Ophelia was nowhere to be seen beside the two men—and she did not need to be. Though she now took the form of a human, her essence remained that of a spirit. Thus, communicating telepathically was no great feat for her. In fact, long before the viscount's arrival, Black had arranged for her to take up a discreet position, allowing her to "eavesdrop" on their conversation and offer timely advice. While this mental link had its limitations in terms of distance, it excelled in secrecy—no ordinary person would ever detect it. For Ophelia, who had no desire to appear before other nobles, this was an acceptable arrangement.
Both Black and Ophelia knew full well that the Byrd family's visit was far from benevolent. But even so, Ophelia had not expected their guest to make such an outrageous demand.
Viscount Byrd's demeanor was polite and composed, bearing all the hallmarks of a man raised in a great noble house—nothing about him seemed remotely "barbaric." Yet nobles were nobles all the same. Their brand of audacity was never as crude as a common brute rolling up his sleeves and snarling, "Listen here, you whelp! I'm telling you to do this and that!" Interactions between nobles were steeped in pretense; while both sides wore smiles on their faces, any scheming had to be done behind closed doors. To lay such demands bare, without the slightest attempt at subtlety, was in Ophelia's eyes as brazen and uncouth as the boorish ways of mountain clansmen.
And the demand Viscount Byrd had made was precisely that—incredibly "barbaric and unreasonable." True, Duskwood was a barren land, a noble fief held by a man with no official title. But Black was still a lord, with dominion over his own territory. No matter how desolate and insignificant that territory might be, it was far more than what could be claimed by those titular nobles who possessed no lands of their own. Yet from the moment he had addressed Black as "Mr. Felix," Viscount Byrd had been subtly belittling the young lord's status. Now, he had gone a step further, putting forward a condition that no self-respecting lord could ever accept.
Even if Duskwood's law and order were in shambles, it was Black's own affair—no other noble had any right to meddle. For a lord, the most vital powers over his domain were the right to levy taxes and administer governance. Maintaining security and law enforcement was the very embodiment of a lord's authority. Only when his people recognized that *he* was the one in control could he foster a sense of respect and loyalty among them. If another noble were to send in their private soldiers, even under the guise of offering help, it would only serve to erode the lord's authority. How could the people possibly place their trust in a lord who could not even provide them with protection?
It would be akin to a king marching into another sovereign's country and declaring, "Your army is weak and incompetent—why not let us take over?" Such an act would be nothing short of a declaration of war.
And that was exactly how Ophelia saw it. For the viscount to cut straight to the chase and make such an outrageous, unacceptable demand—either he truly regarded Black as an incompetent fool who lacked the ability to think for himself, or he was simply throwing his weight around, forcing Black to comply while caring nothing for the possibility of tearing their fragile courtesy to shreds!
As brazen as it seemed, Ophelia was well aware that Black currently lacked the strength to refuse the Byrd family outright. Even so, she had no choice but to warn him—it was her duty to do so.
"This doesn't seem right," Black said, his expression flickering with a hint of displeasure. He fixed his gaze on the viscount, his tone laced with hesitation and unease.
"After all, I am the one governing Duskwood now. While I acknowledge that the problems you've mentioned are indeed potential risks, I believe they are challenges that I must face myself."
"That's not how things work, Mr. Felix," Viscount Byrd replied with a smile, undeterred by Black's gentle refusal. He continued speaking, his voice calm and measured.
"You are correct in saying this is your domain, and that you bear responsibility for it. But I hope you understand one thing—the Golden Trade Route that runs along the outskirts of Duskwood…" Here, Viscount Byrd deliberately paused for effect before continuing, "…is under the jurisdiction of the Byrd family. From our perspective, we have no desire to see unregulated issues arising on our own lands. Let us be perfectly frank: if trouble were to brew in Duskwood, it would undoubtedly spill over and affect our Golden Trade Route. That is an outcome we wish to avoid at all costs."
His words were logical and well-reasoned, laying out the Byrd family's position clearly. If Black could manage Duskwood effectively, all would be well. But if he could not? Once upon a time, this had been a godforsaken place, so inhospitable that no one had bothered to come near it. But now, Black was investing heavily in infrastructure—repairing roads and carrying out construction projects—making it far less isolated than before. If unsavory characters were to take refuge in Duskwood and use it as a base to launch attacks on the Golden Trade Route, it would pose a significant threat to the Byrd family's interests.
