn't expected more than a hundred years of Aindra family wealth to run through this fast. Even factoring in everything he had brought in himself, they were nearly at the bottom.
Father's not going to come charging back from the capital to beat me when he finds out, is he.
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