Chapter 7

Chapter 7
## Chapter 7

Within the ranks of the martial order, Lucian was mockingly referred to as the “Deer Prince.”

The title was a jab at his tendency to flinch at the minor shadow of danger, much like a frightened animal burying its face in the brush to escape a hunter.

Consequently, seeing this same timid Deer Prince launch such a verbal assault on the Second Young Master left the onlookers paralyzed.

Many of the armored men present questioned if their own senses were betraying them.

“M-Master Lucian.”

Hans, his complexion turning a ghostly white, gave Lucian’s sleeve a frantic tug. He seemed desperate to flee the area before the apex predator in front of them shook off his shock.

Regrettably, the predator found his footing first.

“You… how dare you speak to me…!”

Jordi’s jaw muscles bunched and spasmed with suppressed fury. He looked as though he might snap at any second and unsheathe his blade in a blind rage.

Even as a heavy, suffocating pressure filled the air, Lucian remained entirely unbothered, cocking his head to the side with an air of indifference.

“I suggest you settle yourself, Brother.”

“Settle? You have the audacity to tell me to calm down?”

“It is for your own benefit. We are currently trying to verify the accuracy of Sir Hendrik’s claims. If you were to strike me now, would that not be interpreted as a silent confession that his words were indeed your own?”

The sound of grinding teeth filled the silence.

Jordi clamped his jaw so tightly it seemed his gums might burst. Every instinct he possessed screamed at him to thrash Lucian until the boy sobbed for mercy. Had this been a month ago, he likely would have done just that.

However, the political landscape had shifted drastically since then.

*Damnation! If only Father hadn’t decided to bankroll this idiot again…!*

The resumption of financial support meant that the Grand Duke’s interest had been rekindled. It would be one thing to bully a forgotten son, but crossing a line now risked the direct wrath of Grand Duke Sigmund.

For Jordi, who was already struggling to maintain his standing in the race for the title, inciting his father’s anger was a gamble he couldn’t afford.

“No response? I am merely seeking the truth. Surely this is a simple matter of ‘yes’ or ‘no’.”

“Silence!”

Jordi forced himself to swallow his bile and surveyed the area. Too many witnesses were gathered for him to simply ignore the provocation.

If he retreated without a word, he would appear defeated by Lucian. Yet, if he resorted to violence, he would look like a petulant child throwing a tantrum over a lost argument.

It was a complete stalemate.

His temples throbbed with a rising headache. He had come here for his usual sport of belittling a weakling—how had he ended up trapped like this?

“Since you remain silent, I can only assume Sir Hendrik was speaking for you. To think that my own flesh and blood would—”

“Who told you such lies!?” Jordi bellowed, cutting Lucian off before the narrative could spiral further out of his control.

He was left with only one escape route.

“I never uttered those words. It appears Sir Hendrik has confused my instructions with those of another.”

“…!”

“Sir Hendrik is a capable warrior, but it has been many years since he sat through a basic lecture. A lapse in memory is hardly shocking. Isn’t that right, Sir Knight?”

A look of pure shock flickered in Hendrik’s gaze at the sudden betrayal. Before the knight could stammer out a defense, Jordi fixed him with a frigid, warning stare.

Under that icy pressure, Hendrik’s shoulders slumped, and he lowered his head in defeat.

“That… that is correct. My memory failed me.”

“Errors happen to the best of us. You misrepresented my name, but I will assume it was an honest mistake and overlook it this once. See that it doesn’t happen again.”

“I am grateful for the Second Young Master’s leniency.”

Hendrik shut his eyes tight, his skin turning a deep, humiliated scarlet. He had stepped forward to serve his master’s interests, only to be tossed aside as a convenient scapegoat. It was a pathetic display. He knew he would be the butt of every joke in the barracks for months to come.

Having successfully shifted the blame, Jordi turned back to Lucian with a sneer of superiority.

“Does that settle your inquiry?”

“Quite thoroughly. Your wisdom is as sharp as ever, Brother. I am truly embarrassed that I allowed such a ridiculous claim to affect me.”

“Is that sarcasm I hear?”

“Not at all. I have simply been reminded of Sir Hendrik’s profound incompetence. Is he truly fit for his station? To forget the fundamental lessons of a page… honestly, his head serves better as a stand for his helmet than a container for a brain.”

Hendrik shook with repressed emotion as the insults continued. His face was so flushed it looked on the verge of a physical rupture.

Lucian, however, wasn’t done twisting the knife.

“Sir Hendrik, please explain. How does one lose track of a full decade? Is such a thing even possible? My mind isn’t as ‘unique’ as yours, so I find it impossible to fathom.”

“Third Young Master! You are crossing the line!”

“Am I? Perhaps you should poll your peers. Ask if any of them would make such a blunder. I suspect even the newest squire would know better. Are you suggesting that a knight of your standing is less capable than a boy cleaning stables?”

“H-How… how can you heap such disgrace upon me…!”

A thin trickle of blood escaped Hendrik’s lips; he had bitten down so hard in his effort to remain silent that he’d cut his own flesh.

Lucian offered a mocking half-smile, then gave Jordi a shallow, respectful nod.

“I regret that the stupidity of a single knight has caused such a scene. Now that the air is cleared, I shall depart.”

