Alf let out a soft sigh, rubbing his forehead.
"Haa… to think I was that young."
Erinnete crossed her arms, glancing at the painting.
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"And Hesbeirn still looks annoying."
Hesbeirn grinned.
"And you still look bossy even as a kid."
Erinnete elbowed him.
Garius just smirked, but his fingers lingered on the edge of the painting.
This was a different ti.
A simpler ti.
But ti never stops.
And neither did they.
The courtyard was quiet.
Even Giddie, sensing the weight of the mont, stayed still.
Garius let out a slow breath, then gently placed the painting aside.
He knew there was still more inside the chest.
More mories waiting to be uncovered.
And he wasn't done yet.
Garius lifted the chest effortlessly, his expression unreadable.
Without a word, he turned and began walking back toward his private room.
Alf, Erinnete, and Hesbeirn exchanged brief glances—then silently followed behind him.
The courtyard, once lively with Giddie's squawking, had fallen into silence.
Servants watched their lord walk past, sensing the shift in atmosphere.
Even Giddie, who had been so excited monts ago, simply tilted his head, as if understanding.
This wasn't just a chest.
This was a piece of history.
A part of Garius' life before he beca the powerful Count of Armand.
Garius pushed the heavy door open, stepping inside his grand yet simple private chamber.
A place where only a few were ever allowed.
He set the chest down near his desk, staring at it for a mont before taking a seat.
Alf stood to his right, hands behind his back.
Erinnete crossed her arms, leaning against the bookshelf.
Hesbeirn sat lazily on the couch, watching quietly.
They all waited.
Because they knew—
Whatever was inside that chest…
It mattered.
Garius reached into the chest and pulled out an old wooden sword.
The wood was worn, the edges dulled from countless hours of training.
He turned it in his hand, feeling the weight of the past.
Then—he smirked.
"Heh… Alf, rember this?"
Alf let out a rare chuckle, his usual composed expression softening slightly.
"Yes, my lord. The sword you used for training when you were seven… The first ti you held it… and cried."
Garius rolled his eyes but didn't deny it.
Alf smirked.
"Yes, a kid who thought swinging a sword was easy—until you hit your own foot and fell on your face."
Garius ran his fingers over the faded grip of the wooden sword.
It was small in his hands now, but back then, it had felt heavy.
His father's voice echoed in his mory—words of discipline, of hardship, of strength.
Of what it ant to be a noble.
To not rely on titles, but on one's own ability.
He set the sword down gently on his desk, beside the old paintings.
"It's been a long road."
Alf, Erinnete, and Hesbeirn said nothing.
Because they all knew.
They had walked that road with him.
Garius reached into the chest once more, pulling out a worn, slightly crumpled piece of paper.
The handwriting on it was terrible—ssy, uneven, as if written by a child struggling to hold a pen.
He let out a nostalgic chuckle.
"Heh… rember this, Erinnete? Hesbeirn?"
Erinnete smiled, her eyes soft with old mories.
"Yes, my lord."
Hesbeirn grinned.
"Of course. How could I forget?"
It was a contract—an agreent, written by a young Garius before he ever beca the lord he was today.
A promise to take in two starving, desperate children.
Back when Erinnete and Hesbeirn were nothing but slaves—children with nowhere to go.
Back when Garius still had his family.
Before the assassination that changed everything.
Erinnete touched the paper gently.
"This was when we had nothing."
"And yet, you took us in, gave us a place to belong."
Hesbeirn crossed his arms, grinning.
"And now look at us. You're a count. I'm a general. Erinnete is the head of the most feared maid unit in the kingdom."
Garius smirked.
"You're still annoying, though."
Hesbeirn laughed.
Erinnete gazed at the paper again—then turned her eyes toward Alf.
Alf had been silent, but at her gaze, his face turned slightly red.
"And thanks to this… I found my true love."
Alf cleared his throat, shifting uncomfortably.
"Oh? Our cold, ruthless assassin getting shy?"
Alf glared.
"Shut up."
Garius chuckled.
"Hah… So things never change."
He placed the contract carefully back inside the chest—because so promises, no matter how old, never lose their value.
Garius checked everything inside the chest, his fingers brushing over each forgotten piece of his past.
As he stared at them, mories flooded back—
Back to when he was just a boy, the son of a Lower Baron.
His father was a kind man.
Too kind.
A man who believed that nobility ant honor, that others would respect their title and land simply because they were noble.
A man who thought generosity and fairness were enough to keep their family safe.
But the world wasn't so kind.
His father was naive.
He didn't see how other nobles took advantage of his goodwill.
He didn't notice the hidden hands stealing from their wealth.
He didn't prepare for betrayal.
But Garius saw it.
Even as a child, he understood—
Power isn't given. It's taken.
And if you don't take it, soone else will.
Garius let out a small chuckle, rembering another mont of his childhood.
The day he first t Giddie.
He had been lost in the forest.
And then, in the depths of the forest, he had found a small, pekko chick.
A bright golden bird, abandoned and weak.
Just like him.
They had survived together that ti.
And from that mont on, they had never been apart.
Garius smirked, pulling out an old knife.
He turned to Alf.
"You rember this?"
Alf nodded, his expression unreadable.
"Of course, My lord."
It was Alf who taught him how to fight.
How to hunt.
How to survive.
They hunted monsters together, selling materials and earning their own money—because even as a noble, Garius never wanted to rely on his father's.
A man who depends on others will always be at their rcy.
That was the first lesson Alf taught him.
And Garius had never forgotten it.
Then—Garius pulled out sothing small.
A small, ragged piece of cloth.
Old, worn, nearly falling apart.
But he knew what it was.
His first gift from Erinnete.
His mind drifted back to that day—
The day he first saw her.
A slave girl in the marketplace.
Covered in dirt, dressed in torn clothes.
Her arms wrapped protectively around her little brother, shielding him from the harsh gaze of rchants and nobles alike.
She was barely holding back tears, but she stood tall, refusing to show weakness.
A girl who had lost everything… except her will to fight.
Most nobles ignored them.
But Garius didn't.
He stepped forward, past the jeering crowd, past the rchants trying to sell them like objects.
And without hesitation, he bought them.
Not as slaves.
But as his people.
Garius looked down at the items in the chest one more ti.
The wooden sword.
The practice knife.
The old contract.
The ragged cloth.
Each one a reminder.
Of where he started.
Of the battles he fought—not just on the battlefield, but in life.
Of the people who stood beside him.
His father had been naive, blind to the dangers of the world.
But Garius had seen them.
He had survived them.
And he had built sothing far greater than his father ever could.
A kingdom within a kingdom.
A region that no one could ever take from him.
Because he had already lost everything once.
He would never lose again.
( End of Chapter )
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