Chapter 12: The Weight of Loyalty

"..!"

Lawrence flinched at Arlon's approach, his grip tightening on the wooden sword. His wide-eyed surprise betrayed his unease. Despite his capable demeanor during the Pry attack, he still wrestled with the strange new dynamic here—uncertain of how to address a man who had so easily stepped into authority over this place.

The man who had once been a stranger to him now seemed like a figure of authority, someone who commanded the space with an effortless air of power. It was a challenge for Lawrence, who had spent much of his life learning to be independent and strong on his own terms.

"I—uh—I wasn't sure if… if it was alright for me to train here," Lawrence stammered, his words tumbling out in an almost nervous blur. He gripped the wooden sword tighter, as if it would help calm his nerves. "I didn't want to overstep, seeing as this isn't really… my place."

Arlon raised an eyebrow, a faint smile tugging at the corner of his lips. He could tell Lawrence was feeling more than a little uncomfortable, and it reminded him of his earlier days—of when he was the one unsure of his role in someone else's world.

"Don't worry about overstepping," Arlon said with an easy smile, his tone cutting through Lawrence's hesitation. "This is your home for now. You're free to train whenever you'd like." His words carried an effortless confidence, putting just enough weight behind the offer to make it sound genuine.

"..."

Lawrence blinked at the words, still unsure how to react to the casual, almost nonchalant way Arlon spoke. It didn't quite match the air of formality that he had initially expected from the man who had been thrust into the role of heir and leader of the villa. There was a sense of warmth to Arlon that caught Lawrence off guard.

"Go ahead, Lawrence. I'm sure we can both use the practice," Arlon said, giving him a reassuring nod.

Lawrence's anxiety didn't fully subside, but he at least seemed more relaxed now. He nodded stiffly, swallowing the lump in his throat. "Right… I—thank you."

Arlon's gaze shifted to the wooden training swords in their hands and the dummies ahead. "I see you're using the wooden sword. You can practice your form with that for now, but if you want, we can step it up once you're comfortable."

Lawrence gave a quick nod, trying to shake off the awkwardness. "I'll stick to the wooden sword for now, if that's alright," he replied, his voice still a bit hesitant. He wasn't quite ready to push his limits yet, but he also didn't want to appear weak.

Arlon smiled again, this time a bit more genuinely. "That's good. You've got to build the foundation before you can move to more advanced things." He stepped back slightly, giving Lawrence space. "I'll be here if you need a sparring partner."

Lawrence, though still unsure, felt a slight weight lift off his shoulders. The pressure he had been feeling seemed to ease just a little as he began to focus on the task at hand. He raised his sword in a defensive stance, glancing over at Arlon to gauge his reaction.

Arlon, with his usual calm demeanor, leaned casually against one of the wooden posts nearby, his arms crossed as he observed Lawrence.

The younger man's movements were sharp but lacked the refinement of someone with consistent training. Arlon saw potential, raw talent waiting to be shaped.

Though Lawrence had already proven his abilities—protecting the village and defeating a powerful half-blood curse mage—he couldn't yet see the value of his achievements, thinking he was still improving.

He underestimated his own confidence.

While not yet a master, Lawrence had the potential to become a skilled fighter with time, just like in the novel. He would grow stronger, but never invincible. Strength came from balance—skill, experience, and the will to push beyond limits. That would come with time.

"Don't worry," Arlon called out, his voice light. "We all start somewhere."

Lawrence's lips twitched into a small, awkward smile at that, his shoulders relaxing a bit more. He could feel the faintest hint of camaraderie beginning to grow between them—something he hadn't expected when he first arrived.

And so, with each swing of their swords, the two trained in the morning sun, the unspoken tension between them slowly dissipating, even as Arlon's mind kept turning over the day's tasks and challenges.

When they concluded their session, Lawrence lowered his sword, beads of sweat glistening on his brow. He hesitated briefly before saying, "I'll head to the forest and help the villagers collect wood for rebuilding their homes."

Arlon wiped his own forehead with a cloth and nodded. "That's a good idea, but don't overexert yourself. It's not your responsibility to shoulder everything alone. Ask for help if you need it."

Lawrence blinked, slightly surprised at the concern, then offered a small, appreciative smile. "I will. Thank you." With a respectful nod, he turned and made his way toward the forest.

