“Come in, Ferri’s about done getting dressed.”

The thoroughly surprised speaker was a slender boy flicking his flaxen cat ears—Felix Argyle.

Though, he tended not to use that name, at least among friends. For the past seven years, he had taken to using the name ‘Ferris’, and his position in the Karsten household as Crusch’s attendant was something he was proud of.

The door opened, and a man old enough to be his father entered, a hand subtly pressed against his midsection.

“Felix, it’s good to see that you're in high spirits again,” Meckart—the duke of the Karsten lands and Crusch’s father—greeted with a soft smile. The physical resemblance to Ferris’s liege was weak but he shared her amber eyes. Still, for those that knew the two, it was easy to see the similarities in their character, such as how serious the two of them were, or their determination to see justice upheld.

Ferris noted that he seemed more tired than usual, and although Meckart stood straight, his well-trained eyes picked up the way Meckart stood to avoid aggravating his stomach.

Ferris allowed a sigh, “Ferri is always telling you to take better care of his health and manage his stress more responsibly, instead of simply ignoring it and letting it build up. Even Ferri will struggle to keep you in good health.”

Moving closer to Meckart, Ferris laid his hands on the man’s stomach and focused on healing the man, and if he got a little closer than necessary to watch Meckart squirm, that was on him for being so easy to tease.

He double-checked his work to make sure that he’d healed away every trace of the affliction, though, considering Meckart’s tendency to ignore his body’s needs, it wouldn’t remain so for long. With a slight sigh, he allowed himself to take a step back, and then his concern was banished by amusement as he watched Meckart relax. 

Although that amusement was sadly cut short as he saw Meckart’s face take on a far sterner expression than the one he usually wore. Ferris couldn’t help but note that it didn’t fit his face at all, and even Ferris couldn’t tell if he was trying to distract himself from what was coming, as he opened his mouth.

“The actions of our former groundskeeper were unacceptable yesterday, and I’ve since sent him off to one of our other Mansions,” he said gravely. “I’ve given instructions that he be kept away from any positions of power for several years. I suspect that you feel that might have been too harsh an action for his words yesterday, but he was acting as a representative for the Karsten family during his work in the manor, and to allow such words towards my daughter’s attendant would only serve to weaken our position further.”

Ferris gave Meckart a dry look and tapped on his lips, knowing all too well how Meckart dealt with silences, and not in the mood to hear the official reasoning that Meckart would give to anyone asking. 

As if in response, Meckart took a deep breath and shifted uncomfortably before admitting the true reason as well.

“More than that, Crusch and I hate to hear such derogatory things about you, and I shudder to think what His Highness would think of me if I were to allow such statements to pass to one he regards as a close friend.”

Ferris allowed a deep sigh, truly he was blessed to have been welcomed into the Karsten Mansion as an attendant to Lady Crusch, but he was also aware of the amount of reshuffling that had been done over the years to help ensure that the people serving were welcoming and kind to him. Such actions left him uncomfortable, as it only served to deepen the debt he owed to the family, but he knew that admitting it directly would get him nothing but assurances that it wasn’t a problem and the right thing to do.

But the man’s actions honestly hadn’t been that bad. 

Sure, he had been a little rude, but he hadn’t done anything but speak some harsh words, and Ferris knew he had been good at his actual job. Compared to the years Ferris had spent in his own family’s ‘tender’ arms, it was nothing. In fact, Ferris had almost forgotten about the incident until Meckart’s unscheduled visit.

“While Ferri is touched by Lord Meowckart’s gallant concerns, Ferri still thinks you went too far,” he began, but Meckart raised a hand to interrupt him. 

“Felix, such things cannot be tolerated, for if they are, they will simply become worse in time, rather than better.”

Ferris had to admit that was something he admired about the man. While normally it was easy to fluster the man, the moment he thought something was important he easily ignored Ferris’s tricks. 

Still, he didn’t want to continue such a conversation, even if it was for his own benefit, so he searched his own mind for something he could use to distract the man. A trick he hadn’t used in a while, a new one, perhaps a detail about what Crusch had been getting up to, or… a sound?

Ferris twitched his feline ears, his demi-human heritage providing him with senses far greater than any human’s. He could hear the soft rumble of wheels on gravel, the sound that heralded the arrival of a dragon carriage to the Karsten lands.

Meckart’s eyes flicked up to Ferris’s ears, noticing the faint quiver, then he glanced at the window. 

“Do you hear something, perhaps, Felix?”

“We have a visitor,” Ferris answered, walking over to the window and drawing the curtains, allowing them to spot an ornate carriage approaching the manor gates, which swiftly opened to allow it in.

