Reynolds Dukedom...
*Step*
Receiving the summons, Lawrence put down his pipe and left his study. Moving through the corridor, the middle-aged nobleman wore a grave look on his face. The reason for this expression came down to one individual.
‘If it turns out to be true…our smooth waters will turn rocky,’ he clicked his tongue as a grimace rose on his face. ‘No. Until it’s confirmed, there’s no point worrying about it.’
The reasoning didn’t sway his feelings; the grimace remained plastered on his face, and even worsened. Passing by a mirror, he was allowed to see this clearly. The sight dragged his mood through the mud and left his face looking even more scrunched up.
Anger surged in him, resulting in his subsequent steps becoming a series of light stomps. With his meagre physical brawn, they weren’t loud; still, as quiet as they were, they were practically deafening in his environment.
Dak! Dak! Dak!…
Hearing the sound, the servants present became statues. Silent unless spoken to; this was the standard practice in the Collins Manor. There was nothing to gain but all to lose when it came to drawing the nobleman’s attention, and when he stomping as he was now, the usually balanced scale began tilting towards the latter weight. Knowing this, the staff muffled themselves, with a few of them choosing to actively hold their breaths.
“Ah!”
An exclamation sounded from a room up ahead, and a second later, the sound of something shattering echoed out.
The sound jolted everyone, Lawrence included. Though unlike everyone, whose faces flashed white, his face, flashed red. He rushed into the room like an enraged ogre and set his fiery eyes on his vase, now split into hundreds of pieces.
Rosette, the 18-year-old maid, stared at Lawrence with fearful eyes. She was currently in a kneeling pose. Her face flinched, a shard had managed to cut her delicate hand, causing blood to trickle downwards.
With a stuttering voice, the maid hurriedly spoke, “A-Aah, I a-am sorry m-master, I’ll cle-”
Before she could finish her words, Lawrence's kick cut her off.
“Argh!” She gasped for air as the kick slammed into her stomach. Tears formed as the pain was registered. But this pain was paltry to what she experienced next. Toppling down, her flesh was punctured by many of the shards littering the place.
The sharp pain jolted her and a pained whimper left her lips. It threatened to transform into a loud cry, but her hand quickly smothered the possibility. Having worked under Lawrence for a while now, she knew such an action would just invite more pain so she swallowed the pain as best as she could, tears spilling from her eyes.
“Trash! How dare you break my things! You damn commoners, you’re all so incompetent! Fuck!”
The surrounding servants' faces scrunched up at Lawrence’s words and actions. But this lasted a mere second as they quickly rectified their expressions and buried their dissatisfaction. He was a high noble, one of the Duke’s Senior Advisors, so not someone they could get on the wrong side of.
No, more than social or monetary power, the biggest deterrent was undoubtedly the presence of the person just a floor above, Lawrence’s bodyguard, Nikolas Advanti.
When talking about elite powerhouses, the nation of Zudrad wouldn’t be the first destination one’s mind wanders to. However, Zudrad wasn’t without its elite powerhouses - or rather it had just one, a Mental Master by the name of Nikolas Advanti.
Mental Master was a term given to the highest rank of Combat Telepath, said to be able to master all things Mental Domain-related. They were rare commodities, with less than a hundred individuals believed to be at this level.
Nikolas was a feared existence and for good reason. With a thought, he could destroy others’ minds, and with a few more thoughts, he could alter one’s memories and even plant entirely fictitious ones.
He was a scary existence, one beyond fighting. He was recognized as Zudrad’s strongest fighter and by a long shot.
Why would someone of his calibre and power restrict himself to the position of a bodyguard?
The reason could be found nearly twenty years back. A horrible tragedy struck and left him as the sole survivor of the Advanti noble house. For context, the family had been on the decline and looked to be only a decade from fading from the upper echelon. No one wanted anything to do with him, except for one particular noble.
While unkind to commoners, Lawrence was most kind to nobles. He truly believed they were connected by some higher blood. He lambasted the other nobles who had ignored the plight of their fellow brethren. He didn’t just stop at words though. He took the young Nikolas in, raised him well and doused him with love.
The treatment had stuck with Nikolas and was the reason why, even after awakening his powers and becoming an elite powerhouse, he chose to stick by Lawrence’s side all these years. He was fiercely loyal to his foster father. Not only that, he adopted much of Lawrence’s values and worldview.
The young man became twisted and frightening, far more than his father. With his powers, he could do the unimaginable, the unthinkable and the despicable... and with no one capable of stopping, he did just that.
In the Collins Manor, there was no one more feared than him. He was known to be extremely sadistic.
