Blood and Bargains
After that, the conversation died entirely, and the two of them walked on in silence.
As evening closed in, the lamplighter went from post to post, kindling the streetlights one by one.
Clip-clop, clip-clop.
A carriage drawn by two horses rolled leisurely over the cobblestones, and people hurried back and forth, busy with their evening preparations.
Arendt followed behind Arcus, quietly studying his back.
That walk was the desperate mimicry of someone else.
The original was probably the person they were on their way to meet now.
An unfamiliar tension hung over him. It wasn't Lee Su-hyeon's — it rose from somewhere at the core of *Arendt*. Just as the feel of a sword in his hand had never felt foreign, this body rejected the mere prospect of standing before its father, tension welling up on its own.
Tch. Clicking his tongue, he clenched and unclenched his fist a few times until the emotion settled into something manageable.
'Pathetic fool. If you were going to rebel, you should have done it properly.'
Don't worry. I don't know whether you wanted it or not, but I'll play the insufferable, disobedient son to the hilt.
The heart that had been beating unsteadily gradually found its rhythm again.
……
…
The place Arcus led Arendt to was a mansion in the imperial capital. The gatekeeper standing watch before its grand doors recognized Arcus at once and bowed his head with the utmost deference.
"You've returned, my lord."
"Announce me to my father. Tell him I'm back."
"Yes, my lord."
The gatekeeper stole a single glance at Arendt before darting into the mansion.
After a brief wait, a butler appeared as if relieving him of his post.
"Welcome home, young master. The Count is expecting you."
The butler bowed respectfully to Arcus, then gave Arendt a faint, wry smile. As Arcus strode ahead with long, purposeful steps, Arendt fell in behind him.
The butler, who had waited in silence until then, brought up the rear.
The interior of the mansion was austere to the point of bleakness.
The wallpaper and carpets were kept immaculate, without a speck of dust, yet there was not a single ornament to be found. At most, a few statues modeled on the form of God Luce had been placed here and there, and then only sparingly.
'A guest house, maybe. One reserved for family use.'
His eyes were darting this way and that when he realized Arcus had come to a stop.
Rap, rap. Arcus knocked politely on the firmly closed door and spoke.
"Father, I've brought Arendt."
Instead of a word of permission, whoosh — the door simply swung open.
His heart, it seemed, thoroughly detested the idea of entering that room; it flared up with unease all over again. But Arendt, long practiced, smothered the tension that belonged to someone else.
The first thing to catch his eye was the middle-aged man seated at the head of an oversized table — so large it bordered on absurd.
The man, who had been leaning back in his chair with his eyes closed, raised his head.
"You're late."
"My apologies."
Arcus answered the brief rebuke without a moment's delay.
At Count Eckhart's gesture, Arcus said nothing more and took his seat. Arendt, reading the room, likewise lowered himself into the chair that had been set out for him.
Then, as though they had only been waiting for that, the servants began bringing in dish after dish.
In the blink of an eye, the enormous table was laden with a lavish feast.
Last of all, the servants set a single glass of wine before each of the three men, then vanished as quickly as the tide going out.
For all the comings and goings, the only sounds to be heard were the faint clinks of plates touching the table — not even the slightest whisper of noise besides.
Everything was so excessively flawless that it was, if anything, more unsettling.
Arendt was frowning down at the soup set before him when Count Eckhart's voice reached him.
"It has been a very long time."
"So it would seem. How long exactly, may I ask?"
"Sitting face to face like this and actually speaking... it must be nearly four years."
Wait. Seriously?
Arendt blinked, utterly taken aback. But Count Eckhart went on as if nothing were the least bit unusual, wetting his throat with wine.
"Listen first. I have prepared this especially."
"Um... yes, sir."
Arendt picked up his cutlery, for lack of anything better to do.
And so a meal in silence began.
Honestly, even for Arendt, enjoying a meal in this atmosphere was a tall order. He might have been better off scarfing down his food at top speed and heading for the knights' mess hall instead.
Annoying Arthur along the way, for good measure.
He was just opening his mouth to say as much when the Count moved first.
"I hear there have been quite a few incidents lately. For one thing, I'm glad you came out of them unharmed."
"Glad, is it? Did you perhaps mean to say *regrettable*?"
When Arendt fired back flatly, Arcus, seated across the table, twisted his face and snarled his name.
"Arendt."
"If something like that happens again, I won't think twice before making the same choice. Whether you resent me for it or not is irrelevant."
But Count Eckhart replied as though it were nothing at all.
Arendt decided that suited him fine and set his fork down altogether.
"As I told my brother earlier — I don't resent you. Resentment, after all, requires expectation to begin with."
Arendt met the Count's gaze with indifferent eyes.
"I never expected anything in the first place, so there's nothing to resent. The world is a place you live alone, as a rule."
"...Very well. If that's what you believe, I won't press the point."
"Then let's skip the detours and get to the matter at hand. You weren't counting on a heartwarming family reunion anyway, were you? You called me here because you want something."
Arendt looked from one to the other, a smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth.
"Did Marquis Lanford put you up to it, perhaps? Asked you to talk me around? What a shame. The ties could have been severed cleanly and quietly, and yet even in the middle of all this, you couldn't bring yourselves to turn away the profit dangling before your eyes."
