Moonlit Night

"Alexander," Edward murmured, studying the elegantly dressed man before him. Doubt stirred within him. Logically, if this man truly sought advantage, he should have cultivated a rapport with Lance first, then persuaded his brother to placate him. Yet here he stood, confronting him directly. Edward’s doubts deepened. Narrowing his eyes, he murmured, "I could kill you right now."

The words were blunt and entirely true. On this land, Duke Edward was the sole sovereign. Unlike the centralized systems of Asia, grand dukes like Edward were often courted rather than subjugated by emperors. Within their domains, their authority matched that of an emperor.

"When I followed young Lance here, I was prepared to face your execution." " Yet Edward's threat did not shake Alexander in the slightest. He looked at Edward, meeting his gaze directly, and said earnestly, "You may think I harbor ill intentions, but my actions have always been driven by a desire to secure the respect my brother deserves. If you love him, grant him the honor befitting the lover of a duke."

"...I did it to protect him. He is more than just my lover." "Edward stared at Alexander. Strangely, he sensed this man—who had once banished young Lance—was not lying. Frowning, he wondered if he had overlooked something. His young administrator was gentle and kind, but not truly foolish. Lance wouldn't have suddenly grown so close to Alexander without compelling reason.

Before Edward could delve deeper, Alexander’s voice—neither humble nor arrogant—spoke softly: "Not just a lover? What do you mean? That you love him? Yet you give him no honor or recognition, even though he bears your family crest... Those with ulterior motives will still see him as your pet."

Edward was stumped. After a moment's silence, he asked, "...Did you come to the Black Swan just for this?"

This was Edward granting Alexander a way out. He admitted he'd always been too afraid of loss—like someone who suddenly possessed a treasure yet knew not what to do with it. Lance himself cared little for such things, so before Alexander appeared, Edward's instinct had been to hide his angel away, shielding him from any chance of harm. But Alexander had reminded him this was unfair to young Lance.

Still, Edward intended to discuss this matter later with Tang Feiliu. Merely for this reason—that the man before him was willing to risk angering him to speak for his brother—Edward was prepared to offer him a small reward.

A single bodyguard was never enough. This had nothing to do with strength or weakness; everyone had blind spots. Take Edward, for instance—his excessive fear of emotions he couldn't control meant he'd never noticed these vulnerabilities. Yet Alexander saw them clearly now.

For Edward, the anger dissipated, replaced by a surge of relief—he certainly didn't want to discover Tang Feiliu's true identity and standing only after being provoked by someone else.

Tang Feiliu disliked balls—to modern eyes, they seemed like pointless social events. Yet in this era, they served as vital platforms for lords and nobles to exchange political views and pledge allegiance. This meant Edward himself would inevitably face countless balls in the future. So what was he to do... hide young Lance in the castle forever?!

Then, the nobles would surely assume the Dark Duke had no lover. Out of goodwill or any other motive, they would arrange all manner of romantic encounters for him—even offering themselves... Such matters were not only troublesome, but what if they unsettled Little Lance's emotions...

Edward's thoughts churned, but this was a problem he would have to resolve later with Tang Feiliu. He turned to Alexander, who shook his head and murmured softly, "...Your Excellency, as you can see, I happen to have enough money to support myself and my brother. Under your protection, our lands are growing prosperous day by day... I ask nothing for myself. My sole wish is for my brother—whom I worked so hard to find—to remain safe and sound..."

"Of course, should my brother ever become a scapegoat for others' attacks, I wouldn't hesitate to write to my old traveling companion. I'd accept his gracious invitation and dedicate myself entirely to the divine..." Alexander bowed deeply, then rose to meet the Black Duke's gaze with solemn intensity. "Lance is my beloved younger brother—my father's dying wish entrusted to me. Esteemed Lord, I honor you. I offer you my loyalty and wealth... unless you demand what is most precious to me."

Edward instantly grasped Alexander's meaning. He looked at the young man before him and asked softly, "You know the Templars?"

In this era, only the Templars could rival secular power. Though the Order had grown increasingly decadent and senile, it was merely because they wallowed in materialism, greed, and brutal infighting. Alexander's words implied his friend not only belonged to the Templars but held some standing within them. What was he hinting at? That he dared stand before Edward because he had backing?

Seeing Alexander nod lightly without elaborating, Edward felt a twinge of doubt but refused to waste time on it. He murmured, "...It's mine."

It was not a treasure of the Doug family. That child, now encircled by snakes bearing thorns, belonged to the Black Duke.

