Chapter 8 ·The Young Lord in Common Clothes
Aeneas slipped into his room. He quickly pulled off the gold-embroidered peplos. He changed into much simpler day clothes. The fabric was plain, but felt softer than what commoners wore. There was no such thing as 'rags' here.
He fussed for a bit. Checked his reflection in the bronze mirror from all angles. He needed to look like an ordinary young man. Satisfied, he rose onto his toes. He crept toward the side door.
His hand just touched the doorway. A clear voice rang out in the corridor.
"Young Master, why are you walking like a cat stealing fish so early in the morning?"
Aeneas froze on the spot.
He turned his head slowly. Terani stood there. She held a small pouch of herbs. Her head was tilted. Her large eyes were full of innocent curiosity.
His heart sank. But his face immediately took on a stern expression. He straightened his posture.
"Nonsense! I wasn't..."
His eyes darted. He continued the lie without batting an eye.
"It's a new morning exercise! For leg strength—walking like a cat. Light and silent."
Terani gasped. Her eyes instantly sparkled.
"Really? You're so amazing, Young Master!" Her face showed pure, naive admiration. "How did you think of such a smart idea!"
Aeneas nearly laughed aloud. He reached out and messed up her brown hair.
"Of course! It's true! Alright! I'm off to —uh— 'practice' more."
He tried to keep a straight face. Acted calm. But the laughter slipped out anyway, hiding in his eyes. Terani obediently moved aside. She clutched her herb pouch. She looked like a little puppy. Watching its owner leave.
Aeneas was about to step out. A hurried call came from behind him. "Young Master! Wait!"
Terani hurried after him. She dug through her herb pouch for a while.
Then pulled out a small leather purse, round and fat. She offered it with both hands.
"This is for you!" She acted like she was presenting a treasure.
Aeneas raised an eyebrow and took it. It felt heavy in his hand.
He was about to ask, but Terani cut him off. She deliberately lowered her voice, imitating Aresya's tone.
"Madam says, 'Enjoy your stroll around the estate, but you must be careful, alright~'" She dragged out the last syllable with a lilt.
Aeneas froze for a second. Then he couldn't help chuckling. The girl nailed the impression. She'd even copied the faint, worried expression perfectly.
"And also," Terani puffed out her chest, shoving the purse into his hands, "there's one *mina* of silver inside! Madam said to buy whatever you like! Eat whatever you want!"
One mina—that was no small sum. In these days, there was no coinage. Trade relied on barter. Silver was solid currency. That kind of money took a soldier three months to earn.
Aeneas felt a warm rush in his chest.
He sighed to himself. A mother's generosity—nothing beats it.
He lifted the pouch and gave it a small shake. He teased her casually.
"Got it~ Don't worry. I won't go picking any more fights with wild boars, alright?"
"Hmph, you'd better not!" Terani put her hands on her hips and pouted. But the corners of her eyes curved into a smile.
Aeneas waved a hand. He strode out over the threshold. The sunlight from the side door outlined his broad shoulders.
Terani stood in the doorway, clutching her herb pouch. She watched him walk away. She muttered under her breath,
"Honestly... The Young Master is always so worrying..."
Around seven in the morning. The sun had just crested Mount Ida's ridge. A river of golden light poured down. It slowly burned off the night mist. The air was cool and fresh. It carried the scent of plants and earth warming in the sun.
Aeneas stood at the main gate of the estate. His hands were on his hips. His shoulders were straight. He looked like a general ready to review his troops—though all that lay before him was the dew-covered Dardan Valley.
He looked down over his entire domain. From the largest village below, a few thin threads of cookfire smoke rose.
Further off, the Scamander River shone like silver. It wound through the emerald valley. The three small villages along its banks looked like scattered stones. They sat quietly embedded in the green puzzle.
He turned. Behind the estate, in the other valley, a tributary stream glittered in the morning light. Along its banks, the faint outline of another small settlement was visible—not many thatched huts. They almost merged with the trees. As if the forest had grown them itself.
The scene was primordially perfect. No smoke smog. No messy buildings. Just the faint traces of human activity. Like a tolerated "borrowing" of space from nature.
Aeneas took a deep breath. He lifted his face to the sunlight. He couldn't help thinking to himself:
"So... this is my turf, huh? Pure nature. Zero pollution."
He squinted again. A smiling mutter followed.
"It's just... a bit too primitive. Turning this into a prosperous paradise... The difficulty level is basically 'Caesar IV' on hard mode."
He ran a hand through his messy dark-gold curls. Like daring the world. He smiled and started down the stone steps.
Aeneas followed the winding dirt path downhill. His thin-soled leather sandals weren't broken in yet. They scraped and shuffled. He'd deliberately worn a coarse linen tunic today. A thin cord was his only belt. He looked like any ordinary country youth. If not for his tall posture and overly handsome face, he might have fooled everyone.
Olive trees flanked the path. They stood like silent guards in the sun. Their branches were heavy with unripe fruit. A breeze rustled the leaves. Aeneas looked up. His eyes lit up.
"Wow!" he breathed, his tone full of discovery. "Olives! Olive oil! Liquid gold in ancient times! It's a gold mine... no, an olive-tree mine!"
He nearly danced a little jig. His steps became light. The mental calculations were almost audible. "Upgrade the pressing tech. Double the yield. Improve the quality... That's pure profit right there."
