A Secret Pact

Chapter 8: A Secret Pact

The candlelight in the dining hall had begun to dim, casting long shadows on the walls. The family dinner had ended, but Alden lingered, his mind still replaying the evening's conversation. The quiet approval from his father had been a relief, but he knew it was only the first hurdle. The real challenge was just beginning: how to gather enough resources to put his ideas into motion.

The hall was now empty, save for the lingering scent of roasted meat and spiced wine. As the last of the servants cleared the table, Alden steeled himself. He needed money—significant funds—to begin experimenting with his ideas on genetics, selective breeding, and the long-term improvement of the estate's crops. His family's backing would be essential, but he knew his parents would have very different reactions to his request.

With a deep breath, Alden made his way to the drawing room, where his mother and father were often found after dinner, enjoying a moment of quiet away from the world's demands. As he approached the room, he could hear the faint crackling of the fire and the low murmur of their voices. Gathering his courage, Alden knocked softly on the doorframe.

"Come in," Lord Eamon's voice called from within.

Alden entered the room, greeted by the warm glow of the hearth. His mother sat in her favourite chair, her sewing in hand, while his father stood by the window, gazing out into the twilight beyond. Lady Elara looked up with a soft smile, though Alden could sense the concern lingering behind her eyes.

"Alden," she said gently, "what brings you here?"

He hesitated only for a moment, then spoke with calm determination. "I need your support, Mother, Father. What I'm working on—it requires resources. Money. If I'm going to make real progress with the crops, I'll need to invest in better tools, seeds, and possibly hire help to expand the project."

Lady Elara's needle froze mid-stitch. She placed the fabric gently on her lap and looked at him with a stern but caring gaze.

"Alden," she began, her voice soft but firm, "I understand that you want to help the estate, and I admire your passion. But we can't afford to waste money on... on risky experiments. The estate has been under strain for years, and this drought is only making things worse. Every coin is precious right now."

"But Mother—"

"No," she interrupted, her tone growing sharper. "We've indulged your ideas long enough. Your father and I have responsibilities to this house, to our people. We cannot throw away funds on dreams of improving crops when we need to survive the present."

Alden felt a pang of frustration, but he remained calm. "What I'm working on isn't a dream, Mother. It's science. It will work. But I need the means to see it through."

Lady Elara sighed, her expression softening, though her resolve did not waver. "Your heart is in the right place, Alden, but these things take time. If your methods truly prove successful, then perhaps in the future... But not now. Not while the estate is struggling."

The finality in her voice was clear. She had made her decision, and there was no persuading her further tonight. Alden's chest tightened with frustration, but he knew pushing would do no good. His mother loved him, but she was also fiercely protective of the family's limited resources.

Lord Eamon had remained silent during the exchange, his gaze still fixed on the darkening sky outside. Alden's eyes flickered toward his father, searching for some sign of support. But Lord Eamon's face was inscrutable, giving away nothing.

With a quiet nod, Alden turned to leave the room, trying to hide his disappointment. "Thank you for listening," he said quietly, and made his way toward the door.

As he stepped into the dimly lit hallway, Alden heard his father's voice call after him, low and measured.

"Alden, wait."

He stopped, glancing back to see his father stepping away from the window and crossing the room toward him. Lord Eamon gave a quick glance towards Lady Elara, who had resumed her sewing, before motioning for Alden to follow him outside.

Curious and hopeful, Alden followed his father through the hall and out into the estate's courtyard. The cool night air greeted them as they walked in silence, the distant sounds of the estate's evening routines fading into the background.

Once they were far enough from the house, Lord Eamon turned to face Alden, his expression softer than it had been at dinner. "Your mother means well," he said quietly. "She worries about the estate, about our future. We've been through hard times, Alden. Harder than you know. But that doesn't mean she's right."

Alden's heart lifted slightly, but he remained cautious. "What do you mean, Father?"

Lord Eamon glanced around, as if making sure they were truly alone. Then, from within his coat, he pulled a small leather pouch. He handed it to Alden, its weight heavy in his hand, and the clink of coins unmistakable.

"This isn't much," Lord Eamon said, his voice low, "but it's enough to get you started. Your mother may not understand your vision, but I see it. I know there's potential in what you're doing, even if it's unconventional."

Alden stared at the pouch, shocked. He hadn't expected this, especially after the firm rejection from his mother. "Father... thank you. I won't let you down."

Lord Eamon's expression was grave, but there was a glint of pride in his eyes. "I believe you, son. But be careful. If this doesn't work... we won't have the luxury of second chances. Use this money wisely, and don't make your mother regret her decision."

Alden nodded, his grip tightening on the pouch. "I'll make it work. I promise."

Lord Eamon placed a hand on Alden's shoulder, his grip firm but reassuring. "Good. Now, go. Do what you need to do, but keep this between us. The estate is already stretched thin, and I don't want any rumours circulating about where our resources are going."

Alden nodded, understanding the gravity of his father's words. He slipped the pouch into his coat, feeling its weight against his chest. It wasn't much, but it was enough to take the first steps towards realising his dream.

As they parted ways, Alden felt a renewed sense of purpose surging within him. His father's support, though secret, was the validation he needed. With this small but crucial backing, he could begin his journey in earnest—one that would bring the world of genetics to life in this strange new land.

And now, with his father's quiet endorsement, Alden was more determined than ever to make his dream a reality. The world would see the beauty and power of genetics, and he would be the one to show them.

But first, he had to find a way to turn this small pouch of coins into something far greater. The real work was just beginning.