At that unbearably insolent speech, the faces of Count Eckhart and Arcus hardened all at once. The meal could hardly go on in this atmosphere.
In the end, Count Eckhart too set down his cutlery.
"True, Arendt. You're right. But if you weren't worth that much, you and I would never have been sitting across from each other like this."
Anger began to kindle in those expressionless eyes.
"It is the reason you can still be regarded as a member of the Eckhart family at all. But that is all it is. So mind your conduct, and keep your rashness in check."
"..."
"And if even that meager usefulness disappears — well, you can imagine what would become of you. If you mean to go on keeping your life, I'd advise you to first get a firm grasp of your place."
The words, begun in a level tone, had heated up somewhere along the way; by the end, a glacial fury bled through them.
Count Eckhart glared at Arendt, blue-eyed with rage. Arendt, for his part, simply stared back at the Count with the same indifferent face as ever.
"I'll take the advice to heart. In any case, you and I are both in unfavorable straits, Father. There's precious little cheerful to be found in meeting at all — never mind sitting with our faces this close together."
A moment later, Arendt scratched the back of his head a few times, then crossed his arms and leaned back comfortably in his chair.
"Be that as it may — you and Marquis Lanford have been backed into a corner by His Highness the Crown Prince gobbling everything up for himself, haven't you? I've heard the gist of the situation from others."
"...Yes, that's so."
Count Eckhart, pressing hard at his temples, let out a long, slow sigh and nodded.
Blunt to a fault — but not wrong.
They weren't sitting here as a rebellious son and a domineering father. They had each come to the table seeking their own advantage.
Having recovered his composure, Count Eckhart spoke again.
"State your position, Arendt. I hear you gave Marquis Lanford no proper answer either."
"My position? Nothing remarkable. I'm merely caught in the middle, getting squeezed from one side and then the other. Having my life threatened is a bonus."
With his arms still crossed, Arendt tilted his head slightly.
"Marquis Lanford has offered to help me slip out from under the Crown Prince's grasp and return to my own territory. Honestly speaking, it's a tempting offer."
His golden eyes moved soundlessly, sweeping over Arcus and Count Eckhart in turn.
"But serving under His Highness the Crown Prince means quite a few things fall right into my own hands, you see. It would be a little wasteful to simply throw that away. Besides, either way, it seems I'd be taking a risk."
"Why so?"
"Why do you think? One word from His Highness or from the Captain, and I'm a dead man walking."
Arendt casually rolled up his sleeve and showed the two of them the silver bracelet on his wrist.
"The moment word gets out that I made some sort of deal with Marquis Lanford, it's over for me. You understand that well enough without my spelling it out."
"So you mean to set conditions of your own, it seems."
Even in the midst of it all, Count Eckhart had no trouble divining where Arendt was headed.
Arendt gave a light nod.
"Yes. I will move whichever way benefits me. Marquis Lanford promised to protect me so that His Highness can no longer hold my life over me. So what will you offer, Father?"
"..."
Count Eckhart's eyes went cold and dark.
Deals of this kind were familiar territory. But never once had he imagined he would be having this conversation with Arendt.
'How on earth did it come to this.'
His head throbbing anew, the Count pressed hard at his temples again. Arendt, by contrast, had not wavered so much as once, from the moment he entered the room until this very instant.
'Normally he wouldn't have managed so much as a proper glance.'
The insolent bearing and provocative remarks had kept him too preoccupied to notice until now, but apparently Arendt had changed a great deal in the years they'd barely met.
"All your past transgressions will be struck from the record. If you wish to remain in the palace, you may. But if you choose to leave the knight order, I will grant you property enough to live on your own."
Or else — that the palace life had made him arrogant beyond all reason.
"Marquis Lanford will no doubt take you in. Maintain your ties with Merchant Leader Neumann and assist the Marquis in his affairs. It would be no poor arrangement for you, either."
"Hmm..."
Arendt, who had been listening quietly to the level-toned proposal, made a vague sound and cocked his head.
"Not bad — except it's only possible once my sentences have all been cleared."
"The Marquis and the others will see to that."
The Count answered with conviction.
Arendt fell silent as if weighing the matter, then finally opened his mouth.
"It all sounds well and good, but I'll have to give it some thought. My life isn't something I'd trade away for anything. But if it truly comes to pass as you've said... then yes, it would be well worth considering."
The golden eyes rolled soundlessly in their sockets and came back to rest on his father.
"Whether that means leaving the order to place myself under Marquis Lanford, or staying on as an apprentice knight and aiding the Marquis from the shadows — included in that consideration."
"Understood."
When Count Eckhart replied stiffly, Arendt rose from his seat at once.
"It seems our talk is more or less finished, so I'll take my leave. I truly can't get a bite of this down. Though I'd wager it's the same for the two of you."
With a shallow bow to the Count and Arcus, Arendt walked out without so much as a backward glance.
The Count watched him go in silence, then lifted his wine and drank deep to wet his parched throat, and began sorting through his thoughts.
For now, this would suffice.
It was an offer Arendt could not refuse. And Marquis Lanford was thorough in his affairs; there was nothing more to worry over.
And yet — why was it, then, that his heart felt so unsettled?
Count Eckhart pressed his fingers hard against the bridge of his nose and let out yet another sigh, beyond counting.