Sparring

Lord Edward had been in a foul mood lately, and Lord Alexander wasn't exactly cheerful either.

He was busy preparing for his new venture when his brother's lover returned. Seeing his brother so easily swayed by a few sweet words, Alexander felt anxiety burning in his chest.

Deep down, Alexander understood that the Duke's feelings for his brother went far beyond mere amusement or novelty. He had generously given his brother so much.

Yet for family, worldly matters might lack romance but held profound importance. Had Alexander lived in modern times, he'd understand his anxiety—much like parents reluctant to marry off their well-bred daughter to a man lacking property, a car, or ambition.

Admittedly, the analogy wasn't perfect, but the underlying anxiety was identical. For family, love alone was insufficient. The Duke had certainly never deprived young Lance of material comforts, yet Alexander's concerns ran deeper—the Temple offered little protection for unguarded noble lovers, fallen minor nobility, or even commoners of the same sex who loved each other.

If the Duke's concern was so overwhelming that he sought to hide his beloved, Alexander disagreed even more strongly. Given the Black Duke's current standing, he shouldn't be low-key. Instead, he should proclaim to all how much he valued Lance. While danger would still exist, as long as the Black Duke remained powerful and feared, Lance would be safe.

Clearly, this perspective had not occurred to Edward, who was caught within the situation. To Edward, possessing such a precious treasure—a colossal weakness—meant he desperately wanted to conceal it from everyone. He wished he could hide Tang Feiliu entirely within the castle, keeping her existence a secret.

Edward feared not the blades aimed at himself, but the terror his angel might endure. He dreaded her discovery, becoming the prime leverage for those targeting the Black Duke.

This was indeed a case of being so concerned that he became reckless. To Alexander, if his brother's identity wasn't elevated to a position of great importance, and if someone truly intended to target Lance as a means to pressure Edward—though they wouldn't anticipate that such an act would provoke the Black Duke's ruthless retaliation— —but if they remained unaware, believing Lance merely a favored lover of Edward's, then anyone might dare target Lance, even using harm against him as a test of the Black Duke's resolve.

Each held their own view. To Edward, Alexander was no ordinary man. From the moment he arrived, he'd been sowing discord between him and Tang Feiliu, attempting to drive a wedge between them—utterly unforgivable.

He nestled the little angel into soft lace, whispering softly to him until Tang Feiliu grew drowsy and began rubbing his eyes. Only then did Edward gently press a goodnight kiss upon his lips before taking the candlestick and stepping out.

The moment he stepped outside, Edward's face darkened. Summoning Ivans immediately, he suppressed his mounting fury and demanded, word by word, "What exactly is going on with that Alexander?!"

Ivans bowed slightly and answered earnestly: "...After you left, Lord Lance suddenly returned home. At the beginning of their meeting, Lance's brother Alexander seemed emotionally off, but when they emerged from the room, they were nothing but brothers reunited after a long separation..."

In truth, Ivans was deeply puzzled. After all, Alexander's transformation appeared utterly illogical to outsiders. Especially to those steeped in the art of power, the truth was obvious without even thinking—the brother who had coldly cast aside his own sibling for profit now, upon his younger brother's rise, feigned warmth to lure him back, sowing discord. He must be plotting something far more sinister.

"Find out everything about this Alexander. I mean everything," Edward murmured, narrowing his eyes slightly. He was thoroughly enraged, his voice as icy as York's winter snow. He spoke softly, "If he only wants money, fine. For Lance's sake, I can support him. But if he intends to use Lance for something... if he dares to hurt Lance again..."

Edward didn't finish his sentence, but Evans clearly understood the unspoken threat.

After this exchange, Edward retrieved an envelope from his desk. Emblazoned upon it was the royal crest—a lion and thorns—which he slid toward Evans. "This is a letter from that lady," he murmured.

"I don't need it," Evans said, his expression unmoved as he regarded the letter. His gray eyes held only calmness and gentleness. "I find this place sufficient. I grew up here, and I shall serve my master here... Wherever he is, I will be."

