Before noon, Jorgen was a little drowsy. He looked up at the sun and estimated there was still an hour before lunch, then yawned. He had never imagined that he would encounter such a boring thing as accompanying royal nobles on a hunt.
This was the first hunting activity since spring, and almost all royal members and political figures had participated. In theory, Jorgen's duty was "protection", but he really couldn't figure out what needed protection.
Before his eyes, a wild boar with bright yellow fur rushed out of the bushes and fled past. Behind it were experienced soldiers on horseback, whose job was to intercept the wild boar so that the noble young masters following behind could carry out the "kill". Any noble young master who shot the wild boar would receive verbal praise from the king at the post-hunt banquet.
The boring part was that these wild boars had already been captured beforehand and had their teeth sawed off, their aggressiveness not much stronger than domestic pigs. Even so, the king would still praise the young hunters for how "valiant" and "facing danger" they were. Jorgen tried his best to view what was happening in front of him as a children's game, but really couldn't do it, and soon became drowsy.
If he were just an agent for Military Intelligence Section 7, he would not qualify to participate in the hunt. But now his identity was "Intelligence Instructor for Mardias Shawl", and to match this title, he also had to wear a hunting outfit specially designed by the royal tailor. This silk outfit of aquamarine blue with golden trim, topped with a hat adorned with the feathers of unknown creatures, made him feel like an impoverished minor nobleman fallen on hard times. Moreover, it would take him three times as long to draw the dagger from its scabbard, like a small brocade purse.
All of this made him extremely glad that Elin Tias was still doing hard work in Auberdine. If he saw Jorgen like this, there'd really be trouble.
As Jorgen was lost in thought, another wild boar fled past him. The young nobles behind caught up on their horses and seemed to complain for a few phrases like "How come this guard didn't react?".
Well, that was about enough "protection", Jorgen thought. He had planned to meet privately with someone during the hunt, and the scheduled time was fast approaching.
He slowly left the central hunting ground on horseback, discarding the hollow clamor behind his ears, and came to an open grassy field not far away. A woman riding a white horse calmly gazed at the open sky at the edge of the woods.
"Dalia." Jorgen said.
"You're here," Dalia Shawl turned around, "How was the hunt?"
"Fruitless."
"Nice clothes, very suitable for you."
"Really? I don't know if that's good news or bad news."
Only five years had passed since the incident in Nanshuitun, but time seemed to have flowed doubly fast over Dalia; this was not the aging of her appearance, but the change in her inner qualities. If five years ago she was truly a gem, today she was an exquisite yet restrained porcelain ware.
"So," Jorgen said, "where's your bodyguard?"
"I gave him some private time. He should be around."
"You should already know that Mardias did not follow the old man."
"I know. Even if he came, I probably wouldn't be able to see him."
Two years ago, the old man had taken Mardias away from Dalia for strict education and prohibited all activities outside of Military Intelligence Section 7. Dalia was only allowed to meet her son for two hours every Sunday afternoon. Dalia had protested to high-level political figures, hoping they could pressure the old man to increase the time she and her son could meet, but was never successful.
As Mardias' intelligence instructor, Jorgen had five classes a week and became the person who had the most contact with him outside of the old man. He often told Dalia about her son's performance and psychological state, feeling that this was what should be done for the widow of his close friend. Of course, he himself was also very concerned about what kind of person Mardias would become.
It was like a silent battle. Both the old man and Jorgen and Dalia hoped to see the future they wished for reflected in Mardias.
"He's been doing very well in class these days, at least in terms of absorbing knowledge. At least it looks like you don't have to worry too much."
"Did he mention me?"
"Well...no, he didn't. You have to know, he is strictly restricted in how he speaks in front of me. The old man's confidant, who always stares at us during class, never moves an inch away. "
"I see."
"There's one more thing I thought I should tell you. Yesterday during weapons training, he suffered a minor injury."
"Injured? Is it serious?"
"No, just a little swelling on his elbow. But the old man won't allow treatment..."
"How can he do that?"
"In fact, we trainees at Military Intelligence Section 7 experienced similar things. This is a kind of training to remember pain."
"But he's only nine years old..."
"Dalia, I'm not defending the old man. Still, I believe Mardias will have no trouble getting through this."
"I'll prepare some medicine for him for next Sunday..."
It wasn't just no trouble, it was outright easy, Jorgen thought. The toughness Mardias displayed was enough to make any noble youth receiving elite education feel ashamed. However, he was not sure whether this was good or bad. Under any circumstances, Mardias had not shown obvious emotion. When children his age were still playing in the mud, he had already received combat-oriented weapons training and complex intelligence analysis assignments, always with several of the old man's confidants ready to control his speech and behavior at any time. In front of instructors, he would be very polite; when meeting with his mother, he would be very gentle, but Jorgen did not feel that Mardias cared truly for anyone.
He never brought this up with Dalia. But he understood that there was nothing in this world as keen as a mother's intuition about her children.