Chapter 17 (1/2): The divided kingdom
Large raindrops pounded relentlessly on the roof of the Laval household, crackling as they hit, merging into a deafening roar.
Rainwater flowed down the drenched courtyard, washing over the gate recently splattered with glaring red paint.
The entire manor swayed amid the chaotic downpour, as if it could be swallowed whole at any moment by the boundless gray gloom.
“Wuuu! My dear son! Poor Allen! Are you alright!!!”
A cry filled with sobs pierced through the torrential rain, even drowning out a dull thunderclap.
Viscount Bernard de Laval was soaked through, looking like a drowned rat freshly pulled from a river.
His soft beret, symbolizing his status, sat askew on his temple.
The expensive deep blue velvet Pourpouan clung tightly to his slightly plump frame, outlining his disheveled form.
He nearly burst through the dining room door, abandoning a recently reclaimed debt, rushing back madly.
When he saw Allen sitting safely by the dining table, leisurely enjoying a piece of bread slathered in honey, Bernard’s rain and anxiety-washed pale face instantly burst into ecstatic relief, tears flooding out mixed with lingering fear.
“Allen!”
He staggered forward and threw his somewhat stunned son into a tight embrace, gripping so hard Allen nearly choked on his bread.
The cold rainwater mixed with burning tears instantly soaked Allen’s dry clothes.
“Dad! I just finished bathing!”
Allen swallowed the bread with difficulty and protested in a muffled voice.
Just now, he had barely managed to stop Marianne, the chief maid of Laval House, from serving him a bath—an ordeal difficult enough to fill an entire chapter.
“Those damn hyenas! Bastards!”
Bernard’s voice was hoarse and trembling, carrying the fierce cruelty only nobles pushed to the brink could show.
“If they dared lay a finger on you! I’d give up everything! Even bankrupt the family! I’d place a bounty and have every single one of their heads hung at the city gates to dry!”
Allen winced from the tight hold and shivered from the cold dampness, but a warm current rose in his chest.
He raised his hand with effort, lightly patting his father’s violently heaving back, smiling to soothe, “Father, no need to exaggerate. Those wild dogs can’t hurt your son. See? Didn’t I chase them off?”
Bernard lifted his head; his bloodshot eyes filled with guilt and fright.
“You shouldn’t have taken that risk, Allen! If anything had happened to you, what would be the point of me keeping this family together…”
Beside them, the old butler Jean Leclerc let go of his usual composure.
His graying hair was wet and plastered to his forehead, his face full of deep guilt: “It’s all my fault! I’m useless. I let Young Master fall into such danger!”
“No, no, no! Old Jean, how could it be your fault!”
Bernard suddenly released Allen and turned to the butler, flailing his arms emotionally, rain dripping from his motions.
“It’s my fault! All my fault! I suspected they wanted us dead but never imagined…never imagined their move would be so fast! So ruthless!”
“I did my best to negotiate, but…but their schemes were earlier! More sinister!”
He paced anxiously by the linen-draped dining table; his wet boots left dark stains on the floor, mirroring his chaotic, desperate thoughts.
“Father,” Allen’s voice was calm, but his gaze sharp as a blade, “Who are they?”
The calmer Allen seemed, the wilder his heart became.
Marianne, quietly standing nearby, was sure that once Bernard named names, Allen would become a death god of revenge, knocking on doors to visit them one by one.
Holding several soft dry towels, she hurried over to pull the barely restrained young master back.
“Young Master, let me dry you off.”
She carefully wiped Allen’s rain-soaked hair and shoulders with gentle, focused motions.
Of course, her crimson eyes still held a trace of resentment from being refused the “bathing service” earlier.
“What a joke! Marianne, you’re only fourteen! Even such an unhealthy scenario, you, a silly maid, could think of it? What do you mean this is the maid’s job? What do you mean all the other nobles do it?”
“Look who I am! I’m Allen de Laval! A villain who’s above such childish tastes! Don’t lump me together with those worthless trash bastards!”
Allen’s rejection of Marianne’s offer to serve him a bath was resolute.
Just a small thing like bathing the young master, why such a strong reaction…
He himself had said he was interested in the public baths…
Thinking of Allen’s pitying look that said “You’re still a child,” Marianne glanced down at her chest.
