Finn was busy planting crops with the other farmers. The soil was damp beneath his fingers, cool and rough against his skin. Each push of seed into the earth grounded him in a way he had not expected. The work was repetitive, simple, and honest. Just hands in dirt and the slow rhythm of labor.
He seemed to enjoy spending time with them and had grown closer to them over the past few days.
Laughter passed easily between them, quiet jokes exchanged under the open sky. They spoke of weather, of harvests, of small worries that did not carry the weight of blood or crowns. Finn listened more than he spoke, finding comfort in being just another pair of hands.
Some of them even complimented him, saying that he never used to come near lowborns like them and that he used to spend all his time with nobles instead.
Finn only smiled at that, unsure how to respond. The words lingered longer than he expected. They were not said with bitterness, only surprise. Maybe even relief.
Finn had not killed himself for days now, thanks to Raymond, who had returned and followed him everywhere.
Where Finn went, Raymond was there. Always a step behind. Always watching. Raymond never left his side, even at night, he stood watch by Finn's door.
Finn had woken more than once to the sound of armor shifting, to the presence on the other side of the wood. It was annoyingly strange, knowing someone guarded him even while he slept.
After Finn finished working, he cleaned himself and went to his father to study trading.
Water washed the dirt from his hands, from beneath his nails. He changed clothes, the smell of earth still clinging to him as he walked the familiar halls toward responsibility.
Trading was something he could learn and use to help the household. Numbers. Routes. Deals. Things that could be built instead of destroyed. He planned to become a merchant and avoid politics altogether. The thought felt like choosing air over drowning. Politics was a dangerous game, one that only ever ended in bloodshed. In real life and in fiction they are all the same to him. He also promised himself that he would only use his powers to defend his father's honor and protect their people if the need ever arose. The promise sat heavy in his chest, quiet but firm.
When he entered the room, he saw his father opening a sealed envelope and reading its contents.
The wax had already been broken. His father's expression was unreadable, eyes moving slowly over the page.
"Looks like you will be studying on your own tomorrow, son," his father said.
Finn paused. "Why is that, sir?" Finn asked.
"I have been summoned to a gathering. The Duke of the Northside has called for it."
The moment Finn heard the words Duke and North, Fenrik and his brother's schemes rushed back into his mind. The whispers. The blade. The poison.
"Are you going to go father?" Finn asked, concern creeping into his voice.
"Of course I have to," his father replied. "He is the Duke, and we are under his province. If I do not attend, he will make a fuss about it."
He set the letter aside and returned to his journal, the scratching of ink filled the room.
Thoughts raced through Finn's mind. They piled on top of each other, fast and sharp. He knew what would happen if his father went. He would die. The certainty chilled him.
"Father, I wish to go in your place," Finn said.
The words left his mouth before doubt could stop them.
His father looked up.
"And why is that?"
"I will inherit the title of Baron someday. Let me start performing my duties as your son. Collecting taxes from lowborns is not what I wish to do forever. I want to know more about the nobles. I want to understand how this kingdom works. I don't want to be some useless child."
Silence followed.
"You have not regained your memories yet," his father said. "You are still lacking. What if something happens? How will you handle it?"
"I will become like you, Father," Finn said. "I will never bend the knee to the wrong people."
Those words made his father pause. Before the incident, Finn had never wanted anything to do with politics, he was always against his father's decisions.
Now he was asking to attend a gathering of nobles.
His father wondered if the wedding Finn attended had changed him.
"Before I go, Father, I need the names of those I should never bend my knee or head to," Finn said.
"Son," his father replied calmly, "bowing one's head shows respect, whether to lower nobles or higher ones. But bending the knee is reserved only for the one who sits on the throne."
"I will take note of that," Finn said. "Never bend the knee to anyone else. I will go prepare for the feast."
He stood up from his chair. His father coughed softly, twice.
Finn turned back and sat down again.
"Right after we are done here," Finn added.
Finn was on his way to the gathering alongside Raymond. The road stretched ahead, packed earth and stone, lined by trees whispering in the wind. Finn rode on horseback while Raymond walked on foot beside him.
"You know two people can ride on this horse, and we'd get there in no time," Finn said, glancing down at Raymond.
Raymond didn't respond.
His eyes stayed on the road, his attention sharp, ears alert.
Finn sighed, then nudged him lightly with his foot to snap him out of it.
"My lord, is there something wrong with the horse?" Raymond asked immediately.
"No, the horse is fine," Finn replied. "This horse has been through a lot of bloody situations and is still standing strong. The one who isn't fine is you."
"I don't understand, my lord," Raymond said.
"Come on, stop acting like some saint," Finn said. "You know exactly what I'm talking about. For months I've been trying to be friends with you, but you just act like someone who doesn't give a shit about his lord."
"My lord, it's my duty to care about you," Raymond replied calmly. "My life is yours. It is my duty to protect you, not to be your friend."
"Ray," Finn said. "Can I call you Ray?"
"It's Raymond, my lord."
"Can we be friends?"
"No, my lord."
"Please will you stop adding my lord at the end of everything," Finn said. "Let me call you Ray, and you call me Finn. Let's be bros. Let's tell each other secrets, save each other's lives, steal each other's bitches. Let's have a bromance."
"Bro… what?" Raymond said, clearly confused.
"Bromance," Finn continued enthusiastically. "Like Arthur and Merlin. Lloyd and Javier. Stiles and Scott. Brothers. Best friends. I want someone I can tell about my day, how many whores I fucked, someone to drink with, plot evil or good deeds with. We fight each other's battles and maybe even die together. Like Hwi and Seon Ho, except they were more like bro-frenemies."
Finn leaned down from his horse, staring at Raymond with exaggerated puppy eyes.
"Can we be bros?"
Raymond stopped walking. Dust settled around his boots.
He stared at Finn, completely speechless, trying to process what was happening to his lord.
After a moment, he turned away, tapped the horse lightly, and the animal immediately began moving forward.
Raymond said nothing for the rest of the journey.
Finn, feeling embarrassed, also stayed silent.
He wondered if he had overdone it.
Acting out of character like that clearly hadn't helped.
When they finally arrived at the gathering, Finn dismounted and handed the horse's reins to Raymond.
"Take him to the stables," Finn said.
Just as Raymond took the horse, a familiar voice spoke from behind him.
"How are you still alive?" Finn turned.
It was the noble, Vincent.