Chapter 100: The Domain
They left the capital at dawn, before the sky had fully brightened.
The capital's streets lay quiet in thin mist, still as a painting, only the occasional distant sound of hooves and the preparations of early-rising vendors reminding you that this city was about to wake.
Sebas followed behind Lucian through the city gate.
The guards recognized Lucian and gave the baggage a token inspection before waving them through. Sebas noticed that as he passed, Lucian gave a small nod to one of the younger guards — and the guard immediately straightened up as if something had been lit inside him.
Past the walls, the road began to deteriorate.
The streets near the capital were reasonably maintained, but the further they went, the worse the condition became. Passing through the first noble's domain, hooves sank into mud with every step, each one producing a heavy, dull sound. The fields alongside the road were mostly abandoned; the few bent figures working in them looked up at the approaching party and immediately drew back to the roadside, pulling their heads down.
The second noble's domain was much the same. Possibly worse.
Sebas looked at what was in front of him and thought of the capital.
That city where he had spent several weeks had great walls, busy streets, brightly lit noble estates. But beneath those proud buildings, the common people still wore the look of people who weren't eating enough, huddle in shadowed alleys like shadows that had no right to exist.
Wealth. For the nobility only.
Then the horse's hoof struck stone.
That single clear note — a clean, crisp sound entirely unlike the dull weight of mud — arrived in the air like a line someone had drawn quietly across the world.
Sebas looked down.
The stone path was neatly laid, thin moss growing in the cracks.
On both sides, wheat fields rippled in the morning wind.
The workers in the fields raised their heads and saw the young man riding at the front of the party.
Then a child's voice rang out.
"The lord is back!"
The next instant, more children came pouring from the village entrance, drawn as though by something invisible, converging on the stone road.
"Lord Lucian is back!"
"There's a guest with him!"
Lucian slowed his horse. He raised a hand and waved at the group of small figures gathered by the road.
Sebas looked at the children's faces.
Something moved through him that he couldn't name precisely.
In other noble domains, children hid behind adults at the sight of riders on horseback and watched through eyes full of wariness and fear. In the capital, common children moved out of the way and kept their heads down, giving way as a matter of course.
But here — here was what Touch Me-sama had given him: what children were supposed to look like.
Their eyes were bright. Their cheeks carried the color of good health. Their clothes were simple, but clean.
They stood at the roadside, heads lifted, watching Lucian — and not one of them wore a trace of fear.
Sebas's gaze came to rest on Lucian's back.
If Lucian could join Nazarick, Touch Me-sama would certainly recognize him.
The thought arose on its own, entirely natural.
Just then, the corner of Sebas's vision caught a small figure on one side of the stone road, running clumsily after the horses. Two pigtails swinging behind her. Running with real effort, her small face gone red. Still falling behind.
Before Sebas could say anything, Lucian had already pulled his reins.
The horse stopped. Sebas stopped too.
Seeing this, the little girl halted, caught her breath, then arranged herself in the bow she had learned at school — the formal salute to one's lord. The bow was too deep, the arms too high, her left foot stepped on her own hem, and she nearly toppled forward.
But she did it earnestly.
Lucian dismounted. He remembered this little girl — her name was Dina.
Rather than receiving the bow from the height of a saddle, he crouched down to something close to her eye level and returned a greeting between friends.
The girl raised her head.
Now Sebas could see her face clearly.
Five or six years old, a small smear of mud on her cheek from playing earlier. A pair of bright chestnut eyes were looking up at Lucian, carrying nervousness — but more anticipation than nervousness.
"Lord." Her voice was small and uncertain. "Mama said the prettiest flower should be saved for the lord."
She reached into her pocket and drew her hand out carefully.
It was the most common wildflower in the Aindra domain — found everywhere, but beautiful for all that.
Or it had been.
The stem had gone soft, bent into a curve. Most of the petals had fallen away; only a few remained, drooping from the stem, trembling at the slightest breath of wind.
It had been in her pocket too long.
Dina's lips pressed together. Then they began to tremble. The redness crept in around her eyes and tears gathered in those chestnut irises.
"The... the flower died..." The words came out with the start of a cry, and her hand began to pull back. "Dina didn't mean to, Dina had it in her pocket the whole time..."
Lucian didn't let her hand retreat.
He reached out and took the flower from that small, dirt-covered palm.
Sebas watched him raise it — only a few petals still holding on — and examine it for a moment in the morning light. Then Lucian tucked it into his hair.
The wilted flower hung crookedly among his gold hair.
Lucian turned.
He tilted his head at a slight angle, eyebrows raised, the corners of his mouth pulled deliberately downward — an expression so ridiculous it couldn't have been an accident.
"Sebas."
"Do I look dashing?"
His eyes were full of laughter.
The flower trembled in his hair. One petal slipped from the edge and drifted down, landing on the shoulder of his armor.
A very faint smile appeared on Sebas's lined face.
"Yes. You look very dashing."
He used formal address.
The corner of Lucian's mouth lifted a few more degrees. So it's formal speech because the children are watching. Sebas really does give me face.
On the surface, he only gave Sebas a small nod, then turned back to the girl.
Dina had stopped crying.
She was staring up at the crooked, nearly bare flower in Lucian's hair with eyes that still had tears hanging in them.
Her smile broke open like candy dissolving on the tongue. Two rows of small white teeth in the sunlight. Eyes curved into crescents.
"The lord looks so dashing!" She said it at full volume, then turned and ran off with a little hop-skip.
A few paces out, she stopped and looked back, waving at Lucian.
Then she continued running, back toward the group of friends waiting for her at the field's edge.
Lucian watched her go, then raised his hand and took the flower from his hair.
Three petals left now; one more drifted free as he reached for it, spiraling down to settle in the gap between two stones.
He put the flower carefully in his pocket.
He looked up at Sebas with a slightly abashed smile. "Forgive me, Sebas. Letting you see me like this."
Sebas shook his head.
"I mean it."
The old butler's voice landed clearly.
"The way you are right now — you are truly radiant."
A sudden chill ran down Lucian's back.
Please. Not this level of heartfelt sincerity. Not directed at me. Man to man, he genuinely cannot handle this.
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