Next on his agenda was to procure knowledge. A villain might not be the tyrannical overlord who enslaved his citizens. No, one that remained ignorant of the world, despite having access to information would be the villain to knowledge. And when making the deal, Bahamut didn’t say what type of villain Francis Rayleigh had to become. Either way, given a choice of becoming the savior of the world, a hero, or becoming the big bad that the hero has to defeat, a villain, he would much rather become the former. 

  When he woke up the next day, and he walked out in full pajamas for breakfast, Katalina greeted him by his door. She wore a similar attire to what she had the previous day, though it was changed to favour manuverity over defense or strength. In the hallways of the mansion, speed was key.

“Good morning, my lord.”

  She spoke with an ice cold demeanour. And it was obvious why, once he reviewed his memories. No one really liked the previous Francis Rayleigh. Not the Knights of Vadan, nor the servants. Of course, when viewed through the neutral eyes, without any bias or prejudice, it was easy to conclude so. But that oh so delusional Francis did not think so. To the late Francis, everyone loved him. 

  Throwing tantrums were just one issue that he found. Cases of immaturity, arrogance, and just general instances of unlikable behaviour. The new Francis could spend an entire day going over the character flaws that were so obvious to everyone but the one possessing them. And with no attempt to learn, nor to think, it was no surprise that his popularity was rock bottom. Saved by his parents, those who held even a small candle of dislike could only grumble.

“Good morning to you too.” 

  He had to make amends. First, immediately after being granted a second chance, he made an effort to rectify what the late Francis had done. Most of the servants had been avoiding his gaze, but even that slowly changed. Next, he had to deal with the Knights of Vadan. And in order to do that, he had to make amends with them one by one, especially with the masters. If the most senior and skillful accepted him, the rookies with no experience nor much skill had to accept him too. That was his train of thought. First in line was the one available to him. Katalina. The one that didn’t hide her fangs.

“I’d like a moment to speak with you, please,” he said.

  She raised an eyebrow. Her brown hair was tied up in a high ponytail. And her glare on him never lessened. It was like a person looking down on a bug. Easy to kill, but pesky. In a sense, his very life was in the hands of her. Acting as his sword, she would attack any who attack him. And as his shield, she would protect him from anything. Be it against a lowlife bandit, or quiet assassins after his life, she had to protect him.

“What do you mean by that, my lord?” she asked.

“I mean, come in. My room.”

“As a knight, I am not to engage in any sexual or romantic activities between my lord and myself,” Katalina stated.

“It’s not about that. You think I’m going to make a move on someone who can kill me without a second thought?”

“I… suppose that is true. But my lord, why can’t we discuss it here?”

“Because we can’t let anyone hear it. Or would you rather I whisper it to you instead?”

“Very well, my lord. Your quarters it is.”

  She followed close behind him. The door slammed shut after she closed it, which made him jump. Afterwards, he sat down on his bed, with the curtains hung up. The bed conformed to his weight, and he sank, not by much, but sank nonetheless. But she didn’t even approach his bed, and kept hand her on her blade. He raised his arms up in a surrender pose, as if to signal to her that he meant no harm.

“Okay, let’s just calm down here. I have no intention to lay a hand on you,” said Francis.

“And how do I know you’re not lying?”

“Because I want to apologise.”

  He had said that with a perfectly straight face. There was no intention to make fun of her, nor was it going to be a joke. With a cool, and calm demeanor, he apologised. Katalina herself was taken back. Her gaze rested on his bowed head.

“Where is this coming from? Why did you even choose me in the first place?”

“I have reflected on my actions,” Francis lied.

  He, the imposter, never did any reflection. It was an outsider looking in, and criticizing the actions of the original. What was the course of action didn’t matter. The old Francis did whatever he wanted, with no consequences. Rich, selfish, and cold. The former Francis of the Rayleigh family was that type of person. But the imposter was not.

“And I chose you because you had a glare. Were you aware of it?”

“A glare? I was glaring at you? And you didn’t report me?”

“While the others put on a facade, you didn’t. You let your anger be known to me,” Francis explained.

“Hmmp. You’ve changed, my lord. But don’t think things have changed,” her arms fell down to her sides.

“One last thing,” Francis said with his head raised, “This whole formal thing. ‘My lord’ and everything. When it's just us, how about we drop that?”

