Chapter 33: I’m not your archnemesis. I’m your nemesis once removed

Cass had put his head down and buried it in the work that was required of him as the replacement Duke. He had a sharp learning curve, but it turned out that there were some documents around that were kind of like cheat sheets to help him understand what he was reading.

While Lord Blackburn didn’t have a journal, Cass could feel the small bits of personality and dedication in scraps of paper tucked away in the corner of drawers in his desk, in between clearly read books, and under obviously moveable stacks of papers.

It was cute, and they were clearly coded in some way, but Cass didn’t know why he would do so. There wasn’t an obvious connection between everything, and despite Lord Blackburn’s worries, he was being left alone. Cass was the one who had fucked that up, and that had been a really rough two weeks.

Cass had thought he understood how much work he needed to do as he cleared stack upon stack of paper, only to find that there was a whole other room where more papers were being kept for his duties as the not quite Duke. Fuck. Was there really not one damn good person around Lord Blackburn this whole damn time?

No wonder he went to the fucking dark side.

Cass was surprised by how easy he found the work as a Duke to be. It was a lot of math, charts, and making sure that the reports matched what had been reported to him. Turns out he had an assistant that helped him with his duties, only she lived in the room where all the other papers for the Duke were being stored.

Sam let Cass know that they weren’t on the best of terms, mainly because she came from his grandfather’s faction and they didn’t see eye to eye. She was mainly here to keep an eye on him to make sure that he was getting the work assigned to him done.

Apparently, Lord Blackburn had been putting off his work because his grandfather had refused to give up his title after he’d gotten married to Lady Fiona. Since that plan wasn’t working, obviously, Cass decided he was going to go the other way.

Prove that it was his grandfather that was incompetent since he was giving all of his work to his grandson, and claim the title of Duke for himself. It was a long con, but he had time. He just didn’t have as long of time to get out of the castle, but he didn’t need the title of Duke to do that.

He just needed to get the fuck away from everyone for his own sanity.

Now that Cass was alone, he was able to slowly start picking up the magic books to attempt to understand it. It turns out that Lord Blackburn truly was a genius since most of his books were the advanced versions of everything, and even searching back through his memories he just…was able to do magic that was very complex from a young age. There wasn’t a moment where Lord Blackburn had been unable to do it.

He was just a badass like that, he guessed, and Lord Vespertine had been right. He’d never needed shackles.

Cass had Byron research that, and it turned out that it was very common for kids who were younger and magic users to have a set of magical shackles, usually a set of bracelets or something, that would suppress your magical powers so you didn’t hurt yourself or others.

Cass didn’t need to wonder about why he didn’t have a set at a young age. It was clear from the fact that it was only recently that his grandfather stopped attempting to have another child.

He did not like his grandson. It would not have been a great loss to him if Cass had passed away from his own powers. The old man probably would have just brushed it off as a ’tragic accident’. Fuck. Everyone really disliked Lord Blackburn.

Cass was used to being treated poorly. There were some fucked up beliefs around orphans in his world, and he and his sister stuck out like a sore thumb in their community. That didn’t mean he had people who actively wished for his death, and as Cass looked back on Lord Blackburn’s memories, actually went out of their way to kill him.

His grandfather had made several ’casual’ attempts on his life. He’d even tried to starve him a few times, but Lord Blackburn had such a drive to live that it just wouldn’t happen. Cass had no idea why. He’d never known love, he’d never known affection, he’d never even known friendship.

Cass had felt more affection than this man had, and he’d only had his sister.

Fuck. He was sympathizing with the villain again.

This was probably one of the reasons he was sent here. Cass normally felt too much empathy for the villains. If they weren’t pure evil, sometimes even if they were, he could relate to them. He knew what it was like to be made a bad guy in other’s eyes.

But unlike now, he at least had someone who he could rely on in his old world.

Here? He barely had Sam, and even then, Sam wouldn’t go to bat for him. Why should he? He was just an employee that Cass paid. He could get a job anywhere else after this if things didn’t pan out.

Cass wasn’t special to him.

Cass hid that he cried from the others. It was a skill he’d developed in his own personal life, and found that it was a rather unfortunately easy thing to transfer over here. Lord Blackburn had to be composed. Had to be perfect, poised, ever the bit of a cold bastard that he showcased on the outside.

Cass, after the outburst and crime committed against him, had forgone trying to dress softer. He understood the layered coat jackets, the poofy sleeves and garish clothing now. It was armor. It was a way for Lord Blackburn to hide all of his issues, all of his fears. He would stick with it, but that was one of the few things he was keeping.

He was going to remodel his rooms. Fuck everyone else, he needed to be able to sleep in there without a headache.

Sam had agreed with him excitedly, but then had wilted quickly. He had nervously broached the topic with him after halting and hesitating to speak. Sam and Cass hadn’t spoken in the same way they had before that day, and they certainly hadn’t spoken about Lady Fiona or anyone else after that.

Especially since they had been sending constant letters, requests, gifts, everything.

The reason why Sam was so hesitant was because the castle was in Lady Fiona’s name. Cass would have to ask permission to modify his rooms, even though they were his rooms. If he didn’t ask for permission, it could be viewed as a challenge.

Cass kind of wanted to just do it. If they kicked him out, they would be doing him a favour. It had been very, very tempting to just say fuck it and do what he wanted, not giving a damn about what Lady Fiona and the others thought, but then he’d taken a moment to think past the anger and rage.

If he pissed off Lady Fiona there was a chance she would deny the divorce. Not for anything petty or awful, but because she wouldn’t be able to trust him to not reveal that she was gay for Lady Ava. With him married to her, she could keep an eye on him, make sure he was toeing the line.

If he tried to blow up every connection he had to them, it could end up poorly for him, especially since she also knew that he wasn’t straight either. It was fucked up, and at the time, had seemed like the right thing to tell them. He had been such a fool. He’d barely known them, he had just gotten caught up in the moment, and the fact that she reminded him of his sister.

Grief. He’d been caught up in grief, and that was the only bit of emotional allowance he would give himself. He had to get it together now. He wasn’t going to let his guard down again.

So, he’d play nice until he didn’t need to. He wasn’t going to anymore damn fucking breakfasts, he wasn’t going to play house with them, and he wasn’t going to accept their gifts. That didn’t mean he was going to go out of his way to be mean to them either.

He was going to treat them like they didn’t exist until he needed something from them. It honestly wasn’t that different from how Lord Blackwell had treated them in the past, but with a Cass flare.

That was one thing he’d noticed that was quite different between them. Cass had more charisma than Lord Blackburn. So even when he was rude, or mean, it was softened just because of how Cass held himself. That also meant he could be colder than cold if given the right set of circumstances. That would also explain Cass’ preference for frost magic. It was apparently odd, Sir Forsythe had told him, since Lord Blackburn was known as a fire mage.

Cass hoped no one looked too deeply into that.

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