Arlon watched him leave for a moment, then turned toward the villa. He decided to head to the study room to continue his work, but as he walked through the quiet halls, a flicker of golden light caught his eye.

Arlon paused for a moment, his curiosity piqued. What was that? he thought, his gaze following the flicker of light.

The light seeped through the slight gap of a partially open door. Pausing, Arlon frowned and approached, peering inside.

Through the crack, he saw Alice standing in the middle of the room, her hands glowing faintly as she held a used mana stone. The golden energy swirled around her fingers, but each time she tried to channel it into the stone, the light sputtered out, leaving the mana stone unchanged.

"You're wasting your time," Dimitri's cool, composed voice came from somewhere inside the room. He stood nearby, arms crossed, his piercing green eyes fixed on Alice.

"Restoration of a used mana stone is a theory at best—an unproven one, at that. You'll achieve nothing but exhausting yourself."

Alice's lips pressed into a firm line, determination lighting her features. "It's still worth trying. Just because it's a theory doesn't mean it's impossible. If I can get it to work, it could save so many resources and help the villagers or the other mages."

Dimitri sighed, his stern tone softening just slightly. "Your determination is admirable," he admitted. "But even a Blessed Mage like yourself has limits. Don't let your ambition blind you to them."

The exchange between them intrigued Arlon. Despite Dimitri's usual cold and reserved demeanor, he seemed genuinely invested in Alice's efforts, even if his concern was cloaked in his usual stoicism. Their shared status as Blessed Mages appeared to foster an understanding between them.

Arlon decided it was time to intervene. Pushing the door open, he stepped into the room. Both Alice and Dimitri turned to him, their conversation halting mid-sentence.

"Interesting experiment," Arlon said calmly, his gaze shifting from Alice's determined expression to the mana stone in her hand. "But Dimitri's right—overexerting yourself won't help anyone."

Alice flushed, lowering her hands but keeping the mana stone cradled between her fingers. "Even if it's a long shot," she argued quietly, determination gleaming in her eyes, "isn't it worth trying? If there's even a small chance to make it work, it could help so many people."

Arlon nodded, a small smile tugging at his lips. "It is. But even experiments need balance and rest. If this method fails, we can always explore alternatives together. No need to tackle it alone."

Dimitri inclined his head slightly, a rare flicker of approval crossing his face. "Wise words."

Alice sighed, reluctantly setting the mana stone on the nearby table. "Fine. I'll take a break for now."

"Good," Arlon replied. "There's plenty of work to be done, but it's best if we approach it all with clear minds and steady hands. Let's revisit this idea later."

Both Alice and Dimitri nodded in agreement with Arlon's words. Shortly after, Dimitri excused himself, saying, "I'll fetch some snacks to keep our energy up," before leaving the room with his usual composed demeanor.

As the door closed behind him, Arlon turned to Alice. "So, if this theory about restoring used mana stones turns out to be true, what would it actually accomplish?"

Alice leaned forward, her green eyes practically glowing with excitement. "Restoring mana stones would let mages manage their power more effectively. Imagine being able to recharge a used stone instead of exhausting yourself during emergencies. It would revolutionize how we approach spellcasting in critical moments."

She paused, her expression turning somber. "But mana stones have become increasingly rare these days. That's why many mages are desperate to find a solution like this, even if it's based on an unproven theory."

Arlon leaned back, arms crossed, his gaze thoughtful. The concept struck a chord, reminding him of something familiar from his past life. "It's like a… rechargeable battery," he murmured, more to himself than to Alice.

"A… battery?" Alice echoed, her brows knitting in confusion. "What's that?"

Arlon waved it off with a faint smile. "Never mind—just an old idea. The comparison isn't important."

"What's important is that it's a tool that could be incredibly useful in emergencies, even if it only works temporarily."

Alice's eyes lit up, her voice gaining momentum. "Exactly! If we can figure this out, it could change everything. Mages wouldn't have to burn through their reserves so quickly—we'd finally have a way to share the burden when spells are needed most."

Arlon's gaze shifted toward the mana stone sitting on the table. "And how does the theory suggest restoring a used mana stone?"

