Luther had closed his eyes briefly. But he had no chance to rest. Before he could get a ten minutes of rest a massive commotion occurred outside the manor. There were screaming guards, women, and even a massive explosion that shook the building. His ceremonial chandlers teetered dangerously to falling into the center of the room.

He got up and walked towards the window towards the sound. On the way he paused and fixed a massive painting that had been shifted and made uneven. A warrior with a bloody sword sitting in a green garden. His father’s most beloved piece.

The thought of it being damaged sent coursing surges of unadulterated rage through him. Luther had pause with eyes closed to control the wild emotions that threatened to leak out of him. This was a worry he had thought about. What if he acted without thinking, letting the monster that was Luther Morgan Bellham act in its villainous ways? Would he survive the consequences?

Luther looked out of the window. He frowned.

An indiscript carriage had run through the gates of his mansion leaving it teetering on its hinges. His soldiers and guards were all sprawled in pain or knocked out, but none had been killed. The horses that had carried the carriage were injured grievously. They whined from the pain.

The commotion grew louder as it reached closer to his very room. He could hear voices yell as they climbed up the floors to the third where his office sat. Luther was not fully worried. If it was a real threat, then Baldwin and his HeadServant would have already been blasting. Not mentioning the perfectly fine soldiers who, other than bruises, would all be perfectly fine with a few days rest.

The door to his office was kicked hard. It did not budge. Another massive kick shook the entire room, his father’s painting shifting again. Luther had an indescribable urge to fix it once more. One that he indulged.

Three more kicks shook the room, each time he had to fix the picture. Until finally Baldwin opened the door himself.

“My Lord. Your Second Brother. Sir Yves Bellham has come to visit you.” Baldwin shifted behind him in what he assumed was his practiced bow.

Someone stomped into the room. They took deep, heavy breathes after the entire debacle they caused. Luther could imagine the sweat trickling down their brows as he finished orienting the picture. He was in no hurry, there was a surprising need to stop a bone shaking satisfaction at the presence of the person before him.

It was like Luther knew this would happen. As he planned…?

He turned around with a slight smile, doing his best to cover the massive Cheshire grin that demanded to creep to his face. “Brother.”

Yves Bellham was the closest to their father in looks. Same height, short buzz cut, and golden eyes Luther did not have. He had been doted on the most, and for that Luther hated him the most. The father he loved so much threw him to the side and cared for Yves instead.

“To what great honor do I owe this sudden visit?” Joy flashed behind his eyes as he saw the anger and inability to do anything his brother portrayed.

He pointed at him his a shaking finger. “Y-You…” it turned into a fist, eyes quickly shifting to the standing Baldwin next to them. The man had thoughts of killing him. What could bring a righteous man of his stature down so low…?

Shit.

It clicked. The star on his page. The noble family they had attacked and the noble that had been allowed to escape. It all was pieced together like a puzzle.

Holy shit was Luther dangerous!

Luther had sent his goons after Yves fiancé, the daughter of Baron Whitman. It was a threat, one that shook the very core of the man before him. Nothing could be traced back to Luther, but they both knew exactly what happened and how it had happened. The goal had to make a simple statement: I can reach your most loved ones and there is nothing you could do about it.

He couldn’t let Baldwin leave or he might just die a year early to a rogue knight of Yves caliber. Luther had no notions of surviving someone as powerful as him. Very few would ever even dream of it, much less accomplish it. The man before him would kill a real life Demon King. Like the ones that took an entire party of heroes to gang up on.

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The ones that kill millions and had entire civilizations and races come together to eliminate. That was much further into the future where he would be powered up considerably, but that did not mean he was weak now. Far from it.

“I know you did it.” He growled. “Stay away from Rosia or I will die to kill you—“

Luther tsked. He shook his head. “It brings me great distress that my kin would think so low of me. Or maybe it's the thought of a holy knight that would stoop so low as to threaten murder? I wonder what the Knighthood would think of this? They do seem to take salacious news and run with it nowadays, don’t they…” He couldn’t help the smile from breaking free. “…Brother?”

