…"Y-young master…"
The voice trembled, caught somewhere between the damp soil and a breath held far too long.
Lucas knew exactly who was kneeling in front of him. Everyone there did.
Edric.
The man who had once borrowed fifty silver from him. The man who had shouted the loudest when Lucas, back when he had dueled as Lucian, wielding nothing but a hoe, had been beaten to a pulp in the arena.
Lucas let out a slow, quiet breath. The crisp morning air felt strangely heavy in his chest.
"What is it?" he asked, his tone flat.
Edric lifted his head just a fraction, still unable to meet Lucas's gaze. His hands trembled against the ground.
"P-please… Young Master. I… I apologize for not coming to work yesterday. My wife… gave birth a few days ago." His voice cracked midway. "I know I'm not worthy, but… I beg you. Please lend me money once more. Just a little."
No one spoke.