What was the downside to normal torture? That’s right, the fact that one had to eventually stop because the body might die. This downside didn’t exist with telepathically-induced torture. He could continue for hours on end, and then when his target’s minds reached their limit, he could simply erase their memories and start over again.
In their memories, the staff could find no trace of wrongdoings he committed against them….but their souls and bodies told them a different story. Walking past him, catching sight of him, hearing his name, even just thinking of him provoked violent reactions in nearly all servants.
In short, he wasn’t one, one wanted to garner attention from.
The staff, ‘remembering’ the many examples, made sure to not give him any reason to act.
“Rosette, you’re bleeding!” Squeezing past the others, Leon rushed to his downed lover with a concerned look on his face. “I’ll heal you up.” His Rank 4 Telekinetic Psi moved to patch her up.
Lawrence watched this play out with a livid expression.
“What do you think you’re doing?” he asked in a low tone. “Did I order you to do anything…”
“Ah, no master, but-”
Leon’s ‘but’ was met with a kick to the face, but unlike with Rossette, all it managed to do was wobble the other in place a bit. Lawrence quickly recovered his posture, but the same couldn’t be said of his ego. Bruised by the dud of a kick he delivered, he felt embarrassed and then angry, very angry. Nostrils flaring up and eyes narrowing, his hand crept towards his waist where his holster lay.
‘No!’
Seeing the trajectory, panic set in and Rosette snapped into action. Swallowing her pain, she hurriedly spoke up.
“M-Master, I’ll replace this vase with another one, twice as valuable, all I ask for is a bit of time. Also, please overlook Leon’s actions, he was just trying to help me. Please forgive our transgressions.”
The irritation in Lawrence’s eyes didn’t wane an iota. His hand itched to continue with its previous intention. However, with the Duke waiting on him, he chose not to act on his feelings - at least not fully.
He turned to face an old butler. “Fifteen lashes, for both of them, and make sure it’s recorded.”
The old butler’s lips quivered at the order, but doing a quick nod, he managed to hide it from his master just in time. “Yes, master.”
Receiving the answer he sought, Lawrence strode out amidst the deathly silent crowd.
Back in the corridor, he called Nikolas to his side and the two, along with a driver left for the Duke’s Manor.
The journey was short, concluded in a matter of minutes. Entering as though it were his second home, Lawrence made his way to the Duke’s study.
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Passing through the entrance, Lawrence bowed, and in a dignified manner, announced his presence. “Lawrence of House Collins answers your call, your grace.”
Nikolas stood a short distance away, however to everyone but Lawrence, he was totally invisible.
Still, while he was undetectable, Duke Reynolds, who was seated on the couch did not doubt that he was nearby. The old man acted accordingly, putting on his best smile.
“There’s no need for that,” he said waving his meaty, jewel-ridden hand in dismissal, “Lawrence, approach, we have much to discuss.”
Lawrence nodded and walked over to the opposite couch. As he did, the doors shut and everyone else, even the Duke’s personal guards vacated the area.
Lawrence didn’t find this strange; for the topic they were going to discuss, he expected no less. Planting his bottom down, he began shifting in place. Upon realising his discomfort wasn’t a matter of positioning, he gave up trying and bore the edge.
Lawrence’s face was tense and his eyes were clouded with worry. Taking a breath, he looked towards the wrinkly-faced Duke opposite him, hoping that the other could rid him of his troubles.
He tried reading the Duke’s expression, but the dim lighting and the smoke clouding the other’s front made it impossible. Unable to take it another second longer, Lawrence went ahead and asked the all-important question.
“Ryan, did you manage to get in contact with him?”
Asking, the pair’s faces involuntary tensed up. In this world, this was the natural reaction when discussing the figure in question. Their simplistic noble-vs-non-noble worldview instantly collapsed as his shadowy presence entered their minds.
The Duke removed the pipe from his lips and answered in his gravelly voice, “Yes, I managed to.”
Lawrence’s eyes flickered and relief poured into his heart, not just at the words, but at the nuance in his master’s tone.
The Duke continued. “The answer is…Ralf Fawkes isn’t one of his vessels.”
The middle-aged nobleman’s eyes brightened with delight. But he didn’t lose himself to this emotion; Ralf not being a vessel was only one of the issues at hand.
Donning the coat of apprehension again, he spoke, “I see, that’s what we hoped. What about the other possibility we discussed?”
“That too…came up negative. Ralf Fawkes isn’t some disguise worn by another, he truly exists as is.”
Lawrence’s eyes were made to sparkle once again. Just as Astra had, the noblemen pair had considered the possibility that Ralf wasn’t what he seemed.
