"Lady Isabelle's decision speaks not only to the importance of your nephew's safety but also the care the lady has for the people under her," said Kale.
Roger returned to his task of sorting stones from rice, his hands moving with practiced efficiency, "As the legal guardian of my nephew, and him being still seventeenth, I do not allow him to be on this journey," he replied.
"Therefore, I must respectfully decline your request to take him away. Andrew shall remain here, under my care, tending to the fields and fulfilling his duties," he said with resolve, meeting Kale's gaze unwaveringly.
"I do understand your concerns, and trust me the lady has no other plan but only to make your nephew paint a portrait of hers and from this opportunity, it will bring him fame, popularity and money. You will have no financial problems and you do not have to worry about the meal on your plate, and also you do not need to work under the scorching sun, it is totally beneficial," Kale insisted.
"Your words are kind, my lord, but my decision remains unchanged," he declared firmly.
Meanwhile, somewhere in the Gear village. "Here! Auntie! Your newspaper!" called out Andrew.
He rode his bicycle through the village pathways, visiting every house and calling out to shop owners. Andrew had a face that exuded trust, with a kind and cheerful demeanor that instantly won people over.
His eyes sparkled with happiness, and his laughter was contagious, drawing admiration from all who heard it.
With his beautiful, youthful face, Andrew had become the object of affection for many in the village. Some believed he was an angel, while others saw him as a lost young prince.
He had his loyal dog with him, sitting in the basket of his bicycle. The dog would bark at the shops and houses alerting the owners of their arrival.
Andrew stopped his bicycle in front of the entrance of well house, and on the call of Andrew, a women came out accompanied by her young daughter.
Andrew greeted them with warmth, "Good afternoon, madam."
"You've arrived! How are things going with your bakery?" the woman asked.
"They are really going fine! Madam, I am enjoying making them. I have learned so many recipes just within one month," he exclaimed.
"Really? I don't understand why you chose that. Well, anyway, did you bring any?" she inquired, her face had lift up with amusement.
"Of course, madam," came a quick reply from Andrew and he began to delved into his bag, retrieving a neatly wrapped bread.
"Here, for you, Madam," he said as he handed it out to the women.
"I didn't forget about that little one," he said as he pulled out a cupcake form his bag, and offered it to her daughter.
"You brought them," the woman said appreciatively. She had a genuine smile on her face as she saw her daughter slowly extend her hand and take it from Andrew.
"Yes, I had to. Do tell me how they tasted!" Andrew said, his bright smile never leaving his lips.
"Thank you, Andrew. You always bring a touch of sweetness to our day," the woman expressed her gratitude, her voice filled with warmth.
"It is my pleasure to do so. After all, this village has taken great care of me as their own child, and I love seeing smiles on everyone's faces," he replied, his tone overflowing with genuine joy.
As he handed the woman her newspaper, he noticed a faint glimmer of concern in her eyes, "Is everything alright, madam?" he asked, his voice laced with genuine concern.
The woman sighed, her smile fading slightly, "Times have been tough lately," she lamented, her gaze momentarily drifting to the ground. "Prices have risen, and work has become more difficult. It is a struggle to make ends meet, and my husband is sick," she revealed.
"I understand. But remember, the one who got through the tough times is the one who last forever. We must stay strong and support one another. I'm here to help in any way I can," he reassured her, his gaze had gotten softer.
"Thank you, dear. Your presence alone brings hope to our hearts," she confessed, her voice filled with gratitude.
"Tell me about this bread.."
"This is a new type of bread that will be arriving in the markets soon, do tell me how it tasted," he requested, his tone tinged with nervousness.
"Are you the chief?" she asked.
"Yes, madam," Andrew replied proudly, a smile playing at the corners of his lips.
"I will tell you how these are.." she assured and her gaze drifted to her daughter
"Say thank you to your elder brother," she ordered, while pushing her head down.
Her daughter remained silent, her eyes downcast and after a long silence, she softly whispered, "Thank you," her voice barely audible, laced with a mixture of gratitude and melancholy.
