Volume 1 - CH 3.2

“U-ugh…”

He opened his eyes to blue salvia flowers. They was the floral decorations of the wallpaper plastered on the wall in front of him. He thought that he was back in the manor at Longorde for a moment. That he was, for some reason, lying inside his mother’s normally empty chambers. That he was lying on the bed that he had somehow managed to crawl into and fall asleep in once when he was very young. He had been trying to smell his mother’s scent—the one that Yevgnen had always told him he could smell.

He was awake now, but one of his eyes was so swollen that he could not open it properly. He had no idea where he was. He did, however, notice one thing immediately.

“My sword!” he shouted as he shot up. Someone pushed him back down and placed a cool wet towel over his head.

“Your sword?” they asked.

Boris had never heard this voice before. It sounded like it belonged to a woman in her forties.

“Where… am I?” Boris asked as he tried to sit up again. The woman’s hand pushed him down yet again, and then she proceeded to undo the bandages on his shoulder. Boris considered rethinking his evaluation of her. This woman, who was supposedly in her forties, was just as strong as any man.

“Stay still. I’ll answer your questions slowly, one by one.”

Boris waited patiently until the woman was finished undoing his bandages, cleaning his wounds, and wrapping new bandages around them. He felt very refreshed after she finished treating him. He cracked open his good eye and peered at her. She was a rather large woman, and she was putting away the dirty bandages and a basin of water. A servant came inside the room and took the bandages and the basin from her, and it was only then that the woman finally turned to look back at Boris.

“Where is your home?” she asked.

The image of his mother’s chambers rippled dizzyingly in Boris’ mind. He closed his eyes as he replied, “I don’t have one.”

“Are you a vagrant? You don’t look like one, though. Tell me the truth. I’m not trying to harass you or anything.”

The woman sounded gruff, but she did not sound malevolent either.

“It’s not like I can go back home even if I wanted to. That’s not too different from not having one at all.”

“Hmph. Did you run away from home? Do you see yourself as the protagonist of a tragedy or something?” Her question was so absurd that Boris was at a loss for how to respond. The woman continued, “You’re not the first rascal I’ve met who’s run away from home. But don’t you know that there’s no place like home? I’ve heard kids like you tell me that they don’t want to go home because their father loves their younger brother or sister more or that they’re too ashamed to go back home because they were mean to their mother in a fit of anger…”

Boris remained silent.

“Tell me the truth. Which house are you from? The clothes you’re wearing were made by a tailor, and the callouses on your hands suggest that you’ve been practicing with the sword. There’s no way that you’re a commoner. Am I wrong? The count may have done you a kindness, but you can’t go relying on his kindness forever. Hurry up and go back home. Misunderstandings are easier to undo than you think.”

Boris couldn’t help but wonder if the woman had been reading too many novels lately. She had also said something that he didn’t understand.

“The… count?”

The woman looked back at him perplexedly as she tucked him in.

“Yes, the count. Oh, right. There are no counts in Travachess, right? The man who saved you is the Count of Bellnor, a nobleman from Anomarad. You do know what a count is, right?”

The doors opened with a thud before Boris could answer, and a little girl peeked inside.

“Ms. Willa!”

It was Camia. Boris didn’t recognize her, but Camia remembered him. She tiptoed inside and turned to Boris.

“See?” she said to him, “I told you to stay away from that inn.”

Camia clicked her tongue when she saw how badly swollen Boris’ eye was. She did not appear very happy to see him again. She continued, “You should count your lucky stars that my master happened to be passing by. The Young Miss was really shocked about what happened, though she’s okay now, and… Hmm. Were you about to go back home?”

Boris thought it was only natural for the woman—Willa—to ask him about his home, since she was an adult, but he was a little weirded out to hear a girl around his age ask him the same thing. Unlike the woman, however, it sounded like Camia fully expected him to say no.

Willa interjected, “Of course he was, Camia. What makes you think otherwise? Our master needs to hurry back home to his lands too.”

Camia pretended not to hear what Willa had said and remarked, “Well, I suppose you’d have to go back if you have a home to go back to.”

Willa realized that Camia had probably learned something about Boris. After all, the girl was always accompanying Rosenice. It piqued her interest.

