Chapter 33: Old Acquaintance
Morning light cut through the window at an angle, drawing a bright line across the desk.
Lucian's gaze rested on that line for a moment. His fingers kept their steady rhythm against the desktop, unhurried, as though working something through.
"Siel" stood to one side, those amber-brown eyes half-open, her face still wearing that same expression of thirteen-year-old despondency.
"We'll manage for now." Lucian spoke at last, a faint note of reluctant concession in his voice. "If it really comes to it... we can always borrow from Lakyus. That girl has apparently saved up a fair amount since becoming an adventurer."
The moment the words were out, he felt that gaze change.
"Siel" said nothing. But those eyes said it plainly enough: how do you have the nerve to ask your own little sister for money?
The look was too direct. Direct enough that Lucian had to glance away.
"Ahem." He cleared his throat, attempting to recover some ground. "It's borrowing, not asking. It'll be paid back."
Lakyus had never managed to become a knight. The Kingdom's knight titles could only be held by the male descendants of noble houses, which left her no choice but to settle for becoming an adventurer instead.
Over this, Lucian had written Father a letter — a carefully worded complaint that said, in effect, that Father had failed to raise Lakyus properly.
Wrapping a personal grudge inside the appearance of righteous principle. It felt rather better than he had expected.
"Siel" still said nothing. She only tilted her head slightly, and the corner of that expressionless face seemed to lift by the most imperceptible degree.
But it landed with full force.
Lucian decided not to examine what that expression meant.
Just then.
There was another knock at the door.
"Come in."
The wooden door swung open, and a figure walked in carrying the clear freshness of open air.
He was a boy of about fifteen. His golden hair was the color of something steeped in sunlight, combed back clean and neat to show a smooth forehead. His eyes were a pure, deep blue — clear to the point of near-transparency, like a cloudless sky after rain reflected in two still pools.
His face still held the unformed angles of youth, but the lines were already beginning to resolve into something fine, and his skin had been tanned a healthy honey color by daily patrols across the domain.
He wore a simple but clean linen shirt under a light leather breastplate. At his waist hung a plain longsword, the edges of the scabbard worn white — the marks of daily care, never once neglected.
The boy stepped through the door with his back perfectly straight, his right hand raised cleanly to his chest in a standard knight's salute, though he was not a knight. The gesture was performed with complete seriousness.
"Lord Lucian, I'm back!" His voice carried the particular brightness and energy of youth, bringing the whole morning into the slightly somber study with it.
Lucian looked up. The faint furrow that had settled over his expression during the finances discussion smoothed out at once, and something warm and easy settled into his face — like a pleasant mask, fitting naturally into place.
"Touch Me." His voice was unhurried, carrying the easy warmth of an older brother. "Good work. How did the domain's tax collection go?"
Beside him, "Siel" let out a faint sound of dismissal, so quiet it barely registered — like a pebble dropped into cotton. Those amber-brown eyes, half-closed, drifted over the boy with an undisguised dissatisfaction she couldn't quite name. She had never understood why Lucian was so warm toward this particular person.
Touch Me didn't catch "Siel's" small performance. He simply reached inside his coat with both hands and produced a ledger wrapped carefully in heavy brown paper, holding it out with both hands.
"Completed in full, Lord Lucian. This is the record of tax collection — please review it."
Lucian took the ledger and opened it to the first page, his gaze moving through the entries one line at a time. The handwriting was precise and careful, every item of income and expenditure clearly recorded. The character behind the writing came through the pages themselves — you could read most of this boy's nature from his accounts alone.
Touch Me dropped back to one knee and waited. When Lucian had turned through several pages, he spoke quietly.
"Lord Lucian, there is something I must report. I ask your forgiveness in advance."
Lucian glanced up without pausing his page-turning. "Go on."
"Two households encountered hardship this year." Touch Me's voice was steady, but the fingers at his side curled slightly. "The Kurut family, next to the eastern smithy — the father broke his leg during work and hasn't been able to labor since. And the single-parent household near the southern woodland — the mother fell ill at the start of winter, spent most of their savings on treatment, and has only a child under ten left to help."
He paused.
"I took it upon myself to waive their taxes."
The study went quiet for a moment.
Something careful entered Touch Me's voice.
"I ask that Lord Lucian deduct the amount from my wages."
Lucian closed the ledger and looked up at the boy who had bent himself nearly into a bow.
"Touch Me."
"Here, sir."
"Raise your head."
The boy hesitated, then straightened slowly. Those blue eyes carried some anxiety — but more than that, a kind of stubborn candor. He had done what he thought was right and had prepared himself to face the consequences.
Lucian looked at him. A quiet laugh came out of him, almost before he meant it — like a shaft of winter sunlight breaking through a gap in the clouds. Unassuming, but warm enough.
"You did well."
Touch Me went still.
"Looking after the people of this domain is my responsibility." Lucian set the ledger down on the desk. "That you could see the difficulty those two families were in — that you could put yourself in their position — that kind of judgment is worth far more than the tax itself."
He leaned back in his chair, his voice carrying a genuine, unhurried approval.
"Your wages won't be deducted. You took care of my people for me. It's I who should thank you."
Touch Me's lips trembled slightly.
The rims of his eyes flushed red, sudden and sharp — but he held it back hard, and nothing of it reached his face.
Touch Me drew a slow breath. He placed his left hand behind his back, brought his right fist to his chest and pressed it hard over his heart, and raised his head, eyes blazing as he looked at Lucian.
In that gaze: reverence, and emotion, and the particular excitement of having one's convictions recognized.
"For justice —"
The boy's voice was clear and unwavering, ringing through the study.
"Shinzou wo Sasageyo!"
Sunlight poured in from the window at Lucian's back and wrapped him entirely in a golden halo. Those rays passed through the clear glass and cast crossing patterns of light and shadow at his shoulders — something that looked almost like sacred wings.
But Lucian's face happened to be turned away from the light, hidden in a soft shadow that made it a little difficult for Touch Me to see clearly.
Touch Me thought that Lord Lucian must surely be smiling his approval of this act of justice.