Chapter 297 Something That Cannot Be Removed
The motion was almost unnoticeable, a testament to the quality of craftsmanship in the carriage, an effort I had personally overseen. Inside, there was no jarring, no shaking. Just the gentle hum of movement that allowed for peaceful thought.
Alfred, knowing me far too well, didn't ask for instructions. Instead, he moved silently to the compartment where we kept the wine, retrieving a bottle and two glasses. He poured the deep crimson liquid into a finely carved goblet, the color of the wine glistening under the soft glow of the carriage lamps.
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The vineyard producing this wine was another one of my projects—an endeavor I began out of necessity rather than passion. The land and seeds had been cultivated with my skill, Chrysius' Touch, a magic that allowed me to draw out the latent potential of things in exchange for my mana.n/o/vel/b//in dot c//om
The result was unique—wines with subtle notes of honey and spice, some with the aftertaste of the mountain herbs that grew naturally in the surrounding fields. Each bottle from the vineyard had a distinct character, a variety born from careful manipulation of nature's gifts.
I took the cup Alfred offered, swirling the liquid gently before raising it to my nose. The aroma was rich and complex, layers of fruit and earth blending into something that hinted at a hidden potency. It wasn't just a product of quality; it was a means to an end. The profits from this vineyard, and the several others under my control, would go directly into funding the defenses of the earldom.
War was coming. And it wasn't going to be clean.
I took a sip, letting the wine linger on my tongue. Alfred sat across from me, hands folded neatly in his lap, his expression neutral, though I could feel the weight of his gaze. After a moment, he broke the silence.
"Is this the right course of action, my lord?" he asked, his voice soft, but there was something pointed in his words. He knew I had already considered every angle, weighed every possibility. But he asked anyway, as if giving me one last chance to rethink it.
"Perhaps it is," I replied, my voice colder than I intended. My eyes drifted to the window, staring out at the clouds gathering in the sky. "Perhaps it's the only one."
Alfred remained quiet for a moment, his hands still resting calmly in his lap. Then he spoke again, this time more carefully. "Did you know about the orc invasion long before it was brought to light?"
His question hung in the air like the faint scent of rain before a storm. I didn't answer immediately. Instead, I kept my gaze on the passing landscape, watching as the horizon slowly darkened with the approaching rain. The silence stretched between us, but I could feel his eyes on me, studying me the way he had done for years.
"I suspected," I said finally, the words carefully chosen. There was no need for further elaboration. Alfred already understood more than most would in his position. He wasn't just a butler—he was someone who had been with me through all of this. There were things I didn't need to say aloud for him to grasp.
He let out a quiet sigh, and when I turned my gaze back to him, I saw a look on his face I hadn't seen in some time. Sadness. It was subtle, but it was there. His eyes softened, his lips pulling into a slight frown that reminded me of a grandfather watching his grandson make difficult decisions. It was a look I had seen only a few times in my life, and it always unsettled me.
"You need to meet your family, at least once again, my lord," he said softly, his tone as gentle as ever.
I met his gaze, my eyes narrowing slightly. There was no anger in me, only... hesitation. But I said nothing, allowing him to continue.
"The twins," he went on, his voice quiet but steady. "Lady Clara and Lady Tiara... They asked for your presence during the time you left to deal with the goblin uprising. They were waiting for you, my lord. Hoping, even. It's been so long since they've seen you.
Too long."
The names of my sisters sent a familiar chill through me, and I couldn't quite meet Alfred's eyes. Instead, I stared down at the wine in my hand, swirling it slowly, watching the way the liquid caught the dim light.
"I hope," Alfred continued, his tone heavy with emotion, "that you might find it in your heart to meet with them. At least once, before things become more complicated."
The carriage fell silent again, except for the quiet patter of rain as the first drops began to fall. I glanced outside, watching as the drizzle turned into a steady shower. It was as if the weather reflected the mood inside the carriage—a growing weight that pressed against my chest, though I couldn't pinpoint why.
I turned back to Alfred, and there it was. That look again. The sad, almost resigned smile on his lips. His loyalty had always been unshakable, but there was something different in him now—something that carried a weight I didn't want to acknowledge.
"I've thought about it," I said after a long moment, my voice quieter than usual. "But I wonder... If I meet them again, will I lose something?"
Alfred's brow furrowed slightly, his expression thoughtful but patient. "What is it you fear losing, my lord?"
I didn't answer him directly, because the truth was... I didn't know. The rain outside intensified, the drops tapping rhythmically against the glass, the gray clouds heavy with the storm.
"I think," I murmured, my thoughts unraveling in ways I wasn't used to, "if I meet them, I might find something I've spent a long time avoiding."
The memories were there—just below the surface, waiting for me to confront them. Draven's memories, not mine. Yet somehow, they felt as though they belonged to me, as if this world had woven them into my being when I arrived. There were things about Draven's life that I hadn't fully explored, pieces of a puzzle I had deliberately left incomplete.
The twins, Clara and Tiara... Their names were etched in my mind, but so were the doubts, the holes in Draven's story that I hadn't yet filled. I had crafted him, yes, but there were things about him—about his family, his past—that were still mysteries to me. And that uncertainty unsettled me.
"It's troublesome," I admitted, glancing out the window again, watching the rain blur the landscape. "Worrying, even. I'm afraid that if I open that door, I'll lose the balance I've been maintaining."
Alfred's gaze never left me, but he remained silent, waiting. Always waiting. I had come to rely on his patience, his ability to let me untangle my thoughts without pushing me in any particular direction.
"My family," I muttered, the words unfamiliar on my tongue.
What does that even mean?
I don't know them, not really.
Even in the modern world, I had parents, yes, but there wasn't much more than that.
They were distant, only present in moments of achievement. There's no... warmth in those memories.
I leaned back against the plush seat, staring at the ceiling of the carriage, letting the thoughts come and go as they pleased.
Perhaps it's the same with Draven.
Perhaps his family is just another aspect of the story I haven't wanted to touch.
His father, his mother... his sisters.
What about them?
What do they mean to him?"
I closed my eyes, feeling the weight of it all settle on me like the rain outside.
There are still so many unanswered questions.
Too many gaps in his story.
But the more I avoid it, the more I realize... I'll have to face it eventually.
Within my time of ponderings, Alfred remained quiet, though I could feel his presence, steady and unwavering. He had always been that way, a constant in the chaos of my life. But this time, there was something different—something that made me realize he wasn't just waiting for me to make a decision. He was hoping I would.
I suppose.
That confronting those memories would only add more obligations to my plate.
Obligations I don't have time for.
Saving myself, saving this world...
It's all intertwined.
But saving this world has always been an excuse, hasn't it?
A reason to avoid dealing with anything personal.
I opened my eyes, staring at the rain as it poured down in sheets. The world outside the carriage was gray, cold, distant.
"And yet," I murmured, my voice barely audible over the sound of the rain, "family... That's something I've never truly understood. Not in the modern world, and not here."
I paused, thinking of the twins again. Clara and Tiara. Their names echoed in my mind, but they felt distant, like something I had chosen to forget. And perhaps that's why meeting them now felt so daunting—because it meant facing a part of myself I had ignored for so long.
As the carriage rolled on, the rain continuing to fall in heavy waves, I found myself speaking again, almost without realizing it.
"Perhaps," I whispered, "this is the right time."
Alfred's eyes met mine, and for the first time, I saw a glimmer of something like relief in his gaze. He didn't say anything, but his small nod was enough.
I leaned back, closing my eyes as the carriage moved forward, and for the first time in a long while, I allowed myself to consider the possibility of what might come next.