5.

Marcel twists his fingers behind his back as August rushes around his study, more visibly fatigued the days following Caius' disappearance, yawning and rubbing his eyes more often. The fifteen-year-old forces himself not to rock on the balls of his feet the longer he waits near the redhead's intricately carved oakwood desk, cluttered with spread-out sheets of parchment and ink wells.

"And you are certain–" August abruptly stops, ink-smudged hands abandoning their extraction of a well-worn account book from the small library of scholarly textbooks Marcel has been allowed to access during his home education.

The older sibling sharply turns to the teen with careful consideration, and Marcel slowly raises his head, meeting his thoughtful gaze. He swallows, smoothing his hair nervously.

Then, August beams. The smile makes Marcel's face drop in realisation, and fond exasperation overtakes him.

"Brother! Really?" He huffs with a slight pout, crossing his arms. "You take far too much amusement in this," he grumbles, staring at August because the man's chuckle has turned into his characteristic delighted cackle.

"How can I not? You and Thaddeus are too entertaining as of late," August sighs deeply. He wipes his teary eyes with the back of his left hand, and readjusts himself into a more comfortable position, shoulders stiff. "Worry not about Caius. The fool likely walked into a ditch somewhere, drunk and lost. I'm more concerned about your education. Sir Vergil does not wish to tutor you at an alternate location because he believes our estate is compromised. I know how much you enjoy calculus, and it will be difficult to find a suitable tutor so soon, so I ask for your understanding."

Marcel cocks a brow at August with warm amusement. The man blinks slowly, confused at his lack of disappointment.

"I'd like to think I'll enjoy riding Rèmy more often," Marcel grins, his hazel eyes bright.

August sighs, but smiles indulgently. "Enjoy yourselves, yes?" He leans back in his chair with a small yawn, gaze growing warmer.

Marcel studies the tired wrinkles lining his brother's skin from laughing and frowning over the past several years, and nods sharply. His lips curl slightly, turning around to leave with a giddy hum.

While he couldn't wait to play with his dashing Rèmy in the water after having the stableboy get him ready, Marcel was also happy about another matter.

***

"The young master doesn't suspect me?" Thaddeus stares at Marcel in awe and disbelief, stray locks of hair stuck to his sweaty cheek. He's been tasked to carry out additional labour caused by the alarm of Caius' disappearance, so the two could only meet in the evening.

"No, he knows," Marcel lifts his head from Tarron's latest 'medical' textbook he's been criticising furiously. Preening under Thaddeus's bespectacled gaze of growing confusion, the teen readjusts his legs with a smirk.

Thaddeus had been worried of being imprisoned for his role in Caius' disappearance, noticeably distracted until Marcel admitted to stomping on the man's hands.

"If I remember correctly, the worker you described works in brother's personal gardens. He would've been buried there regardless of your actions. I'm also certain brother doesn't care about Sir Vergil either."

"Why does he matter?–" Thaddeus cuts himself off, his chapped lips parted as he tilts his head towards Marcel. He studies Marcel's smug expression quietly as further realisation dawns on him regarding the fearful degradation of the self-absorbed scholar.

"You're as insidious as he is."

Marcel laughs brightly, and Thaddeus hears August's overlapping the similar sound.

"Now help me with these newspapers. I don't understand all of what they discuss in the salons."