The sky was clear. The sun was beaming. 

The birds were chirping. The bees were buzzing.

The wind blew. A leaf fell onto my palm.

It was a beautiful day, and I, Feyt, was sitting by my lonesome on the inner courtyard. The other me, Carine, stood outside on a balcony, eyeing down the courtyard from the drawing room above. 

I enjoyed the lush, green surroundings from below and the fresh, calming breeze from above.

Around the courtyard, I saw small traces of damage still lingering in the surroundings. Crushed hedges, cut flowers, et cetera. It would seem the commotion I heard just outside the dance hall came from here. I assumed the two knights I sent out tried to hold her off here, perhaps with a few servants trying to jump in to help. 

Many of the aftermath were cleaned up already, though. The chipped blades, dented armor, and torn clothes. Any traces of such a thing were cleaned up since day one.

The dance hall was, of course, cleaned out as well. A small thing I heard was that when a butler picked up the knife I threw out the window, he accidentally pricked a small part of it onto his finger. Heard he limped on the floor almost immediately. 

Despite the damage, I could tell the plants were starting to grow back faster than they were supposed to. I assumed some of the servants tending the garden here had the Talent [Green Thumb]. Not a super rare talent, and the effects were subtle, but it was honestly impressive.

No wonder our main garden was so lush.

But enough about gawking at the courtyard. I had stood—and sat—silently for almost half an hour now. In my mind, I kept repeating the scene that happened a few days prior.

The day Mother announced that she, of all people, would train Feyt personally. I thought if anyone would train me personally, it would be Father, considering how ecstatic he was when I first joined. 

A few days had passed since that news, and I was still unsure how to think about it. First of all, I saw it as a sweet deal! I finally had a good, solid reason to train with myselves. All with Mother’s consent. 

But secondly, and most importantly, what in the hell did Mother mean by “Be worthy to stand beside Carine”??

Did I misinterpret something? Or is she really setting me up with myself?!

I didn’t know what sort of impression I left on Mother, but ever since I fought her, her whole attitude changed… especially towards Feyt. During my visits to her room as Carine, she often asked how Feyt was through her. If I told you that Mother would be worried about Feyt a few days ago, I might label you as cuckoo.

Did I misunderstood something? Did she misunderstood something?

‘The sword is the extension of your soul,’

they said. ‘Clashing blades speak louder than words,’ they said. Well, if that’s true, then someone needs to fix the grammar of my steel, because whatever Mother heard in that fight clearly wasn’t what I meant to say. Swords are a terrible way to convey your feelings. I’d much rather write a letter next time.

I let out silent sighs through both bodies, one echoing below, the other above. 

Again, this all could just be me misinterpreting stuff. She could just mean that I needed to try my best to become my own bodyguard… which was something I was still deep in thought about.

In the end, with how vague things were and the fact that Mother was still bedridden, I figured it was best for me to just… ride it out for now.

If anything, I should start to adjust myself to this new atmosphere. Even after nearly a week had passed, things were still tense. I get that you couldn’t really shrug off that kind of incident in a week; that would be impossible. But the improved vigilance from everyone, involved or not, was palpable, even without my senses.

A silver lining, though: Leila was up and walking today.

Of course, the very first thing on her mind was work. I had to physically drag her away from the storage room when she tried to fetch the dusters. And honestly, I think she only gave in because she was worried I would overdo it trying to stop her from overdoing it.

Currently, she was taking a walk around the mansion, mainly doing her job as the head maid, inspecting the other servants’ work with a sharp eye. I wasn’t about to get in the way of that. At this point, it was probably therapeutic for her.

But… that left just me with myself.

Again. Waiting out this strange calmness after the storm.

There was nothing urgent left to fix. Most injured had recovered. The “crime scenes” were cleaned. The other students were still away.

Once again, I was left with my own thoughts with a whole lot of nothing to do.

I let out a simultaneous sigh again.

You know what they say: Double the sigh, double the relief.