With that, Edward ended the discussion. The men he'd sent to investigate Alexander's background would return soon. Then, both the truth and Alexander's motives would be clear.

Until then, Edward intended to focus on one thing—teaching the tardy child a crucial lesson.

He pushed open the door. Tang Feiliu, who had been waiting anxiously outside, broke into a wide smile the moment he saw Edward emerge. His grin bordered on obsequiousness, clearly sensing the unusual aura emanating from Edward. He spoke up eagerly, "Edward, what were you and Brother talking about?"

"About you coming home on time," Edward replied, spreading his arms wide. He lowered his voice to Tang Feiliu. "Come here."

Tang Feiliu was confused. Hadn't he just sent word to Edward through a servant, informing him he wouldn't be returning to the castle tonight? Glancing outside at the pitch-black sky, he protested, "But it's already dark..."

Although the road leading down from the ancient castle had been paved with cement, widened, and shortened considerably, riding a horse after dark was nothing like traveling by carriage. With no illumination beyond moonlight, one could only rely on the horse's sense of direction, making it quite dangerous.

Yet as he spoke, Tang Feiliu walked straight into Edward’s open arms. This obedient display of affection lifted Edward’s spirits considerably. He scooped Tang Feiliu onto his arm, carrying him out as he said, "It’s fine. The moon tonight is exceptionally bright. We can take our time admiring it on our way back to the castle."

Before Tang Feiliu could respond, he only managed to shout, "Brother, I'll head back first!" before Edward swept him away, leaving no time for further words.

Meanwhile, Alexander's personal valet, Dan, had just seen off the Stewarts. Turning back into the inner chamber, he found Alexander clutching his stomach, pale-faced and sweating, seated at the dining table.

"Sir, what's wrong?" Dan gasped in alarm. Alexander gave a bitter smile. "Nothing. Just help me to my room..."

Facing the legendary Black Duke head-on was never going to be easy. He'd steeled himself for this moment for a long time. Yet when confronted with the Duke's fury, Alexander had to summon every ounce of his strength to hide his fear.

Yet this was what he, as an older brother, ought to fight for his younger sibling. Whether minor or major nobility, the chasm of status was the most terrifying thing... Alexander dreaded this most of all, for during the years of Lance's disappearance, he had become obsessed with legends and tales of the extraordinary.

During his search, Alexander witnessed the brutality and horror of the Inquisition. Countless people who seemed perfectly normal to him were burned alive for the slightest hint of heresy... or those who fell in love with minor nobles, only to be abandoned and ultimately hanged...

Did Alexander not fear Edward?

Only his foolish younger brother remained utterly blind to the bloodthirsty aura emanating from that nobleman. Anyone who had witnessed the carnage could grasp the sheer terror he embodied.

Yet he alone in the world had the right to stand up and do something for foolish Lance...

Alexander closed his eyes. Dan and the servants dared not disturb him, quietly gathering their things to let Alexander rest.

Meanwhile, on the way home with Edward, Tang Feiliu pondered recent events and finally asked, "Edward, is there some misunderstanding between you and my brother?"

"Why would you think that?" Edward asked softly.

"Listen, don't misunderstand my brother. He's really, really nice..." Tang Feiliu had been a bit thick-skinned before, assuming his brother disliked Edward like how modern elders dislike forcing their sons to come out. But now, recalling the atmosphere between Edward and his brother, he couldn't shake the feeling that it wasn't just his brother harboring resentment toward Edward—it seemed Edward also held some grievance against his brother?!

Tang Feiliu certainly didn't want the two people he cherished most in this era to dislike each other behind his back. He rushed to explain, but just as he began, Tang Feiliu suddenly grasped the crux of the matter.

He’d barely started speaking when he found himself at a loss for words.

...Tang Feiliu thought it through carefully. Edward feeling distrust toward Alexander was perfectly normal. Even though Edward hadn't asked about his past, it was possible Edward already knew about his expulsion. So now, after such a long separation, they were reunited—but Edward didn't know that! He'd definitely still suspect his brother harbored ulterior motives!

Tang Feiliu was instantly torn. He wanted to speak, yet didn't know how to proceed. His brother had warned him repeatedly about this matter, insisting it must never be revealed to anyone—including the Black Duke... no, especially not the Black Duke!

Yet without clarification, Edward could never truly forgive his brother. But to explain meant laying bare his entire past!

Tang Feiliu was torn. He cared for Edward, deeply and genuinely. That affection had grown over two years of shared moments and accumulated details, a trust and love built with time. Was he afraid? Of course he was... Tang Feiliu pondered for a long while. Just before returning to the castle, he suddenly whispered, "Edward, can I trust you?"

