Voltair remained motionless for a long moment. He tapped his fingers against the surface of his desk.
'Alright,' Voltair said. 'What is this request of yours?'
Richard did not waver. He stood with his shoulders squared, projecting a level of confidence.
'I wish to meet the governors of Rjord and Monchall, if that is acceptable to you, Father,' Richard said.
An unsettling silence followed.
He made a thoughtful face before replying, 'If you are merely visiting, that is fine. But if you intend to question them about these reports, then the answer is no. That would be far too dangerous.'
The Duke's refusal was absolute.
Richard frowned. He had expected some resistance, 'How so?'
Voltair released a heavy breath, 'If they somehow turn out to be impostors, you would be walking into a den of predators without the strength to defend yourself. And even if they are legitimate, accusing them would sour their view of you. An heir who distrusts his governors invites enemies the moment he ascends the seat. You would be sabotaging your own future reign before it even begins.'
Richard considered the reasoning. He admitted inwardly that the logic was fair. To accuse men as important as them without undeniable proof would be a blunder of the highest order.
Neither of the two spoke, until, a new idea formed in Richard's mind.
He spoke again, 'Father, what if I form my own team to accompany me? It would make the work easier, and I would be protected if anything goes wrong. A dedicated squad would allow me to move with authority while ensuring I am never isolated.'
Voltair shut the idea down at once. The memory of Oakhaven clearly dominated his thoughts. 'Son, you seem to have forgotten the last time I sent you out, even with experienced soldiers. You returned barely alive.'
Richard responded firmly, 'I remember. That was due to my recklessness, and we were only three facing a massive creature perhaps strengthened by some rogue magic. This time will be different, I swear on it.'
Voltair studied his son for several moments.
The Duke finally leaned forward. The tension in his posture broke.
'Fine,' Voltair sighed. 'You win.'
He reached across the cluttered desk, picked up a thick bundle of papers tied with a sturdy string, and handed it to Richard.
Richard looked down at the bundle. 'What is this?' he asked.
'It is a detailed overview of every soldier currently stationed at the manor, along with their specialties, service history, and combat evaluations. Use it to select those best suited for the task. The ill soldiers are marked in red--do not choose them. They are to remain under the care of the healers,' Voltair explained.
The Duke stood up, signaling the end of the talk. 'Once you have assembled your squad and are ready to depart, inform me. You may go now.'
Richard thanked his father and bowed deeply, before stepping out the tall oak door.
--
The next few hours pass quickly as Richard studies the documents in detail.
He reviews every soldier's profile thoroughly, breezing past the service records and commendations to find the specific traits he requires for the mission ahead, and noting down the names of potential candidates on a fresh sheet.
Once the last name is recorded, he begins the rigorous process of narrowing the list. He scrutinizes the twenty-three initial candidates with a critical eye, eventually reducing the group to the four most suitable individuals currently available within the manor's healthy population.
With his decision finally made, Richard sets the personnel papers aside and calls out toward the door.
'Lucien, I have a task for you.'
Lucien hurries inside at once.
'Just say the word, Young Master.'
Richard hands him the sheet of paper containing the four selected names. 'Find these four individuals and bring them to me. They should be in the army dormitory. Make haste.'
Lucien folds the paper neatly and slips it into his shirt pocket. 'Consider it done,' he assures him.
As the door closed, a faint smirk formed on Richard's face, who was visibly satisfied with the team he had chosen.
--
The first man was Glen--a young veteran in his thirties and an expert in reconnaissance.
He had served the Duchy for thirteen years, demonstrating exceptional talent. He held a respectable rank within the army and possessed a reputation for staying calm under extreme pressure.
The second--Hansen--an older but sharp bare-handed fighter. He possessed a keen sensory awareness that allowed him to detect threats long before they entered visual range. Hansen excelled in strategic thinking and was regarded as one of Frostpeak's finest instructors, a man who understood the flow of combat better than most armed warriors.
Next was Omar, an archer--one of the rarer combat classes on the continent. Not many could attain mastery with the bow. His skills allowed him to strike from extreme distances with lethal accuracy. He also held extensive knowledge of the continent's geography.
Last but not the least, was Wyatt. One of the seven honored commanders of the Frostpeak Army and the only one currently stationed at the Duke's manor. On paper, he was said to be the 5th strongest soldier in the entire army. Hence, it was obvious that his presence would guarantee absolute safety, though Richard was uncertain whether his father would permit such a vital figure to leave the vicinity of the manor.
--
Roughly thirty minutes passed in the quiet of the room before a knock sound at the door.
'Come in.'
Lucien entered first, followed by the four men he was instructed to summon. All of them bowed in unison.
Richard could identify each one of them without difficulty.
Hansen spoke first. 'Young Master, why have you called us at this hour?'
The others echoed the question, their expressions marked by a clear curiosity.
Richard glanced at the clock on the wall. It wasn't midnight yet, meaning that his father was likely still occupied in his office.
He rose from his seat.
'You will understand shortly. Come with me' Richard said.
The soldiers remained stationary for a heartbeat, processing the command. Wyatt took a half-step forward.
'To where, sir?' he asked.
Richard answered, 'To the Duke's office.'
The four men exchanged confused looks, yet chose to comply eventually.
On the way, Richard briefly outlined the task. It took little time, though the effect was immediate--the four men's expressions hardened as he revealed his suspicion of the governors being enemies of the Duchy.
--
[A Few Minutes Later]
Richard entered the Duke's office with the four selected members following behind him. As expected, Voltair remained awake, still seated behind the massive desk amidst the low glow of the various lamps that illuminated the room.
The moment they stepped inside, Voltair's attention shifted entirely toward the group. He did not offer a greeting, nor did he appear surprised by the late-hour intrusion. Instead, he set down his quill.
Richard stepped forward into the light of the desk. 'Here is my squad, Father,' he presented.
Voltair studied them one by one. He assessed Commander Wyatt for an extended moment, but offered no objection.
After a long moment of evaluation, the Duke finally spoke. 'Quite an interesting selection you've made,' he said. He turned his focus back to Richard. 'Have you explained to them what you intend to do, or is that still unknown to them?'
Richard answered calmly, 'They have been given a summary. I am only waiting for your approval.'
'Fine with me,' Voltair approved.
His voice turned firm, 'However, this matter is to remain confidential. None of you are to speak of this mission to anyone. Only the five of you and I are to know of it.'
The four soldiers responded in unison, 'Yes, sir!'
Voltair gave a brief nod, 'Best of luck, men. Richard, you as well.'
Richard offered a respectful gesture, before leading the squad out through the door.
--
As they navigated the quiet, torch-lit corridors of the manor, Glen raised a question.
'Young Master, I understand that we are investigating the governors, but how exactly?' He asked. 'Much is still unclear to us.'
Richard answered without breaking his stride. He kept his gaze fixed on the path ahead. 'I will explain everything on the road to our destination. For now, prepare your things. Take only what is necessary, and ensure your weapons are in proper condition.'
The soldiers absorbed the command. Omar followed up with another question.
'When do we depart, sir?'
Richard stopped abruptly. He turned back.
'We leave at first light tomorrow morning.'
---