Chapter 83

Lena had her eyes fixed on Alven for a while. He still moved from time to time but he never got too far.

She waited for a chance to approach him, but what shocked her was that he was the one to eventually approach her. With brown hair that was neither long nor short and wide shoulders that were natural to knights, he was the better looking one of his brothers. While the youngest of the brothers, Lorgo, was fat and short, and the oldest, Verion, was tall and grotesquely thin; Alven was of more average stature. His shoulders were wide. He was neither fat nor thin, and he had the most gallant face among the brothers. Had Verion not been the likely heir for his father, most of these ladies would have preferred to court Alven, Lena believed.

"Lena," he called as he approached, wearing a smile. "With so many people to take for companions, why do you stand alone?"

Lena feigned a blush and smiled, turning her face away from him. "No reason. It is difficult to find company among strangers, that's all."

"And where is Lorgo?"

Lena spared a weak shrug. "Occupied by his friends."

Alven sighed, glancing at the distant Lorgo who stood amidst a crowd of young men. "As foolish as ever." He shook his head. "Let me keep you company for now then."

Lena nodded with a smile. She let the silence simmer for a few moments then spoke. "Will you tell me about Count Lerolian?"

"Oh, him?"Alven gestured with his goblet towards the distant old Count who was still carrying his wrapped child. "He's our only ally north of father's territory. Most of the other nobles north of us are nigh hostile because they have claims on lands in father's territory."

"Quite daring of them to conjure false claims on a Duke's lands," Lena said, mustering as much wonder on her face as she could.

Alven shrugged. "Well, there were conflicts with these noble houses in the past, involving my father and his father before him. But they struggle now for what is already lost." He cleared his throat and tilted his head as he spoke. "It is difficult to measure the legitimacy of their claims now, after all."

"So Count Lerolian is the only ally of ours among those nobles?" Lena said, barely pronouncing 'ours' amidst her words. If everything were to go as the Duke wanted it, then she would never return to the Viscounty. She would be one of them forever. And if she wanted their trust, she would have to sound accepting of it. She would have to be one of them. Perhaps they wouldn't trust her completely, but at least she wouldn't seem defiant. It had to be clear that she had no hope of returning home,that she would be taking Malfi city as her home.

Alven gave her a bewildered glance that only lasted a moment then he nodded. "Indeed. His family has been a friend of ours for generations. The Count failed to bear an heir to his house for years, but fortune has finally come to his aid. I suppose father is dis—" He stopped, almost choking on his words. Then he took a quick sip from his goblet, as if covering up his words. He searched Lena's face with his eyes for a moment.

She understood that he'd almost talked too much, so she acted as clueless as possible, gazing at him with the expression of a lost child.

He breathed a sigh of relief and said, "my father values his friends, and so he insisted on holding this gathering to celebrate the newborn."

Lena nodded. "Of course." She thought of praising his father but avoided it. It had already bewildered Alven that she'd counted herself as one of them. If she were to pretend too much, he would certainly get suspicious.

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They both grew silent. But Lena was celebrating inside. She'd found the common ground. How had she missed it? The two older brothers abhorred Lorgo. That was where she would begin. And Alven wasn't averse to speaking with her, unlike his older brother. She had the best excuse to begin a conversation with him at any time, and it would always be about one thing, her hate for Lorgo.

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Gerald was with Uncle Rudolf in his study. The old steward had come to him with a suggestion that had been inspired by his time training Harrid.

"It would be costly," Gerald muttered. "What are the ages again?"

"From seven to fifteen," Uncle Rudolf said. "Any homeless child would find a home in your training corps. And a family with a burdensome third child might send a son as well. In a few years, your elite corps will have a yearly supply of Warriors."

Gerald leaned back in his chair. To form a training corps with such an ambition would eventually prove more costly than training a regiment of soldiers. As more years pass, it would get more and more costly. "What about the ones who aren't talented enough? I'm presuming that only a few will be able to become Warriors at a young age. Those will join the elite corps. But what about the rest?" He paused for a moment then gave his old steward a look. "The army?"

Uncle Rudolf broke into a smile and nodded. "Those who aren't talented enough will end up in the regular army. You will have very well trained regulars replacing the aging ones. There is nothing to lose. And beginning it won't cost much. It will only begin to cost you after a period of time. Hopefully by then, the treasury will be doing better."

Gerald began tapping the table, deep in thought. Rounding up all the homeless young boys in Ard alone would mean a considerable amount of young trainees. Uncle Rudolf was even telling him to announce it among the people too. He would offer to take in the boys of any family that wanted their children trained well or were even burdened by them. Many would take the opportunity. "Who would train them?"

The old steward shrugged. "The old Warriors of the regular army can do it, and Robard could oversee them. By the time we return from the capital, they would have prepared a small group for real Warrior training. Gasper could then receive those and train them with his Warriors."

Gerald nodded. It was bright idea, though it was costly and a bit hopeful. But he was willing to take his chances. At worst, it would give him some well-trained soldiers for the army. At best, it would bolster the ranks of his elite corps in the future.

Certain nobles managedsimilar undertakings, but on a much smaller scale. They would take in several homeless children and raise them well. Their focus wouldn't be Warrior training though, it would be loyalty. They could grow up to be the guards of the family, or trusted aides. But the kind of undertaking being suggested now was unheard of in the subcontinent.

Gerald grinned. "I suppose we better begin today. There is not much time left before we begin journeying to the capital."

"I will let Robard know," the old steward said, leaving right away.

Gerald was thinking over the idea again when the familiar knock of Frederick sounded on the door. "Come in."

"My lord," Frederick stepped inside, looking a bit perplexed. "Yanna is without, asking to meet you."

Gerald was confused as well. Had something urgent come up? "Let her in."

Yanna walked in, more timid than usual in her approach. She stood in front of his table, quiet.

"Something the matter?" Gerald cocked his head. Even if somethinghappened, the girl wouldn't act so odd.

She stammered a few times before she managed to get her words out. "Harrid tells me that you are going to the Royal Capital, my lord."

"Harrid talks a lot." Gerald stared at her. "But yes, we are going to the capital." Uncle Rudolf would accompany him, and he would bring Harrid. He was already beginning to understand why Yanna was being odd today.

She fidgeted a little in her place, then she seemed to gather her courage, looking him straight in the eye. "Can I come with you, my lord?"

Gerald raised his brows. He wasn't surprised by her request, but he was surprised that she hadn't sweated a river before mouthing it. "You want to see the capital?"

She nodded without a word.

He knew the feeling; the pure curiosity that ate at one's heart to see that which was majestic.

Before he could reply, she added, "I've already prepared the house for my absence. There are people who will tell the guards if anything urgent happens, and Sir Robard would know right away."

Gerald nodded. He would have allowed her to accompany them either way, but it was good that she had handled those affairs as well. "Then you may accompany us. You and Harrid shall have the fortune of seeing the capital at such a young age; younger than even the lord will be when he sees it." He pointed at himself and chuckled.

She smiled, her smile breaking into a grin that she struggled to hold back.

"Now go," he said. "I have matters to handle."

She nodded and trotted out of the study.

After she left, Gerald gazed around the study with pressed lips, looking for something to do. Huh.

There was nothing to handle.