Chapter 37

Blood

“I am unworthy of this Empire, yet its Crowned I stand; how long do I need to watch it burn at my fingers? How long?”

My Dawn, Vol. VII

Noah was currently taking a casual stroll through the open market of the Brightfort, stalls lined up next to one another in an elongated curve around the central fountain and statue of the founding father of the Lumina Kingdom, a tall, copper-cast statue decorated with golden trails and lines. His eyes inspected the goods, and his ears the prices, compartmentalizing them one by one into his memory. It was difficult; he had never tried to memorize something in rapid succession, especially through the compartmentalization, and he was certain he’d forget some by the end of the day, but it was the best he could do at the moment.

His shoulders repeatedly bumped into another as he weaved through the thick crowd, trying to see whether there was anything like the modern equipment from Earth on sale. As far as he could tell, however, there wasn't; the most exotic thing he'd seen was the double-cast bronze mirror juxtaposed between two steel-cast spheres, reflections inside the mirror somewhat alluring. Most other 'goods' seemed to be worthless trinkets, but he supposed it was the art of choosing that played a great role in finding treasure amidst the garbage.

He didn’t recognize much, as most trinkets seemed remarkably similar to those back on Earth, at least in general make – just random circles and lines woven together in a variety of materials, sold as ‘charms’ and ‘talismans’. People still bought them, though he couldn't figure out why; perhaps it was a sense of naivety, perhaps a sense of hope that they might strike gold or just the case of having far too much money. He didn't notice any of the modern-day advertising tricks being employed, such as flash-sales, limited editions, appeal to the demand, and so forth. It was rather primitive in his eyes, the way the market worked; bring whatever you can, and hope to sell it to someone desperate enough.

Two hours would pass before he finally reached the end of the market, exiting onto a cobblestone-paved set of streets and alleyways, a residential area from the looks of it. He eyed a nearby bench and sat down, crossing one of his legs over the other, entering deep thought. It would be pointless to bring his goods here and set up a stall – selling everything would take too long. In addition, everyone haggled for the prices, and he simply couldn’t bother to play the game for each and every item. The best way would be to offload everything in one go, even if it meant he wouldn’t make much of a profit. After all, his goal in coming here wasn’t to suddenly get rich, so he wouldn’t even mind making a loss in terms of money if it meant a different kind of gain.

He was confident in Myrell and Sash completing their task, and, even if they failed by some chance, it wouldn’t hurt him too much. Worst comes to worst, if they get too tangled with the local powers, he can abandon them and return back to Elucido to re-instate his power. He’d like to avoid that, however; after all, he’d spent too much time and money on the two of them to simply let them go.

Sighing, just as he was about to get up, he spotted a youthful man staring at him from the front; the boy appeared to be a teenager, as far as Noah could tell, the handsome sort, with a shimmer in his eyes and well-kept hair. He was dressed in the traditional butler clothes, linen-woven threads of green and silver, and the white overcoat reaching to just below his knees. The boy stared at him intently, causing Noah to smile faintly at him.

“… how can I help you?” Noah asked.

“… I don’t recognize you.” The boy said with caution.

“I don’t recognize you either.”

“Are you new?”

“Are you?”

“Will you answer every one of my questions with one of your own?”

“… will I?” Noah’s smile stretched into a grain, causing the boy to frown.

“… you are dressed well,” the boy said. “And you sound educated. You are dressed like a merchant, yet your countenance is as far away from one as possible. If you were of the Fort, I’d have known about you.”

“… you are dressed well,” Noah played along. “And you sound educated. You are dressed like a butler, and your countenance supports it, with a dash of naïve curiosity. You intrigue me. How about you come and work for me?”

“…” the boy’s frown deepened, growing even somewhat hostile. “Who are you?” he asked again, his hand tracing down to the inner pockets where, Noah knew, a host of daggers was hidden. Each butler, especially ones serving the high nobility, was trained in versatile arts, if not even the Light itself, and acted the roles of personal guardians in addition to aides.

“… isn’t it barred by law for butlers to hide the sigils of their House?” Noah asked, still maintaining his smile. “Or is it that you fancy yourself that famous you feel you don’t need it?”

“…” the boy withdrew the dagger, a silver-shining one, and pointed it at Noah. It appeared sharp and well crafted. “I won’t ask again – who are you?”

“…” Noah’s smile vanished and his countenance changed, causing the boy to stutter and nearly fall back. “Careful with that thingy, boy,” he said. “I might start thinking you want to harm me, a completely innocent lad just enjoying the sun’s rays.”

