Duke Larkam stepped outside, Viscount Ravien followed half a step behind, flanked by two estate guards clad in the formal armor of House Razin.
Awaiting beyond the guest hall stood Larkam's own escort, dignified, disciplined, and silent.
They moved without command, slipping into formation the moment their lord appeared, forming a protective path toward the carriage.
The ornate door was opened with practiced precision.
Without pause, Duke Larkam stepped inside.
Within, two figures awaited him .
Seated across was his loyal butler, expression as unreadable as always.
Beside him sat his personal elite escort. A woman dressed in a sleek, dark uniform, devoid of unnecessary ornamentation. Her presence was quiet… but unmistakably dangerous.
As the carriage wheels began to roll, Larkam leaned slightly toward the window, his eyes fixed on the retreating silhouette of the viscount's manor.
Stone walls. Modest banners. A region far from the capital's grandeur.
But his thoughts were elsewhere.
He exhaled softly, a faint smile crept into the corner of his lips.
Inside his mind:
After meeting so many of those spineless heirs…
All those pampered sons and daughters clawing for scraps of their father's power…
Today, I found something different.
A rare talent. Sharp. Steady. Untamed.
A hidden gem among the dust of provincial nobility.
And perhaps… the most expensive kind.
One that cannot be bought with gold.
And likely, cannot be owned at all.
This boy…
He's not someone easily controlled.
No… perhaps he's someone who can never be controlled at all.
If even his own father cannot rein him in.
Then who am I to think I could?
Duke Larkam leaned back into the seat, arms folding loosely as the carriage rocked gently beneath him.
And yet…
That kind of mind is rare.
Painfully rare.
A boy who speaks like a judge…
Thinks like a tactician…
And acts without flinching.
He's the kind of foundation other noble houses lost generations ago.
And I want that knowledge.
His brow furrowed slightly as his thoughts deepened.
Whether it's my daughter… or my eldest son…
One of them must learn from him.
Absorb everything they can, before it's too late.
Because if they don't...
Then my house… my bloodline…
Will rot like the others.
Just like that pitiful son of mine, born of my fourth wife.
An heir in name only. Soft. Indulgent. Useless.
Larkam's gaze sharpened, eyes narrowing as the landscape rolled by outside the window, winding roads, distant treetops, the horizon beyond.
That boy… Jarius.
He may never kneel to anyone.
But if I can shape just one of my own in his image…
Then House Larkam will rise.
Larkam smirked, a rare glint of genuine amusement flashing in his eyes.
It's been so long… since I last heard someone speak like that.
The noble tongue. The cadence. The tone. The posture. The discipline in every word.
That was no child playing at civility…
That was the language of the old blood.
He leaned further into his seat, arms now loosely crossed, his gaze distant.
Even I was impressed.
I'd nearly forgotten what true noble speech sounded like…
How it carried weight without volume. Command without threat. Honor without pretense.
A quiet chuckle escaped him.
"Heh… this is good."
These days, we only use such language in royal council chambers… or during formal audiences with the crown.
Outside that? It's all modern tones. Sloppy. Casual. Diluted.
But that boy… Jarius…
He spoke as if he was born at court.
No stutter. No awkward pauses. Not even a misplaced breath.
He remembers what the rest of us have allowed to rot.
Larkam's eyes sharpened again.
Ah… I can't wait to get home.
Larkam leaned back, folding his arms with satisfaction.
Time to begin the next step.
To persuade… or plan accordingly.
I'll ensure my daughter visits the Razin estate.
Not as an emissary.
But as a guest, a companion.
Someone who can befriend him. Learn from him.
Openly. Not by force.
He tapped a finger lightly against the armrest.
Because I know…
If I send a letter bearing authority, a command…
Someone like him will shut down immediately.
He'll speak politely. Smile. Share only surface-level thoughts. A wall, perfectly built.
We won't get anything real.
But if it's a bond…
If she earns his trust naturally…
He'll open. Slowly. Gradually. And when he does...
A smirk curled at the corner of his lips.
I'll ensure my eldest son escorts her.
Two birds with one stone.
Let him walk beside the boy. Observe him. Be shaped by him.
And if fate allows… become true friends.
Because someone like Jarius…
He doesn't need to be conquered.
He needs to be understood.
( End Of Chapter )