Morvain enjoyed a relatively good night's sleep, aside from the occasional bout of throwing up. But who cared? He was now busy plotting his next move, and his entire body trembled with excitement.
The next morning, he woke up feeling a bit groggy. With a yawn, he rose from his bed. The room was small, so reaching the door didn't require much effort.
He opened the door, cautiously peering outside. Not many people were up this early. "Hmmm... Let him wake up first," Morvain muttered to himself. He retraced his steps, settled back on the bed, and retrieved the stone from beneath his pillow. It remained the same—black and unassuming.
Back home, he never had the chance to appraise it properly. Either Lavender or his overly cautious father would barge into his room every minute of the day. Lavender's case was understandable; she was scared of being alone. But the old man? That was a different story. He was just too skeptical of Morvain.
It wasn't strange for Morvain to ponder about it. After all, skepticism was his old man's trademark.
'What exactly are you?' Morvain raised the stone and lightly tapped it against the bed frame—nothing. It was just like any other stone, hard and cool, nothing remarkable at all. But he knew the truth.
Much like the Mayor, he had seen it. A different context, but all the same. He was certain this was the object that broke the Hound's metallic eyes. If he hadn't witnessed that, he might have dismissed it as just a rock.
'How can I activate it? Should I hold it and start throwing punches? Is that it?' Numerous thoughts raced through his mind, but ultimately he decided to keep it close, tucked away in his pocket, just a hand's reach away.
'At least, I can protect myself with this thing. That's a good thing.'
He rose from his bed and shuffled to the bathroom, attempting to appear fresh-faced despite the grumbling protests from his sleepy muscles. After scrubbing up, he navigated his way to the breakfast table. Just like the day before, he strategically positioned himself at the far end, eyeing the highborns who had somehow managed to roll out of bed at this ungodly hour.
The highborns present were an unfamiliar bunch, none of them ringing a bell in his recognition department. Meanwhile, the waiters and servants were bustling around like caffeinated bees, ensuring their lords and ladies were well-fed and their clothes ready for the day ahead.
With a sigh, he attacked the stale bread on his plate, attempting to chew through its apparent defiance. But, lo and behold, the bread emerged victorious in this epic battle of man versus baked goods. He even tried a double-handed assault, but no dice. That bread was harder than a rock.
'How did they manage to create bread that's harder than a rock? It's absurd,' he thought, giving the offending bread a skeptical stare.
His struggle didn't go unnoticed. As he wrestled with the stubborn piece of bread, he glanced up to see a highborn across the table, giggling to herself. Embarrassment painted his face red as he realized the entire room must've witnessed his epic showdown with the unyielding bread.
Muttering under his breath, he stooped down on his plate, 'Freaking bitch!'
Then, he heard a stroller approaching—a waiter, dressed all in white, gliding towards him with practiced ease. Morvain lifted his head and noticed the girl at the far end, watching him intently.
The waiter arrived and came to a stop.
'Fucking hell! I don't need your breadcrumbs, woman!' Morvain thought, fully aware of the situation. An urge to storm off gripped him. 'Who is she?'
"Cough~ Cough~" The waiter faked a cough to capture Morvain's attention. "The young lady has ordered me to give you this, sir," the waiter declared.
Morvain glanced at the waiter and then at the girl.
"Say... Sir," he inquired, skepticism etched on his face. "Who exactly is that young lady?"
The waiter turned to look at the girl and then back at Morvain. "Oh, you don't know, sir?" The waiter shook his head. "She's the Lady, Lady Lumiere Frostholm, the third daughter of the Frostholm Province."
Morvain observed the girl again. Her hair was silver, not just any silver, but the real deal. Her eyes resembled blue ice, and her skin was pale, not sickly, but as if she had just emerged from a hot spring.
"I see. Tell her this humble lowborn is truly thankful for the kind gesture. I'm afraid I must refuse the offer. It's not because of the young lady's reputation, mind you. It's just that this humble lowborn knows his place in this world and cannot be treated this way by the esteemed highborn," Morvain declared as he stood up and headed towards the exit. However, he paused midway and glanced back at the waiter.
"Tell her to give that to someone who is hungry or needs it. This lowborn doesn't need it." Morvain saw the waiter nod and move away. He noticed a tinge of disappointment on the girl's face as he left the dining room and strolled through the corridors. There weren't many people awake, just a few guards here and there patrolling.
'It is time.' He thought. 'Time to see my dear young master.' A sinister smile crept across Morvain's face as he plotted his next move.Top of Form
…
After some casual wandering around the ship and exchanging greetings with the captain, Morvain finally found himself in front of a door that exuded luxury, a stark contrast to his own quarters. The number plate proudly displayed a bold "1."
The others in the corridor sported opulent surroundings too, casting disdainful glances his way that left him feeling exposed and embarrassed. Nevertheless, he squared his shoulders. There was nothing to gain from wallowing in shame.
'This is it. I'm going to alter the course of this voyage pretty quickly,' he thought, mustering a confident smile before rapping on the door.
A few moments passed, and he heard heavy footsteps approaching from within, followed by the distinctive clack of a door lock, and finally, the door swung open.
Before him stood a formidable figure, six feet tall, clad in armor, with a sword at his waist. Morvain, for a moment, entertained the thought that this man might be coming to exact retribution for his misdeeds.
"What is it?" the man asked.
It took Morvain a few moments to collect himself. "Uh...the young master told me to come visit him if I wanted a job, and I... uh..."
"Who's it?" A languid voice from inside interrupted, and Morvain watched as the man turned his head to address whoever was inside.
"A boy. Says you offered him a job."
"Huh?" The voice now sounded more alert. "Let him in, let him in!"
'This is it. This is the start of the collapse, dears.' Morvain thought, a sense of anticipation building as he stepped into the lavish room.