“Should a son of the duke really be saying that? And why? Just to make me commit a blunder?” she practically spat out.

“It's stuffy, wouldn’t you agree?”

  For a son of the duke to say that, it was unthinkable. Wrinkles formed on her forehead as her face contorted with puzzlement and anger. A knight could never address a nobleman casually. That was the rules of society. And yet, there he was, giving express permission to do so.

  Her gloves wrapped around the door knob. Giving it a slight turn, she opened the door. Francis stood up, and followed her out. She gave no answer to his proposition. 

  A warm, fuzzy feeling welled up inside him. Was that what it felt like? To right his wrongs? It was a nice feeling. Like a fireplace that could keep a house warm during the harsh winter.

  They walked, and she followed close. His guard was always about 1 metre away from him. Her blade could probably be thrusted through his heart, even from that distance. The long maze like hallways would prove to be a deterrent for enemies; the rooms of importance were difficult to locate.

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  He pushed open the dining room door. The first thing that hit him was the smell of fried eggs. A servant walked him to his seat, with an empty chair between himself and his father. With every plate that the servants brought out, he began to notice a pattern. Compared to his breakfast the previous day, the portions in front of him had a significant decrease. Meanwhile Katalina stood behind him in a disciplined manner.

“Have you eaten?” he asked her, after saying the morning greetings to those he could see.

“I ate before you woke up. Thank you for your concern, my lord.”

“Is that so? Keep up the good work then, my knight.”

“I thank you for your words, my lord.” 

  Of course, it was all a farce. She did nothing to hide her ever present hostility. Despite his best efforts, it seemed like she still lacked trust. He didn’t blame her.

  Light flowed in through the glass windows of the dining room. They ate quietly. The serrated edge of the knife ground against the ceramic plate that held a sunny-side-up style fried egg. Servants stood around the perimeter, ready to spring into action if their masters needed anything. There was a somewhat heavy atmosphere after his interactions.

  When his breakfast was finished, he stood up and left. His parents had left before he finished, and he was left in the dining room with Katalina and the servants around. He had managed to finish the entirety of his meal, though with the adjusted portions. And as she has always done, his knight, Katalina Astiel followed him. Once they were alone in the hallway, she spoke up first.

“Are you really the young master?” she asked.

“Why do you say so?”

“You’ve changed. The Francis Rayleigh I know would have never apologised for his mistakes, much less to a person of lower status.”

  They stopped right in their tracks. Francis turned around. With the windows by their sides, her face was lit by natural daylight. There, alone in the long hallway towards his quarters,  they faced each other. Her tone was hostile, as he was familiar with. But it was a different shade. She never did address him as her lord in that conversation.

  Her face, illuminated by the soft and bright daylight of the morning. Her grey eyes, or more specifically her glare, was sharp. The details of her face were much more obvious in the light. Clear skin, coupled with a strong, yet elegant facial structure. The gem in the guard of the sword acted as a prism of sorts. The light that filtered through the thin glass windows were thrown into a mess as a pattern formed beyond the gem. And just like her, his own details were visible. Dark circles beneath his eyes, his light grey hair, and his own figure. The pajamas hung off from his body, with a free flow of air in and out of it. Slender, with skin not fit for a man. He had a considerable lack of muscles, and with delicate arms like his, even wielding a sword properly would prove difficult.

“And is there anything wrong with changing?”

“It's like you’re a different person,” she said. 

  You’re not wrong, Francis thought. With slow footsteps, he approached her. The fabric of his pajamas trailed behind him. Clothed in his dressing gown, parts of his body can be seen through the light. The semi-translucent material was like paper. When looked through the light, one could take a peek at the contents within. And that was the case for Katalina. She could peek inside and take a look at his body, but he couldn’t do the same for her.

“I just thought that maybe I should change.”

“The Francis Rayleigh I know wouldn’t. But I suppose this change, it's not bad.”

“I see. Then, I hope we will have a productive relationship,” he said with a smile.

  When he looked at her from that distance, just within arms reach, he couldn’t help but be entranced. Her smooth skin was clear of any obvious blemishes. If she wasn’t a knight, confined to the stuffy dress codes of her duty, she would be just any passing, attractive girl. She looked only a few years older than him. A small beauty spot was located just below her left eye.