The carriage had barely rolled to a stop when the door burst open, and a striking youth leapt down the stairs.  The coachman hesitated, eyes wide with worry, but the boy dismissed him with a wink and started bounding towards the manor, his fur coat billowing behind him. His scarlet eyes sparkled in the daylight as he raised his face to look up to the manor, and by extension, the two of them.

This was Fourier Lugunica, the fourth son of the current King of Lugunica, who had been visiting the Karsten estate fairly frequently over the years.

Despite that, Ferris could sense Meckart stiffen, becoming ramrod straight at the surprise arrival of His Highness. No matter how many times this occurrence occurred, he never could relax around someone he respected so much.

“Crusch! Ferris! Are you here? I long to see your faces!” 

Ferris didn’t even need his enhanced senses to hear the prince. He was quite capable of announcing his presence when he came to visit. Ferris was a bit afraid he would manage to shout himself hoarse one day, and he resolved to check on the prince’s throat during the healing session later.

There wasn’t a doubt in his mind that there would be such a session, but he’d never admit that out loud. At least, not within Crusch’s earshot. He didn’t want her to punish him for disrespecting royalty.

This story has been stolen from Royal Road. If you read it on Amazon, please report it

With but a glance behind him, he saw Meckart gesturing for him to attend to the prince, so Ferris gladly left, making a mental note to perhaps tease Fourier a little less than usual, as his timing had been amazing.

He hurried down the halls, taking the steps two at a time as he bound to the entrance hall. 

His liege, Lady Crusch, was already there, walking down the steps towards Fourier waiting in the courtyard. She turned her head as Ferris raced up to her side. He took the opportunity to cycle his mana through himself, to heal any minor damage he may have caused in his rush.

Crusch was a young woman with long green hair tied with a white ribbon, sharply dressed in men’s clothes. Despite her unconventional attire, none could deny she had begun to bloom into a great beauty, her fine features and almond eyes marking her as exceptional, even among the nobility.

“Ferris,” she greeted, a slight smile on her face. “It is good to see that you're in high spirits today, after what happened yesterday. Still, we’ve talked about you pushing yourself too hard and healing yourself to compensate.”

“Of course!” Ferris exclaimed, trying to push past the event before Fourier caught wind of it. He had just escaped from that difficult conversation, he didn’t want it brought up again already. 

“Something so minor wouldn’t be a problem for Ferri! Besides, seeing Prince Fourier again today is just the sort of thing that would cheer me up.”

Fourier, Crusch, and Ferris all shared a strong friendship, despite their differences in status, and that meant quite a bit to Ferris. Though currently, he was just grateful to Fourier for saving him from that awkwardness. 

He knew that if he admitted the truth, Crusch would insist on continuing the discussion. Ferris needed a way to distract her, and by implying that Fourier was helping improve his mood, Crusch would probably allow him to spend more time with him, and perhaps even be more lenient towards some of his pranks towards the prince. 

It was only long experience that allowed Ferris to thread the needle between truth and deceit with his master. She held an ability, her Divine Protection of Wind Indication, which, among other things, allowed her to sense when lies were spoken in her presence. 

Fourier was waiting patiently in the courtyard, waiting for them to reach him. Thankfully, he looked to be in one of his good moods, rather than arriving in a fit as he sometimes had in the past.

“There you are! It’s been so long since we’ve last laid eyes on each other, I’ve begun to feel lonely!”

Crusch tilted her head quizzically, no doubt surprised that she could not sense a lie in the prince’s words. “Your Highness? Did you not visit just last week? How could you feel lonely after such a short time apart?”

Fourier laughed shamelessly. “Is that so? It feels like it’s been an eternity! Perhaps I should visit more often!”

Crusch continued to look confused, but she didn’t dwell on it further. “Your Highness, this is an unusual time for you to visit. Has something happened?”

Fourier nodded, his eyes lighting up mischievously. “Well, it’s not that something’s happened… but no, perhaps you could say that. I’ve been practising my swordsmanship, and I have mastered a new style! It’s something from the east of the kingdom, and I thought, ‘Surely, this will give me the upper hand!’ So, would you do me the honour of allowing me to test my skills?”

Ferris sighed slightly at the predictable remark. Fourier often had a silly reason for his visits, and his boasts rarely matched reality. 

Still, he went to grab the two practice swords for the two of them with a smile on his face. If nothing else, it would be entertaining to watch.

Handing the swords to the two combatants, Ferris settled down to watch the show.

