The table was swiftly set with a feast fit for a famished soul: a bowl of steaming broth, a modest pot filled with an assortment of fresh seasonal vegetables and fruits, three slices of bread slathered in rich butter, and a variety of desserts appeared before Lance. Without reservation, he dove into the meal, a testament to the day's fasting.
"He really knows his craft," Lance mused internally while devouring the meal, referring to Chef Hogg. In the intricate web of the Viscount's castle, survival required more than just fulfilling one's direct duties—it demanded acute perception and the finesse to act upon the unsaid. Chef Hogg, managing the culinary needs of the noble family, had mastered this art of silent communication. It was unusual for Lance to receive such a lavish meal after regular dining hours. Yet, in light of the day's events, the chef had discerningly orchestrated a feast, a subtle nod of support or perhaps acknowledgment of Lance's ordeal.
Indeed, Chef Hogg's intuitive service and culinary excellence underscored why he had retained his position as the head chef in the Viscount's Castle for nearly a decade.
Lance remained indifferent to the subtle shifts in attitude and the quiet flattery emanating from those around him; his primary focus was the unexpected, yet thoroughly welcome, feast laid out before him. With the satisfying meal aiding in lifting his spirits, he casually observed the ongoing exchange while clutching the now-significant piece of animal skin.
Meanwhile, Viscount Lane, still harboring a mix of skepticism and awe, sought confirmation, "Amman, are you certain of this?"
Wizard Amman responded with unwavering confidence, "Absolutely, this is indeed the standard rune for the Lesser Meditation. It's impeccably rendered — I cannot fault it. Master Lance has executed it to perfection, surpassing even what many second-level wizards could achieve. To master such a rune within three minutes is unheard of. Should he maintain this level of skill, we may very well be witnessing the rise of a magical prodigy."
The revelation prompted a collective sense of bewilderment among the attendees. The majority, being unversed in the intricacies of magical runes, could only rely on Wizard Amman's expertise. They heeded his caution, understanding that the arcane symbols etched on the animal skins held powers beyond their comprehension — powers that could inflict harm if meddled with ignorantly. Thus, under Amman's guidance, they refrained from making any attempts to decipher the rune, avoiding the risk of magical backlash that could reduce a layperson to a dire state.
Viscountess Nancy wrestled with disbelief and skepticism as she observed the unfolding scene: Lance, contentedly indulging in his meal, and Wizard Amman, visibly taken aback yet radiating a sense of pride. She harbored suspicions that there was more to the situation than met the eye.
The only plausible explanation, she surmised, was some form of collusion between Amman and Lance. "Could Amman be complicit in some deceit for Lance's gain?" she pondered, the thought festering. In her eyes, Lance's sudden leap from mediocrity to purported genius was too dramatic to be genuine. There had to be subterfuge at play.
Despite her growing doubts, Nancy remained outwardly composed, cognizant of the Viscount's trust in Amman and his affection for Lance. She understood the precarious nature of voicing her suspicions — to do so could not only undermine Amman but also alienate the Viscount. The stakes were too high, and the timing was not right to challenge the narrative publicly.
Suppressing her urge to confront the situation, Nancy adopted a strategy of reluctant acceptance, biding her time. She quieted Biqi's similar inclinations with a subtle gesture, forcing a congratulatory smirk. "Well then, congratulations, Lance. It seems you have indeed learned much in half a year," she said, her words coated with a veneer of insincerity, masking her true feelings of doubt and anticipation for an opportunity to reveal the truth.
Unbeknownst to Nancy, her carefully veiled barbs fell on deaf ears. Lance, driven by his overwhelming hunger, paid little attention to the subtleties and undercurrents of the conversation. Engrossed in the simple act of sating his hunger, he alternated between hearty bites of bread and soothing gulps of the steaming soup. When he finally looked up, meeting the Viscountess's gaze with a blank expression, he responded with genuine confusion, "Madam, what did you just say? Excuse me, I'm so hungry…"
Nancy, taken aback by Lance's obliviousness, felt a surge of frustration boiling within her. This time, she didn't even muster the façade of a polite smile. With a cold snort, she turned her face away, her patience worn thin by his apparent disregard.
Meanwhile, Lance, unaffected by the subtle family drama, turned his attention to the others at the table. He offered Irene a reassuring nod and smile, acknowledging her evident relief and happiness. Then, without further ado, he continued to focus on the meal before him, the familial tensions momentarily forgotten in the face of his voracious appetite.
…
The hall fell into an unusual hush, broken only by the sounds of Lance heartily enjoying his meal. A sense of bemusement seemed to hover in the air as everyone exchanged looks, uncertain how to navigate the unexpected pause in the evening's tensions.
Wizard Amman and Viscount Lane, previously edges of concern etched into their expressions, now shared a semblance of smiles. The change in atmosphere was palpable; Viscount Lane's earlier urgency for the meeting dissipated, replaced by a patient demeanor uncommon to the typically strict nobleman. His newfound patience set the tone for the room, rendering the other attendees speechless, bound by decorum and the Viscount's lead.
Finally, after a protracted period dedicated to his impromptu feast, Lance leaned back, signaling the end of his culinary indulgence with a satisfied belch. It was a breach of etiquette that would usually invite the Viscount's displeasure.
Yet, the night was one of anomalies. Rather than rebuke, Viscount Lane observed Lance with a rare leniency, perhaps softened by the earlier revelation of his son's unexpected potential. With an indulgent smile, he inquired, "Are you full? If not, I can have Hogg prepare more." It was a moment that blurred the lines of strict nobility standards, revealing a flicker of paternal warmth amidst the formality of their noble existence.
