Chapter 148 - 102 : Slumber (1)

Chapter 148: Chapter 102 : Slumber (1)

By the time the carriage approached the city, the morning had already given way to late morning. The rain had left the roads damp, and shallow puddles reflected the pale sky beneath the wheels. Ahead, the city walls rose broad and solid, built from pale-grey stone that had darkened from the rain. Watchtowers stood along the walls, with guards stationed above them, bows and spears within easy reach.

Crimson flags bearing the Veymont family crest hung from the walls and watchtowers, each displaying the same golden heart at its center. The crest was also visible on the armor of the household guards escorting the carriage, marking them clearly as members of the Count family’s forces.

Lucian’s uncle rode ahead of the carriage, with the guards following behind and around it. As they approached the gates, the sentries quickly recognized the Veymont crest and the nobleman riding at the front.

"Viscount."

The greeting came almost immediately as the guards straightened.

"Welcome back, Viscount."

The gates began to open without delay. There was no need for questions or inspection. The sight of a member of the Veymont family was enough to make their identity and authority clear.

The carriage passed through behind him, its doors and windows firmly closed. From outside, there was no way to see who was inside. To the people along the road, it was simply another carriage belonging to the Veymont household following its escort into the city.

Inside the walls, the city carried on with its usual rhythm. Merchants stood beneath wet awnings with sacks of grain, bolts of cloth, and bundles of timber stacked nearby. Farmers guided carts through the streets while servants hurried between shops and homes. Children ran through the gaps between adults, and horsemen moved along the broader roads with weapons hanging at their sides.

It was a prosperous city, but there was nothing about it that suggested preparations for war. The people were accustomed to seeing armed men, however. Swords were common among guards and travelers, while some merchants carried bows or short blades for protection. From one courtyard, Ethan could even see a group of young men practicing with wooden weapons under the watch of an older instructor.

The Veymont crest appeared throughout the city. Crimson banners bearing the golden heart hung above guard posts and official buildings, while smaller versions could be seen on household uniforms and around establishments associated with the family.

Ethan quietly observed the reactions as they passed. Guards stepped aside, shopkeepers lowered their heads, and servants moved out of the road. Some people greeted the Viscount as he passed, while others simply bowed in acknowledgment. No one needed to be told who held authority here.

The carriage continued deeper into the city, where the streets gradually became quieter and the buildings larger. The roads widened, the houses stood farther apart, and stone walls began appearing around larger estates.

Eventually, the Veymont estate came into view.

A broad outer wall surrounded the grounds, with heavy gates bearing the same crimson-and-gold crest. Beyond them stood the family castle, built from dark stone and designed more for strength and permanence than extravagance. Towers rose above the central hall, with several wings extending around inner courtyards.

Servants moved through the grounds alongside stable hands and household guards. In one courtyard, several young members of the household were practicing martial techniques under supervision.

As the carriage passed through the gates, Ethan looked quietly at the estate around him. It felt less like a single residence and more like a small world of its own, with its own guards, servants, training grounds, and people whose lives were tied to the family.

The carriage finally came to a stop.

Lucian remained inside for the moment as his uncle dismounted ahead of him, while the household guards moved into position around the carriage.

For the first time since entering the city, Ethan had a clear view of the place where he would be staying.

Veymont Castle.

Lucian stepped down from the carriage alongside Ethan. He glanced toward the castle, then turned to Ethan.

"I need to speak with my father for a moment. I’ll be back shortly."

Ethan nodded. "Go ahead."

Lucian gave him a brief nod before following his uncle into the castle.

Ethan remained outside for a while, quietly taking in his surroundings. After some time, a servant approached him cautiously.

"Young Master said this guest is to be treated with respect."

Ethan looked at him.

The servant immediately lowered his head. "This way, sir."

Ethan followed.

The Viscount led the way through the castle, with Lucian following a step behind him. They passed through long corridors lined with portraits of past generations and climbed several flights of stairs toward the upper levels. The higher they went, the quieter the castle became. Eventually, they reached a pair of tall wooden doors guarded by two men in plated armor standing on either side. The guards straightened slightly at their approach, clearly having been expecting them.

The Viscount stepped forward and opened the door. The guards made no attempt to stop them, and the two entered the study together.