"It says that you need to channel your magical energy directly into the stone," Alice explained. "The idea is to recharge the mana stone with your power, but no one's been able to succeed. Every attempt so far has failed, leading most mages to dismiss the theory as a lie or incomplete."

Arlon rubbed his chin thoughtfully. "Hmm… if so many have tried and failed, maybe it's not the theory itself that's wrong, but how it's being applied. 'Channeling your energy directly into it' might not be the full story."

Alice frowned, considering his words. "What do you mean?"

"Think about it," Arlon began, his tone measured. "What if the theory isn't wrong, but it's incomplete? Channeling energy might not be enough. Maybe it requires aligning the mana flow in a precise way—or pairing it with something else entirely. Something the theory didn't account for"

Alice's eyes widened. "That… actually makes sense. Maybe I've been going about this the wrong way."

Arlon picked up a used mana stone in one hand and a regular, pristine mana stone in the other. He studied them carefully, his brows furrowing in thought. Taking a moment, he activated the regular mana stone, which immediately began to glow with a soft light. Its light blue hue indicated that it was a water mana stone.

Holding both stones, Arlon pondered how he might transfer the energy from the active mana stone into the used one. The process wasn't described in the theory Alice had mentioned, but there had to be a way.

Alice watched him intently, her eyes wide with astonishment. "I can't believe you activated a mana stone so easily," she said, breaking the silence. "Even though you're not an awakener."

"...!"

Her words made Arlon freeze, his thoughts grinding to a halt. Slowly, he turned to look at her, his calm expression hiding the unease rising inside him. "Not an awakener?" he repeated, feigning ignorance. "What makes you say that?"

Alice tilted her head, confused by his reaction. "It's not something ordinary people can do. Activating a mana stone requires a certain finesse that only awakeners can master easily. But in your case... It's probably because of the Sky Soul power. Even without awakening, it gives you the ability to connect with mana."

But I had already mastered it before I got Ace,

Arlon's grip tightened slightly on the stones. He forced a small smile. "I see... so mages like you can tell who's an awakener and who isn't?"

Alice nodded without hesitation. "It's instinct for mages—we can always sense who's awakened and who isn't."

Arlon's thoughts spiraled. If that's true, then Dimitri must have known all along. The original Arlon Throndsen's pretense of awakening couldn't have fooled someone like him.

This realization sent a chill down his spine. Dimitri, loyal to a fault, had always served the original Arlon without question. But why? Why would he remain loyal to someone who had been deceiving the world about his fake ability?

Arlon's thoughts spiraled deeper. Could that be why Dimitri vanished when Arlon became the heir to the family? Did he know something that made him leave—or was his disappearance part of some larger plan?

Alice interrupted his thoughts, oblivious to the storm brewing in his mind. "It's incredible, though," she said, leaning closer to inspect the glowing mana stone. "You make it look so simple. Maybe you'll be the first to figure out how to restore a used mana stone."

Arlon gave a distracted nod, his focus still on the puzzle Dimitri's loyalty posed. If Dimitri knew the truth, then he's far more calculating than I gave him credit for. And if he stayed loyal despite that knowledge... what's his real goal?

The glow from the mana stone flickered slightly as Arlon's concentration wavered. He quickly steadied himself, pushing his doubts aside for now. There was too much to do, and the mystery of Dimitri's actions would have to wait.

"Well," he said, breaking the silence. "Let's see if I can figure out this mana stone restoration theory. I've got nothing to lose by trying."

Alice smiled, her faith in him evident. "If anyone can figure it out, it's you."

But as Arlon turned his attention back to the mana stones, a lingering unease remained in the back of his mind—a shadow of doubt that refused to fade.

Dimitri's loyalty, the original Arlon's secrets, and the strange gaps in the story's history... I'll need answers. And he intended to find them.

Just then, Dimitri returned, carrying a tray laden with an assortment of snacks and a fresh pot of tea. He placed the tray on the table with his usual precision, his demeanor unruffled.

"Lady Alice," he said with a slight bow, "your brother Anthony is looking for you. He said it's important."

Alice's eyes widened slightly, and she quickly gathered her things. "I should go then. Thank you for letting me know, Sir Dimitri." She turned to Arlon with a smile. "Good luck with your experiments,I'll see you later."

Arlon gave her a small nod. "Take care."

With a quick wave, Alice left the room, leaving Arlon alone with Dimitri.