"Where is the brother?" her mother firmly asked.
On which her daughter dashed into her room.
"Where is the brother?!" the mother repeated.
"This girl," the mother muttered, frustration creeping into her voice as she tried to mask the worry gnawing at her heart.
She turned to Andrew, her expression a mix of concern and embarrassment. "I am sorry," she said, her cheeks flushing with the discomfort of the situation.
Andrew shook his head. "Do not worry, madam. There is no need to say sorry," he reassured her, his voice calm and understanding.
"Please, Andrew," she implored, her voice soft but earnest.
"She has this crush on you. Do not tease her. It will hurt her later on. From such a young age, she is stubborn about wanting to marry you. Please, do not encourage her. Many other girls also have a crush on you, and if you continue to keep playing with her thinking that she is just a child, she might get the wrong idea. One day you will marry someone, and it will break my daughter's heart, which I do not want."
"Do not worry, auntie," he assured her, his tone gentle yet firm. "It is just some crush thing, she will soon get over it," he explained, his smile warm and genuine, but beneath it there was sadness.
With a final nod, he waved goodbye to the women and set off to continue his work.
As he cycled along the village pathways, he greeted everyone he passed.
While riding, he noticed a woman rushing towards him. Sensing something was wrong, he immediately stopped his bicycle and turned to face her, his concern deepening. "What is it, madam?" he asked softly, his voice filled with quiet urgency.
The woman, still gasping for breath, managed to blurt out, "What are you doing here?! There's a group of warriors headed to your house!" Her voice trembled with alarm.
His smile faded, replaced with a look of worry and concern. His heart raced with anxiety, and he felt a lump form in his throat as he wondered about the reason.
"Thank you, madam," he managed to say, his voice tight with urgency. Without wasting another second, he pushed off and pedaled his bicycle as fast as he could, the wheels spinning wildly beneath him. His loyal dog, sensing the tension in the air, barked in urgency as they rushed towards home. The wind whipped against his face, but it did little to cool the rising panic that gripped his heart.
"Age does not matter," Kale asserted, his voice filled with negotiation, "Younger people are achieving more than adults these days, thanks to their talent. Your nephew's work has caught the Lady's eye, such a great opportunity he has, he can make it big. By granting him this opportunity, his life will improve significantly. People will send love to him through his art, which will adorn the walls of museums, the homes of nobles, and the halls of prestigious galleries for eternity."
"My answer remains unchanged, my lord," replied Roger, his gaze fixed on the task before him.
"You are strange for a good and caring uncle," Kale confessed, his voice tinged with disbelief. "Being asked if you will join too, you refused. Being promised that no harm will fall on him, you refused. I do understand your concerns, and for that, I am providing you ways to handle and how to overcome them, but you still refuse."
"I am a strange guardian, I know," he admitted, his voice tinged with resignation. "But what can be done? He must be out of the village by now," he added mocking them.
He continued, "My lord, I feel unfortunate that I cannot comply with the lady's orders," he confessed. "If it is truly Lady Isabelle's desire, why doesn't she send her own portrait here? Or better yet, why doesn't she come herself so that my nephew can draw her portrait?" he suggested.
As Andrew neared his house, the sight of the warriors in uniform gathering near his front door sent a chill down his spine, his heart quickening with worry.
In the next moment, Kale sent a sharp blow to his uncle's face which startled Andrew and before he could even react, Kale's strong grip seize the back of his uncle's head, and his uncle winced in pain.
"Kale," came a calm voice amidst the chaos, a commanding tone tinged with disapproval. It was Vanvi, the captain of 'The 9'.
"Stop it, we are not savages."
However, before Kale could respond, a sudden cry pierced through the tension, drawing the attention of the bystanders and halting the warriors.
With determined strides, someone pushed through the onlookers, "What do you think, you are you doing?" Andrew exclaimed urgently, his voice cutting through the chaos.