77 Chapter 77

Gerald flipped through another parchment, exhausted. Two days of going through his family's chronicles had only reaped him accounts on three mines. And there was still a mountain of books, journals, and parchments to go through. He'd already forgotten the shape of his table that was now buried under this monstrous collection of family history.

Even the ground around the table was piled with books and journals. Ones that he planned to go through soon, and even ones he was already done with. In the corner of the study, he'd isolated some very important accounts, including some that mentioned the Inheritance Hall and the Ancestral Chambers.

There was a knock on the door, then Frederick came in, loaded with books and journals that he could barely carry. He pulled his feet closer to the table, dumping the weight like the chains of a freed slave. "That's all, my lord. Master Arthur says there are no more."

Gerald nodded without glancing up from the parchment in hand. He waved Frederick away.

The latter moved to leave but stopped at the door. "My lord, I could help you. I enjoy reading history, so it wouldn't bore me."

Gerald shot him a doubtful glance.

"It wouldn't bore me as fast as it would bore others," Frederick shrugged.

Gerald laid the parchment on the table and sighed. He was going through the more minute details of his family's history now. He'd already sought out any prominent accounts of his family's secrets and isolated them.

A helping hand was always welcome, one that could be trusted; specially the kind of trust he favored the most, one which came from dependence on him for survival.

He nodded to the lad and gestured for him to go for one of the piles on the ground. Then he attacked his laborious task again.

It wasn't long before he heard an excited yell from Frederick. "I found one, my lord." He handed him an open journal.

Gerald took it and found an account of a tin mine that existed in the west of the basin some two hundred years ago. He placed it above the three other accounts he'd found and nodded to Frederick.

"Must be fortunate," he muttered himself.

About as much time passed before he heard another yell from the lad. Gerald's mouth twitched a bit. "What is it?"

"Another one, my lord. This one seems to be about a copper mine in the east. It was a small one and it ran dry in several years. Nothing else is mentioned here." He waved a parchment.

Gerald received the parchment while fixing Frederick with an odd stare. The latter was taken aback by his piercing eyes and said, "something the matter, my lord?"

Gerald shook his head and read through the parchment then placed it above the other accounts.

By the end of the day, Frederick had found another four written accounts of mines that used to be in the basin, while Gerald had only found one.

"We continue on the morrow?" Frederick said as they both climbed out of the book hill.

"Yes," Gerald nodded. He watched as the lad left the study then he remembered something and yelled, "Frederick."

Frederick returned. "My lord."

Gerald gestured towards the two bookcases on opposite walls of the study. "You can borrow."

Frederick's face bloomed with a bright grin and he shot glances at the bookcases, likely thinking of what he would take.

Gerald snorted as he saw the excessively hopeful look on his face. "Just one."

Frederick's grin descended into a pitiful smile and he nodded, as if he'd realized how his imagination had deceived him. He headed for the bookcase that held Gerald's books and chose a book, taking it with him as he left.

Gerald sighed and returned to his bedchamber. It would be sleep then back into the chronicles, then sleep again.

…

..

.

Three days later, Gerald and Frederick had gone through most of the family's chronicles.

Gerald summoned Arthur to the study and had him deliver the uncovered accounts to Georjay. The Prospecting Adept was to head to the mountains in the southwest and recommence his search for ore veins again after the receiving the mining history of his family. Anything that Gerald uncovers later would be sent to him as well.

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Harrid held the training dagger with a soft grip. He waved it from the right towards Master Rudolf's neck, a slow side thrust.

Master Rudolf slapped his wrist and shook his head. "You're still moving your hand instead of letting it move."

Harrid grimaced. Was it the hundredth time yet? He didn't know. Master Rudolf had told him that unlike moving towards your target, stabbing them without showing any intent depended more on repetition. The more one repeats the motion, the more it feels natural to their body, and it becomes more like a handshake than an aggressive motion. That was why he had to come to the training grounds every day just to repeat this motion. Of course, before that he would have to go through the movement and sight patterns training.

