Listening to my odd announcement, Finnan blinked in surprise. Soon, with a bewildered look, he scanned the room for any possible intrusion before leaning forward and whispering in my ear.

“I approve of your tastes, lord, but…” he briefly paused. “You mustn’t publicize those details so blatantly, not that I disapprove of your taste. You can bed anyone you like. But still…”

“Ugh…” I rolled my eyes at his nonsensical comments. It seemed his habit of taking things literally hadn’t faded yet. Well, losing my shit wouldn't help solve his stupidity. Something else surely could.

I adjusted my sitting to face him. “Come closer,” I gestured, and Finnan leaned in with curiosity evident in his eyes.

I grabbed the tip of his right ear with my able hand and twisted it as far as it would go, earning a painful cry from Finnan. He tried to tap my hand to get me to let go, but I wasn't about to release my grip until he learned from his mistakes.

“Listen to me, you little runt,” I spat, twisting his ear even more, causing him to flail his legs on the floor. “Not everything is meant to be taken literally.”

“Lord, please… Lord…” he begged, his ear turning red, eyes teary.

“You are a grownass man, act like one.” I let go of his ear and he scrambled back. “Understand?” I glared at him.

“… Yes, lord.” Finnan nodded frantically, rubbing his stinging ear while wiping away the unformed tears. “But since when have you stopped getting my jokes?”

“The day I lost everything in here.” I tapped a finger onto my head, reminding him of the obvious. For all I cared, Finnan and Arwan could have any type of relationship, but once I took over, I would act my way. He would have to keep up with that, and let go of all these harmless yet annoying shenanigans.

Finnan looked almost sad at my response. Releasing his ear, which looked even redder, he sighed first, then smiled. “I see.” he said, in a voice barely above a whisper.

I watched his expression, a sense of guilt creeping in, but could hardly do anything to make it better, except divert both of our minds. "Come on, let's get some fresh air," I suggested, rising from my seat, and reaching for the cane.

Before my hand could grasp the well-decorated stick, Finnan was already by my side, handing it to me. As I steadied myself, he rushed to the door and swiftly opened it. His dedication to his duties was truly admirable; that much couldn't be denied.

Walking side by side, we left the mansion and entered the garden in silence. Soon, some muffled noises caught my ears, and I followed them out of curiosity. They led us to an area behind the mansion, where barracks were situated, marking the origin of the noise.

“Count’s Personal guards… Most loyal of all to protect him in need.” Finnan identified.

I nodded, watching a group of men deeply engrossed in their training, paying little heed to my presence. However, the commander in charge, a tall and robust man in his prime, had no option but to greet me. He directed me to a nearby tree, and beneath its cooling shade, I settled onto the chairs that had already been arranged.

Finnan positioned himself on one side of me, while the commander took his place on the other. Together, we observed dozens of men engaging in various forms of combat training. Some sparred with weapons, while others focused on exercises, rested, walked around, or simply stood idle, doing the bare minimum until a supervisor intervened with a firm smack on the head or a shout of reprimand.

It was a scene that resembled a training camp, akin to the ones, but more advanced, I had experienced many years ago.

"I should join you guys sometime," I mused aloud, reminiscing about my lack of touch in hand-to-hand combat and my overreliance on guns that were yet to exist in this world. If I aimed to survive, I needed to learn the old ways of combat, and what better place than a training camp right in the backyard?

"Go easy on us, lord," the commander jested. "These men are not used to noble blood in their sparring sessions."

"I will," I chuckled. "But first, let me get into a better shape."

"Till then, we'll be waiting for you," he said with a wide grin before taking his leave.

As he vanished into the crowd, I exhaled deeply. Now it was time to get down to business. "Have a seat," I instructed Finnan, who hesitated for a moment before reluctantly settling onto the edge of the chair beside me; not relaxed though, but vigilant as always.

I skimmed the surroundings to ensure no one was eavesdropping, but Finnan interrupted my inspection.

"We're in the clear, lord," he said. "Everyone is aware of our presence, but no one is particularly focused on us. You can relax."

"Are you certain?" I was surprised by his assertion, as it seemed that many eyes were fixed on us more than on their actual work.

“I have good eyes, lord.” Finnan smirked. “And don’t you trust me?” he asked, further assuring me of our privacy.

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"That's what I was about to ask actually," I replied, steering the conversation back to our current topic. At the moment, discussing our matters took precedence over potential onlookers in the distance. They might be watching, but wouldn't be able to hear us from there.

"That you can trust me or not?" he clarified, a perplexed look in his eyes.

"Exactly." I nodded. "Tell me, Finnan, can I trust you to keep a secret? A secret so valuable that if it ever leaks out, it could cost someone very close to me their life."

"You can, lord," Finnan responded without missing a beat, his expression as confident as ever.

"What if you were to break my trust and reveal the secret?" I needed to be certain before I fully committed to this gamble.

"That, without a doubt, would be the death of me," he replied with a shallow smile. "You may not remember, lord, but I, along with my entire family, am oathbound to yours. This tradition has continued for generations, and I certainly won't be the one to break it. If I did, we would all perish, in the worst possible ways."

