The day of the triumphant return.
In stark contrast to the boiling excitement on every street of the Imperial Capital, the Count's Manor was deathly quiet.
There was no grand banquet, no celebration, not even a simple reception.
After leaving the docks, Count Raymond even left his deputy to oversee the planned parade of a thousand soldiers from the expeditionary fleet through the city for the citizens' review. He hurried home and refused all visitors, claiming to the public that the war-weary count needed private time to comfort his lonely wife after years apart.
Though many who had painstakingly prepared to flatter the empire's new hero were disappointed, this noble excuse won universal approval.
Inside the manor of the Count's luxurious residence, the triumphant hero of the Imperial Navy stared at his own son.
His gaze was deep, melancholy, and complicated.
If he had not been utterly convinced of his wife's virtue… Count Raymond's first thought upon seeing the child was: Is this really my blood?
The boy looked nothing like him.
The men of the Rollin family were famous for being strong, virile heroes! The standard Rollin man was tall, broad-chested, thick-armed, square-jawed, with a straight nose—the very picture of a bold warrior.
Count Raymond himself fit that mold perfectly. He was towering, strikingly handsome in imperial noble circles, and had been a famous paragon of manhood in his youth.
But this tiny boy before him…
At only three years old, he was far too pale and frail for a child of the famously rugged Rollin family. Well, he had been seriously ill a month earlier—perhaps that was why his body was so weak.
Dwight Rollin, the three-year-old heir to the Count, stared back at his father with a blank expression. He did not cry or shout loudly as other boys his age would, which displeased the Count greatly. By tradition, the louder a child cried, the stronger he was!
This boy was far too quiet. He sat on the bed, hands resting on his knees, looking up at his father with a gaze that seemed curious, yet almost judgmental.
The Count was sure he must be imagining things.
How could a three-year-old's eyes hold such complex emotions?
As frustrated as the Count was, Dwight Rollin's feelings were even more tangled.
The beautiful, mature Countess, with her motherly love and her actions from a month ago, had already softened Dwight's heart.
But this sudden "father"…
Hmph. Where had he come from?
"Is… he truly still unable to speak?" The Count's expression was stern as he glanced at his wife. But when he saw the tears in her eyes, his heart softened. He thought of how he had sailed away for three long years, abandoning his wife, even leaving her alone when she was on the brink of childbirth, when she needed him most. He could not blame the poor woman for their son's condition, so his tone softened.
"Very well, my dear. If he cannot speak, we will hire the most learned tutors in the empire to teach him. He will speak eventually. But his body is far too weak. The Rollin family has built its legacy on military merit. My son will naturally follow in my footsteps and become an imperial general—he cannot be this frail… He is three now. I think it is time to find him an introductory tutor. A weak body will grow strong with a few years of training… What do you think of Alpha? He is my most loyal captain of the guard, a master of combat, and utterly devoted to the family. Starting next month, Alpha can teach Dwight basic physical training."
At the thought of her poor son undergoing training at such a young age, tears streamed down the Countess's beautiful eyes. "But… he is still so small."
"Precisely because he is weak must we train his body early! Otherwise, how will he inherit the Rollin family's military legacy?" The battle-hardened Count was firm on this point, and he waved a hand, making the decision final.
The next day, after audience with His Majesty the Emperor at the Imperial Palace, receiving his third Imperial First-Class Medal of Valor personally from the emperor during the victory ceremony, the emperor publicly announced the promotion of the illustrious Count Raymond to Vice Commander of the Imperial High Command—the second-highest military position in the empire.
After speaking privately with the emperor for a while, Count Raymond voluntarily gave up his title as First-Class General of the Imperial Navy and transferred his military command. Leaving the palace, he again refused congratulations from colleagues, countless banquet invitations, and even politely declined invitations from several high priests of the Temple of the Goddess of Light, before hurrying home.
It was no longer a secret in the Imperial Capital that the son of Count Raymond of the Rollin family was an idiot.
Watching the faint trace of melancholy on the Count's face even during the medal ceremony, many colleagues friendly with the Rollin family felt sympathy for him. Of course, some political rivals secretly rejoiced—it was inevitable.
Back home, the Count faced his son again. This time, the beautiful Countess was not present. Instead, standing beside him was Alpha, his loyal captain of the guard who had served him for nearly twenty years—a First-Class Swordsman of the empire, whose Flaming Stream Sword art ranked him among the top swordsmen in the Imperial Capital.
For some reason, Count Raymond could not bring himself to like his son. He felt the boy's gaze toward him was not merely empty, but held a faint trace of resistance. Yet he told himself he was overthinking—what could a three-year-old possibly understand? He had been away on expedition since the boy was born, never having held him once. It was only natural for the child to be unfamiliar with him.
The captain first knelt before Dwight's bed in the formal salute of a family retainer, then lifted Dwight up and undressed him. With meticulous care, he ran a hand over the boy's entire body, from head to toe. Dwight struggled, uncomfortable with a man touching him like this, but the strength of an imperial First-Class Swordsman was far beyond his ability to resist.
"Hmm…" Alpha's expression was grave. He sighed, set the Count's heir down, bowed to the Count, and stood up, speaking in a deep voice. "My Lord, I…"
"Alpha, you are my most trusted man. Speak plainly, no need to hold back." The Count sighed.
"Young Master Dwight's body is very weak, and he suffers from… congenital deficiencies. His bones are slender, his heartbeat irregular. His constitution is even poorer than an ordinary man's. If he wishes to study combat arts in the future, I'm afraid…" Alpha gritted his teeth. "I'm afraid he will achieve little."
"What do you suggest, then?"
"I believe studying martial arts is not a good choice for the young master. Perhaps we should see if he has talent in other fields."
By the time Captain Alpha finished speaking, the Count's face had darkened considerably.