At fourteen, she was well-developed, but compared to Livia…uh…
Livia was a bit older, definitely different!
People will grow up!
Anyway, time is long but worth the wait.
“Uh…”
Bernard faltered at Allen’s question, “You’re still too young. Adult matters, you shouldn’t concern yourself with.”
“What nonsense are you talking?”
Allen looked his father squarely in the eye.
“You mean if the sky falls, you alone can bear it? If the Laval family falls, I won’t be affected?”
Allen’s deathly question left Bernard speechless.
“…”
Allen patted his father’s hand, then wore a resigned but soothing smile—one with maturity beyond his years.
“Dear father, look at you, soaked through. You’ll get sick like this. Go take a hot bath, change into dry, warm clothes.”
He gestured to the dining table.
“Our whole family will have a meeting here to properly discuss the crisis facing us.”
“I…”
Bernard hesitated still.
“Go, father.”
Allen smiled, but his eyes held no humor.
“Our family’s crisis is far bigger than a little problem. The more you refuse to disclose, the faster we’ll die.”
“Or do you not even trust your own son?”
Allen’s unusually calm and responsible demeanor was like a bucket of ice water, instantly dousing the raging fire in Bernard’s heart.
What was he so afraid of?
His son was no longer the foolish, aimless boy of before.
Since Allen had been saved from drowning, he seemed transformed.
Not only steadier than him, but even a bit like…his own father who had died early.
Both were the type who said it once and meant it.
Bernard stared at his son, at the calm light in his eyes, feeling an indescribable mix of bitterness and relief, tears blurring his vision once more.
His son had become so reliable!
If…if only he had dropped the ridiculous noble airs from the start and communicated honestly with his son, would they have been estranged all these years?
Guilt pricked his heart like tiny needles, but more than anything was pride at seeing the fledgling eagle finally spread its wings.
Lord, thank you!
Your Divine Revelation saved my child and saved me!
“All right, all right!”
Bernard choked up, nodding vigorously like an obedient child.
“I’ll go now! Right now!”
He roughly wiped his face with his sleeve and staggered off toward his room, eager as if fearing that this hard-won “family meeting” might vanish if he delayed a moment.
When Bernard returned to the dining room in dry, warm dark brown wool clothes, towel drying his half-wet hair, the scene before him stopped him at the door and immediately made his eyes wet again.
By the warm candlelight, Allen and old butler Jean Leclerc sat side by side, heads close, quietly discussing a thick ledger spread on the table.
Allen’s long fingers traced the yellowed pages patiently explaining something, while Jean listened intently, nodding occasionally, his cloudy but sharp eyes flashing with understanding and approval.
Marianne had brought a chair and sat a little farther away, chin resting in her hands.
Her beautiful crimson eyes unblinking, watching Allen with curiosity and a near-reverent glow, quietly listening to numbers and calculations far beyond her grasp.
This picture was warm, peaceful—full of everyday family life’s warmth and mutual support.
Jean Leclerc, the butler who had served since Bernard’s father, Jacques de Laval’s era, was an orphan adopted by the family.
Officially the butler, but in truth more like Bernard’s brother without blood ties.
During those difficult years after the sudden death of Bernard’s parents, it was Old Jean’s not broad but steadfast shoulders that carried the fragile family and the young Bernard.
For the Laval family, he dedicated his entire life, even refusing the possibility of having a family of his own.
When Bernard once tentatively mentioned this, Old Jean just smiled gently: “Your child is my child. If I had my own, perhaps I’d be selfish. All parents hope to leave everything to their children.”
Bernard always believed even if Old Jean had children, he would never betray the Laval family.
In his heart, Old Jean was already family, a father, a brother.
But the invisible master-servant barrier, that ridiculous noble pride, kept him from truly voicing these feelings.
Bernard hated his own cowardice.
Even his son had completely changed, willing to reconcile.
Why couldn’t he change too?
His gaze shifted to Marianne.
This black-haired, crimson-eyed girl, as resilient and awkwardly cute as a little deer, seemed to have a… more normal relationship with Allen after that night’s crisis.