The manor door he had been knocking on opened after only a moment, and he locked eyes with someone he had not expected to see. Evidently, the man who had answered the door was experiencing a similar shock, as it took them both a second to return to normalcy.

Ganturo bowed at the waist to greet his superior. “Good morning to you, Count Ryfellin,” he said politely.

The count shook his head in mock disappointment before replying teasingly. “And here I thought we’d moved past such petty formalities…commander.”

Ganturo showed a small yet sad smile at the use of his former title, a surge of memories rising forth that he quickly stopped. “It’s been a long time since I’ve been a commander. Anyways, why have you come back to Khobadaar? I was under the impression you and Lady Troia were inspecting your lands out west and wouldn’t be back for some time.”

“Why don’t you come inside first, then we can talk,” the count said, inviting his former military commander into his estate. They walked to a side hall with two couches facing each other, a table with various refreshments and beverages laid atop it. “I was just heading out when we ran into each other. Please,” the count said, gesturing for Ganturo to sit, which he did. He rang a bell that summoned a maid, who was dispatched to brew a fresh pot of tea for them. Afterwards, he turned back around to face his guest with a genuine smile on his face.

“Now, how have you been? How are Evelyn and the children?”

Ganturo had never taken formal etiquette lessons, he hadn’t had time for it since he joined the army, and afterwards, he had already picked up the essentials from his comrades on the battlefield. Still, he could recognize what his former subordinate and old friend was doing: using small talk to soften him up before bringing up the main topic of why he was here.

It just so happened that his opening question was the main reason he had come here.

“I…sigh, I need your help.” Ganturo admitted, his face downcast as he couldn’t continue to look at his old friend’s face. Pride and shame warred in his mind at what he was about to ask for, yet none of that mattered in the face of his children’s safety and well-being.

“Of course. What is it? Is there someone at the academy troubling you? Was it some noble brat? Or…is it Ennin? Ah, I see. She found someone, but you want me to look into the boy and make sure he’s not hiding a bastard or a slew of other women. Well, it’s not impossible, but it will take some time,” the count rattled off reasons as they came to him, showing his willingness to help.

It grated at Ganturo’s mind that he was about to take advantage of that goodwill.

He raised his face to see the noble before him, someone who truly deserved and lived up to the title he had won. If he was going to ask for something of this magnitude, the least he could do was look the man in the eye as he did so.

“I wish to enter your service as your retainer, or for House Ryfellin.” Gan spit out the words as if saying them faster would make them less awkward.

After a few seconds of silence as the count processed the information, he asked in a quiet voice, “Why.”

“I need your protection,” he said.

That, apparently, was not something the count had been expecting.

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“Protection? From what?”

“Sigh…Dax, if I tell you, I need your word you won’t tell anyone else. This is serious. You know me. You know I wouldn’t ask you for something like this if I had any other choice,” Ganturo called out his old friend by his name, the stress making him less formal.

Daxian cracked his knuckles as he thought it over, a habit he evidently hadn’t dropped in over ten years, weighing his old commander’s character against the magnitude of the favor he was requesting…until he finally reached a decision.

“Very well, you have my word. I swear to the Mother and my ancestors that I will not reveal the contents of this conversation to anyone you do not approve of. May I be struck down if I am false.” The words eased the tension in Ganturo’s mind, at least enough for him to share the details.

He tried to get rid of his nervousness, but it persisted no matter what he did, so he did his best to ignore it and move on.

“Gillen has the time affinity.” He said it sternly, his anger at the undeserved fate inflicted upon his son bleeding through into his words and his face, not to mention his fists.

Though none of that compared to how taken aback Daxian was. He was frozen in place, so shocked he hadn’t even blinked.

Gan decided, ironically enough, that time was more important than propriety right now, so he reached over and lightly slapped the man who could theoretically have him executed.

Daxian rubbed his cheek as he muttered, “Time affinity…”

Ganturo rolled his eyes at how flustered his old friend was, though to be fair, he had been in a similar state when he first had the news confirmed.

“Daxian. Daxian. DAXIAN!” he yelled, finally drawing the other man out of his trance.

“What?”

“Sigh, are you willing to have me as your retainer?” Ganturo asked again.

“Yes…yes, yes! By the Mother’s grace, time affinity! And your son! He’s bound to be a powerful mage once he…” he trailed off as the realization finally hit him. “Is he…already casting?” he whispered, not daring to believe something so unlikely.

“That’s the other reason why I came to you. It started nearly a year ago, just things showing up in his dreams. I reached out to the people he saw, just to check, and sure enough, they confirmed the events he described actually happened. Then he started fainting at random times, shaking and spasming, and sleeping for days on end afterwards, describing people and places I’ve never even heard of! He’s a child! Children don’t just randomly cast spells without even accumulating essence! It’s impossible! And when I think of what the nobles might do to us if they ever find out! And now he’s…” Ganturo clenched his fists at how much his son had to endure, before releasing them again, trying to focus on the immediate problem.

“I…no, Gillen needs help, medical help. The kind of help that healers around here can’t offer. I’m guessing you know at least one healer who’s trustworthy and skilled enough to be able to help him.”

The two men locked gazes again, before Ganturo rose from his seat…and kneeled before the count. This was his last resort. If this didn’t work…he didn’t even want to imagine what might happen to his son.

“My lord. I’m begging you. Please…please…do not condemn my son to an early grave, or something worse.” His voice was full of emotion as he spoke, the words coming out in a near whisper, and he began to wonder if perhaps he had made a mistake. Maybe it would have been better if he had –

A soft hand grasped his shoulder, firmly clenching it before it released its hold on him. And when he heard the count’s voice, it was softer than he imagined it would be.

“Please, Gan, stand up, there’s no need for this.” He spoke calmly, having since recovered into a state where he could speak coherently.

The two men stood together, the commoner just barely looking down on the count.

“I hope you realize you’re going to be running errands and travelling quite a lot from now on. From what I’ve heard, pregnant women need quite a bit of tending to.” Daxian’s voice regained its teasing lilt to it, but Gan nearly broke down once he focused on the implications of the first sentence.

Ganturo embraced his old friend fully, doing his best not to shed tears.

“Thank you, my lord, truly. I couldn’t…” He began spewing words of gratitude, before his brain caught up with him and realized the implications of the count’s second sentence.

“Your wife is pregnant?!” he half-yelled, forgetting where he was and his new station.

Unfortunately, his new lord’s lady barged into the room at precisely that moment and shouted, “You lout! I told you not to tell anyone!”

Her husband looked entirely unapologetic, a wide smile on his face, as he began to explain the situation to his newly-irritable wife.