As the doors creaked open, Lucavion’s gaze settled on the warm, softly lit dining room beyond. The long table was already set, and seated at it were the Baron and his family. At the head of the table sat the Baron himself, dressed in simple but finely tailored clothing that spoke of practicality over ostentation.
Beside him was his wife, a woman of gentle grace with kind eyes, and across from her was Ron, the Baron’s son, the very boy Lucavion had saved from the bandits. The boy’s eyes lit up the moment he saw Lucavion, a mixture of admiration and gratitude shining in his gaze.
The Baron rose from his seat, a welcoming smile crossing his face as he gestured for Lucavion to enter. “Mister Lucavion,” he began, his voice warm and sincere, “we are honored that you accepted our invitation to join us for dinner. Please, make yourself comfortable.”
Lucavion nodded respectfully, understanding the significance of what he was seeing. As a former noble, he knew the unspoken rules of etiquette well. Having the Baron’s wife and son present at the table was not just a formality; it was a gesture of trust, a symbol of the Baron’s sincerity.
In noble circles, inviting someone to dine with one’s family was a sign of openness, honesty, and genuine respect. It was a clear indication that the Baron valued this meeting beyond mere politics.
The Baron stepped forward with a warm, genuine smile, gesturing toward his family. “Allow me to formally introduce myself and my family, Mister Lucavion. I am Baron Edris Wyndhall, and this is my wife, Lady Elyra,” he said, motioning to the graceful woman beside him, who offered Lucavion a kind smile. “And, of course, you’ve already met my son, Ron.”
Ron beamed at Lucavion, his gratitude and admiration evident. “It’s an honor to meet you again, Sir Lucavion,” the boy added, his voice brimming with sincerity.
Lucavion inclined his head slightly, acknowledging the introductions with the calm grace of someone who had once moved in these circles. “The honor is mine, Baron Wyndhall, Lady Elyra, Ron.”
Baron Edris smiled warmly, pleased by Lucavion’s respectful demeanor. “Please, take your seat. Tonight’s meal is a modest one, but I hope it will be to your liking.”
Lucavion nodded and sat at the table, settling into the comfortable chair. The atmosphere, though formal, carried a sense of ease and honesty that he appreciated. Despite the wealth of the family, there was no excessive display of opulence, something Lucavion silently noted as a sign of the Baron’s practical nature.
Once they were seated, the servants brought out the first course–a simple yet elegant spread of roasted game, fresh vegetables, and warm bread. The meal, while not extravagant, was a reflection of the region’s abundance and the Baron’s preference for practicality over excess.
As the food was served, Baron Edris raised his glass, offering a toast. “To Mister Lucavion, whose courage and skill have saved not only my son but also the people of Rackenshore. We are deeply indebted to you.”
Lucavion raised his glass in response, his expression calm but courteous. “I appreciate your hospitality, Baron.”
“Edris.”
“Pardon?”
“Please call me by my name. My title as Baron sounds rather unnecessary when I was useless all the time and was no help.”
Lucavion paused for a moment, meeting the Baron’s eyes. The man’s humility was surprising, given his station, but there was no doubt about the sincerity behind his words. Edris Wyndhall was not trying to play the part of a noble seeking favor; he genuinely seemed to feel indebted and even regretful for his lack of involvement in the events that had transpired.
For a brief second, Lucavion considered how different this man was from many other nobles he had encountered–men who would take credit for the deeds of others or use their titles to shield themselves from responsibility. Edris, however, seemed almost ashamed of his inability to act when his people were in danger.
Lucavion, though not one to let his emotions show easily, gave a slight nod. “Very well, Mister Edris,” he said, his voice still composed but with a hint of acknowledgment. “But your title is not a reflection of your usefulness. You govern this land, and your people trust you. That alone holds value.”
Lucavion’s subtle refusal to address Edris by his first name didn’t go unnoticed. The Baron observed him for a moment, his sharp eyes searching Lucavion’s face before letting out a quiet sigh.
“You must not have had an easy life, Mister Lucavion,” Edris said softly, his tone carrying a weight of understanding.
Lucavion smiled faintly in response, the gesture small but sincere. “Everyone has their own harshness to bear,” he replied, his voice even but reflective.
Edris gave a nod, a smile tugging at the corners of his mouth. “Well, isn’t that the truth,” he agreed, the heaviness in his voice mirroring the reality of their respective burdens.
The conversation paused as the meal continued. Though the atmosphere was cordial, there was a sense of unspoken gravity between the two men, each carrying their own history of struggle. The clink of utensils on plates filled the silence for a few moments, but the tension was broken when Ron, the Baron’s son, spoke up timidly.
“Excuse me, Sir Lucavion…” Ron began, his voice hesitant, as if unsure whether he was allowed to interrupt.
Lucavion turned his attention to the boy, his gaze softening slightly. “You have a question?” he asked, his tone gentler than before.