The notion that he wasn’t a Rank 3 Telekinetic but a Mental Master or Ascendant in disguise greatly shook the pair. These identities represented the very top of power, something they didn’t want anywhere near their humble chessboard.
But now, with the Duke’s words, the boulder over his heart lifted.
“Not a vessel, and not some high-level character, excellent, it’s just as we hoped.”
“Indeed,” the Duke returned the pipe to his mouth.
“Still,” Lawrence rubbed his chin with a vexed look on his face, “if he’s neither, that only makes this more confusing. Ralf and the Silver Path faction, what does he make of it?”
The Duke didn’t rush to answer. He shut his eyes and spent a few seconds savouring the intoxicating sweetness on his tongue.
“I asked, of course…but it seems even he’s not entirely sure.”
Lawrence’s brows raised high at the words. “Not entirely sure…so what does he know then?”
“He knows for certain that the Silver Path can’t be what the boy claims it is. A secret faction composed of the world’s most powerful and skilful experts from various fields…according to him, such a faction couldn’t have escaped his net for all these centuries.”
Lawrence nodded. It didn’t make sense to him that Dimitri, one who was said to be a master of all paths, wouldn’t be invited by such a faction throughout the last three hundred years.
“Still, with the abilities Ralf has shown, the Silver Path can’t be all smoke and mirrors. Its prowess is exaggerated, the question is by how much. While Ralf is certainly not some elite powerhouse, given what’s been shown, the Silver Path must have at least one to be able to perform the level of telepathic inheritance Ralf went through. The World’s Shadow believes that at least one significant figure is acting as the wind in Ralf’s sails.”
Lawrence’s face darkened at the words. “Even one is too much,” he muttered while lowering his head. “Will our dreams remain dreams forever,” he pondered out loud as he stared at his tightly clenched palms.
The Duke shook his head. “Never doubt, Lawrence. It’s far too soon to throw in the towel - we can’t, another chance like this will never come again. We must seize it with both hands.”
The speech filled with a vigour unusual for the Duke lifted Lawrence’s head bit by bit until his gaze was level with his superior. The other’s gleam shone clearly through the thick cloud. Seeing it, the middle-aged nobleman’s spirit was reinvigorated.
“Yes, your grace!”
The Duke smiled. “Excellent. If I don’t have you in my corner, there’s no way I can succeed,” he said, his eyes subconsciously drifting to the empty corners of the room. “Now, onto what we should do from here,” he put down his pipe and interlocked his hands. “From the looks of it, the World’s Shadow has decided to take a wait-and-see approach, so we can’t borrow his knife. So instead, we’ll try to recruit Ralf to our side.’
“You think that will work?” Lawrence’s forehead wrinkled with doubt.
“Hm, I’m not optimistic,” the Duke showed a wry look. After a pause, he continued, “Still, as late as we are to the ball, we should still dance. The reports say that he’s chummy with that brat’s Senior Advisor, but nothing’s been set in stone. That’s why I called you here. Lawrence, I want you to head to Popleigh and give it a shot.”
“Me?’ Lawrence’s brows raised in surprise. The task was completely out of left-field for him.
The Duke didn’t answer but instead got to his feet. Orienting himself towards the fireplace, he allowed the warm light to bathe his front. He shut his eyes and began speaking.
“Even if the Silver Path is all fluff, Ralf Fawkes has shown himself to be a valuable tool. We can’t allow that tool to fall into that brat’s hands. Of course, right now, Ralf’s power is no more than a headache to deal with, but if he gained three or four Ranks, he could be very troublesome. And,” Ryan paused as he recalled an old conversation before continuing, “there’s more than enough time for him to achieve this. We must avoid this future,” his voice echoed in a dire tone.
The Duke glanced back at Lawrence. “That’s why I’m sending you. There’s no person I trust more. Even if you can’t recruit him, as long you can learn more about him and his intentions, it’ll greatly help. So, what do you say?”
Lawrence jolted up from his seat and in one swift motion, knelt down before the Duke and answered.
“Your loyal subject serves! I’ll see to it that the mission succeeds no matter what.”
“Excellent, music to my ears, old friend. Now, his Challenger Series will be starting tomorrow. I want you to leave at once. Use any method, all I want are results.”
Lawrence nodded. “Yes, your grace - no, Your Majesty.”
The Duke’s aged face curled into a smile.
The meeting quickly came to a close. Following it, Lawrence moved with haste and an hour later, he, along with Nikolas and a few other servants were on their way to Popleigh, to complete the mission entrusted to him.