Lance politely declined the offer for more food, his appetite finally sated, "Thank you, Father, but I am quite full now."
Observing his son, Viscount Lane's expression softened, a mixture of relief, pride, and a myriad of other emotions playing across his features. He passed the significant animal skins back to Wizard Amman, his voice carrying a new resolve, "Since you've successfully inscribed this rune, you're ready for the next phase of wizardly education. Let's set aside the matter of the church."
He paused, considering the future, "From tomorrow, you will continue your studies under Amman's tutelage." His brow furrowed at the thought of the financial implications, "As for the costs of your education…" The viscount was well aware of the expenses associated with magical training. Despite the vast resources at his disposal from controlling a large territory along the West Coast, Lance's educational expenditures over the past six months had been significantly taxing..
Sensing the potential for a significant decision, Viscountess Nancy swiftly interjected, her tone carrying the weight of prudence, "My dear, while it's true that Lance has incurred considerable expenses, the investments necessary for magical education are indispensable. I would advise maintaining the current financial commitment."
Her interjection, while outwardly supportive of Lance, was driven by her own concerns; she aimed to prevent any increase in the Viscount's expenditure on Lance's education now that he showed potential. This was her subtle method of curbing the Viscount's enthusiasm from translating into additional financial support for Lance, without appearing unsupportive.
Viscount Lane, considering his wife's counsel, agreed with a simple nod, "Very well, for now, the arrangement will remain as it is. Lance will continue to receive three hundred gold coins a month for his studies."
Irene and Sabina could only look on with a mix of amazement and envy. Their allowances paled in comparison to the sum allocated for Lance's education, a stark reminder of the different paths their lives were taking within the same household.
Biqi's reaction, however, was less subdued. Her eyes bore into Lance, not bothering to mask the bitterness and resentment swirling within. The disparity between their treatments within the family structure was a pill too bitter for her to swallow silently.
Meanwhile, Nancy managed to conceal her internal discontent behind a mask of contentment, feigning happiness for Lance's continued magical journey, even as she wrestled with her own tangled web of emotions and calculations.
"Thank you, Father," Lance responded with a measured tone. He recognized the significant costs associated with mastering magic and understood that his progress depended heavily on the continued financial backing from the Viscount's resources.
Wizard Amman then interjected, bringing an additional layer of support to the conversation, "Concerning the costs of learning, my lord, please don't worry. Apart from the funding you provide, I will also supply Lance with the necessary spell materials."
This declaration left the room in momentary surprise, drawing an especially pleased reaction from Viscount Lane. The nature of Lance's education had thus far been more akin to that of a pupil. However, Amman's commitment marked a pivotal shift, essentially elevating Lance to the status of a disciple—a bond that transcended mere academic instruction, hinting at a more personal and invested relationship.
Lance, acknowledging this significant gesture, expressed his gratitude, "Thank you, teacher!" His acknowledgment was sincere, recognizing the weight and value of Amman's support.
Amman responded with a gentle nod and a smile, dismissing the formality, "This is what you have earned." His words not only affirmed his belief in Lance's potential but also reinforced the newfound faith in Lance's journey to becoming a wizard within the supportive framework of the Viscountry.
…
The castle buzzed with newfound vitality as word of Lance's achievement cascaded through its walls. The once-doubtful tale of the second young master's leap towards wizardry was now the topic on everyone's lips, from the patrolling guards to the stable hands and gardeners. Each corner of the estate vibrated with the unexpected but astonishing news of Lance's success.
Back in the hall, Viscount Lane concluded Lance's examination, a moment that marked a turning point. He then motioned for the patrol captain and a few select individuals to follow him to his study for a private discussion, while casually dismissing the others.
As Lance was about to exit with the dismissed group, the Viscount's commanding voice halted him, "Wait, Lance, join us in the study. Even if the discussions there elude your current understanding, it's beneficial for you to listen." This unexpected invitation hinted at Lance's ascending importance and perhaps a deeper involvement in the affairs of the Viscounty.
With no choice but to adhere to his father's command, Lance acknowledged his sisters with a brief farewell before stepping into the realm of the unknown, accompanied by Amman and the other select individuals. The Viscountess's expression darkened further at this development, her features twisting with unspoken grievances and brewing plots.
Crossing the threshold into the study, Lance left the buoyant atmosphere of the dining hall behind. The mood shifted palpably as they entered the more somber and serious space, bracing themselves for what was to come.
"The current state of affairs, where shall we commence?" Viscount Lane initiated, clearing his throat as he settled into his chair behind the grand desk.
"Lord Viscount, allow me to begin," a middle-aged man stepped forward, offering a polite nod towards Lance before presenting a ledger to Viscount Lane. "This document details this month's taxation from our five territories. Please, my lord, take a moment to review it."
Lance strained his memory, piecing together the identity of the man before him. After a moment, recognition clicked — the man was Terry, the territory's tax official and a cousin to his stepmother, the second lady. The significance of the assembly in the Viscount's study became clearer to Lance; it was a monthly review, an essential gathering where key figures reported directly to the Viscount on various administrative and financial matters.
Understanding the Viscount's intention behind inviting him, Lance aimed to absorb as much information as possible, realizing that this was part of his broader education in estate management. He silently engaged [Fox], the main chip, to record the proceedings, recalling the saying, "A good memory is no match for a poor pen, and a poor pen is surpassed by a gene chip…" This approach allowed him to focus on the discussions without worrying about retaining every detail from memory.