Young Master and Father

After watching Selina leave, Renard flopped lazily back onto the bed, enjoying the decadent life of a medieval noble.

Having absorbed the memories of the body's original owner, he didn't feel particularly out of place in this world. He rolled over and opened the interface in his mind, ready to take a closer look at this so-called system.

But before he could fully immerse himself in it, a deep, weighty voice startled him awake. "You're up?"

The moment Renard heard that voice, he jolted. An icy chill raced from the soles of his feet to the top of his head. He sprang out of bed, and the smile on his face was instantly replaced by fear.

In Saint Brieuc Fortress, who else could scare him like this except his old man, Baron Hamilton?

Sure enough, the baron was standing in the doorway, watching him like a hawk. His expression was so gloomy it seemed water could drip from it.

Baron Hamilton had begun martial training at eight, become a knight's squire at fourteen and traveled the world, then enlisted in the army at twenty. When his father died at thirty-six, he had reluctantly left the military and returned home to inherit the title and lands.

His sixteen years of military service had left an indelible mark on both body and mind. Though he was now fifty-six, he still exuded a fierce, battle-hardened air.

He hadn't been particularly strict in disciplining Scum Renard, but there had been no shortage of beatings and scoldings, so Scum Renard was terrified of him.

From the memories he'd absorbed, Renard knew that the relationship between this father and son was far from harmonious. So, seeing the baron's hostile expression, he instinctively assumed the man had come to cause trouble and immediately retreated to a corner.

Baron Hamilton gave an almost imperceptible sigh, his eyes filled with disappointment. He didn't rush to reprimand his good-for-nothing son. Instead, he walked to the bed and looked down at him. "Do you feel unwell anywhere?"

Under that stare, Renard felt a cold sweat running down his spine. After hesitating for a while, he replied respectfully, "I feel fine now. I'm sorry for worrying you, Father."

Baron Hamilton nodded calmly. "Good. That's good."

After a brief silence, he spoke again. "As for you being struck by lightning, I don't believe it was divine punishment, but you should stop making trouble for others. After all, you're the future master of Saint Brieuc Fortress."

Renard nodded in agreement. The baron had an imposing presence. How could he dare contradict him?

Besides, he was no longer the spiteful, pampered heir he'd once been. He would have to change. If he attributed that change to reverence for the gods, he could pass it off as perfectly natural and fool everyone.

The baron wasn't pleased by how readily his son agreed. He knew exactly what kind of person his son was. If Renard hadn't been his only legitimate son, he would have loved to draw his sword and cut him down.

"Get some rest. Stop thinking about running off all the time." Perhaps few words were a common trait among the powerful. Baron Hamilton left the room after dropping those two sentences.

Selina stood at the door and watched him go before daring to carry the tray inside. Her voice was as sweet and lovely as a lark's song. "Young Master, it's time to eat."

At the sound of that sugary voice, Baron Hamilton, who had just reached the landing, suddenly stopped. A trace of helplessness crossed his face.

He was a military man, decisive and swift in all he did. On the battlefield, even when facing enemies several times his number, he could remain calm and composed. Yet when it came to the question of who would inherit his lands, he had always been hesitant.

Whenever he thought of Miss Florence's sorrowful expression and his clever, adorable illegitimate son Gilbert, he was torn with indecision.

Struggles over power often brought bloodshed, and that was something Baron Hamilton didn't want to see. But if he handed his lands to Renard, he feared his son would ruin everything he had worked so hard to build.

He lowered his head and brooded, unaware that a figure had suddenly stepped out of the shadows at the end of the corridor.

The newcomer was an old man with graying temples and a thin build. Age had left his back somewhat hunched. He had a hooked nose, hollow cheeks, narrow, triangular eyes, and bony hands like dried chicken claws.

If Renard had seen him, his first instinct would probably have been to run. The man looked far too much like a villain from a novel.

The old man approached Baron Hamilton without a sound, studied his back, and spoke. "Baron Hamilton, what are you standing here for?"

The hoarse voice snapped Baron Hamilton out of his thoughts. He was a high-level Battle Qi Warrior, yet he hadn't noticed anyone coming up behind him. That alone showed how formidable the newcomer was.

He spun around. The moment he recognized the man, he relaxed, a wry smile appearing on his face. "Mr. Bennett, weren't you in the City of Abundance? When did you get back?"

Bennett was the hooked-nosed old man's name. He bowed respectfully and replied, "I just got back."

Baron Hamilton nodded, then asked with some urgency, "How is Teacher Steven's health?"

Bennett seemed like a talkative man, but when the subject turned to Steven, he hesitated. After a long while, he sighed. "Not well. He may not make it to next spring."

His expression showed his regret.

"Not make it to next spring?" Baron Hamilton repeated quietly, his expression complicated. "He was a very capable teacher and a respected elder. I never thought he would leave this world like this..."

Baron Hamilton spoke slowly, recounting his bond with Steven, his teacher.

Bennett was a good listener. He didn't interrupt, but listened quietly, his expression especially attentive.

After a long while, Baron Hamilton emerged from his fond memories and smiled wryly again. "Sorry, Mr. Bennett, I..."

Bennett didn't give him a chance to apologize. He waved a hand to cut him off. "There's no need to apologize. When I heard the news, I wasn't much better than you."

Hamilton sighed softly and gazed through the window at the distant fields. He asked with a hint of meaning, "Has Teacher Steven decided on his heir?"

As he asked, the muscles in his cheeks tensed. Clearly, he wasn't as calm as he seemed.

"Well..." Bennett considered the question briefly, then answered honestly. "Count Steven did consider changing his heir, but in the end, he chose to follow the rules of noble succession."

As he spoke, Bennett looked toward the room where Renard was. A smile slowly spread across his sinister face. "Count Steven's choice was entirely expected."

He looked back at Baron Hamilton and said meaningfully, "Just as your father chose you over Young Master Liander, who was more capable than you."