I let the silence stretch after my declaration. I could see the calculation in Baron White's eyes. He wasn't a deep thinker, but he understood reputation and practicality.
I know you, I thought, holding his gaze. You're self-centered. You offer to let me come back not out of love, but because a son begging at your gates is a better look than a son dead in a ditch. But if I did return, you'd make me a servant, or worse. You have never treated me as a son. Why would I seek shelter where I've only ever found scorn?
But you'll agree to my demands. Because they're reasonable. Because they cost you almost nothing. And most of all, because it's the perfect PR move. The noble Baron, generously providing for his talentless bastard son one last time before the boy foolishly strikes out on his own. It cleanses your hands of me while boosting your public image. A tidy solution.
"Yes, you may state them," the Baron said, his voice tight with controlled anger. "But consider this the last thing you will ever receive from this family. Do not expect anything in the future."
"Understood." I nodded. "My first request: I want the old house. The one directly opposite the mansion, from before this estate was built."
I saw a flicker of surprise. He'd expected me to ask for more money upfront, or a weapon. The old house was a small, dusty stone cottage, abandoned for years. It was worthless to him.
But to me, it was a fortress.
My current strength was G-rank. A stray dog or a drunken commoner could end me. By staying within Boron White's territory—specifically, in a house he legally gave me—I remained under his nominal protection. No one would dare openly attack the Baron's son on his own land, no matter how despised. It was a safe base, a place to grow until I was strong enough to leave for the Dragon Academy.
The Academy was my true goal. Founded a thousand years ago by the Red Dragon on the First Hero's command, it was the crucible where the next generation of power was forged. It was where the novel's plot truly began. It had resources, S-rank teachers, and opportunities I could never find in this backwater territory. It was my only path to gaining the strength to survive the coming catastrophes.
"So, you wish to remain in my territory," the Baron mused, stroking his chin. "Very well. The deed is yours. But I want your reason."
"It's simple. I'm too weak to survive elsewhere. I need a place to learn. Which leads to my second request." I took a steadying breath. This was the risky one. "I want to learn swordsmanship from Sir Kane, the Vice-Captain of your guard."
The Baron's eyebrows shot up. "Swordsmanship? You are a Support Magician with a Plant element. You've learned the basics. Why pursue the blade? And why would Kane agree? His time is valuable."
"Because magic alone won't save me if a bandit has a knife to my throat," I said, my voice firm. "I need to be able to defend myself. To have options. As for Sir Kane… I only ask for two hours of instruction each morning. His house is near the old cottage, so it wouldn't interfere with his duties. I will convince him myself. I only need your permission to ask."
The Baron studied me, a strange glint in his eye. It wasn't respect, but a dawning curiosity. This wasn't the whimpering boy he knew. "You wish to survive. To protect yourself." He said the words as if tasting a foreign concept. "I will grant permission. But convincing him is your burden. Furthermore, you must pay his fee. Instruction from a master of his caliber does not come cheap. How do you intend to manage that?" He leaned forward. "What is your final request?"
"My third request is for capital. Ten gold coins."
The Baron's composure broke. He let out a short, sharp laugh. "Ten gold? Boy, a common family lives comfortably on one gold coin for a year! A C-rank knight's annual salary is ten gold! Do you understand the value of what you're asking?"
"I do," I said, keeping my expression neutral, even pitiful. "It is to pay Sir Kane's fees and to support myself until I can earn my own way. This is my start. My only start."
For a long moment, he just stared. I could see the conflict: the annoyance at my audacity warring with his desire to be rid of me cleanly. The cheap cottage and the permission were nothing. Ten gold was a tangible cost, but for a Baron, it was a pittance. A small price to pay for a clean conscience and a clean estate.
With a sound of disgust, he turned, unlocked a heavy drawer in his desk, and pulled out a small, clinking leather pouch and a rolled parchment. He slammed them on the desk.
"Here. The deed. The coins. Take them and go." His voice was low, final. "I give these because I am your father, and even a weed deserves a chance to wither on its own. But know this: this is the last thing I will ever do for you. Do not return to this house unless you have become someone of note. If you come back weak, you will kneel as a servant. Do you understand?"
The words were meant to be a curse, a final dismissal. To me, they sounded like freedom.
"I understand," I said, taking the pouch and the parchment. They felt heavy with possibility. "Thank you."
I didn't bow. I simply turned and walked out of his office, closing the door softly behind me.
The cold weight of the gold in my hand was real. The deed was real. My path, for the first time, was my own.
I didn't head back to my room. I had nothing there I wanted. Instead, I walked straight out of the mansion's main gates, the morning sun warming my face. My destination: the Knights' Training Grounds on the edge of the estate.
As I walked, my mind raced, solidifying the plan. Why Sir Kane?
It wasn't just because he was skilled, or because he lived nearby. In the fragmented memories of the novel I'd read, Sir Kane was a minor character with a major secret—one that never came to light in the original story. A secret that, if I played my cards right, could turn him from a reluctant tutor into a powerful, genuine ally.
I reached the wrought-iron gates of the training grounds. The sounds of clashing steel and shouted commands spilled out. I took a deep breath, adjusting the simple tunic I wore.
This was the first real test. Not of strength, but of persuasion. Of using my foreknowledge as a key.
I pushed the gate open and stepped into the world of warriors.