Edward observed the young man—brown hair, gray eyes, and a distinctive aquiline nose strikingly similar to that of the ambitious lady. Yet while she was a lioness in flames, a beast commanding the world, Evans was a handsome yet gentle soul. Edward sighed softly and murmured, "... "She has only you as her child. Are you truly not going to look at this letter?"

"Good night, Your Excellency." Ivaness bowed and turned to leave.

Edward watched his straight-backed figure depart, his thoughts drifting to the imperial palace shrouded in darkness—Charles's furious tirade, and that lady casually waving her feather fan as she dispatched men to search the outskirts for Prince Wright, who had gone traveling... Ivan had been sent to the Black Swan at a very young age, back when Edward was still fighting fiercely within the palace walls. Raised by Dave, Ivan had lived as a servant.

Though his veins coursed with the noblest blood, he was the child born to Empress Josephine and her lover. When Josephine held no power, he was destined to be a child who never saw the light of day. Yet for reasons unknown, the Empress did not keep him in the imperial city. Instead, she sent him to York to become a servant to her cousin.

Even stranger, as the Empress drew closer to the throne, displaying utter coldness toward Charles and Wright, she grew increasingly maternal toward this illegitimate son she had never met—at least, the constant letters she sent proved this.

It seemed the queen had fewer topics to discuss with her own son Charles than she did with this boy.

Though Evans never accepted the lady's letters nor showed any signs of unrest, Edward sensed that Evans seemed less invested in him and the entire domain. A fiercely burning ambition consumed him, and his gray eyes held the same desire as his mother's. Yet Edward understood his mother's gaze was fixed on the throne, while the direction Evans looked toward remained somewhat unclear to him.

Yet none of this diminished Edward's trust in Ivan. He knew Ivan might have his own plans, and he respected his choices—if Ivan wished to be his personal valet, then Edward would treat him as such; if one day Ivan desired to return to the imperial city and engage with that lady, Edward would pack his belongings and offer his assistance without hesitation.

Such was the unspoken understanding between them.

Edward glanced at the envelope. Evans couldn't decipher it, but Edward recognized at a glance that this letter, like the others before it, wasn't written by a lady-in-waiting to Empress Josephine. It was in the Empress's own handwriting.

Edward knew of Empress Josephine's past during those years, but he refused to let his thoughts drift into the darkness and pain of those memories. He tossed the letter back into the bookcase and walked out, holding the candlestick.

His destination was the bedroom on the fourth floor. The carefree angel lay sprawled across the bed, arms stretched beyond the lace quilt, cheeks flushed from sleeping—clearly finding the covers too warm. Edward set down the candlestick, tucked the angel's exposed hand back under the covers, and pressed the quilt down firmly. The golden-haired angel responded with an impatient grumble.

Edward shed his outer garments, slipped into his nightgown, and crawled in from the other side, trapping the little angel who’d been trying to kick off the covers. Slowly, both drifted into deep slumber.

It took Alexander several days to realize his words had been dismissed as nonsense by the Duke. only when his brother let slip about rising with the duke did Alexander realize: His Excellency was truly a man forged in the intrigues of the imperial capital. He bore no resemblance to the gentle, conflicted duke his brother described. In public, His Excellency showed no hesitation or anything else—he seemed more intent on demonstrating his power to Alexander, making clear his influence over Lance was far from absolute.

Alexander adopted a different approach. Having lived in this house for quite some time, he'd hosted several small gatherings and grown familiar with his neighbors—particularly the warm-hearted Stewart family, the patrol captain and his kin, with whom he maintained close ties.

Alexander had given up trying to reason with his younger brother. Clearly, his brother was naive and gullible, and the Duke was an expert at reading people, exploiting his brother's weaknesses to the fullest. No matter how much Alexander warned him, the moment the Duke showed the slightest weakness, his brother would eagerly offer himself up to that unscrupulous wolf.

