Chapter 23: Season 2; Chapter 3: Arts
Emilia stood beside the bed of Lawrence and spoke, "Your highness," she called. "I've finished up your bath," she announced.
Rising from his bed, he rubbed his finger and took the robe Emilia had in her arms. "Thank you," he replied. Lawrence yawned and continued to his bath. He relaxed into the bathtub and enjoyed the scenery of the private garden.
An hour passed, and he rosed from the bathtub. He took his robe from its rack and wrapped it around him. As soon as he stepped out of the bathroom, laid on his bed was a formal attire prepared by Emilia. He took the outfit and wore it to his fit. Lawrence took a glimpse of himself in the mirror before going out to the training yard.
As per schedule, Lawrence's outfit was an attire fit for training. It was a fancy black waistcoat made with partly silk and leather. He held his sword up high and sighed. "I wish I could participate in the war," he uttered to himself. "Although I'll be dirtying my hands, It would prevent a disastrous catastrophe," he assured, thinking deeply.
He focused his gaze at the dummy upfront, but his mind trailed to the possible outcomes of the war of what it will cause, and how it would affect the citizens. He motioned his body one move, the most basic move he mastered in his past-life, performing it as if he was breathing. His concentration wasn't on the dummy but his mind. Not minding his stance like it was always perfect, as if easy as breathing.
It was his Arts. Martial Arts that this world had yet to know, perfect and most dangerous art. Noblesse Inclined; Wave Slash. Facile, he performed the slash. It was faster than a human eye could catch, and very dangerous. It was as if he teleported from one side to another in a millisecond, effortlessly. The stick-made dummy tore into two separate things, perfectly diced.
"It would have affected a lot of innocent lives. Starvation, Crime Raise, Internal Conflicts, Rage, Protestants, Economic Downfall, Shelterlessness, Deaths, Building Catastrophe, and what else? War is such a trivial event that we, humans, created. Brutal and unfair." he said, his tone lowering.
He sighed and finally focused on his sword. Lawrence took a deep breath and exhaled. He closed his eyes and focused..., "Slash Multiply." he mumbled. His eyes opened hastily, daring to slash anything that blocks its way, the abyss that stares back at the target..., finally, Lawrence released his sword and swung his swords randomly at the air in a pattern.
The technique released a strong air force that transmitted around Lawrence. The trees moved by it, and the materials around him flew away. The floor he stood on cracked, and the one beneath of where he slashed, marked by his sword in multiple directions and angles. It was the perfect technique to eliminate a threat.
Lawrence stopped and wiped his sweat off with a towel provided by Emilia earlier before leaving him alone. He sat beneath a large oak tree and thought for a moment, 'I haven't realized it yet. I've achieved a quarter of my original potency when I lived as Gray Lupos. It's fascinating and thrilling. I get to cultivate all these at such a young age and with more complicated and powerful magic. If I can use my techniques with ease, there would be no doubt I can par against a battalion of cultivators. I suppose I am an ordinary folk with no inheritance. But I still haven't lost hope. Father's research made it clear that until my death is yet to be confirmed, there is still a chance of inheritance.'
His thoughts were interrupted, "Your highness," Emilia called out to Lawrence, while scanning the whole ripped area. "I see you've outdone yourself once more..., you have a guest, your highness," she informed and sighed. "I've ordered some servants to escort the guest. I will take care of this 'mess' you've accumulated." she added bitterly.
Lawrence shyly placed his head behind his head and bowed down to Emilia. "I'm sorry! I'll leave it to you. Thank you, Emilia." he said before leaving to the guest.
Emilia's face grew worried, "His highness has been out of the world lately. And his strength is incomparable to anyone I've seen. Maybe, par with Lewis..., but how is it possible for a kid to possess a talent to this extent?" she paused. "It is remarkable that he hasn't lost into arrogance. He is a humble and kind kid who's willing to save and defend the weak. And I'm glad to serve someone like him. A proper candidate of the Sage." she said.
Lawrence stood straight, walking towards the library room where the guest is left. Lawrence saw a servant walking towards the library. In his hands were refreshments. "What's your name?" Lawrence met the servant.
"I greet your highness... I'm Everdell Eidith, a humble servant." she bowed as she spoke.
Lawrence smiled, "Now raise your head, Everdell. Let me handle the refreshments." he said.
Everdell's eyes surprised, "Y-your highness! How could I? But it is a servant's duty..., your highness." she argued in her polite manners and faint voice.