  The two restarted their walk. A safe distance was kept between her master and herself. She looked at his back, and the dressing gown clung behind. From that position, he was more vulnerable than ever. And she could end him, right there and then. A thrust of her blade was all that was needed, nothing else. He had no way to stop that. Looking at his defenseless back, she found herself hesitating in her footsteps. They wandered for a full 5 minutes or so.

“My lord, where are you going?” she asked.

“To meet my father. He should be in his office, right?”

“If I may, that’s not the way to his grace’s study, my lord. Do you want to guide you there?”

  Indeed, he didn’t know where it was. The mansion was far too large to remember in just 5 days. He still had to guess where certain areas were, or ask the servants for help. For most of his time, he spent it in the library, reading through history books and general textbooks.

  He turned around to face her. On his face was a cocktail of emotions. But there was one thing she noticed. His face was red, from his cheeks to his ears, it was coloured with the shade of a tomato. She stifled a small laugh.

“Uum. If you will then,” he said, hiding his face behind his hands.

“Very then, my lord. Follow me.”

  She walked in front, and her brown hair swayed as she moved. Going to a higher floor, she turned past hallway after hallway. Servants bowed their heads as the young master passed by, and he greeted them as he went. His knight stayed silent, and her pace was steady. Finally, after what seemed like a maze within a maze, she stopped in front of a large grand door. There were two guards standing outside the door. They wore light leather armour, and held a long spear in their hand. Upon seeing Francis, they bowed, and made way.

  He stopped in front of the door. They looked heavy on their own, and were held on by steel hinges. An elaborate design was painted on, and depicted a symbol of a dragon.

“My lord,” Katalina said.

“Yeah. I’m going in. Are you coming?” he asked.

“Knights are only allowed in if his grace the duke or his family allows it.”

“Then come in with me.”

“Very well my lord,” she nodded her head.

  Francis placed a hand on the large door. It was cool to the touch, and felt difficult to penetrate. He tried to push the door open, and he did it with all his might. But the doors didn’t budge.

“Is it locked?” Francis asked the two guards.

“No, my lord, his grace almost never locks it. He only locks it when there are guests over.”

“Then maybe I’ll try knocking?”

  With his knuckles against the wooden door, he hit it repeatedly. Once, twice, 6 times. He waited patiently for the door to open from the other side. Leaning against the door, he waited. It took a minute, but it did open. His centre of gravity shifted as the door opened. He started falling backwards, and the wind rushed out from beneath him. It was entirely his fault. If he hadn’t been leaning against the door, he wouldn’t have fallen.

  Her reflexes were fast. She pushed her arm out, and grabbed him by his hand as he fell. It happened too fast for him to fully comprehend it all, like a person tilting their chair too far. With a great force, she pulled him towards her, and his fall changed directions. First, he was falling backwards. Then, with Katalina’s intervention, his centre of balance shifted again, and he was pulled towards her. He fell straight into her body, with no way to stop his momentum. It was like a doll being dragged along, or a toy in the wind. His face was against her own body, and from that distance, he caught a whiff of her hair. Her hand caught him, and she held him until he was steady. His heart raced within his chest. But whether it was her, or the adrenaline, he did not know.

“My lord, are you alright?” she asked.

“Uuuh. Um. Yeah!”

  He pushed her away from him, and hid the majority of his face with his right hand. His fingers reached the ends of his cheek, and his thumb was just below his eye. The fast exhalation tickled the area between his index finger and thumb. His face was hot, and he swallowed his saliva. There was a rush of blood towards his head.

“Oh, Fran. Did you need anything?” his father asked, peeking through the ajar doors.

“Ah! Uhm,” Francis cleared his throat, “Yes, father. Could I please have a private tutor?”

“Is that all? Sure thing. I’ll get one for you. Anything else?”

“Thank you father. That is all,” he said with a bow.

“Hahaha. No need to be so polite. I’m your father, you can always ask for anything you want. That’s the life of a Rayleigh, after all. The fate of a Rayleigh is to live life like a Rayleigh.”

  Francis nodded his head. His father closed the door, and retreated back into his study. Francis, still recovering from his fall, walked away from those two guards. He achieved what he wanted, but something still bugged him. What was that? Probably just some adrenaline, he thought. Just the adrenaline.