“Eh? Lyon? What are you do—” the familiar voice caused Noah to nearly cringe outwardly as he maintained his expression, glancing sideways. Twice in two days? What the fuck is this?! He cursed inwardly, though stretched his lips into a smile outwardly. “E-eh? Mr. Flint?”

“… what a surprise, Lady Claire,” he said, getting up and bowing. “To run into you all the way out here.”

“A-ah?” the boy stuttered once again, glancing between the two. “M-my Lady, you know him?”

“Hm,” Claire nodded, suppressing her shock. “Put that thing away. You’re embarrassing me.”

“A-ah, yes,” the boy fiddled with the dagger awkwardly, shoving it back into his inner pockets. “Forgive me.”

"It is not me you should be seeking forgiveness from," she said. "Apologies, Mr. Flint, if my butler has offended you."

“Of course not,” Noah dismissed it with a wave of his hand. “He merely spotted a suspicious person and decided to investigate it.”

“… Lyon,” Claire’s voice cooled slightly as the boy shuddered. “Go and bring what we bought to the mansion.”

“My Lady—”

“Did I stutter?”

“… n-no…”

“Go, then.”

“Yes, my Lady.” The boy bowed, glancing coldly toward Noah in the process, the latter merely smiling and waving him off. As he left, Noah sat back down, glancing at the woman standing in front of him. A storm was raging inside of her, evident in her eyes.

“… who are you, Mr. Flint?” she asked after a brief silence.

“… he really is your butler.” Noah chuckled bitterly.

“Hm?”

“Nothing,” he sighed, glancing at her. “Does it matter?”

“… considering the things you know, it does.”

“How so?” he asked. “Is my life hanging on a noose depending on who I am?”

“…”

“… I thought you’d have learned not to flirt with the lives of others so easily by now, Lady Claire,” Noah said, his respectful countenance vanishing. He realized playing the role of an ignorant sheep would get him nowhere; she was someone brought up in a position of power, hardly responsive to meekness. His words clearly struck her, her expression shifting and darkening. “I suppose not, however. Looks like he was wrong; you are not ready.”

“W-who? Ready for what?” she asked, restless.

“…” Noah looked deeply into her eyes for a moment, getting up. “Let’s take a walk.” Without waiting for her reply, he turned toward the residential area. She hesitated for a moment, but in the end followed, too restless, caving in.

“… did… did he send you?” she asked with a faint trace of fear in her voice. Noah glanced back at her; she kept the safe distance of around ten feet from him, matching his pace. He didn’t know whether it was due to the fear, or due to the nature of her upbringing.

“… where he walks, bells ring and laughter sings,” Noah said, his mind working rapidly on how to extrapolate the actual story from her, as, by now, he had determined the one Quickett told him was without a doubt just the one from his perspective. “He thinks he’d become a laughing stock… not even knowing hardly much has changed.”

“…” she stumbled lightly, guilt creeping into her expression.

“As I said, Lady Claire,” Noah continued. “I am but a curious, traveling merchant. No more, no less. I, however, don’t only deal in empty and hollow goods.”

“… I had to do it…” she mumbled. Hmm, she’s close…

“Perhaps,” he flirted with the truth. “And perhaps not.”

“… I would have lost everything.”

"… 's that so?" he smiled mysteriously, glancing at her, prompting her to bite her lower lip. "I've always been muddy on what it means to lose everything. Just last night, for instance, all my goods were confiscated, my two slaves beaten and humiliated. How much did I lose, in your eyes, Lady Claire?"

“W-what? That happened?! Tell me who—”

“I did not ask you about that,” he interrupted her. “I asked you how much do you think I lost.”

“…”

"… hmm, I was right; you aren't ready," he sighed, stopping. She followed in his footsteps, maintaining the ten-feet distance. "You spoke so fervently of your regrets that, for a moment, I grew hopeful. Alas…"

“… I… I am… ready…”

“… no,” he shook his head, meeting her eyes squarely. “You still cling onto the everything. I hardly blame you, though. Rather, I agree with you – you did what you had to do. Why would you throw away your bright future? You’re on a path of gold. In my eyes, you are right to have kept the everything.”

“.. I did… I did love him…” she said, corners of her eyes growing teary, the atmosphere around her changing rapidly. "With all my heart."

“…”

“But tell me, Mr. Flint,” she looked up once again, meeting his eyes with a somber and broken gaze. “What would become of us, of me, if the world learned I went after my own blood?” … huh? … wait…? SAY WHAT NOW?!