Lawrence spoke, "It is the master's wish to serve my guest. Fret not, for I will not punish you nor let anyone punish you. You have my word, Everdell." he assured her, smiling earnestly.
Everdell, ever young, blushed. "I-if your highness wishes so, I shall abide," she replied and handed the serving plate. "I shall leave his highness be," she bowed and left the area, red as a ripe apple.
Lawrence opened the door of the library and met the eyes of the guest. Grace's gradient hazel and amber eyes stared deep within his soul. She spoke, "Lawrence."
Lawrence smiled and laid the refreshments on a table. "Grace Evelynne, ever beautiful. How are you, your highness?" he said.
Grace's movements were so elegant and beautiful. Her aura emitted a fierce power of defiance. She spoke. "You have come accustomed to calling your siblings as 'highnesses' Lawrence. It ruins your reputation."
Lawrence stared intently at Grace. She took a sip from a tea given to her from the previous servant and spoke, "We have our dignities to maintain. And from what I heard, you are the best candidate to take the Sage Crown." she said.
Lawrence's serious face turned into a frown as he sat down, "I have no interest whatsoever in taking the seat of Sage." he paused, "Nor do I want my name to have 'Granted Marquess' into it. It sounds too..., odd?"
Grace removed her gaze off the tea and stared intently at Lawrence. "Granted Marquess is a prestigious title that surpasses an emperor," she stated. "You know that."
"And yet father seems to lack the power to command the neighboring kingdom to declare retreat." Lawrence protested in his faint voice.
Grace sighed and took a sip before replying to Lawrence, "Father has power, but when it comes to internal conflicts of Aqes that connects with Plebians and Magicians, the higher-ups cannot interfere. That is the law of the Humane," she said.
Lawrence smiled, "How amusing."
Grace stood up and stared angrily at Lawrence. "Brother! Even if Father does not favor you, you should not act this way! Discrimination against his majesty is a crime!"
Lawrence smirked, "Then what can they do? Arrest me? Hang me? Exile me? Whatever they do, it still does not change that Father is incompetent. He indulges himself in discoveries and research. All that Father does is research, discover, study, and yet for some reason, hands his responsibilities to his subordinates in preparation for the war!" Lawrence exclaimed. "He will participate in the war holding a scope instead of a sword, observing and studying about magic when his subordinates die by protecting him. He does not even know how to wield a sword! How can he call himself someone 'greater' than an emperor when he never does what he needs to do!"
Grace couldn't hold her anger and dropped the teapot on the ground. "Enough!" she shouted. "How dare you defy father! You have no idea what he has done to us! Nor do you have any idea what he does!" she argued, eyes flaring. She sat down, panting, "Pardon me." she said and composed herself once more. She looked away, trying to ease her anger.
Beside her was Lawrence, speechless by the anger Grace accumulated. Finally, the deafening silence broke, "I'm sorry." he said. "But we have a different perspective of Leighton. Father left me rotting in this manor with Estella. She nourished me and cared for me, like my own mother. She protected me and maintained a healthy environment for me. When Estella felt sick and asked for assistance, Father neglected us. Do you know how hard it was? I know he is trying his best to feel comfortable around me. But he can't even stare at me for more than thirty seconds. All due to the reasons I have my mother's appearance! Now Estella is gone. I am left alone in the manor where I handle everything. I trained guards, killed the bears, killed assassins, managed the finances, teach the chef, and all of the things a Prince must do to survive. As soon as Estella fell ill, we've yet to receive financial support from the Granted Marquess. Father did not even bother to check whether I got my shares. I used my intellect and made use of the money I had left to gain money in return. I've stabilized my income, and have my business in the outskirts of the city. All I am saying is I've done all these things without Father's help. It was not I who benefited from Father's care, but you, my siblings. Father made it clear that I was ranked lower than a normal prince. Do you get it?" Lawrence felt a pain in his heart.
Grace stared the whole time, her eyes watery. "I-i'm sorry, brother." she finally stated.
Lawrence sighed, "You have nothing to be sorry of, Grace. You saw a different father while I saw another. It was only natural for a child to defend their Father."
Grace wiped her tears and looked down, "But I'm still so-"
"Your highness!" the door of the library suddenly opened, and a guard came rushing in calling Lawrence. His sweat traveled down his face. "Intruders!" he exclaimed in his panicking voice.
Lawrence stood abruptly and glared, "Another batch of assassins?!" he groaned. "You! Take her highness to the basement! Protect her even if it costs your life!" he ordered the guard and rushed out to the door. His eyes blazed in anger, ready to slash anything that stood in his way.
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