“You think this is a game? You can’t just walk away after spewing such vitriol!”

“Forgive me, but my health is still fragile, and I find this conversation taxing. If you wish to discuss further matters, please wait until I have fully mended.”

“How dare you!”

“Father has been quite attentive to my progress lately. It would be a shame if he heard of any friction between us—especially if it were suggested that you were the instigator, Brother.”

Jordi’s lips thinned at the mention of Grand Duke Sigmund. Lucian offered a final bow to the fuming, silent Jordi and turned his back on the training field.

Jordi watched him go with a murderous glare before stomping away in irritation.

Left behind in the dust was a single knight, standing alone in his utter humiliation.

—

Hans scrambled after Lucian, his face still devoid of color. He kept glancing over his shoulder, half-expecting an ambush at any moment.

“M-Master. Was it truly wise to be so aggressive?”

“What do you mean?”

“You humiliated Sir Hendrik, and you pushed the Second Young Master to the brink. Won’t they look for a way to get even?”

“Get even?”

Lucian let out a dry, short chuckle at the thought.

“A simple knight seeking vengeance against me, the Third Young Master? I’d like to see him try. He’d lose far more than just his spurs. I’m curious what he thinks he could actually achieve.”

A knight’s entire existence was built on the pillar of fealty. To plot against the child of his liege over a bruised ego? That wouldn’t just be viewed as petty; it would be a fundamental betrayal of his vows.

His own brothers-in-arms would likely execute him for tarnishing their collective honor before the Grand Duke even had to intervene.

If he used shadows and poison, perhaps, but what resources does a common soldier have? He lacked the rank and the connections. The best he could do was nurse his resentment in private.

“As for Jord—my brother… that is a different matter. I cannot live my life as a doormat simply because I fear he might be annoyed.”

“What?! So he really will try something?”

“Most likely.”

Jordi had saved face by sacrificing Hendrik, but the event was a stinging defeat. Despite the blatant disrespect, Jordi had failed to silence Lucian or protect his man. He would now be whispered about as a leader who abandons his followers when things get difficult.

Jordi was surely aware of this, and the frustration was likely keeping him awake at night.

*He won’t move openly because of Father, but he’ll be looking for a crack in my armor.*

Jordi was the sort of man who could ruin lives without a second thought but viewed the smallest slight against himself as an unforgivable sin. A scheme was undoubtedly brewing.

Yet, Lucian felt no tremor of fear.

*The plots of a novice are transparent.*

A scheme’s effectiveness was capped by the intellect of its architect. What was there to dread from the machinations of a twenty-year-old child? No matter the trap, Lucian was confident he could simply shatter it.

—

“…This is peculiar. Why is it so quiet?”

Lucian mused aloud, tilting his head after finishing his daily mana exercises in his chambers.

A full week had passed since the confrontation, yet nothing had happened. Lucian had even made a point of walking the grounds at the same hours every day, providing an easy target, but there was no sign of trouble. Jordi seemed to have vanished into the woodwork.

*He isn’t the type to swallow his pride and hide.*

He had been made to look like a fool by the very brother he despised most. Every day he failed to respond, his standing dropped. Yet, the silence remained unbroken.

“Master, are you done with your meditation?”

“Yes. Did my brother send word or come by while I was occupied?”

“No one. Not a single message.”

“Strange. I didn’t take him for the patient type.”

“Don’t let it weigh on you. Perhaps the Second Young Master has truly learned his lesson? He has to be cautious with His Grace watching.”

Hans, unlike his master, seemed relieved. The anxiety that had gripped him for a week had finally dissipated, replaced by a cheerful mood.

“Besides, shouldn’t you be focusing on how to spend your funds? Today is the scheduled distribution, after all.”

“Ah, has it been a month already?”

Time had flown since the Grand Duke had restored his stipend. The previous funds had been entirely invested in Moonlight Grass and other necessities. His stock was currently depleted, and he needed the new influx of gold to continue his work.

“I’ll head to the Treasury right now and bring it back!”

Hans sprinted out, heading for the administrative wing. Since Lucian’s payday coincided with his own wages, the servant was practically glowing with excitement.

Lucian watched him go with a small smile, waiting patiently for his return.

However, as the minutes turned into an hour, there was no sign of the boy. Just as Lucian was starting to worry and prepared to investigate—

“M-Master Lucian.”

Hans finally appeared, his eyes red-rimmed and brimming with tears. Lucian’s brow furrowed instantly.

“What happened? Did someone lay a hand on you?”

“No, sir… it’s not that. Please… look at the ledger.”

Lucian grabbed the parchment from Hans’s trembling hand. It was the standard financial breakdown, nearly identical in format to the one from the previous month. The horror lay in the specific line items and the final balance.

As Lucian’s eyes scanned the numbers, his expression shifted from confusion to cold, burning anger.

“This is a farce…!”

The personal allowance intended for Lucian had been gutted, reduced to a measly quarter of its original sum. In contrast, the ‘maintenance and staffing’ costs for the estate’s servants—excluding Hans—had been inflated to several times their normal rate.

The books had been cooked with blatant, mocking intent.

Incensed by the transparent theft, Lucian balled up the paper and stood up abruptly.

“Which clerk is responsible for this insult?”