He could see Baldwin shift uncomfortably. But there was no way he would allow the old man to leave. His life depended on it. The first of his actions had already arrived to haunt him and all just to make a point to his brother. It was suicide at its finest.

Yves closed his eyes. His body shook like he was disgusted. “I-“ He took a deep breath. “What will it take to keep you away from her? I am willing to negotiate.”

Luther saw the shame that lined his brother’s face. The previous him would have cackled madly, but he was different. There was a deeper connection between them that could not be separated. His modern soul loved his brother and that leaked into his feelings now.

But at the same time. There stood a mighty knight willing to deal. A force he could bring to bear and force all his villains in employment to swear a magical oath of loyalty or to die. And more important, someone he could rely on to actually clear dungeons. The Knighthood were the most sought after forces to bring onto any adventure. They simply steamrolled through everything.

Luther walked behind his desk and took a seat in his comfy villain chair. He pointed at the seats in front of him. “Sit.”

“I shall bring refreshments, My Lord.” Baldwin tried to leave.

“No.” Luther said a bit too urgently. “Stay here, you are relevant to the situation at hand. Have Head-Maid Maria bring me some tea.” He looked towards Yves. “Would you like some, Yves?”

Yves shook his head. His hands rubbed his neck absentmindedly. The man looked as lost as a puppy. Luther almost felt bad. Almost. He would do well to kick start his plans.

It took a moment, but his second most loyal servant arrived with many maids in tow. In her hands was a single cup of silver. No decorations or designs. His father used to drink from that same cup, sipping at hot tea. Luther would reminisce fondly every time he carried it.

Maria filled the cup with steam red tea. With a wave of her hand, a spoon filled with sugar dropped in and mixed. Two mint leaves dove right after. Once done she presented it to him with a flourish of her old arms. She shook like a branch, but not a single drop fell from the cup.

He smiled at her and accepted the cup. “Thank you, Maria. Your tea is quite marvelous.”

Maria’s eyes widened for a brief moment before a massive smile bloomed on her face. “Thank you, My Lord. Your father loved it the same exact way. His memory will always be with us.” With that she disappeared with her gaggle of maids.

Luther took a sip. He let out a satisfied sigh. It was heavenly.

Yves looked at the cup with a sad frown. “Where did it all go wrong? You were the most righteous of us, brother.”

Luther put the cup down. His hands had begun to shake and he was afraid it would spill all over him. Instead, he hid them under the desk on his thighs. The urge to throw the scolding hot cup at Yves was difficult to stop as decades of baggage and restrained emotions attempted to shoot out like a rocket.

He let out a deep breath. “I am in need of your particular talents. These are the terms I will present you—“

“You want me to be your goon?” Yves looked insulted. “You would ask your brother to be a hired blade?”

Luther frowned at him. He needed to hold the upper hand, and from years of being put through interviews he knew one tactic worked better than the rest. Silence. Dead silence was the most uncomfortable thing to forcefully take back the advantage in a setting like this.

So he stared. The only sound between them was his brother’s soon to be fidgeting in his seat. It took a good few minutes, but it eventually happened. Yves broke the silence unwilling to look him in the eyes.

“What do you need me to do?”

“Quite simple if you would allow me to speak without interruption—“

Yves cringed.

“—Two things I am in need of. I am confident they will be quite accommodating of your station and abilities. As I am sure you are aware, I have certain acquaintances of the less savory kind. Some the Knighthood would pay handsomely for their heads and others that are simply too strong to risk this form of confrontation without major resources and a tonne of questions. Questions that would lead to me.”

Yves met his eyes. A glint of the Knight he was flashed in his eyes. It was a cold silver that would stare into your eyes as you bleed out. “Speak clearly.” Even his voice deepened.