The man seemed taken aback as he stared at the precious metal on the counter. It was like a rare sight for him since he had seen gold only so many times in his life.
"Ri–right away…" he stuttered and hurriedly started searching for keys while Fabian waited patiently.
Soon enough, he handed them over with what was supposed to look like a friendly smile. "Se–second floor," he said. "The two rooms at the end of the hall on the right."
Fabian took the keys without saying a word, and they all headed upstairs without sparing a glance back.
….
The moment Fabian walked into the room after Azrael, he swallowed the urge to curse.
In it were two beds dressed in plain white sheets. They weren't exactly dirty, but it was obvious that the person who washed it didn't know how to do his work right.
By the bedsides were small wooden cabinets, and at a corner of the room was what seemed to be a work table with a chair behind it.
Other than that, there was nothing else. Only a couple of mold on the walls and a small window.
The Archduke silently walked toward the beds, easily choosing the one on his right. It was the cleanest of the two as far as Fabian was concerned.
Azrael tested the mattress. "It's not so bad." He concluded.
"What do you mean, it's not so bad?!" Fabian had apparently had enough. "If bad had a definition, it would be this entire inn!"
"Calm yourself, Fabian." Azrael warned softly. "It is just for one night… maybe two." He added as an afterthought.
"Two?!" Fabian exclaimed. If he wasn't so composed he would have pulled at his hair. "Why two, Milord? What happened to going to the capital of Wynford soon?!"
Azrael simply shrugged with a smirk and said nothing else as he relaxed his body on the small bed.
Fabian watched him dumbfounded for a while, then eventually gave up and went to sit on the bed beside him. He knew there was no use in trying to convince him.
The Archduke never changed his mind once he made a decision.
'Well, I suppose I will just have to make myself comfortable here for two days then.' He thought dejectedly with a sigh.
Fabian eyed his master skeptically. "I cannot understand your reason behind all this, Milord." He blurted. "It seems to me like you are avoiding the Count's estate… but why?"
Azrael opened his eyes and stared blankly at the ceiling for a while, before his lips curved into a mischievous smile. "I do not want her to run away."
Fabian stiffened and his brows furrowed. "Pardon? Who do you not want to run away?"
Azrael only chuckled and didn't answer. 'Ah… How surprised would she be if I arrived at the Duke's manor unannounced?'
* * *
"You took your time." Duke Alistair remarked as he watched his daughter hurriedly approach the coach.
It was a polished mahogany carriage decorated with pure gold designs at the edges and the crest of the Orlan house. A white-scaled dragon's head with an open maw in the middle of two crossed swords.
A group of Knights flanked the coach on horses on both sides.
"I'm sorry for keeping you waiting, father!" Ashelia apologized.
The Duke smiled softly. "You are never early, my dear. So I understand."
Behind her, Ashelia heard a light giggle from her maid, but she chose to ignore it even though her ears were slightly reddened.
"B–but you could say I'm a bit early today!" She sputtered.
The Duke nodded. "Of course." He answered as he gestured to the carriage. A moment later, he furrowed his brows. "Have you seen your mother?"
"Yes," Ashelia replied stiffly.
Duke Alistair nodded again without comment as he extended his hand for her to take and helped her into the carriage.
Before Ashelia could fully enter, she caught the eyes of one of the guards on horseback and smiled.
He was none other than the second in command of Wynford's knights, Edward Calive, he was accompanied by four other knights who were joining them on their trip to Lavim.
The Baron returned her smile with a simple nod.
Ashelia guessed that her father intended to take as few people as possible, or else it would look like they were going to arrest the old Count rather than visit him.
The Duke entered a moment after her and the carriage set off. Her attention remained fixed on the window until Veldon castle was completely out of sight.
"Have you received any letter from the palace lately, Shelia?" the Duke inquired after a while, pulling Ashelia's attention from the window.
"Ah, yes, I have…" she trailed off, realizing she had forgotten to tell him.
The Duke sighed. "I heard from your maid earlier today that you said you did not wish to go."
Ashelia flinched lightly and turned away uncomfortably. "It… it was just a joke, father. I didn't really mean it."
'Lyra that snitch!'
"A joke in poor taste, my dear," he chided gently. "You know you cannot simply disregard a letter from a member of the imperial family."
Ashelia clenched her dress. "I know." Then she turned back to him expectantly, "Did you receive a letter too?"
The Duke shook his head. "I did not, but I expect it will come soon."
Ashelia bit her lip. "I see…"
The Duke studied her closely. "Is something the matter?"
She shook her head gently. "It's nothing."
"You don't look too happy," he pointed out. "I suppose that was how you looked when you received the Prince's message?"
Ashelia swallowed, her father had always been very perceptive. "It's not that," she explained, "Reagan's message just took me by surprise a little."
Her Father tilted his head to the side inquisitively. "Why?"
Ashelia swallowed the urge to scream. Why on earth was he being so insistent?!
She took a deep breath and stared straight at him. "You know as well as I do that the imperial family does not favor Reagan, Father," She explained. "I was surprised at the fact that they were willing to hold a ball for him, that's all."
Duke Alistair simply smiled. "I understand…" he stated. He sensed there was more to it but decided not to press further.
An hour and a few minutes later, they arrived in Lavim through the main path. The city was bustling with traders and merchants, both foreign and local, and Ashelia couldn't help but give a small smile at the sight of commoners haggling prices in the market stalls.
When they reached the old Count's estate, they alighted from the carriage and were led by the head steward into a finely decorated drawing room in the Count's manor.
Ashelia and her father were offered seats that they gladly took. Moments later, the doors to the drawing room swung open, and a man who appeared to be in his late thirties walked in.
His ash blonde hair was neatly combed back, and his piercing, ice blue eyes looked sad as dark circles settled under them.
Ashelia could feel her father furrow his brows slightly at his appearance.
Her brows also creased as dread settled in her heart. 'He looks half dead...'