A magnificent red sun burst forth from the East, casting golden waves upon the sea that shimmered like splendid brocade, with the sky at the horizon faintly revealing the silhouettes of sails.
The gentle sunlight tenderly sprinkled over Cyprus City, gradually awakening to life again. The semi-circular City Wall wound along the northern coast, twisting eastward, then curving to the southwest, all the way to the southern seaside mudflats, forming a protective semicircle that securely guarded the beautiful and busy nautical passages of the Nether Sea.
The lily crest of the Philip Family was particularly striking on the fluttering purple flags, the Door had been opened, and travelers had already started entering and leaving in succession. The yawning mercenaries on guard waited absentmindedly for their shift to end.
The carriages for carrying waste had vanished into the streets and alleys before dawn brightened the skies, traders began to open their Doorses, preparing for the day's business. Tax officers, clutching their briefcases, weaved through the dock and workshops, meticulously tallying the goods passing by. Industrious sailors wiped down the decks of their ships under the bark of shipowners, while laborers at the dock moved goods on and off the ships in an orderly manner under the direction of their supervisors.
The apprentice Knights of the Knights regiment were busy training horsemanship or swordsmanship in the training grounds on the outskirts of the city from early on. The Knights stood by, dignified, offering their guidance while nobles who had reveled all night were still sleeping soundly, embraced by their lovers and mistresses, letting the delicate sunlight shine on their unsightly bodies. This was the beautiful morning of Cyprus.
Different from the other nobles, Ramla Reese sat in his study with a somber expression early in the morning. His silver hair was immaculately combed atop his proud head, and his determined profile resembled an exquisitely unmatched sculpture.
This damned defiant son, only back for a few days, was already fraternizing with those scoundrels Lux and Modo's house. Not to mention, he had also provoked the powerful Business Association in the city. When would this rebellious child ever give him peace of mind? Ramla pressed his temples with his hand and rubbed fiercely, as if trying to alleviate the headache these troubles brought. All the faults, in the end, were his own—a moment of impulsiveness had led to such a monstrous offspring, and regret was useless now.
"Sanders, has Komer not risen yet?" His stern tone could not suppress the anger in his heart as his sharp, eagle-like eyes swept over the silent Steward standing to the side.
"Master, the Second young master returned very late last night, so he may not be up for a while," Sanders replied with his head bowed, his tone devoid of any emotion, making it difficult to discern anything.
Ramla took a long breath and said coldly, "Go wake him up and tell him I am waiting for him here!"
When Komer walked into his father's study, rubbing his sleepy eyes, the cold look on Ramla's face did not instill any fear in him. In fact, he even felt a sense of provocation and satisfaction. Three years of exile had made him fearless in the face of anything, and any sense of fear or awe he might have had was long gone after years of fleeing and hardship.
"Oh? Father, you're up early. Why don't you sleep in a little longer? Could it be that Grand Duke Philip wishes to see you again?" Komer's words were filled with sarcasm, and his reckless demeanor further infuriated Ramla. However, considering the important matter he wished to discuss, he did not want to rise to the bait. He needed time to communicate with his son.
"Komer, sit down, I have something to discuss with you." Ramla took a deep breath and gradually regained his composure.
"What's the big deal, Father, that warrants waking me up so early?" Komer asked with an indifferent face, his grey-blue eyes flickering occasionally as he impatiently leaned back on the opposite chair, his leg cocked up.
"Komer, you're about to turn eighteen, and I want to hear your plans," Ramla asked, not getting angry at his son's remarks.
"Oh? What's this, Father, are you going to assign me a job? Will it be to play lackey for the Knights regiment or perhaps a cobbler? But I'm not good at anything," Komer replied coldly, looking directly into his father's eyes without any courtesy.
"I heard you bought a batch of Barbarian Ore yesterday. Do you have an interest in business?" Ramla asked, trying to be patient.
"Father, as you said, I am about to turn eighteen. Soon I'll be thrown out the door. How much money do you plan to give me? Or perhaps a small vegetable garden for me to fend for myself? But as you know, I've always been extravagant. The little money you give me wouldn't last long. If I had to beg for a living, it wouldn't look good for you, would it? If you give me a piece of land, I fear in two days, all the Farmers on that land will have been sold by me into slavery," Komer replied, unconcerned about the consequences of his words. His raised foot shook without any grace, making the veins on Ramla's neck throb visibly.
