-Leonardo POV's-
It had been two days since I brought Willabelle and her team to my county. I assigned a few of them directly to guard my estate. Given our shortage of capable guards, this arrangement actually worked in my favor. After all, what aspiring knight would want to serve a bastard house?
Tullan and Mullan were indeed talented knights loyal to me, but their fathers owed me(Leonardo) greatly from their time in the army. So, most of the estate's guards were poorly trained peasants or city militiamen.
Willabelle's team consisted of twenty-five people in total, and twenty of them entered my service. Only two of them had techniques, Alya and Lethra. Alya's technique appeared to be defensive in nature, and she had only unlocked a single ability. That sole ability could remove all weakening effects from the person it was used on.In the original novel, the reason Willabelle was saved and she herself could not be saved and died was simply because she had this ability.
It held serious potential. If her future abilities were offensive, or at least focused on evasion, she could become a real asset. Or perhaps I could just provide her with a cheap but useful offensive technique. That would make her a perfect bodyguard.
As for Lethra, the tall woman's technique seemed to revolve around healing. Like Alya, she had unlocked one ability: it allowed her to heal minor injuries. The only downside was that the time it took depended on the size and severity of the wound. Still, it was undeniably useful.
Yes, there were always alternatives like healing potions, but they were expensive, and good ones were hard to find. In this world, many people had died from poisoning due to poor-quality potions. If Lethra grew stronger and perhaps learned a second technique, she could prove immensely useful.
Willabelle's team also included a highly skilled scout and tracker—men like that were worth their weight in gold. There was even a master farrier among them. All in all, bringing her team into my county had been a profitable decision.
Regarding my own technique, I still had not unlocked even a single ability from my second one. I simply hadn't had the time to train.
It irritated me being unable to explore the depths of my power due to lack of time. Every day I failed to reach my peak gave others the chance to catch up. But I wasn't someone who should walk shoulder to shoulder with ordinary people. I should be someone they look up to from a distance, too afraid to even meet my gaze. This world respects nothing but power. A weak count is just an easy target.
Every day I skipped training, the original Leonardo's fate in the novel haunted me. Yes, maybe now that my bastard son wouldn't kill me, but that didn't mean I couldn't still die in this world. From now on, I must train every morning.
But for now, it was time to return to the piled-up paperwork of the county.
As I sat at my desk reading documents and letters, Willabelle stood silently behind me. She had adapted quickly to her new role as my aide. In a sense, she had become my right hand. While the main reason I gave her this position was to have her closer to me, over the past two days I'd come to see just how good she was at it.
Her silence drew my attention again. Her breathing was so measured, it was almost imperceptible. What unsettled me most about her, in fact, was how someone unfamiliar with this kind of job could still command the room simply by existing in it.
"Do you wish to sign this report, my lord?" she asked, her tone neutral and precise.
I gave a small nod. "Note this before I sign: push the delivery date of the supplies back by three days. There's still a lack of patrols on the northern road. I won't risk a shipment under those conditions."
"Understood."
She leaned forward gracefully and scribbled down the note. The way she held her pen was precise, like gripping a sword. Her warrior past hadn't left her hands; it had only been masked. Her posture, her word choice, the quiet authority she radiated… It was all too much for someone in a mere assistant's role. Yet she performed flawlessly.
These past two days, I hadn't been able to get to some documents before her. She'd already categorized certain letters before I could even pick them up. I wasn't used to this. Assistants usually created more work than they solved. Willabelle, however, made everything faster. She had even written suggestions in the margins of some documents. Most of her notes made sense. Her power of observation was keen. She tried to understand everything and left nothing to chance.
To test her, I had let her handle some visiting barons and merchants who came to the estate, and she'd dealt with them admirably. In the novel too, she'd always seemed like a clever woman. Honestly, I was beginning to wonder if giving her half my fortune and turning her into a merchant might be a better investment.
Despite studying law in my previous life, I knew a thing or two about trade. We'd lived in a capitalist world, after all, and like many young men, the dream of wealth had once enchanted me. Back in this world, I could see that Willabelle had a good relationship with numbers. Should I really give her such a large sum of money?
"Willabelle, what kind of education did you receive?"
She slowly set down her pen and looked into my eyes for a brief moment—as if measuring me, weighing my thoughts. Then she inclined her head slightly and answered:
"First, I learned to survive, then I learned to win. That was my education."
That kind of answer always made me cautious. Words that sounded like they revealed much, but in truth said nothing. Still, I wanted to learn more about her, not just to ease my suspicions, but because I genuinely wanted to understand her.
"It's rare to find an assistant this eloquent. Did you never have a teacher?"
"If you mean formal schooling or private instruction, then no, I did not."
Her answer was clear and clearly thought-out. Not too many details, but no obvious gaps either.
I paused for a few seconds. The silence was so thick that only the crackling of a candle and the distant hoot of an owl could be heard. Every word that left her mouth was chosen with care, and that only made her more fascinating. Perhaps even dangerous.
"What about a mentor?" I asked at last. "In swordplay, scouting, politics, or flattery… someone must have taught you something."
Something flickered in her eyes. A brief, faint recollection, maybe even unintentional. But then, that familiar blankness returned. She recovered instantly.
"I had mentors," she said. "But most of them never wanted to teach me anything. I had to steal knowledge, listen, stay silent, and, most of all, observe. A wise man once said, 'Those who speak too much lose much; those who observe gain much."
I inclined my head slightly and gave her answer some thought. My relationship with Willabelle was still far from close. Her emotional distance, paired with her sharp intellect, made it difficult to approach her. Even compliments needed to be carefully considered. They couldn't be too friendly, but they also couldn't be crass. Just enough to suggest my intentions… to imply my desire, quietly.
"A man fortunate enough to have a wife like you," I said without looking up from the documents, "has likely used up all the life kindness on the day he marries you."
My words lingered in the air. No matter how carefully I chose them, they walked a fine line. Too bold, and I'd startle her. But if they struck the right note, they would leave a lasting mark.
Willabelle didn't respond at first. But the brief silence… even for someone like her, it was telling. I didn't turn my head toward her. We didn't make eye contact. Yet her body gave her away: the subtle loosening of her shoulders, the way her fingers briefly touched her dress…
"That," she said at last, her voice just a bit softer but still measured, "was quite a lovely compliment, my lord."
A faint smile tugged at the corner of my lips. She hadn't exactly welcomed it, nor had she rejected it. Her words were the most careful form of acceptance a woman could offer while still maintaining her poise. And the tone… quiet like a challenge, hidden like an invitation.
With her, every word needed to be weighed twice. Willabelle wasn't like the average woman who laid her emotions bare. To understand her feelings, one had to study not her eyes, but the tremor in her fingers, the silence between her sentences, even the way she set down a pen.
To me, the most dangerous people had always been like her. They didn't seem weak, but they never revealed the full extent of their strength.
But no matter what, I will have you, my beautiful angel.
if only I'd already begun working on getting you pregnant... Focus, you deranged bastard, one step at a time.
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Author's Note: Unfortunately, I couldn't release a chapter yesterday. The reason is that the air conditioner in my room broke down, and I had to sleep in the living room to escape the goddamn hellish heat. But sleeping on the couch turned out to be a terrible idea. When I woke up, I had this massive muscle pain in my right shoulder. I thought it would be temporary, but even as I'm typing these words, it still fucking hurts. I ended up writing this chapter over the entire day, dragging it out bit by bit. Anyway, if my shoulder feels better tomorrow, maybe I'll write a bonus chapter. Then again, I'm not even sure if I'll survive in this cursed fucking heat.