True to his word, Fourier’s skills had visibly improved. Even Ferris—a novice at the blade—could see that he held his blade more easily and moved a touch faster. If he was up against a normal soldier, or perhaps even a knight, it wouldn’t be unusual for Fourier to win despite his young age. However, compared to Crusch, such swordsmanship simply wasn’t enough, and in minutes Fourier’s blade had hit the ground, his body following close behind.

Somewhat unusually, Fourier looked like he wanted to continue the fight, despite being knocked down, but soon gave up after a few attempts at moving resulted in him almost falling back over after standing.

Approaching Fourier, Ferris was amused to note that he could still see the slight dampness in the prince’s eyes, but supposed it was an improvement to him actually crying, as he had in the past after some of his more crushing defeats. More importantly, despite the tears, Fourier had a bright smile on his face as if he was at least somewhat satisfied by the progress he had made.

“Ferris, my friend, make haste! If we are to have another round in the near future, I will need to be healed, and I entrust my body to your skilled touch.”

Ferris almost opened his mouth to give that response the comment it deserved, but then reconsidered. Even if it had been inadvertently, Fourier had helped him out this morning, so he could let it be for now.

Plus, Crusch was looking right at them. She’d definitely punish him if he started playing tricks already.

Instead, as Ferris started to heal Fourier, he decided to ask about something Fourier would likely love to talk about.

“Ferri noticed that you did seem to do better today. Are you going to continue learning this new style, or go back to your old one?”

“There is no reason to choose, Ferris! With talent such as mine, I will simply take everything useful from this style, and incorporate it into my own.”

What a typical answer, Ferris thought, his lips curling into a slight smile. Still, he supposed since Fourier intended to go back to his style afterwards, he had answered the question, although he wondered what such an altered style would even look like. 

“I noticed you were using feints far more frequently than you usually do,” Crusch commented as she approached them. Unlike Fourier, she did not appear winded in the slightest. Not a single drop of sweat marred her brow. 

“But you only used the same three moves with them. That style… I do not believe it to be sufficient for you, Your Highness. If this is considered mastery, it will not be of use to the development of your skills.”

Fourier smiled ruefully and rubbed the back of his head. “Ah, did I say ‘mastered’? What I meant to say was that I had… learned it. Yes, I’ve barely begun to study the intricacies involved in the style.”

Ferris recognised that tone.

“By learned, you mean…?” he asked, levelling an accusing look at the boy in his lap.

“I started practising it three days ago,” Fourier said, meeting Ferris’s eyes with a shameless smile. “Truly my talent shows, to be able to make such fine use of it in a spar after such a short length of time.”

“Is that so?” Crush asked, narrowing her eyes and raising a hand to her chin. “I believe that when we sparred last, I commented on the lack of feints in your swordplay. I assume you took it upon yourself to correct that?”

“Of course!” Fourier said, tensing himself as if to get up, forcing Ferris to hold him down. After a quick look of apology, he continued, “Even one such as I can make mistakes, as rare as they are. I recognized that fixing that flaw would allow me to take one more step to the day I defeat you.” 

He paused, then ended in a much softer tone, “Although, I had hoped that would be today.”

Ferris brushed the boy’s hair consolingly, considering the thought of Fourier beating Crusch. 

He had to hide his smile. Fourier was skilled, but he couldn’t imagine him ever reaching Crusch’s level. Though, he supposed that such relentless optimism was one of Fourier's better qualities. 

Crusch nodded. “I see. I had not realised that Your Highness valued my opinion of your swordsmanship so highly— eh? Ferris, why is he convulsing? Has something happened?”

“Nyot to worry, Lady Crusch, he’s just taken some emotional damage,” Ferris said, stroking the trembling prince’s head. “He was just speared through the heart by some oblivious words.”

“I… I see. Well, if there’s no issue…” Crusch gathered herself again, and then looked down at Fourier with intensity. “Your Highness, I believe you have many other areas in which you still have room to grow. You have done well to include additional moves into your repertoire, however, being limited to a single follow-up move for each feint makes you predictable. Not only that, you do not have experience with guarding yourself from feints yourself. If I might suggest…”

Ferris loved the sound of his lady’s voice, so he hung onto every word, but very soon, the terms she was using became unfamiliar to him, and he could do little more than let the sounds wash over him, as he comforted the prince on his lap.

Fourier had a shell-shocked expression on his face, as he began to glimpse the gulf that existed between his abilities and Crusch’s. Ferris had to suppress his laughter at that sight, he didn’t want Crusch to punish him for hurting the prince’s feelings again.

It was a pleasant day. Truly, Ferris wished that it, and these happy days he spent with his two closest friends, would never end.