"Insolence! Komer, you are too insolent! Look at yourself in the mirror, where is the slightest resemblance to a scion of the Reese Family in you? I am utterly ashamed of you!" Ramla could no longer contain his anger and slammed the table furiously, the massive vibration causing the blue and white, phoenix-patterned porcelain teaware from a distant foreign land to clatter incessantly on the tabletop.
"Heh, Father dear, since when did you consider Komer a member of the Reese Family? If I were truly a member of the Reese Family, I suppose I wouldn't have had to flee Cyprus overnight, would I? Is declaring one's feelings to a woman going to incur such severe punishment? The laws of the Kingdom of Nicosia don't seem to have such a rule, do they?" Komer's eyes flashed with madness, his words sharp as knives, each one stabbing straight at his interlocutor's weak points, "You have the audacity to talk to me about family at this time, isn't that a bit absurd?"
"You, you, you rebel, you still have the nerve to bring up this matter, if not for the Duke's enduring service from our Reese Family for generations, I fear you would have been sent to the gallows long ago! You still show no remorse; do you truly wish to tarnish the reputation of our Reese Family completely before you're satisfied?" Ramla's ruddy complexion turned an even deeper shade of red, his fingers trembling as he pointed, and his lips quivering so much that he couldn't even string his words together coherently.
"Enough, Father dear, I imagine the real reason you roused me from my bed today is not to discuss these unpleasant matters, is it? Since what's done is done, and the punishment you felt I deserved has already been inflicted, isn't it rather tiresome to talk about it now? Just state your business clearly."
Komer sharply interrupted his father, his distorted face even appearing somewhat ferocious, clearly having hit a nerve he most wished to keep untouched. He took a deep breath to try to maintain a normal tone of voice.
"As for your mention of doing business with a barbarian, that was simply a favor for a friend. He's a barbarian, but he's my friend, too. I just couldn't stand to see those merchants being too harsh, so I helped him out."
Ramla looked at the young man before him, whose temperament seemed to resemble his own in his youth, with a sad and helpless glance. But the flickering in his eyes made him realize that this son, born out of wedlock, was not as simple as he had imagined, capable of casually pushing matters aside, signaling that the young man already possessed enough wisdom to cope.
"Komer, I remind you, the power of the Business Association is not as simple as you think. If you intend to go into business, it's best not to antagonize them too much. Not only would it be detrimental to the family, but it would also greatly affect your future," Ramla advised, trying to keep his tone as calm as possible.
"Thank you for your concern, Father dear, but I have no plans to go into business right now. Without experience, without funds, without a market, I lack all that would allow me to join that path. It seems somewhat too late to start learning it now," Komer said disingenuously.
"It was just a matter of helping out; I don't intend to make enemies with any Business Association. But I also can't stand by and watch my friend get cheated too deeply. If you, Father dear, could explain it to them this way, I believe they would accept it, wouldn't they?"
Ramla nodded slowly, his expression serious, after looking deeply at this son whose thoughts he could not fathom, "Very well, I hope this is the first time, and also the last."
"Father dear, I hope so too. I don't want to cause you trouble, but I need to live, to survive, and I also hope to live with dignity like a gentleman. If you could send me away like a doggedly persistent plaster, keeping me from embarrassing you here in Cyprus, I would gladly accept such an outcome."
Komer nodded politely with a refined smile, his composure fully restored, although the malicious glint in his eyes had not diminished in the slightest.
Glancing at his son with some confusion, Ramla felt that Komer's words had an underlying meaning, but for the moment, he couldn't grasp the hidden implication.
Ramla wanted to inquire further, but seeing his son's somewhat impatient demeanor, he immediately dismissed the thought.
As a father, he did not want to bow before his son, even though deep down he felt guilty; outwardly, he did not want to show any weakness.
Standing up brusquely, Komer did not wish to say more and strode out the door, lengthening his steps as he went.
There was still time. In two months, his coming-of-age ceremony would take place, after which he would be cast out of the house. Perhaps everyone in the family longed for that day to come sooner, their gazes fixed on his half-brother from the same father, who was the future master of the next generation.
No one wanted to spare a thought for him; Komer's lonely figure cutting a solitary figure on the garden path appeared all the more desolate.