"Oaths are just words, man," I scoffed. "They're like promises. You don't die just because you break one." A laugh accompanied my words, but Finnan’s lifeless reaction made me stop. It seemed he and his family took pride in their loyalty, and laughing at that would be nothing but a disgrace, as if I didn’t value them.

“I am sorry,” I said, lowering my head a bit. “That was rude of me.”

“Please, lord, don’t,” Finnan said urgently. He grabbed me by the shoulders and pushed me back to my usual position, head held high. “You have just forgotten. Once you regain your memories, you will realize how trustworthy I am,” he added further.

Looking at his resolute face, I couldn’t help but feel at ease. It was a gut feeling, telling me that I could somehow trust this man. Maybe Arwan trusted him, and his lingering feelings were telling me to do the same.

“What is a gamble without a risk, eh?” I reclined back, taking a deep breath and preparing myself to recount the sequence of events I was about to divulge.

“I am all ears, lord,” he leaned towards me, ready to absorb anything I shared.

“Promise me you won’t tell anyone,” I extended my hand, and he took it without hesitation. “Not even the Count, or Harwyn, or your father, your brother… Nobody! It’s between you and me. Just us!”

“It’s always been you and me, lord,” his grip around my palm tightened. “That has been my purpose since the day I was born. Have some faith in me.”

“Well then,” I pulled back my hand and began. “What’s your personal thoughts on Marquess Trystan? Do you truly believe in his spotless image?”

"That's… a very complex question, lord." Finnan leaned back in his chair. "The answer might not be that simple..."

Is he also a simpleton? I wondered for a second.

"... That's what I should have said. But you calling me the biggest scoundrel of all got me thinking."

"And…" I nudged, guiding him along the right path.

"And I realized, Lord Tristan is just as much a scoundrel as the rest of us," Finnan concluded. "I mean, he went against the church despite never having a positive or any type of significant relation with the Willards. He didn't even gain anything from it, but he made a needless enemy who, for some reason, never retaliated against him."

Atta boy! I snapped my fingers mentally, watching Finnan follow the line of thought I intended, while informing the details I never knew.

"Then he chose you as his son-in-law..." He continued, now wearing a grave expression. "...Despite you humiliating him and his family over and over again."

Arwan really was a clown. No wonder Tristan wanted to get rid of him.

"No man would take that. But he took it like it was nothing," Finnan mused, staring at the sky as he contemplated deeply. "He even announced you as his son-in-law the next day, making him look infinitely good and you infinitely bad."

"That almost sounds like a well-executed plan," I chimed in. "It really worked in his favor."

"You're right!" He looked at me, shock dawning on his face. "Why didn't I think of it at that time? It's so obvious..."

"It's obvious when you know what to look for," I added. "You weren't aware then, but thankfully you are now."

"Also, lord..." Instead of acknowledging my words, Finnan delved further. "Before he declared you as family, he was a well-known supporter of the Durans. But since that day, he has switched sides. It seems reasonable, but why the sudden change? And why publicly declare it by actively going against them?”

"Unless there is a plan already in motion." I too had a realization as I stroked my bearded chin.

“Then in the same manner as the church, the Durans just avoid him rather than retaliate—a complete opposite of what they did to us." He snapped his fingers, again staring into the heavens. “It really is a plan, lord. And the Marquess really is a fake.”

"Told you.” I smiled. Tristan was a scoundrel, and as I listened to Finnan piece together the story, my once vague suspicions were solidified.

“But… But…” Finnan locked eyes with me, his gaze intense. “How did you figure it out?”

“What can I say… I have good eyes!” I winked, boosting my ego. But to be frank, Isolde deserved the credit.

“You really have gotten smarter, lord.” He praised me while nodding to himself. “We must inform Lord Harwyn and start investigating immediately. The Marquess may truly have been planning for a war under the guise of peace.”

“Hold your horses, buddy.” I interjected. “Do you have any evidence to back that random, baseless theory?”

“Evidence!” Finnan clapped his hands in realization. “…That I don’t have. Lord will never agree, just as those two said.”

“Yes.”

“We need something concrete to prove our point.” He exclaimed. “But he is just… clean in every aspect of life.”

“Did you at least try looking? The evidence might be far closer to you than you think.”

“Looking won’t help, lord.” Finnan groaned in frustration, unable to derive the meaning behind my words. “Many have looked for dirt in the past, but Lord Tristan is as spotless as they come.”

“Many have, but not us. We look some more into the people closest to him." I had to guide him once more. "...His family for once. They may have something that we outsiders can't see. And to our luck, we already have one of his closest family right here, that can hopefully talk."

“You can’t be…” Finnan's brows twitched, a look of horror washing over him. “…Lady Isolde is also your family, lord. She is your wife! How can you think of dragging her into this?”

“It’s easy, Finnan!” I sneered, raising my disabled hand. “Just think of it as a little payback and nothing more.”