Chapter Twenty-Three – Interesting
Lumiere's POV
The yard was filled with guards and nobles from around the region. A podium built in the middle of the yard served as the inauguration base.
Two seats were situated there with one small table holding a ceremonial sword, a crown, and two cups. The decorations were minimal, and the eyewitnesses were far from the podium I sat upon.
The Duke of Desire walked out, signalling the start of the inauguration. Cheering and screams radiated from the warriors and the people. Yet it didn't disturb me. The servants on the podium moved so silently that I barely noticed them.
My wolf settled into my consciousness, making me more aware of him than I usually had been these past few months. He must have felt at peace as well.
"No wonder he's highly respected amongst the Disciples," I said to myself. He honoured all my requests, made this less of a psychological torture, and kept everything minimal. "At least, we'd be able to have this day with few regrets."
The Duke reached the podium and took the sword. He worked quickly. My eyes swept his frame, still doubting what I saw no matter how long I looked at it.
A Duke obsessed with youth, yet currently the oldest amongst the Disciples. Short blond hair, blue eyes, a little less than six feet. Those were typically praised features for a young proper noble.
I would believe he was less than twenty-five. He should be a hundred years old. How much mana did he expend daily to keep that form? I would never know.
The Goddess also honoured his desire to remain her Disciple and never transferred his gift to another. For that, I had no right to judge him. He raised his hand and the cheers stopped.
"We can start, young Duke. Can't we?" The Duke of Desire, Duke Desmond, asked. His voice had an old gruff edge but was still not uncanny with his appearance.
I nodded and left my seat, holding the crown.
The inauguration happened as formally and quickly as I hoped, and then it came to the reading of the laws that the Disciples had to follow. My eyes swept through the audience, looking for anyone familiar.
I hoped to meet Cathy despite this troubling day. If she had been curious to watch the new Duke's inauguration, I should have seen her.
She might not have known, while we were younger, that I would become a Duke in the future. I never understood it this way even as a seven-year-old.
I found Janeya and Johan in the crowd. Their expressions contradicted each other. Johan looked prouder than ever. Janeya was sorely bored. I noticed someone else looking at me.
Almost everyone would have their eyes on me at some point, but this gaze requested something from me. I found the young man standing a few steps away from Janeya and Johan.
Brown-haired, tall warrior. He still had a sash on his arm, so he was newly appointed. He glanced at Janeya and Johan, then down at his hands.
He was looking at a book there. When he met my gaze again, his brows furrowed together. Right.
That wasn't a look of admiration. Not that I necessarily wanted admirers. How had I offended the young man at this moment? He moved away from his position and met with an older man.
I knew that older man. The head of the third warrior platoon. They both had a striking similarity. Likely relatives.
I couldn't hear what they said, and for a slight second, I regretted the distance between the podium and the audience. The young man interested me.
Apart from those in the mansion I grew up in—that disliked me solely for being the foretold dangerous son of the Duchess and the King—I believed I had offended no one else.
Even if I had, none would ever show their dislike so openly. The only one who ever did was Cathy. I looked away from the crowd as I remembered.
She wouldn't mind shoving my hand aside if I stepped over a boundary. It hurt me, but it had always kept me grounded. I appreciated that.
"Are you alright?" The Duke snapped me back to the present.
I turned to him. "Yes. Also, I'd like to stay here longer after my inauguration." He kept his gaze on me before smirking.
"Would your mother find her way here if I keep you too long?" He had that patronising tone again. I was the one staying, not him keeping me.
"She let me become the next Duke. I doubt she'd be worried about what I do at my colleagues' place."
He immediately sulked. Like a child. He nodded, and I went back to listening to the rules being read out. They finished after the last one.
"Lumiere Escanor Davilson. Duke of Deception."
It ended. The young man I noticed disappeared from the audience after my name was announced. I had already mind-linked Johan to follow him.
Janeya walked toward me with a gift box. I always knew she was that kind of person. "Thank you for hosting this for me. I will always keep it in mind."
Duke Desmond smiled and made a short bow. I did the same. The inauguration, which had kept me awake for three days, was over within two hours. I had worried for nothing.
"Johan suddenly left. Did you send him?" Janeya popped a bottle of wine and searched for cups in the carriage.
We were seated inside the second carriage, surrounded by warriors.
"I did. I met a young man with a nasty stare."
Janeya paused, then turned to me. "Another assassination attempt? They still dared to try even now?"
I shook my head. "Give mother more credit. She said all were dead. This young man is a relative of one of the heads of platoons."
I glanced at a soldier I suspected might know. "Ask if he's part of the third platoon. If yes, ask if the head has a son or close relative at this event."
My mana seeped from me, forming strings that latched into the soldier's head. "Go on."
Janeya nodded and swirled a glass of wine in her hand. She sauntered to him. "Hello," she gave a smile that only I would know wasn't real.
The warrior looked around him before realising she spoke to him. Then I felt a sting.
"Oh, you belong to the first platoon? I could bet I saw you in their training once," Janeya smiled.
So that had been the reason for the sting.
The first platoon was the most recognised, with brimming talents. The second platoon had a good reputation and served nobles. The third platoon was the lowest ranked.
He only wanted to not look bad in front of a lady. I exhaled. "Just ask him if he knew the head of the third platoon in any way. And about any relatives."
I disengaged from their conversation, only remaining aware of any stings. There were no others, and Janeya gave him her glass before returning.
He immediately switched with another guard and happily ran off to drink. So improper. No wonder he was stuck in the third platoon.
"Ishman. That's the third head," she leaned by the window. "He lost his family but has a nephew, Levine. He's newly appointed to his uncle's platoon, but he might transfer soon."
Transferring his nephew to the second or first, depending on how strong his connections were, would secure a good future for him.
"Is that all you wanted to know?"
"Yes. I only wondered why Levine looked at me that way." Many hid their hatred with lowered heads, so it felt relieving to have someone openly show theirs.
It reminded me of her again, and my thoughts began to stir my wolf. My mind link was nudged. Johan.
"Yes?"
"Uh… don't be mad, but…"
"You roughened him up?" I asked through the mind-link. This would further deepen the young man's hatred for me.
"He identified my presence and escaped. He's quite unusual for a newly appointed warrior."
I glanced at Janeya. She wouldn't believe what I just heard. "Our friend noticed Johan and escaped."
Janeya's eyes popped out of their sockets. "Escaped?" Truly, that was the most… fascinating. Johan made mistakes that could get him noticed, but escaping him? This was the first since he became my Beta.