Chapter 2

The servants hurriedly brought an array of dishes to the table. Three maids worked quickly, plating the food with precision, their movements meticulous—just as they had been trained under the strict rules of the lord. One maid, tasked with placing a napkin and bib around Seth's neck, trembled so violently that her hands shook, forcing Seth to wait, his patience wearing thin.

After a few moments of watching her fumble with the napkin, Seth let out a sigh, his irritation palpable. "Forget it," he said, his tone icy and dismissive.

The maid flinched but didn't stop. She carefully fastened the bib, her hands still trembling as she worked, clearly too terrified to do otherwise.

The food was presented: creamy soups scented with truffles and saffron, roasted pheasant and beef with skin crackling and golden, garnished with rosemary and thyme. At the center of the table stood a magnificent peacock pie, its feathers fanned out dramatically as a centerpiece. Delicate pastries filled with almond paste, fruits glazed in honey, and nuts were arranged on fine porcelain plates. Goblets of spiced wine and mulled cider shimmered under the warm candlelight, completing the lavish feast.

Seth ate slowly, savoring each bite as his sharp gaze swept across the room. The servants stood by, their eyes betraying their hunger as they watched the untouched dishes. Meanwhile, Royfield, the old butler, remained in the background, observing his master's every move.

Lifting his goblet, Seth inhaled the rich aroma of spiced wine. His first sip burst with flavor—dark berries blended with subtle hints of oak and vanilla, a faint smokiness lingering on his palate long after he swallowed. The wine was smooth, warming his throat as it slid down, leaving a perfect balance of sweetness and acidity in its wake, with subtle notes of clove and cinnamon. Exquisite, Seth thought, indulging in the taste.

Once he had finished, Seth dabbed his mouth with a napkin and glanced toward Royfield. "I'm done with breakfast. Clean this up."

Royfield nodded, a faint smile gracing his lips. "As you wish, my Lord."

The servants moved quickly to clear the table. As they worked, Seth's eyes remained on them, a look of casual disdain creeping into his gaze. "The leftovers," he said lazily, "you can take them. Feed them to the dogs, or throw them away. I don't care."

The servants froze for a moment, startled by his words, but quickly bowed their heads in gratitude before resuming their duties.

Seth stood up from the table and exited the dining room, Royfield silently trailing behind. Irritated by the butler's constant presence, Seth came to an abrupt halt and turned sharply. "Why are you following me?" he asked, his voice edged with annoyance.

Royfield's lips curved into a playful smile. "I'm afraid the young master might lose his way again," he replied, his tone teasing.

Seth felt a flicker of embarrassment but quickly masked it. "Then lead the way," he commanded curtly. "I'm going to the training grounds. Prepare a wooden sword and a training dummy. And summon all the knights—immediately."

Royfield blinked at the sudden order but complied without hesitation. "At once, my Lord," he said, bowing. He led Seth through the winding corridors toward the west wing, where the training grounds were located.

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The training grounds were a far cry from what Seth had imagined. The knights of Arlecia, instead of being broad and strong, appeared worn and weak. Seth's chest tightened with a mixture of frustration and pity. If the red portal appeared today, this land would be swallowed whole by the demon horde, he thought bitterly.

The knights barely acknowledged Seth's arrival, continuing their half-hearted drills, unimpressed by his presence. Unlike the servants, they showed little fear or respect. Seth, still in his nightshirt, felt a surge of irritation. Their indifference stung more than he cared to admit. How dare they ignore me?

Spying a rusted sword lying discarded on the ground, Seth picked it up. Its weight felt familiar in his hand, despite its poor condition. Pointing the blade at the nearest knight, he said coldly, "It seems the knights of Arlecia have plenty of time to idle. Let's see if my gold is being wasted keeping you here."

The knights exchanged glances, caught off guard by the sudden challenge. One of them, a young man with fiery red hair and amber eyes, chuckled and stepped forward. "Forgive me, my Lord," he said, amusement lacing his tone. "But it seems your sense of humor has gotten the better of you."

Seth narrowed his eyes, instantly recognizing him. The sharp features and smirk were unmistakable.

"Aiden Wolfe," Seth muttered, the name slipping from his lips.

Aiden's eyes widened, his smirk faltering. That name… only a handful of people knew it. He had been using the alias "Max" to keep his identity hidden. How could this lord, in such a remote place, possibly know?

Anger flared in Aiden's chest, his face flushing red. "I didn't think the lord of Arlecia would stoop so low as to investigate his own knights."

The mention of his true name stirred painful memories—his village burned to the ground, his family executed by the One-Eye Alliance, his life reduced to a fugitive's existence. The thought ignited a rage he had long buried.

Without warning, Aiden lunged at Seth, sword raised high. Seth barely managed to parry the strike with the rusted blade, reacting on instinct despite his unfamiliarity with this body. While Lucias may not have trained here, his battle-hardened experience from countless fights in his own world flooded back to him.

Aiden's relentless attacks continued, each strike fueled by a burning desire for answers. "How do you know about them?" he shouted, his voice hoarse with fury.

Aiden had spent years hunting the One-Eye Alliance, the group responsible for his family's slaughter. Arlecia was supposed to be his refuge, a place to regroup and gather strength before the final confrontation. Now, even here, it seemed he couldn't escape their shadow.