“Did Master tell you something, hmm? Or did you hear Young Miss Rosenice saying something?”

“Well, nothing’s been decided for sure yet.”

“This boy… wait, we don’t even know his name yet. Anyway, does the master know where he’s from?”

Boris immediately grew nervous and began gauging Camia’s reaction. Fortunately, Camia shook her head no.

“I don’t know. Why would I know that? Oh, shoot. I need to head back to the Young Miss now. I might get scolded if she calls for me and I’m not there.” Camia smiled at Boris as she climbed back up to her feet. Then, she added, “See you later.”

Winterer was lying underneath Boris’ bed. It made him feel a little better to know that it was close by, but he didn’t truly feel comfortable enough to fall asleep until it was in his arms again. He had a wild dream, and it was already evening by the time he finally woke up. He had slept for an entire day straight.

He recalled the promise he’d made Tonya though the haze of his memories. Then, he decided that he needed to have a proper talk with the people who had saved him. As if on cue, Willa came back to tell him that he should have dinner with the count and his daughter if he was feeling better.

His swollen eye had healed considerably, and he was able to wear his clothes on top of his bandages without much discomfort. He looked much better as he was brought to the living-cum-dining area attached to the VIP room of the inn the count was staying at.

The count was chatting with Rosenice at the table. Willa and Camia were attending to them.

“Come on in,” the count said.

“Come in,” Rosenice chimed after him. Her voice was significantly kindlier than usual.

There were so many empty chairs at the table that Boris wasn’t quite sure where he was supposed to go. Thankfully, the count pointed at the empty chair next to Rosenice and said, “Take a seat over there.”

The servants began serving the food. It was quite a feast, especially considering that there were only three people at the table. A basket of bread slices topped with thin slices of ham and white cheese and a bowl of salad dressed with olive oil were served as appetizers.

A large loaf of bread was placed at the center of the table. It took a moment for Boris to realize what it was for. The count and his daughter were using it for the rather luxurious purpose of wiping off the crumbs from their plates. Thin slices of seasoned rabbit meat steamed in an earthenware pot, peppered Bellcruz sausages, and thin slices of lamb meat with a purplish hue were served for dinner, paired with some crimson wine.

Boris was so emotionally numb that most things failed to surprise him. That was why he only reacted with a short, “Thank you,” and began eating after confirming that the count and his daughter had started eating too. Omelets were also served a little while later. The count and his daughter exchanged weighted smiles when the omelets were served.

Then, the count began, “This will give you a true taste of Bellcruz.”

Boris didn’t even know where Bellcruz was. Regardless, that didn’t stop him for cutting off a piece of an omelet and putting it in his mouth. Then, he made a face as he began chewing on something that felt like a thick piece of mushroom. It was weird, though not in a bad way. It was soft and moist and filled his mouth with a distinct yet hard-to-describe flavor.

Rosenice took one good look at the boy’s face and bragged, “Truffles. The truffles from our lands are very famous.”

This was Boris’ first time ever eating one, but he instantly realized that it was a delicacy. He nodded back at Rosenice to thank her for the explanation. Camia, who was standing behind Rosenice, was trying her best not to smile.

Rosenice continued stealing glances at Boris as he ate. To be precise, she was sneaking glimpses at the way he handed his silverware and his dinner etiquette. She began looking more and more relieved as Boris continued eating. Evidently, she had decided that this strange boy would not be making things awkward for her by doing something stupid anytime soon.

Boris relaxed a little after he was finished eating. This had been his first proper meal in a very long time. He did not, however, let his guard down completely. Not even as he tried the fruit tart and tea that was being served for dessert.

The count was drinking some brandy when he dismissed the maids and finally said, “Allow me to introduce myself properly. I am Ganymede da Bellnor, the Count of Bellnor. My estate is located in Bellcruz, which is in southern Anomarad. This child here is Rosenice da Bellnor, my only daughter and heiress apparent.”

Boris was thrown for a loop. The count had introduced himself formally, which meant that it would be improper for him to fail to return the favor. He hesitated, but then he figured that the count was a foreigner anyway and that it wasn’t likely for a foreigner to know much about a relatively small house like House Jinneman.

“My name is Boris Jinneman,” he replied.

Contrary to his expectations, the count then asked, “You’re from House Jinneman of Longorde?”

Boris had no choice but to nod back. He had no room to lie. The count looked puzzled.

“I heard that House Jinneman was a renowned house of warriors from Travachess… Did something happen to your house?”

Unlike the woman who had read way too many novels from earlier, the count was right on his money. Boris felt like he had no choice but to tell the count the truth. He summed up what had happened, saying, “My father passed away, and my uncle took over.”

“Hmm…”

Rosenice was unable to connect the dots. If Boris’ uncle had taken over the house after his father had passed away, then couldn’t the boy simply have stayed under his uncle’s protection? But then, Boris would have said, ‘My uncle took over after my father passed away.’ However, what he had actually said did not suggest any causality between the two clauses.

The count, on the other hand, simply nodded back. He visited Travachess often, and he understood the Republic’s deep-seated political problems. To some extent, at least.

“I see. Did they have different political views?”

Boris did not reply. He felt his face flushing red as the count exposed his homeland’s fatal flaw. He was so ashamed of the republic and its never-ending cycle of division and destruction that he hated it. He couldn’t stand it. Boris was too young to have solidified his political views. However, he was already a victim of politics even before he’d ever had the chance to learn what it was. He remembered learning that Anomarad was a monarchy. Did Anomarad have these kinds of political problems too?

“Where are you planning to go?”

Boris decided to be honest. “I don’t know. I haven’t decided yet. For now, however, a master blacksmith in the city said that he might consider taking me in as his apprentice, so I think I might stay with him for the time being.”

Rosenice laughed out loud when she heard Boris referring to the blacksmith as a master. Evidently, their conversation was entertaining to her. She was delighted by the way it made her feel superior to the boy.

“I see. In that case, you’d become the assistant to a blacksmith. Have you always been interested in smithy work? Do you like it?”

Of course not. Boris shook his head and replied to the count’s first question with a no. To the count’s second question, however, he replied, “I plan to work hard so I can come to like it.”

Rosenice, who had been busy laughing until now, suddenly cut in, saying, “Didn’t you say that he’s a noble, Daddy? Why would a noble work for a blacksmith?”

“That’s not quite right, Rosenice. There is no noble class here in Travachess. Instead, there are people called electors and senators. Their positions have been passed down through blood for a very long time. These electors and senators then elect people to take on the important job of running the country.”

Rosenice was learning many things because she was the count’s heiress apparent who stood to inherit his estate. That was why she asked, “Then, what about the fiefs? Who takes care of them if there are no nobles?”

“They are governed by lords who pass down their titles through blood. However, these lords are not nobles. The lords seek out electors and senators who hold the same views as them and either support or are supported by those electors and senators. The electors and senators need the lords’ support, because it’s the lords who vote them into power. In turn, this means that the lords’ and their houses’ fate depends on the elector or senator they’ve chosen to support. And sometimes, that means that a lordship may change hands.”

The conversation turned away from the blacksmith as the count elucidated at length. Boris was amazed by how much the count, a foreigner, knew about his homeland.

“While this has been true for Travachess for a very long time, I need to head over to the blacksmith’s soon,” Boris said. “I was supposed to pay him a visit this morning, and I don’t think I should keep him waiting for any longer.”

The count looked back at Boris quietly and without another word. Rosenice, who had been racking her brains after her father had explained Travachess politics to her, followed suit.

Just as their gazes were about to make Boris feel uncomfortable, the count straightforwardly asked him, “Your name was Boris Jinneman, correct? What do you say about coming to Anomarad with us instead of apprenticing yourself to a blacksmith?”

Boris was surprised. Rosenice also looked similarly surprised. She turned to her father, startled, and asked, “He’s coming with us, Daddy? We’re taking him home?”

The count grinned and replied, “That’s for Young Jinneman here to decide. All I did was make him the offer.”

Boris, who had been startled by the sudden proposition, regained his composure as the count and his daughter spoke amongst themselves.

“I’m sorry, but why?” Boris promptly asked.

“You wish to know why? I’ll let you decide, but personally, I’d prefer it if you didn’t know the real reason why I’m asking.”

Boris looked down at the table. A moment later, he looked back up and calmly replied, “I want to know.”

Just as promptly, the count told him, “It’s simple. I intend to use you.”

Boris drew a sharp breath. Then, he asked back, “You… intend to use me?”

He had been suspicious of the unfamiliar foreign noble’s unexplainable kindness all this time. He had already decided, without a doubt, that the count intended to use him as soon as the count had offered to take him to Anomarad. Thus, he had been planning to surmise how exactly the count intended to use him by hearing what the count had to say. He had not, however, expected the count to be so frank with him. It threw him for a loop.

The count’s eyes glistened with an inexplicable light. Boris was too young to fully understand what that light meant.

“I suppose there’s no reason for me to hold back. Very well. I don’t actually have any use for you. I have everything I could ever need or want, and I also have my beloved daughter. I don’t need any more children. It just so happens, however, that I suddenly find myself needing a boy your age. Well, I suppose it technically doesn’t have to be a boy. And I also noticed that you own a sword of rather high quality.”

The light in Boris’ eyes was not the light of a young child’s. He listened carefully as the count continued, “A long time ago, before Rose was even born, I made a certain promise to a friend of mine in front of many other friends. We promised each other that, once we both had children and both of our children reached the age of thirteen, our children would engage in a duel, and loser of that duel would have to accept a request from a winner. Years passed, and eventually, Rose was born. I forgot all about the promise I made my friend in the meanwhile.”

Boris did his best to keep his focus as he realized that this might take a while. His gut instincts tended to grow dull if things dragged on for too long.

“I heard from that friend again for the first time in a while last year. He has two sons, but unfortunately, his eldest son is mentally retarded. He knows that I have a daughter, so he educated his younger son well and trained him up to be a young swordsman who is uncommonly skilled for his age. It’s obvious what he wants—my precious Rose. He wants to marry off his retarded son to my beloved daughter.”

“Oh my goodness!” Rosenice exclaimed as she dropped her cup in alarm. Unfortunately, there were no maids in the room to clean up after the spill. The blood was draining from her face as she grilled her father, “Is that true, Daddy? I’ll have to get married to a retard?”

The count looked back at his daughter with an earnest look on his face and shook his head.

“Easy, Rose. I swear upon my honor that I will never let that happen,” the count replied calmly.

Rosenice was somewhat relieved, but she still looked a tad anxious as she turned back to Boris.

Boris asked, “Does that mean that you want me to duel your friend’s son for you? But, how could I? I’m not your son, Count. I don’t have the right to participate in that duel.”

“That won’t be a problem,” the count replied. “I can simply say that I’d adopted a son long ago and that he was being raised elsewhere. There are multiple other approaches I could take too, but that’s a problem for me to think about. You won’t need to worry about that. All you need to do is to either accept or decline my offer.”

The count looked Boris directly in the eyes, but Boris was too bewildered to give an immediate reply. The count saw this and continued, “If you choose to accept, then you will come back with me to my castle in Anomarad where you will be treated as if you were my son. Of course, you will also need to undergo strict sword training. After all, you will need to defeat a boy who has been training for a long time already in a duel. There’s isn’t much time left. The deadline for the duel is before the flowers wilt next spring, which would be sometime around April or May next year. I will reward you greatly if you happen to win, and I will provide you with enough support that you will be able to live freely on your own afterward.”

“And if I lose?”

There was no emotion in the count’s eyes as he looked back at Boris and practically spat out, “You’re already considering defeat as an option? Perhaps I misjudged you. In any event, I shan’t punish you for failing to win, though I will be asking you to leave my home quietly and without a fuss. I would also be forced employ some other scheme to keep Rose from falling into my friend’s hands. With that being said, I made him a promise in front of many other people. I would prefer to keep my promise and avoid resorting to something shameful if at all possible.”

Boris stiffened up. He was still a young child, but the count was offering him a deal as an equal. This wasn’t a choice that Boris could make simply to be polite and respond properly to the kindness that the count, and adult, had shown him.

After all, that was a right only afforded to children who still had guardians to protect them.

Boris couldn’t help but feel a little sad. Rosenice had a father who was willing to shield her from harm and negotiate on her behalf, but he had no one. Boris had no one to give him counsel and no one to make decisions for him on his behalf. He was nothing but a young child with nowhere to go who suddenly had to negotiate with a foreign noble who had overwhelming power and wealth, yet he had no choice but to think for himself and figure out everything all alone.

But he stopped moping quickly enough. If he had no one to look after him, then he had to look after himself. He was the only person in his corner. He had to keep his cool.

“But why me? It was only by a stroke of luck that you happened to show me your kindness, Count. You don’t know me or anything about me.”

The count mellowed a little as he responded, “I know that House Jinneman has excelled at the sword for generations. You’re probably too young to have received much training yet, but surely you’ve inherited your house’s talent, no? And, if I’m to be honest, it was only after seeing your sword that I thought up of this plan. I thought that, surely, if your house was strong enough to possess such a fine blade, then any scions of that house would have the talent to wield it.”

“I don’t know if I actually possess this talent that you speak of,” Boris replied coldly.

“Is that so? In that case, we can always have you tested. If you fail the test, then that will simply be that. It would only mean that our contract will terminate a few months earlier than planned.”

The count had a point. He continued, “And there’s another reason why I picked you—it’s because you’re a highborn with nowhere else to go. I could easily procure dozens of common-born boys if I so wished. But none of them would be trained and educated properly from birth like you were. You will be playing the part of my adopted son if you come to Anomarad with me. I don’t have the time to teach a commoner proper etiquette or how to carry himself like a noble.”

Then, the count concluded his explanation by driving home, “That’s why I’m hoping you won’t end up embarrassing either myself or Rose by slipping up.”

It almost sounded like a warning.

Boris fell into thought. He thought about a lot of things until his mind eventually cleared. One of those thoughts related to how he felt like he should be apologizing to Tonya and Mr. Bunin. Just yesterday, he hadn’t even known where he would be sleeping that night, much less having the leeway to actually sit down and think about his future, but now he suddenly found himself at a crossroads and faced with a choice.

A part of him even found this funny. Was he really about to start thinking about his future when his life was in shambles? Was that even possible?

Anomarad felt so far away to him. Not only was it physically far, but the kingdom had never really meant anything to him until now. The new life that the count was offering him was filled with trials and tribulations. He would be rewarded appropriately if he succeeded in challenging them, and he would have no one else to blame but himself if he failed.

On the other hand, being a blacksmith’s apprentice meant that he would never have to be rocked by the waves of political conflict ever again. He would be able to live a quiet life. The thought was appealing to him, if he had to be honest. So many terrible things had happened to him recently. How nice would it be to be able to live a quiet and peaceful life? He probably wouldn’t have to get hurt ever again if he chose this. No one would ever sacrifice themselves for him ever again.

Boris was only twelve. He was much too young to already be cutting off the possibilities that life had to offer. He was also not the type of person who was drawn to allure of something new or the excitement of travelling to unknown lands. Neither of these things appealed to him.

There was, however, one thing that appealed to him very much. Just one:

Leaving Travachess.

He wanted to leave Travachess behind. He didn’t want to come back for at least a while.

“Please… take me with you.”

First, he needed to stay away from his uncle, Vlado, who was surely going to look for him. Second, he also wanted to be free. Travachess had murdered both his father and his brother. Death was rampant in this land, and that wasn’t going to change anytime soon. Boris wanted to put this land behind him.

He wasn’t planning to forget about his father’s and brother’s demises. But he was afraid. He felt like the shadow of death was always a step behind him here, a shadow that constantly whispered to him that he would meet the same fate as they. It was infuriating. It was frustrating. It was so unfair! Was this the only kind of life anyone was capable of living in Travachess? He had already lost so much for no reason other than the fact that he’d been born here, like his aunt whom he had never even met, or his beloved older brother, Yevgnen Jinneman, whom he had loved more than any other since the day he was born.

Boris wanted to leave.

One day, sometime far in the future, would he be able to look back at this decision and say that it had been the right choice?

“Good call. Why don’t you head back and get some rest now…?” The count trailed off a bit at the end before continuing, “If you’d like, you could also pay the blacksmith a visit and tell him goodbye.”

Boris stood up, bowed to the count and his daughter, and made his way outside.