He had reconciled with Master Rudolf a few days ago after speaking to Yanna. The old steward had accepted him back without a second thought, which had puzzled Harrid. They had agreed that Harrid was to carry his name and bear a child with his daughter, then he was free to do what he wanted after.

The old man's treatment had become a little rigid after last time's incident. And Harrid couldn't help but act odd himself at times. It was difficult to forget what was asked of him, and perhaps difficult for Master Rudolf to forget how he'd left—or escaped—that day.

Harrid took his hand back to his side and began again. He took a few steps back until he was a few yards from Master Rudolf. Then he walked towards him. When he was close enough he stopped and, without a change of expression, he raised his dagger and waved it in for a slow thrust towards the old man's neck. The thrust sailed towards the latter's throat then sped up when it was an inch or two from the skin. Harrid held back his strength at the last moment and the dull dagger just poked Master Rudolf's neck.

The old man sighed, apparently having never intended to stop this time's thrust. "At least there is some improvement."

Harrid panted a little and nodded. He'd had to hold his breath while doing it, even though Master Rudolf had told him not to.

"Perhaps it's time to do some real training," Master Rudolf said, a curious gaze on his face.

Harrid hesitated for a moment, because such a suggestion would often come with a smile from the old man. But the change wasn't much considering the stale relationship between them recently. Harrid scratched his head. "I don't think anyone would be happy if I stab them, Master Rudolf."

The old steward dismissed his words with a shake of the head and said, "I know someone." He turned around and walked towards the doors leading into the keep.

Harrid followed him into the keep, and they walked through several hallways before they came to a stop not far from the Lord's study.

Master Rudolf pointed ahead. "Him."

Harrid saw the young man donning black leather armor with charcoal hair resting on his temples. "That's Sir Gasper," he hissed.

Master Rudolf nodded with a smile. Only, this smile didn't bring Harrid any warmth but quite a few worries.

"I can't attack, Sir Gasper," Harrid said. He couldn't help but imagine the metal gauntlet on the young knight's wrist smashing his face into a pulp.

"He won't mind," Master Rudolf said. "Worry not. When he learns that it's me who sent you, he won't harm you."

"Won't you tell him first?" Harrid pleaded.

"And where would the difficulty be in that? He mustn't know, and you mustn't be ready. Now go."

Harrid gulped. He muttered his goodbyes to whichever number of teeth he was going to lose and took a laborious step towards the young knight.

Sir Gasper was speaking to Frederick, the new attendant and squire to the lord. By the time Harrid was close enough, the young knight was done talking and was about to leave.

"Sir Gasper," Harrid called.

The young knight turned around and saw him. "Ah, it's you. Something the matter?"

Harrid smiled as he stepped within stabbing range of the young knight who was more than a head taller than him. He'd grown taller recently, but he was still quite a bit below an average man's height.

Sir Gasper was still smiling when Harrid raised his hand smoothly into the air, sailing the dagger in his hand towards the knight's throat. The dull blade moved unhindered until it was a bit past halfway, then a gloved hand gripped his wrist and stopped it.

Sir Gasper was frowning, apparently more puzzled than furious. Then he raised his head and looked farther behind Harrid.

"I sent him," the old steward's voice came from behind.

"Are you training him?" Sir Gasper chuckled, letting go of Harrid's wrist after glancing at the dull dagger.

Master Rudolf came beside Harrid and nodded at the question.

Sir Gasper nodded too, seemingly impressed. He glanced at Harrid then looked at the old steward and said, "well, he's no roach."

"I wouldn't train one," Master Rudolf guffawed.

Harrid shifted his eyes between the two, perplexed. He wondered if they were mocking him and he just couldn't understand it.

After the two exchanged a few words, Sir Gasper left.

"You didn't do badly, considering how anxious you were," Master Rudolf said. "Gasper isn't easy to kill after all." He chuckled.

Harrid released a painful breath and glared at the old man who wasn't even looking at him. He wondered where his next 'real' training would be, and if his target would be a friend of the old steward every time.