Anice was the first to arrive at his side. Without a moment’s hesitation, she flung her arms around him and began to cry. “Thank you, Alie. I knew you wouldn’t let them bully me this time.” Sniffling into his chest, she repeated in a quieter voice, “I knew you wouldn’t let them.”
A bit taken aback, he patted her on the head in a comforting manner. “Of course not. As long as I’m around, nobody will bully you again. Either of you.”
“I—I’m sorry, Alie.”
“What for?”
“Edmun kissed me.”
“That wasn’t your fault. Besides, why would you apologize to me for that?”
Hearing this, her tears subsided and she pushed him away with a pouting face. “Because he wasn’t…because it felt like I should…” Visibly confused, she turned her head and stopped talking.
A cool breeze swept by during the brief quiet that followed.
“Alistar,” said Lessa, who had yet to speak up since she had run over. “That was amazing. You beat both of them so easily.” Her luscious hair had been straightened and tied behind her head with a silver ribbon that matched her short, frilly dress, her flushed face adding a note of innocence to her beauty. “Isn’t Edmun an adept swordsman? I was so surprised!”
Suddenly self-conscious of his tattered clothes—the rope from before having torn them in several places—Alistar scratched at his cheek and tried to appear confident. “He’s nothing compared to Zech or Jaden, and I beat them all the time.”
If he had learned anything in the altercation just now it was that one’s rank in a style of swordsmanship didn’t necessarily correlate to their strength in a physical confrontation. Edmun might have learned more techniques than him, but he was slower than Alistar and his physique was less honed. On top of that, he lacked experience, something that Alistar had gained large amounts of in recent years.
He and his friends sparred for hours every day, while the Silverkin brothers likely sparred far less often, not to mention the fact that their opponents would always be light handed for fear of offending the future lords of vast territories. He had seen it with his own eyes, how neither of them had kept a cool head in the earlier exchange, all of their skills rendered useless in the heat of the moment in complete contrast to their displays at the collegia earlier in the week.
He recalled the basket of food that Tramon had teased him with, and the lesson on patience that it represented. After what had just happened, he was grateful to his master for his most recent teachings.
Seeing that he had become a bit absentminded, Lessa grabbed one of his hands with both of hers and held it close to her chest in a heartfelt grip. “I knew you would win.”
His hand went limp as it was enveloped by a tender touch. “It…it was nothing.”
“Thanks for standing up for us, Alistar.” In a quieter voice, her silver eyes darting to the ground, she mumbled, “I couldn’t stand the thought of giving my first kiss to Calum.”
As both of them began to blush, Anice stormed off toward the estate without saying a word. Seeing this, Lessa let go of Alistar and put a hand to her mouth as if to stop any more words from spilling out of it. Running after her friend with guilt in her eyes, she began to apologize with a panicked expression, having momentarily overlooked the fact that Anice hadn’t been as lucky as her in fending off the advances of the Silverkin brothers.
Anice’s foul mood persisted on into the evening, which added to the mixture of awkwardness and tension that defined the day’s dinner. Neither Edmun nor Calum sat next to the girls today, this time opting to sit opposite of Alder and Mr. Albeck. This didn’t go unnoticed by their father, who had glanced at Alistar in disapproval at the beginning of the meal as if somehow suspecting the nature of the situation. After speaking with Caedmon and Antoine for a short while, he pointed at Anice with a fork and addressed her in an admonishing tone.
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“Dear niece, I know that Edmun was a little forward the other night, but there’s no need to be so cold toward him.” He paused to sip chilled wine from a silver chalice. “You were all getting along so well, so for the sake of goodwill, why not forgive him? It’s not like he did anything bad, after all. Simply a show of affection for a girl he admires.”
Alistar glanced at Edmun, who happened to connect eyes with him in that moment. His cousin immediately redirected his gaze, as if staring any longer might have blinded him.
“Thank you, Father, but we’ve already sorted it out.” Clearing his throat, he pointed at his face and said, “She even paid a healer to fix my scar as an apology.”
Caedmon’s eyes revealed some suspicions, his frown showing traces of anger as he eyed Edmun carefully.
“Is that so?” Observing the young ones with careful eyes, Daniel smiled and then laughed off his concerns. “That’s good to hear. We’re all family here, so it would be a shame if we didn’t get along.”
“Most of us are family,” corrected his elder brother, whose scarred face lacked emotion. “But you’re right. It’s best that we all get along.” He gave Alistar a penetrating glance before turning to address Caedmon with a stern voice. “About what we were talking about earlier, dear brother. I’m quite interested in how the sudden influx of frontiersmen has affected Distan’s economy. I’d imagine it difficult for one such as yourself to manage so many warriors popping up in your society.”
“I’ve had similar thoughts,” said Daniel, who snapped his fingers at a servant in a commanding manner while holding out his empty chalice with the other. As the middle-aged man retrieved the wine jug that sat beside Daniel’s plate and carefully refilled his chalice, the duke said, “You’ve never been one to get along with such people, Caedmon. I wouldn’t mind sending someone to help with administration, if you’d like. That would give you more time to read your books and stare at those pretty little pictures that you’ve collected over the years.”
“No need to talk down to him,” said Antoine, who absentmindedly ran a finger along the silver circlet that rested atop his head. “As brothers, we should try to help one another out whenever possible. Preferably without bothering Father with small things such as this.”
Caedmon looked quite uncomfortable, though showed a bit of relief as Alder spoke up in a polite tone.
“You honour us with your kind offers, though I’m afraid to say that it isn’t necessary. We’ve been closely managing the situation for a long while now, and it’s entirely under our control.”
“I was speaking to my brother.”
“I’ve delegated the matter to Alder,” Caedmon added quickly, “so he’s more aware of the complexities of the situation.”
“What’s the word, then?” asked Daniel, fleshy cheeks flushed from drink. “Have you seen an increase in capital, or not?”
Alder shook his head with a bitter smile. “Unfortunately, nearly all of the frontiersmen that pass through here are aiming for the so-called Iron Dungeon, which I’m sure you’ve both heard about by now.”
“How could we not have? It’s supposedly the largest of those labyrinths that have ever been discovered in our kingdom.”
Antoine nodded, the movement slow and sharp. “I’ve seen an exodus of frontiersmen from my lands, all of them heading here to try their luck at obtaining the resources inside of it. As you know, that’s one of the reasons for this visit. A labyrinth dungeon is no small matter, especially if there are magic crystals inside. While it’s technically located within Distan’s borders, it’s in contested territory.”
“They say that there’s a heavy presence of night iron in those tunnels,” said Daniel, silver eyes gleaming with greed as he fiddled with a fork. “If we can clear them out and create our own mine, then it’ll be a great boon to the kingdom. They say that those tunnels rival the scale of Crystellum, so just imagine how many resources they contain? This isn’t something you can handle alone Caedmon, and it’s not long before Father gets involved, so its best that we start making plans as quickly as possible so that we three can at least have a small chance of reaping some benefits out of it.”
“Father is the least of our worries,” said Antoine, cutting his steak with a slow, methodical slicing motion.
“You’re worried that the count of Melsian might lay claim to it?” said Alder, running a finger through his short, slicked-back hair.
“They say that most of Crystellum’s lower tunnels have yet to be explored, so there’s a chance that these two networks are one and the same.”
“Which would give Count Ragnus a legitimate claim to the Iron Dungeon…” muttered Alder, trailing off in understanding. He glanced at the young ones in the silence that swept the table, clearing his throat with force. “I suggest we talk about this later, for fear of boring the children to sleep.”