Chapter 135: Just Another Day in the Draven Mansion [Part-4]

After that, the knights could no longer sit still. One after another they came forward, a swordsman with two blades, a heavy axe-wielder who swung his weapon like a storm, a pair of brothers who attacked from both sides in perfect timing, and a young knight who threw a handful of daggers in a flurry, but in the end every fight ended the same way. Neo dodged and dodged without raising a single punch, until the opponent was soaked in sweat and gasping for air, and then he flickered behind them in a blur, rested the shining blade of mana against their neck, and the opponent laughed or sighed and yielded.

By the time the sun had moved noticeably across the sky, the crowd around the ring had grown to almost double its size, as knights from the other sections of the training ground and even a few servants who had been passing by had stopped to watch the show. The commander had given up trying to keep order, and the cheers and shouts filled the entire field every time a new challenger stepped in, with some of the knights even placing small bets on how long each of them would last.

"Fifteen minutes for Rowan! I’m putting my wages on it!"

"You fool, the Young Master hasn’t even broken a sweat. Five minutes at most!"

Neo’s lips curved helplessly as he listened to them, though the sweat had begun to flowed on his forehead as well, as he had been fighting for hours without a break. It was tiring, but it was also exciting, and he realised that he was enjoying himself more than he had expected, since every opponent had a different rhythm, and every fight taught him something new about the movement of the body.

’So that’s how a spear thrust shifts the weight... and that’s how an axe changes the air before it falls. I can feel the difference more clearly now.’

He had just ended his twelfth fight when a voice called out from the direction of the mansion, a clear and gentle voice that made every knight in the ring straighten up in an instant.

"Neo."

The crowd parted like water, and Sylvia walked through it with a gentle smile on her face, her hands folded in front of her, wearing the plain dark dress which she wore for her work in the office. The knights bowed hurriedly, their faces turning stiff, and some of them quietly lowered their wooden swords as if they had been caught doing something wrong.

"M-Mother? What brings you here?"

"I was told that my son woke up late, ate nothing, and went straight to the training ground to have fun with the knights." Sylvia tilted her head, her smile not changing in the slightest. "It seems that you have plenty of energy left, so I thought that you might be willing to spend some of it on something more useful."

Neo felt a cold sweat slide down his back, as he understood exactly what she meant. "Mother, I just started..."

"You started hours ago, dear. Come, your father is waiting. It is time for your lesson."

"Lesson? What lesson? I haven’t heard about any lesson..."

"The lesson on how to run a dukedom, of course," Sylvia said sweetly, taking his arm in hers and gently, but firmly, dragging him away from the ring. "As the heir of the Draven family, you must learn it sooner or later, and since you have so much free time, there is no better moment than now."

"Wait, Mother, I just have a duel with several knights! I should be allowed to rest for a few more hours!"

"You have rested for a few hours till afternoon already. That is more than enough."

Behind them, the knights watched the Young Master being led away like a prisoner, and none of them dared to say a word, though a few of them quietly placed their fists against their chests in salute, as if sending off a comrade to the battlefield.

Neo cast a pleading look over his shoulder, but all he received in return were a dozen sympathetic smiles and a quiet "Good luck, Young Master" from knights.

Neo was taken straight to his father’s office, where Cassian was waiting behind his desk with his usual unreadable expression, and a pile of paper stacked on the corner of the table which was even higher than the one from before. The moment he saw Neo walk in, a faint smile appeared at the corner of his lips, which Neo recognised at once as the smile of a man who had finally found a comrade to share his suffering with.

"You have come, Neo. Sit down."

"Father, is this really necessary...?"

"It is a part of your education," Cassian said in a very serious tone, though his shoulders were shaking very slightly. "Your mother and I have decided that you should learn how to handle the paperwork of the dukedom. Starting today you will start learning it properly."

Neo looked at the stack of papers, and then at his parents, who were both smiling at him so kindly that he knew there was no escape. He sank into the chair with a heavy sigh, and Sylvia placed a thick pile of documents in front of him with a pleasant hum.

"Don’t worry, dear. We will teach you everything step by step. First, you should understand how the reports of the territory are classified, then how to read the numbers, and then how to decide which matters need the Duke’s signature. It is quite simple once you get used to it."

"Simple?!" Neo stared at the pile, which seemed to be staring back at him with a hundreds of hungry eyes. "Mother, this is practically the same as last time!"

"Yes, but this time it is time for the serious education," Cassian said gravely, handing him a pen. "It means that you can’t run away halfway through."

Neo looked at the pen in his hand, then at the papers, and then at the window, through which the faint cheers of the knights could still be heard in the distance, as if mocking him. His shoulders slowly sagged.

’Why? Why does it always end like this? I fought twelve knights without getting hit once, and yet I am defeated by a pile of paper...’

The pen scratched across the first page, and the afternoon light slowly crawled across the floor of the office, while somewhere in the corner of the room, the Duke and the Duchess exchanged a quiet glance and a small, satisfied smile, as their son bent over his desk with the face of a soldier marching towards his doom.