"I trust you understand my meaning, Mr. Felix. We are merely protecting our own investments. Should Duskwood ever descend into chaos, we would have no choice but to resolve the matter through means that neither of us would wish to see."
It was a blatant threat.
Ophelia gritted her teeth in anger. She could not deny the truth in the viscount's words—but to state them so openly was a clear sign that he held Duskwood in utter contempt. Not that she could blame him, of course; Duskwood had never given anyone any reason to treat it with respect.
This time, Black did not respond immediately. He had not received any further telepathic advice from Ophelia—but he could easily guess that the former princess was absolutely livid. Even so, he had already made up his mind.
"I cannot agree to your request. Duskwood is my territory," Black said, setting down his teacup with a sharp clink. His expression had darkened considerably.
"I have full confidence in my ability to develop it successfully. Furthermore, I do not believe the calamities you speak of will ever come to pass."
"That remains to be seen," Viscount Byrd retorted, his eyes locking onto Black's with an unwavering gaze. The corners of his lips curled upward into a faint, ambiguous smile.
"I assume you are familiar with the Byrd family's power and influence, Mr. Felix. While I acknowledge that this proposal is rather presumptuous, I assure you it would be beneficial to both of us. Should events ever take a turn for the worse… Mr. Felix, let me be perfectly clear. We do not *want* to see such an outcome—but we are far from *unable* to accept it."
"I need time to consider this," Black said after a long silence. Finally, he rose to his feet and gestured politely to the viscount.
"I admit that you have made a compelling case, Viscount. But I hope you can understand that this is a decision I must make for myself."
"Of course I understand," Viscount Byrd nodded, rising to his feet as well. He believed he had done everything in his power to pressure Black into compliance. Now, all that remained was to wait and see how the young lord would respond.
"You two have traveled a long way to be here. As your host, I cannot let you leave without proper hospitality. I will have my maids prepare rooms for you at once. As for the rest of our discussion… there will be plenty of time to continue after dinner."
At this, Viscount Byrd had nothing more to say. He smiled at Black, then followed the maid standing nearby out of the hall and up to the guest chambers on the second floor. Black watched his retreating figure, a faint, relaxed smile spreading across his face.
"They're going too far, My Lord!" Ophelia materialized beside Black at once, her eyes fixed on the direction the viscount had gone, her tone brimming with indignation.
"You are a noble too! How dare they provoke you like this… don't they fear the consequences of stirring up trouble?"
"They have nothing to fear," Black replied, his expression no longer bearing the dark, stern look he had worn during his conversation with the viscount. He patted his cheeks lightly, then sank back down onto the sofa with a sigh of relief.
"They deliberately came here to test my reaction—and so I gave them exactly the reaction they wanted to see. After all, they've traveled such a long way… it would be a shame to disappoint them by not playing along."
Here, Black paused, then turned his gaze to Ophelia.
"Now then, Lady Ophelia—how are the preparations coming along?"
"Everything is proceeding smoothly, My Lord," Ophelia replied, taking a deep breath to calm her anger. She could tell that Black was not the least bit concerned about the situation—and that he clearly had a plan of his own. As his second-in-command, she knew better than to pry too deeply. Still, she couldn't help but frown slightly in confusion.
"Actually, if their terms were reasonable, I might have considered accepting their offer," Black said, noticing the puzzled look on Ophelia's face. He smiled easily, showing no signs of tension or worry.
"Reasonable terms?" Ophelia echoed, her eyebrows raising in surprise.
"Certainly," Black nodded. "You must admit that I am indeed short on manpower to maintain law and order in the town. While Judy and the others are certainly capable, how do you think the townsfolk would react to seeing a group of tall, imposing figures clad in pitch-black armor patrolling the streets day in and day out? If the Byrd family were truly sincere in offering to help maintain security, then there would be no harm in accepting their assistance. After all, as the saying goes—*distant relatives are not as helpful as nearby neighbors*. When a crisis strikes, it is always your neighbors who you must rely on, is it not?"
"Is that truly what you think, My Lord?" Ophelia asked, her tone laced with dry skepticism.
"At the very least, it's not a lie," Black shrugged, then narrowed his eyes slightly, a mischievous glint flickering in their depths.
"Don't you think it's about time Judy and the others had a change of pace… and sampled some *home-cooked fare*?"
Then, Black turned to Ophelia, looking at her with his usual sincere, gentle expression, and asked in a warm, earnest voice: