Not long after he’d finished his al, a figure with a back as straight as a spear walked into the servants quarters. Each step he took seed to thunder within the room, causing the chatter to instantly die down.
An eerie silence pervaded the once lively room as the servant’s turned their attention to the new arrival, the tension in the air palpable.
Michael whose head was down—contemplating his life choices—did not notice anything until a shadow appeared on the table in front of him.
He slowly raised his gaze, only to see the white trimd beard and olive skin of Vaughn, the head of estate, whose intelligent eyes were fixed on him.
"What is this?" he asked, collecting the bundle of parchnt on the table in front of Michael.
"Research..." Michael stated.
Then without warning, the older man unfurled the stack and began to read the contents of the parchnt. He flicked through the pages, his expression remaining impassive throughout.
"I see." He replied simply.
In the next mont, Michael felt an incredible heat erupt in front of him before the papers burst into flas within Vaughn’s hand. He flinched, watching the notes that were ant to be his guide turn into ash.
What the hell!? Does he want to fail?
But before Michael could fall even further into despair, the head of estate dusted his hand off and addressed him.
"Follow , we’ll be eting with the Lord and young miss presently." He ordered, turning on his heel and walking back in the direction he’d co in.
His tone allowed for no rebuttal, and Michael soon found himself jogging to catch up with the older man. Despite being rather short, his stride was long and his pace steady.
Without a word, he led him through the winding halls of the manor, walking into the back garden. The servants who saw the older man quickly turned back to their work as he walked past, but Michael could feel their pitiable gazes directed at him once he passed.
This was not helping his already depressed ntal state.
But they quickly arrived at their destination, a well constructed white gazebo. A sophisticated round table sat in its center, packed with a teapot and various foods and fruits suitable for the ti of morning.
Two figures sat at the table, both familiar.
Lord Winterborne was dressed in a dark blue suit, one leg crossed over the other as he sipped at his tea. The morning sun drifted in from the side of the gazebo, bathing him in light.
Opposite him was the figure he’d been dreading to see all this while, his new master...
Miss lody was dressed in a light blue and white dress, her hair tied in a single braid that rested on her shoulder. Her back was straight as she brought a spoonful of fresh cake to her mouth, savoring the flavor.
Michael couldn’t stop the dread that surfaced upon seeing her. Part of him just wanted to run away, but he knew that he couldn’t.
In order to achieve his distant goal of finding his mother’s killers and making them pay, he needed to not only get stronger, but also make connections. Only at the Winterborne estate could he receive magic tutoring from a genius mage for free.
Not only that, with the support of his tutor and the lord, he could very well be granted entry into a reputable mage academy in a few years when he turned thirteen.
Many would give an arm and leg for any one of these opportunities, let alone all of them.
It’s just three years... he told himself.
"Ah, Vaughn, Michael, you’re here." Brian stated, flashing a handso smile.
lody, who was bringing a spoonful of cake to her mouth froze for a mont, almost dropping the contents on her dress. She recovered a mont later, resuming her actions.
Michael saw this, but he wasn’t sure what to make of it.
"My lord, miss lody." Michael bowed, showing the correct etiquette of a servant, whereas the older man rely lowered his head briefly in greeting.
"I trust you had ti to recover from your... previous eting." The lord said, his eyes moving between his daughter and Michael.
Michael flinched, but he quickly stepped forward and bowed deeply, "I apologize for my treatnt of you yesterday, young miss. I hope that we can use this opportunity to start fresh."
He realized that the lord had given him this opportunity to apologize by bringing it up first, in his presence. This way, lody would be far more inclined to accept the apology, and therefore unable to punish him later.
However, it seed that he had misunderstood sothing.
"Raise your head, young Michael." The lord’s voice was stern, shocking him.
Not daring to disobey the man’s words, he quickly raised his head and sent a puzzled look to the lord.
"Tell , who taught you chore magic growing up?"
His questions caused even more confusion to swell inside his mind. But after briefly thinking things through, he couldn’t think of a reason to lie.
"It was my mother..." he said, a small yet reminiscent smile pulling at his lips, "It took over a year to grasp the incantations, but she was so kind and patient with ."
"If it wasn’t for my lack of talent and comprehension..." his voice trailed off.
Unbeknown to Michael, lody shifted in her chair uncomfortably, as if his words dug into her soul.
"She sounds like a wonderful woman," the lord said, nodding. "I would have liked to et her."
Michael nodded, appreciating the man’s kind words.
"Michael..."
A small soft voice called to him, barely above a whisper. He turned his head to the source, only to see the young lody now standing up from her chair with her head lowered, fidgeting.
"Y-Yes young miss?" he asked with so awkwardness.
The girl stayed like this for a while, only thickening the awkward atmosphere.
Just when Michael was going to ask the lord what was wrong with his daughter, lody raised her head, revealing a trail of wet tears on her cheeks.
"I-I’m sorry for insulting your mom!" she cried.
Huh?
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