Ron nodded, his bright eyes full of curiosity and admiration. “I… I wanted to ask… how can I become strong like you?”
Lucavion’s expression shifted slightly, caught off guard by the innocence and sincerity of the question. He looked at Ron for a moment, considering the boy’s words, before responding. “Strong like me?”
Ron nodded eagerly, a glimmer of determination in his eyes. “Yes! I want to learn the sword and become a swordsman, but Father…” He glanced quickly at Edris, then back at Lucavion, his voice dropping. “Father doesn’t want me to.”
Lucavion couldn’t help but smile at the boy’s earnestness. There was a time when he had looked at the world with that same hopeful desire for strength. He leaned forward slightly, meeting Ron’s eager gaze, but instead of answering right away, he asked, “Why?”
Ron blinked, surprised by the question. “Why?” he echoed as if he hadn’t expected to be asked that.
Lucavion nodded, his voice calm but firm. “Why do you want to become strong? What drives you to pick up a sword and pursue this path?”
The question hung in the air as Ron paused, his youthful mind working to put his feelings into words. He glanced at his father, then back at Lucavion, clearly struggling with how to express himself.
Lucavion’s gaze remained steady as he spoke, his voice carrying a weight that seemed to still the room. “Do you know why a sword is wielded, Ron?”
The young boy blinked again, clearly not expecting such a serious question. “I-I’m not sure,” he stammered.
Lucavion leaned forward slightly, holding Ron’s gaze. “When I saved you, Ron… do you remember what that sword was capable of? It’s not just a tool to look impressive or to feel powerful. It’s a weapon–a tool made to harm, to kill. When you pick up a sword, you dirty your hands with the weight of that responsibility. So, why do you want to learn how to wield it?”
Ron looked overwhelmed, his eyes flicking to his father and then back to Lucavion. He hadn’t expected to be questioned so deeply, and the weight of what Lucavion was saying seemed to press on his young mind. He couldn’t find the words to answer.
Seeing the boy’s struggle, Lucavion’s tone softened, though it remained firm. “If your goal is to protect those you care about, then you need to understand something. The only way to do that isn’t by learning the sword.”
Ron’s eyes widened in confusion. “But… how else can I protect people?”
Lucavion leaned back in his chair, his expression thoughtful. “You will inherit this barony one day, won’t you? If you want to protect the people, you can do it by strengthening this territory–by ruling it well. Becoming a high-ranking officer with authority, or making sure the people here can live without fear of bandits or starvation–that is also a way of protecting them.
You don’t have to wield a sword to make a difference.”
Ron listened intently, his young face filled with concentration. Though he was just a child, he had been raised to understand the importance of leadership and responsibility. He had seen firsthand the toll that ruling had taken on his father during the time when their people lived in fear of the bandits.
The memory of how stressed and worn out Edris had been weighed heavily on him, and Lucavion’s words resonated.
Slowly, Ron nodded his head, his expression thoughtful as he processed what Lucavion had said. “I… I understand,” he whispered. “There’s more than one way to protect people.”
Lucavion gave him a small nod, satisfied that Ron had grasped the essence of his message. “Exactly. Ruling is not an easy path, but it’s a powerful one. You can protect the people you care about in ways far beyond what a sword can do.”
Edris, who had been watching the exchange quietly, smiled softly at his son’s growing understanding. He caught Lucavion’s eye and gave him a silent nod of gratitude.
As the meal continued, Baron Edris found himself observing Lucavion more closely. The way the young man dined, his posture at the table, the subtle grace with which he moved–all of it hinted at an upbringing far more refined than that of a commoner. Each gesture, each carefully chosen word, carried the unmistakable air of nobility.
It was not something that could easily be learned by mere imitation; these were the habits of someone well-versed in etiquette, the sort of refinement passed down through generations of aristocratic training.
Edris, though a countryside Baron, had spent enough time around the aristocracy to recognize the signs. He wasn’t a master at reading people, but the way Lucavion conducted himself was hard to miss. His manners were almost flawless, the kind that could easily belong to a higher-ranking noble.
Yet Edris knew that Lucavion had come from commoner origins, at least according to the identity Roderick had provided him with.
As the conversation around the table ebbed and flowed, Edris couldn’t help but let his curiosity grow. How could someone with such apparent ties to the common class display the poise and discipline of a seasoned nobleman? Was there more to Lucavion’s past than he had let on?
Edris cleared his throat lightly, his curiosity finally getting the better of him. “Mister Lucavion,” he began, keeping his tone light but with a hint of interest, “I must say, you carry yourself with great refinement. Your manners, your etiquette… they are most impressive. Far more so than I would expect from someone with your background.
Forgive my forwardness, but you seem well-versed in the ways of nobility.”
Lucavion looked up from his meal, meeting the Baron’s gaze with that same composed expression. For a brief moment, there was a flicker of something in his eyes, but it passed as quickly as it had come. He gave a slight nod, his tone measured as he replied.
“I have learned that from my master.”