The best I could do for now was go back to training in my rooms, which I had been slowly adopting back into my daily routine after making sure Carine’s muscles were no longer crying out for mercy.

I held some anticipation as to what kind of training Mother would give Feyt. It would, most likely, be even more brutal than anything I had ever faced. But, anything that doesn’t kill me will make me stronger… so long as it doesn’t kill me, that is. 

When the sun finally dipped behind the clouds, I stretched both bodies and quietly made my way back inside. Back to the rooms, at least I could train my muscles in peace.

On the way there, however. I overheard a conversation through Feyt’s ears. It was faint but distinct, drifting from the upper floors, most likely Father’s office. 

Judging by the tone, It was around the time the officials were poking him for anything again. Probably about that time he marched through the capital with a full squad, or that time he remodeled a room at the Scented Rose inn.

I stopped myself—Feyt, that is—hovering near the staircase, just to hear what kind of nonsense would be spilled from the official’s mouths this time.

“That will be three hundred and fifty gold coins,” a gruff and nasal voice said. “Have I got it all right, Your Grace?”

I blinked. That voice wasn’t one of the usual stuffy bureaucrats.. This grumpy, almost slimy voice kind of sounded like… a merchant.

But more importantly…

Three hundred and fifty gold coins?!

That’s… a lot.

For context, when Leila and I went to that place in town for a light luxury lunch, it cost about fifty bronze each. Pricey, for sure, but fair for a good meal with dessert and a view, especially in the square of the square. A typical meal at Feyt’s village? They cost around ten to twenty bronzes, max. 

Three hundred and fifty gold…

That’s three million and a half bronzes.

I know the Sareids are rich and all. After all, I am a Sareid. But even still—what in the hell could Father possibly be buying at that price?

No… wait. He’s not being scammed, is he?

I glanced left, then right. No one in sight. I crept up a few more steps toward the third floor, careful not to make a sound. Eavesdropping is a bad habit, I know. But if it’s for the safety of myselves and my family, I’d eavesdrop even the heavens.

“Why has the kingdom raised the prices again? Last time it was only two hundred and fifty,” Father said, sounding unamused by the price given.

“That I do not know, Your Grace,” the merchant replied with the ease of someone who definitely knew. “It’s the standard price for one scroll now, and I’m afraid I cannot offer anything lower than the standard, even for you, Your Grace.”

One scroll?

What kind of scroll costs three million and a half bronzes?

Silence fell over the two men inside the room. The tension inside the room was almost visible even from here.

Then—

“—Fine,” Father said begrudgingly, as if he had just lost a war.

“Thank you so much for your patronage, Your Grace!” the merchant beamed, just shy of cackling.

I heard a heavy thump—probably a reinforced box—being set down on the desk with gentle care that only gold could buy.

“We at the Royal Merchants Guild look forward to serving your future needs.”

I could practically hear the deep bow and the creeping smile.

A moment later, I heard the door creak open.

“Thank you again, Your Grace. May we meet again in the future.”

The only form of response I could hear from Father was a pained, tired groan, practically screaming, “Please no.”

I quickly ducked backward, moving silently down the stairs like a shadow on tiptoes. Before long, I finally entered my room safe and sound.

My mind immediately went racing onto that scroll Father bought. What could it possibly be? I knew it wasn’t my business and all, but I couldn’t help but be curious after being tasked with nothing to do for days.

Three hundred and fifty gold. Thirty-five thousand and five hundred silvers. Three million and a half bronzes.

All for one scroll.

The Royal Merchants Guild, based on my knowledge gained from reading Father’s various books, didn’t deal in the mundane. If it came from them, and if it was that expensive, then the scroll had to be something incredibly rare, incredibly limited, or incredibly monopolized.

And coincidentally, the Royal Merchants Guild works closely with one such monopolizing entity. The Kingdom of Setus itself.

There was only one category of item I could think of that was rare, valuable, and that obscenely priced.

A Talent Scroll…

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