Chapter 280: Mr. Know-it-all (2).

Nero shook his head and said, “No, I don’t. I apologize for even suggesting something like that.”

In his mind, he couldn’t help but think how naive he had been to expect to receive something as crucial and important as sorcerous knowledge. Of course it wouldn’t be freely given. Nothing of value ever was in this world.

Suddenly, the tension surrounding Arthur dissipated like it had never been there in the first place.

“Sorcery is a gift from the gods, Nero. It is my personal belief that it should be shared amongst the masses, damn the Church’s beliefs!”

Nero chuckled nervously as he glanced in the direction of the supervising sergeant. Seeing the man still staring emptily into space with a bored expression on his face, he breathed a sigh of relief. Aldric either hadn’t heard Arthur’s blasphemous statement, or he simply didn’t care enough to intervene. Given what Nero had learned about Templars over the past weeks, the latter seemed more likely.

Arthur continued, placing his hand on Nero’s shoulder with familiarity. “Listen here, my good friend Nero…”

’We are friends now? It’s all moving so quick.’ Nero tried his best not to roll his eyes. The shift from cold assessment to warm camaraderie had happened in the space of a single breath, and he found himself struggling to keep pace with Arthur’s mercurial nature. This was what Lyon had warned him about, wasn’t it? Nobles operated on a completely different level of social maneuvering, their conversations layered with meanings and implications that common folk couldn’t even begin to parse.

A strange grin suddenly appeared on Arthur’s face, and Nero felt a flicker of unease in his gut. He’d seen that expression before on merchants when they thought they’d spotted an easy mark.

“And because we are friends, I believe no one wants to take advantage of the other.”

Hearing this, Nero’s eyes narrowed slightly. The statement was innocent enough on its surface, but there was something in Arthur’s tone that suggested otherwise.

’What could he possibly be getting at?’ he thought to himself.

A moment later, he got his answer.

“How about this—all the knowledge on sorcery that I currently possess, I shall grant onto you. In exchange however, you shall give me a couple years of your life in servitude. What do you say?”

The words hung in the air between them like a blade suspended by fleeting spider’s silk.

Before Nero could formulate a response, Jacob guffawed from his position on the tree root and interjected with evident delight, “The men of the house of Koh are freaking Devils, I tell ya! The spawns of Mephistopheles himself, right out his devilish balls! They’ll get you to sell your soul in exchange for a tub of ale, or a few scrolls. Damned bastards, the lot of them!”

The mention of Mephistopheles sent an involuntary shiver down Nero’s spine.

This time, Arthur could not hide the rage on his face. He turned and roared at Jacob with spittle flying from his mouth, “Shut up, you fucking brute! I’m having a conversation here!”

“Heh!” Jacob spat out, although his expression told he was rather elated to get a rise out of Arthur. There was genuine amusement dancing in those keen green eyes.

Arthur let out a sigh then turned back to Nero, his expression much less tame than it had been just moments ago.

“So? What do you say?”

This time, it was Nero’s turn to chuckle, though the sound came out drier than he’d intended. He met Arthur’s gaze directly, refusing to show the wariness churning in his gut. “I believe it is quite unfortunate, but I must decline the offer.”

Arthur grimaced, his sharp features drawing tight with displeasure. “And why is that?”

Nero slightly averted his gaze as a playful smile appeared on his lips. He needed to refuse without giving offense, to maintain the facade Arthur seemed determined to establish while protecting himself from entanglement. “My lord, don’t you think poaching other candidates before the trials even begin is rather dirty?”

“Ha! The men of Koh are swine wallowing through the mud pools in that case!” Jacob said with a loud laugh, clearly delighted by this new avenue of mockery. His voice carried through the forest, startling a few dark avians from their perches in the corrupted trees above.

Nero’s smile turned wry when he saw Arthur’s swiftly darkening expression.

He quickly attempted to smooth things over. “Besides, I do not own my life anymore. It is no longer mine to wager or use to settle debts.”

Arthur raised a brow, and the anger drained from his features as quickly as it had appeared, replaced by genuine curiosity.

Seeing his confusion, Nero sighed and said, “I am under Commander Strut’s trust. He… saved my life, I guess.”

It was true enough, even if it didn’t tell the whole story. Strut had saved him from death by tahg bastard, Orpheus’ blade . Strut had placed him with Lyon for the genetic modifications too.

He clearly had some purpose for him, some plan that Nero didn’t yet understand. And until he understood what that plan was, he couldn’t afford to bind himself to anyone else.

Arthur was silent for a while, his keen eyes studying Nero with renewed intensity. Then he hummed thoughtfully, and Nero could practically see the gears turning behind those dark eyes.

“Is that so?”

His eyes narrowed briefly, and Nero felt the weight of that gaze like a physical pressure. “You are rather intriguing, Nero. Plus, you have ties with a powerful man like the Commander. It will surely do me good to make friends with you. Surely, you wouldn’t be opposed to the idea of becoming friends with me, right?”

Nero’s face fell as he shook his head, recognizing the trap being laid even as he walked into it. Arthur wasn’t giving him a choice, not really. The offer of friendship from a noble to a commoner was less an invitation and more a command was it not?

Still, he was unresigned. Should it be so easy for him to bend the knee?

“I couldn’t possibly even think of that. You are of high nobility, and I am just a—”

“Enough of that nonsense talk,” Arthur interrupted, waving his hand dismissively as if Nero’s concerns about class and propriety were nothing more than bothersome gnats to be swatted away. “To celebrate this friendship, I’ll show you something really cool. Do you wanna see?”

’This young Lord is indeed very willful,’ Nero thought to himself with a bitter smile on his face. There was no malice in Arthur’s presumptuousness, which somehow made it worse. He simply assumed that what he wanted would happen, that his desires would reshape reality to accommodate them. It was the confidence of someone who had never truly been denied anything, who had never had to consider whether his will might not be sufficient.

But Nero decided not to fight it. There was nothing he could do against this young Lord, not without making an enemy he couldn’t afford. If Arthur wanted friendship, then Nero would give him the appearance of friendship. He’d learned long ago that survival sometimes meant accepting the roles others assigned to you, at least until you were strong enough to write your own part.

Besides, he was genuinely curious about what Arthur wanted to show him. Sorcery was still a mystery, and if he could learn something—anything—without binding himself in servitude, then perhaps this forced friendship would prove useful after all.

Jacob snorted from his position on the tree root, clearly amused by the entire exchange. “Just show him the parlor trick already, Arthur. We’re burning daylight, and I’d rather not be in the deep woods when night falls.”

Arthur shot Jacob a withering glare but didn’t rise to the bait this time. Instead, he turned his attention fully to Nero, and there was something almost childlike in his eagerness to demonstrate his knowledge. For all his noble breeding and calculated social maneuvering, Arthur was still young, still proud of his accomplishments, still seeking validation even from those he considered beneath his station.

Nero found himself wondering, not for the first time, what it must be like to grow up with such certainty, such confidence in one’s place in the world. To never worry about offending the wrong person and finding yourself on the wrong end of a blade. To assume that friendship could be declared rather than earned, that knowledge could be offered as a gift rather than hoarded as a precious resource.

It must be nice, he thought, even as he prepared to witness whatever demonstration Arthur had planned. It must be nice to be so certain that the world would bend to accommodate you.

But Nero had learned through blood and pain that the world bent for no one. It crushed the weak and devoured the strong, and the only question was whether you’d be ground to dust or learn to become the grinding wheel yourself.

He supposed he was about to find out which path Arthur was walking.

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