The room was spacious and orderly, with tall shelves covering much of the walls. Books filled them from one end to the other, their subjects impossible to tell at a glance. Several more were stacked neatly across a large desk near the window. Beyond the glass, the city stretched beneath the morning light, its streets and rooftops visible from the elevated position.

Standing before the window was Count Veymont.

His back was turned toward the door, his hands resting loosely behind him as he looked over the city that belonged to his family. He was an advanced middle-aged man with a composed bearing, dark hair marked by a few streaks of white. Even without seeing his face, there was an unmistakable sense of authority in the way he stood.

The Viscount moved to the side and gave Lucian a small nod.

Lucian understood. He stepped forward while his uncle remained near the door, quietly waiting.

"Father."

The Count did not turn immediately. After a brief silence, however, he glanced over his shoulder. His eyes settled on Lucian, taking in his appearance before anything else. The bandaged arm did not escape his notice.

"You’re injured."

Lucian glanced at his arm.

"It’s nothing serious. A wolf bit me while I was in the forest."

The Count’s expression tightened slightly, though his voice remained calm.

"You’ve been through an ambush, disappeared for a night, and returned with an injured arm. Let the physician look at it properly when we’re done here."

"Yes, Father."

The Count turned back toward the window, his gaze settling over the city once more.

"Now, tell me what happened."

Lucian walked farther into the room and began explaining everything that had happened. He spoke first of the investigation along the family’s borders and the attack on the settlement under one of their viscounts. He explained how the ambush had caught his party on the road, how his guards had stayed behind to buy him time, and how he had been forced to flee alone without knowing who had orchestrated the attack. He mentioned the possibility of Varell, given the kingdom’s recent movements along the borders, but admitted that there was no proof that they were responsible.

From there, he explained how he had ended up in the forest, injured and being pursued, and how he had encountered the wolves. Then he told his father about Ethan.

He described finding him in the fresh crater, the strange circumstances surrounding his appearance, and how Ethan had somehow survived an impact that should have killed any ordinary person. He explained how badly injured Ethan had been when he found him, yet how quickly those injuries had begun to disappear. He told him about Ethan’s strange knowledge, his unfamiliarity with the region, and how he seemed not to recognize even the names of powerful families or major organizations. He mentioned the questions Ethan had asked about the region, the kingdom, and the various martial paths, making it clear that Ethan genuinely appeared to know almost nothing about the world.

Lucian continued, telling his father about the journey through the forest that morning. He explained how Ethan had been able to sense the approaching search party before any of them heard the horses, and how casually he had spoken about dealing with their enemies. Even when Lucian had worried about the possibility of being found by the people responsible for the ambush, Ethan had simply assured him that even a hundred men would make no difference. And lastly about Ethan’s assessment on his uncle’s strength.

The Count listened without interruption.

When Lucian finally finished, silence settled over the study. The sounds of the castle below were faint from this height, leaving only the occasional movement of wind against the window.

The Count remained facing the city for several moments before speaking.

"What do you think of him?"

Lucian considered the question carefully.

"I don’t know."

There was no hesitation in the honesty of his answer. ℯ

"He seems kind. At least, from what I’ve seen."

The Count’s brow lifted slightly.

"Kind?"

Lucian nodded. "He is strange. Very strange. But I don’t think he’s hostile."

He paused before adding, "If anything, he seems more interested in understanding where he is than in causing trouble."

The Count was silent again.

"And his strength?"

Lucian’s expression became more thoughtful.

"Unclear."

Before Lucian could say more, his uncle spoke from near the door.

"I agree."

Lucian turned toward him.

His uncle had remained quiet throughout the conversation, but his expression was serious.

"I’ve encountered powerful martial artists before," the Viscount said.

The Count shifted his attention toward him.

The Viscount was quiet for a moment, his thoughts returning to the brief time he had spent near Ethan.

"His strength felt strange. Not weak, certainly. Quite the opposite. But it wasn’t simply the pressure of someone stronger than me. There was something else to it."

He continued after a brief pause.

"I’ve stood before people far beyond my reach. You can usually feel the difference. You may not know exactly how strong they are, but you can sense the distance between you. With him, I couldn’t."

His brows drew together slightly.

"It was as if I was trying to grasp something that wasn’t there. The closer I tried to understand him, the less certain I became of what I was actually sensing."