Seth, or rather Lucias, quickly pieced together Aiden's motive. A smirk tugged at the corner of his lips, one that sent a chill down Aiden's spine. Despite the knight's fierce strikes, Seth parried each blow effortlessly, as though toying with him.

Frustration boiling over, Aiden growled through gritted teeth. "Are you one of them?" He halted his onslaught, eyes burning with intensity. "If you are, I swear I'll kill you—even if it costs me my life."

Seth watched him with growing amusement. The fire in Aiden's eyes, the raw determination—it was admirable. But Seth knew something Aiden didn't: the knight wouldn't kill him. Not yet.

Letting the rusted sword fall from his grip, Seth stepped forward, his movements calm, deliberate. Aiden held his ground, sword still raised, but his resolve wavered as Seth leaned in close, his voice a dangerous whisper.

"Aiden Wolfe, son of Regus Wolfe, chief of the Wolvendom."

Aiden's breath caught in his throat. How could he possibly know that?

Seth's voice turned smooth and menacing. "If you make me your enemy, you'll fail. But if you want revenge—true revenge—I can help you gain the power you need to destroy the One-Eye Alliance."

Aiden's grip on his sword slackened. The fire in his eyes dimmed as Seth's words took hold. "Don't you want to avenge your family? Your people?"

A tense silence hung between them until Aiden finally spoke, his voice barely a whisper. "What do I have to do?"

Seth smiled coldly, placing a hand on Aiden's shoulder. "Be my dog," he said, his tone firm, commanding. "And I'll give you the strength you need to crush them."

To the onlookers, Seth's red eyes seemed to glow with an ominous light. But in Seth's own mind, he was merely smiling.

Before turning to leave, Seth glanced over his shoulder at Aiden. "Come to my chambers tomorrow morning, fully geared. If you're late, the deal is off."

As Seth walked away, Aiden stood frozen, stunned by the exchange. The other knights were equally speechless. Meanwhile, Royfield, who had been watching from the shadows, was astonished. He had arrived just in time to see Seth easily parrying Aiden's strikes. Has the young master been hiding his skills? Royfield wondered. No… that's impossible. I've known him since birth.

Noticing Royfield's surprised expression, Seth gave a casual nod. "I've seen enough," he said. "Take me back to my chambers."

Royfield bowed, too stunned to ask the dozens of questions swirling in his mind. He followed behind, letting the wooden sword he had prepared clatter to the ground as the summoned knights dispersed, their disbelief palpable.

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Rumors of the training ground incident spread like wildfire throughout the castle. The servants whispered about their lord's peculiar behavior—from sparing a maid in the morning to letting them eat the leftover food from breakfast.

The head maid, upon hearing these tales, shook off her disbelief, reminded of Seth's earlier commands to enforce discipline among the staff. Meanwhile, Royfield kept a closer watch on Aiden, noting his master's sudden interest in the young knight.

Royfield still didn't fully understand what had transpired between Seth and Aiden during the training, but he intended to find out soon. For now, though, his focus was on his master's latest, unexpected orders. Seth had asked Royfield to bring all the estate's financial reports and documents concerning the barony's operations—a request that had left the butler perplexed. Seth had never shown any interest in the business side of running Arlecia before.

Carrying a freshly baked sweet berry pie, Royfield entered Seth's chambers with his usual calm demeanor. Seth sat at his desk, papers spread out before him, deep in thought.

"My Lord," Royfield began, setting the pie on a side table. "I've brought the reports as requested."

Seth looked up from the documents and acknowledged Royfield with a nod. "Good. Leave them here. I'll be reviewing everything myself."

At first, Royfield had been puzzled by Seth's sudden interest in estate matters. Yet as he observed Seth pouring over the documents, his curiosity only grew. The lord had become far more diligent than he'd ever been before, studying every detail with a sharp, calculating gaze.

Breaking the silence, Seth spoke. "I'll be heading to town tomorrow," he said casually. "And I'll only take one knight."

Royfield furrowed his brow. It was highly unusual—reckless, even—for a noble to venture into town with such little protection. Most lords took an entourage for even the simplest excursions.

"Only one knight, my Lord?" Royfield asked cautiously. "That could be dangerous. The people... they may not greet you kindly."

Seth remained unfazed. "If they want to harm me, let them try."

Reaching for the pie, Seth cut a slice and tasted it. After a moment, he casually extended the half-eaten slice toward Royfield. "Here. Try some."

To Royfield, the offer felt less like an invitation and more like a test. The butler hesitated. He was well aware of his allergy to berries—an allergy Seth, in theory, shouldn't know about. But unable to refuse, Royfield forced himself to take a bite. As expected, the reaction was immediate. His throat tightened, sweat beaded on his forehead, but he swallowed each bite without a word.

Maintaining his composure, Royfield excused himself with a stiff smile, fighting through the discomfort. "Thank you, my Lord," he managed, before bowing and quickly exiting the room.

Seth's smile lingered as he watched Royfield leave, his expression one of quiet satisfaction. He knew full well about Royfield's allergy—just as he knew much more about the people in this castle than any of them realized.

He turned back to the pile of documents, his mind already working through the next steps. If he was going to survive in this world, he couldn't simply rely on the knowledge of the novel. He had to actively change the course of events. The more control he seized over his surroundings, the better his chances of success.

The pieces were beginning to fall into place.

And in the morning, Aiden would take his first steps into Seth's plans.