Chapter 64: Rumors in the Capital
Sebas reached the stone steps leading up to Lucian's townhouse just as the rain intensified.
He hadn't brought an umbrella. Rain settled into his salt-and-pepper hair and traced lines down his temples, soaking into the shoulders of his black tailcoat.
He didn't mind. His pace was steady, each footfall on the wet stone producing a soft, rhythmic sound.
The front door was already open.
Or rather — someone had spotted him coming from a distance and opened it ahead of his arrival.
As Sebas crossed the threshold, a young maid waiting in the entrance hall gave him a slight bow, the gesture easy and natural, as though she had long since grown accustomed to this particular guest.
"Mr. Sebas, Lord Aindra left instructions. Please come straight in."
"Thank you."
Sebas inclined his head and said nothing more. He moved through the entrance hall and along the corridor he had walked many times before, heading in the direction of the sitting room.
Thanks to what Lucian had arranged on his last visit, this kind of welcome had become the norm.
Sebas remembered it clearly. It had been an evening. Lucian had told the maid called Siel, there's no need to announce Mr. Sebas when he comes from now on, just show him straight in.
Not every nobleman was willing to open his door like that for a foreign merchant's butler of unclear background, especially not here in the capital, where a noble household's formalities were an extension of its standing.
But Mr. Lucian seemed not to think about such things at all.
Sebas recalled Lord Ainz's decision — still observing, not yet decided. He found himself thinking that Mr. Lucian could already be considered half a member of Nazarick.
After all, someone as decent as Mr. Lucian, what bad intentions could he possibly have?
That thought was still turning in his mind when his feet stopped.
The heightened perception that came with a level-100 fighter's body made his hearing far beyond the ordinary. Even with the rain hammering against the eaves in a constant noise, certain sounds still reached him with perfect clarity.
Two maids, talking.
The voices came from around the corner of the corridor, both young women speaking just above a whisper, with that particular quality that appears only when someone is discussing something they shouldn't — equal parts excitement and caution.
Sebas stood where he was for a moment.
He had no desire to eavesdrop. But Lord Ainz's observation directive was in the back of his mind, and he stayed where he was.
A servant's perspective might give him a clearer picture of who Mr. Lucian actually was.
"...Did you hear? The baron's eldest son died."
"Wait, you mean the famous illegitimate one?"
"Shh, keep it down. Illegitimate or not, everyone knows he was sharp. And apparently quite handsome too — plenty of noble ladies were quietly asking after him."
A short silence. The other maid absorbing this.
Then a soft, dismissive sound.
"Hmph. Sharp and handsome as he liked, does he come anywhere near our Lord Aindra? Does he even come close?"
The voice carried a matter-of-fact, almost reflexive pride. Not flattery, the tone of someone stating something they simply took to be true.
"Ha, of course not. Our lord is the handsomest and best in the entire kingdom."
The laughter faded, and the first maid's voice dropped slightly, taking on a note of something like pity.
"Still, it's a shame. They're saying a bandit mercenary group killed him. So young, and then just..."
"Bandit mercenary group."
The other maid cut in with the confidence of someone who already knew better.
"If you ask me, it was the second son. The illegitimate one was in his way, that kind of thing happens all the time."
A brief silence.
"Shh, that's not the sort of thing to say out loud."
Sebas had heard enough and was about to move on when —
"Oh? I'm really the handsomest in the entire kingdom?"
That was Lucian's voice.
Warm, unhurried, carrying the particular not-quite-serious amusement that belonged to the young.
"Ah —!"
"Ah —!"
Two startled sounds, almost in unison. Then the soft rustle of skirts as the maids spun around and made hurried bows.
"Lord Aindra!"
"Lord Aindra, we were just, we only —"
"Hahaha."
Lucian's laugh came out light and easy, without a trace of offended irritation. He sounded less like a lord who had caught his servants gossiping and more like an older brother who had stumbled across his sisters' small secret.
"Don't worry about it. Back to your work."
His tone was warm as spring.
"Badmouthing people behind their backs isn't good. Complimenting me, on the other hand, feel free to do more of that."
A brief pause, and then two barely-suppressed laughs from the maids, relief evident in both.
"Yes, my lord."
"Understood, my lord."
Footsteps resumed. They were heading in Sebas's direction.
Sebas stayed where he was and didn't move.
A few seconds later, Lucian came around the corner.
He was in a light grey house robe today, collar loosely open, gold hair gathered at the back of his head with a few loose strands falling across his forehead.
The overall impression was of someone who had just woken up from an afternoon that had gone on a little longer than intended.
When he saw Sebas, there was no surprise on his face.
He simply smiled. In the dim grey light that rain brought with it, that smile was noticeably bright.
"Mr. Sebas. Eavesdropping on the maids' conversations is not particularly respectable behavior."
Sebas's brow moved very slightly.
"You have my apologies, Mr. Lucian."
He gave a small bow, his tone carrying genuine acknowledgment of the point. But those pale grey eyes were entirely unruffled as he straightened. A faint curve had settled at the corner of his mouth.
"Although it seems Mr. Lucian was also listening for a moment there."
Lucian blinked. Then he laughed.
Not a loud laugh, but the kind that seems to push some of the damp stillness of a rainy corridor out of the air.
Sebas laughed too.
They looked at each other, and both of them were smiling.
Sebas wasn't quite sure when the atmosphere between them had shifted to this.
He thought about it, and decided it was probably after that night with the sword in the moonlit courtyard. When Mr. Lucian had gotten to his feet with that bright, unguarded smile, no defeat in it, no wounded pride.
After that night, the distance between them had simply closed, without either of them deciding it should.
Perhaps that was simply how it worked for men. Combat as the unlikely foundation of friendship.
Although, compared to before, Sebas had come to understand something new about Mr. Lucian.
He was the same with everyone.
With nobles. With commoners. With Sebas himself, a supposedly ordinary merchant's butler. With the maids in his own household. That easy, unhurried warmth of his — it wasn't a performance.
A person like this, Sebas thought, was someone Nazarick should consider seriously.
He kept the thought to himself, as he always did, his expression as composed as ever.
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