Arlon picked up the cup of black tea Dimitri had poured for him, his expression neutral as he stared at the dark liquid. He took a measured sip, suppressing the grimace that threatened to surface.

This tea again,he thought, the familiar taste lingering on his tongue.

He didn't hate it as much as he initially had, but it wasn't growing on him either. Still, enduring it had become part of his routine. Just like enduring this act.

Setting the cup back on the saucer, he straightened in his chair and fixed his gaze on Dimitri, who stood by the side of the room, ever the composed butler.

"Dimitri," Arlon began, his tone calm but carrying an unmistakable weight, "you've always known, haven't you?"

Dimitri's green eyes flickered with a faint trace of recognition, though his expression remained stoic. "Known what, my lord?"

"That I've been pretending to be an awakener," Arlon said bluntly, leaning back slightly as he picked up the tea cup again. "How long have you known? And how long do you plan to keep quiet about it?"

The room fell silent, save for the faint sound of the tea swirling in the cup as Arlon took another sip, his calm demeanor a sharp contrast to the weight of his words.

Dimitri didn't respond immediately. Instead, he adjusted his glasses with a deliberate motion, his gaze steady and unreadable.

"You're unusually bold today, my lord," Dimitri remarked, his smooth voice betraying no surprise. "It's rare for you to broach such… delicate topics so openly.

Arlon set the cup down with a quiet clink. "I'm not in the mood for games, Dimitri. You've served me long enough to know everything about me. So, tell me—how long have you known, and why haven't you said anything?"

Dimitri's lips curved into the faintest smile, though it wasn't one of amusement. "If I may be honest, my lord, I've known from the beginning."

Arlon raised an eyebrow but didn't seem surprised. "From the beginning, you say?"

"Yes," Dimitri said with a slight incline of his head. "It wasn't difficult to discern. After all, an awakener's aura is unmistakable, and yours has always been... absent."

Arlon tapped his fingers lightly against the table, processing the confirmation. "And yet, you've stayed loyal. Why? Surely someone like you would have had plenty of opportunities to expose me—or to leave entirely."

Dimitri's expression shifted, a faint glimmer of something unspoken crossing his sharp gaze. "Loyalty isn't always tied to truth, my lord. Sometimes, it's rooted in belief—in the potential of someone, or the vision they may yet realize. That's why I stayed."

"..."

Arlon studied him carefully, his calm facade unbroken, though his mind was anything but. Belief in potential? Or something else entirely? What are you really hiding, Dimitri?

"I see," Arlon said finally, picking up the tea cup once more. "But I'll warn you, Dimitri—I don't intend to keep this charade up forever. There will come a time when the truth will need to come out. And when that happens..."

"You will have my support," Dimitri interjected smoothly, his tone unwavering. "As always."

Arlon stared at him for a long moment before taking another sip of tea. He hated the taste, but this time, it seemed easier to bear.

"Good," Arlon said at last, setting the cup down. "Let's keep it that way."

Dimitri inclined his head once more, his composed demeanor intact. "Of course, my lord."

As the silence settled between them, Arlon couldn't shake the feeling that Dimitri's loyalty ran deeper than he'd admitted—and that there were layers to this man's motives he had yet to uncover.

As the afternoon sun cast a warm glow across the villa, Arlon invited Lawrence, Alice, Anthony, and the young wolf boy Eric into a spacious sitting room.

The room was filled with comfortable chairs and a low table with refreshments, creating a peaceful atmosphere amid the recent chaos. Lawrence, Alice, and Anthony took their seats, already sensing the weight of what Arlon was about to say.

Once they had settled, Arlon took a deep breath and began, "I'll be heading back to the Grand Duchy tomorrow. The Duchess has summoned me to attend a meeting with the noble families who support our house. I'll likely be away for three days."

Alice and Anthony nodded thoughtfully, glancing at each other. Arlon leaned forward, his gaze moving from each of them to Eric, who sat close to Alice, looking up at Arlon with quiet excitement.

"I wanted to know what your plans are. Will you stay here, or do you have other intentions?"

Though he appeared calm on the surface, Arlon's thoughts churned beneath—the Duchess's summons, Dimitri's calculated loyalty, and the mystery of his borrowed power… all demanded answers.