He hummed a tuneless modern pop song. The sound felt jarring in the quiet valley. It startled a few sparrows. They fluttered away toward the distant woods.
Aeneas was lost in his "get-rich-quick olive oil scheme." He was completely unaware how odd his outfit looked here—what estate young master dressed like a commoner and grinned like he'd found treasure?
He walked on, lightly slapping his thigh. His head buzzed with ideas.
The valley villages. Troy's markets. Maybe even the Greeks. Or Egypt.
His eyes wandered over the green land. Felt like he was seeing it for the first time.
He forgot one thing though—
Anyone who knew him would stare and think, what's he up to now?
Aeneas walked down the path, humming off-key.
Three guards turned the corner, spears in hand.
They moved with purpose. Leather armor flashing in the morning light. Faces hard.
The lead one, older, sharp eyes sweeping the road.
A routine patrol, clear as day.
His gaze quickly locked onto Aeneas.
"Halt!" The man's hand shot up. His voice was loud as a war horn. "Who are you? Where are you from? Why are you skulking in the lord's woods at this hour?"
Before the words faded, three spear points leveled at him in unison. He could feel their cold threat from a distance. The two younger guards fanned out to the sides. The three smoothly formed a small encirclement.
Aeneas was stunned for half a second. Crap! Forgot about this! Wandering around my own hills dressed like this at dawn... I look exactly like a scout for thieves...
The older guard took another step forward. His spear tilted slightly. But his eyes showed hesitation. As if he saw something familiar. He stared at Aeneas's face. His frown wavered. He seemed to struggle. But... a noble son wouldn't dress like this. Am I seeing things?
Aeneas felt intensely awkward under that gaze. He forced an embarrassed, yet graceful smile. He feigned calm. He raised a placating hand. His tone was soft and measured.
"At ease, warriors. It is I. Aeneas."
The voice carried a natural calm and authority. No coarse tunic or simple sandals could hide his noble bearing.
The older guard froze. He squinted at the handsome face. Understanding dawned. He looked thunderstruck.
His spear thumped against the ground. He dropped to one knee. His voice trembled.
"Young Master Aeneas! Forgive us! We didn't recognize you! Please pardon our disrespect!"
His face was a mask of pure dread.
The two younger guards hurriedly knelt too. They pressed their heads almost to the dirt. Their backs were stiff as bowstrings. The deep-seated, instinctual fear commoners held for nobility surged up in that moment.
Aeneas saw this. He quickly stepped forward. He helped the older guard to his feet. A warm smile was on his lips. His tone was gentle.
"Please, rise. You were doing your duty. There is no fault. The blame is mine for not informing anyone. I merely wished to walk in simple clothes. You acted correctly."
The older guard looked near tears. Being helped up by the Young Master himself flustered him utterly. He stammered as he stood straight. His face flushed crimson. The two younger guards scrambled to their feet. They didn't dare look Aeneas in the eye. Their expressions were a mix of overwhelmed honor and utter confusion—who'd expect the Young Master to wander like this? And to help a mere soldier up himself?
The atmosphere shifted. It went from tense confrontation to a mix of awkwardness and reverence. They stood ramrod straight. Their movements were painfully stiff. They even seemed to breathe carefully. Afraid to offend the "son of a goddess."
Aeneas sighed inwardly. Outwardly, he maintained a gentle smile. As if nothing happened.
He saw the three guards still frozen. He brushed off his clothes, slow, casual. He spoke lightly.
"You're on patrol, right? Perfect. I was planning to go down to the town. Why not walk together for a bit? You can tell me how things have been in the estate lately."
The guards exchanged glances. They looked like they'd been personally chosen by Lady Luck. Their faces showed stunned delight. The older one swallowed stiffly. He replied with deep respect.
"As you command, Young Master!"
He gestured for his companions to stay alert. He himself carefully fell into step half a pace behind and to the side of Aeneas—daring neither to lead nor lag.
Aeneas was secretly pleased. Good. My chance. Time to see how strong my army really is.
He looked calm on the outside. Hands behind his back.
Just a young man, walking like he had nothing better to do.
He walked forward. His gaze swept over the wild grasses beside the mountain path and the gleaming river valley beyond. He asked as if making casual conversation.
"How many patrols like yours are usually active in the estate? How many warriors do we have in total?"
The older guard immediately straightened his spine. His voice was serious, respectful.
"Young Master, the estate maintains a standing force of three hundred professional warriors, divided among three barracks. Each unit performs all core duties—guarding, policing, and patrolling—but in separate zones. Additionally, the Lord commands fifty loyal slave-soldiers, assigned exclusively to the estate's defense."
The two younger guards remained vigilant. But their eyes kept stealing glances at Aeneas. As if confirming whether this legendary young master was truly interested in such details.
Aeneas noticed their looks. He deliberately raised an eyebrow and grinned.
"Relax, I'm just asking. No one's going to dock your performance bonus if you get it wrong! Haha!"
The young guards looked utterly confused by this futuristic joke. They managed strained, awkward smiles.
"Young Master, what are you talking about? What's a 'performance bonus'? "
The older guard pretended not to hear. But his step hitched noticeably. He seemed to be thinking, The Young Master's casual jokes are so profound. Could those stories about his "divine revelations" be real?
The mountain breeze moved through the pines.
Aeneas walked easy, light on his feet. Like he was just out for a walk.
But he was quietly observing the state of his lands.