So Alexander used the excuse of inviting the Stewart family over to view his home furnishings and share dinner, keeping Tang Feiliu at his residence—an excuse that wasn't entirely false. Alexander's furniture was the envy of all Black Swan City residents who had attended his banquets.

Moreover, though newly arrived in Black Swan City, Alexander had instantly become the socialite of the moment. Unlike the discrimination he faced in Valra Town, his arrival in Black Swan City was met with an overwhelming welcome from everyone—all because his brother was Mr. Lance. The intensity of it all was almost too much for Alexander to bear.

Still, being well-liked was a blessing. Alexander had once disdained Valra Town's residents—largely due to his own emotional wounds. Now, free of resentment and with his brother by his side, he wasn't one to shut himself off. He engaged patiently with these people, much like his father, Lord Tangjue Doug. This was partly due to the character of Lord Doge. Though born into gentility, Lord Doge was an extrovert who relished banquets and making friends. He might not have been a frugal heir, but he was an exceptionally easygoing friend and father.

Under his father's influence, Alexander naturally avoided the mannerisms of an old-fashioned gentleman. He treated Black Swan City's new elite—merchants and officials alike—with courtesy, engaging them as equals and friends. This approach quickly earned him greater affection.

Among his many acquaintances, Alexander found Mr. Stewart particularly easy to talk to. Yes, that same Stewart who once struggled for scraps in the village was now, in some quarters, barely worthy of the title "Mr." Meeting an old-fashioned stickler like Alexander certainly wouldn't earn such respect, but Alexander genuinely believed Captain Stewart was a very clever man. Though his knowledge was somewhat limited by his education, he was eager to learn and willing to endure hardship. Most importantly... the entire Stewart family were devoted fans of his younger brother!

Though Alexander didn't understand the concept of fandom, he found immense joy every time he heard the Stewarts gushing mindlessly about his younger brother. They truly shared a common passion, and their conversations were always delightful.

Within Black Swan City, Tang Feiliu interacted most frequently with the Black Swan Castle and the group led by Stewart. Stewart was resourceful, willing to assist Tang Feiliu with tasks and share burdens, and surprisingly capable of strategic thinking. Lily, meanwhile, was a vital pillar in Tang Feiliu's factory—efficient and gentle in her work... So when he heard his brother was hosting a banquet for them as a couple, and that Stewart had generously brought his in-laws to live with them for their retirement—even bringing Lily's sister-in-law to find work and settle in, running the small guesthouse they'd converted from their house...

Tang Feiliu was overjoyed. Not only did he stay for the dinner, but he also prepared several special dishes to treat the Stewart family.

...Ah, and more importantly, while Edward couldn't handle spicy food and Alexander wasn't quite used to it, the Stewarts were becoming increasingly addicted to heat! At the dinner table, they could finally eat alongside Tang Feiliu!

Tang Feiliu's specialty was spicy dishes, yet no one around him truly appreciated them. So... encountering someone like Stewart who understood his passion felt like finding a kindred spirit. How could he not seize the chance to whip up a spicy hotpot for everyone to enjoy!

So, as night fell, Edward received word from Alexander's servant—Mr. Lance was still enjoying hotpot and would likely be late tonight, so he'd be sleeping at the foot of the mountain.

Edward took a deep breath, no longer willing to wait and see or engage in a tug-of-war with Alexander. Rising to his feet, he said in a low voice, "Dave, have someone bring the horse... Never mind!"

Edward stepped outside, whistled sharply with his fingers, and a sleek black stallion let out a snort. Snapping free from its tethered rope, it trotted swiftly toward the duke.

Leaping onto the saddle, the duke's face darkened as he patted his beloved steed. The black horse, quick to understand, let out a long neigh and galloped toward the castle gates.

"The saddle..." The resting horse bore no saddle, but Dave had no time to warn him. The dark-haired duke and his black steed had already vanished into the night, leaving behind only a rage thick enough to be tangible.

Author's Note:

So cold, so cold, so cold... Freezing my butt off...

Has it snowed where you are? They say we're getting more snow next week... again...