"Yes." Edward paused briefly before answering softly.

"Even if I'm not an angel... I might be a heretic in the eyes of the Templars?" Tang Feiliu clung fearfully to Edward's waist. Wrapped entirely in Edward's cloak, his voice was muffled, yet Edward heard every word clearly.

Edward pulled on the reins of his steed. He seemed to sense the trembling of the person in his arms. Concerned, he pushed aside the cloak to find the pale-faced, golden-haired child staring at him timidly, like a small animal curling up to hide from danger.

"Lance, you know what? Truthfully, on my way back, I thought about many things." Edward gazed at Tang Feiliu, choosing not to ask what had happened to him. Instead, he spoke softly about the feelings he hadn't had time to express amid the series of events since their return. "I feared I might hurt you. The Templars call me a demon—one who should never be graced by an angel... Don't rush to dismiss me, little Lance. You have no idea how truly wonderful you are."

Edward dismounted, cradling Tang Feiliu in his arms. He carried him gently along the moonlit path toward the castle, murmuring softly as they walked: On the road, I thought I should leave you. I should give you wealth and lands, let you live happily. That place couldn't be too far—I needed to see you to soothe my lonely, thirsty heart. Nor could it be too poor; with your delicate constitution, you couldn't live in discomfort... I thought about it endlessly. Truthfully, I hadn't reached a conclusion until I returned to the Black Swan and held you in my arms."

Edward's voice was low and distant, magnetic in its timbre, the trailing notes dipping slightly with a hint of world-weariness and mystery. Tang Feiliu found herself almost forgetting her earlier fear.

Edward clearly recalled that day in the castle gardens, seeing the child who’d uprooted all the delicate flowers to plant garlic instead, his mischievous clothes splattered with mud. The servants, evidently unable to restrain the little rascal after he’d left, could only prepare tea and pastries under the veranda, ready to replenish young Master Lance’s energy whenever he grew tired of playing.

In that instant, the death within the Dark Imperial City, Charles's dying roar, Emperor Josephine's triumphant smile and dangerous probing... all of it seemed to be suddenly illuminated by a blinding light the moment the blond child appeared, instantly screaming and crumbling to dust.

The moment Edward embraced the child, a selfish certainty settled within him—even if heavenly fire consumed his body, even if a god descended to claim his child, even if his flesh burned to ashes and bones remained... his skeletal hands would still cling desperately to this child. Even if reduced to dust, his remains would swirl around the boy's form, settling in his hair.

"...So you needn't fear me. Whatever you are, you belong to me." Edward kissed Tang Feiliu's hair gently, whispering soothing words with a tender smile.

...Brother, is this supposed to be comfort or a threat???

Tang Feiliu's skin crawled at Edward's "comforting" words. He froze for a long moment before processing Edward's "confession"—or more accurately, his threat.

But after spending so much time with Edward, he had grown increasingly accustomed to the Duke's occasional bizarre declarations. After a moment's thought, he murmured softly, "Brother, you're sending me away because... because that's not me..."

Tang Feiliu was still afraid. Could people of this era truly accept all this? Was it really necessary for him to reveal everything?

Yet he knew he wanted to speak.

He wanted to take a gamble.

Author's Note:

Yesterday I saw comments saying the brother dared not confront the duke. This era in Europe was incredibly brutal, yet its history is also fascinating. The stories I've written—about a maid rising to power and killing the queen, or the emperor having an affair with a countess—are all documented in historical records.

To me, their approach to love seems absurd and bizarre. During the plague of venereal diseases, they called it the "love sickness"... Just imagine that intoxicating style.

In a household like Lance and Alexander's, if Alexander—as Lance's elder brother—didn't stand up for him, he'd actually be looked down upon. This reflects the prevailing chivalric spirit? It also carries the weight of upholding family honor. Moreover, the status of lovers back then differed from ours; their position was incredibly delicate. If they didn't fight for their place while favored, they could be discarded and killed without a second thought... But then again, even queens get killed off—no one has it easy.

This is precisely why Edward insists Lance isn't his lover. Edward has already made his decision; he's just not through his period of internal struggle yet, so that part hasn't been written.

Of course, there were risks involved. But given the Duke's reputation and the importance he placed on Lance, if Alexander hadn't stepped forward, the Duke would have genuinely looked down on him.

...Not sure if I explained that clearly. I seem to have made this fascinating history sound rather dull, but if you're interested, check out The Foolishness That Changed History and A Brief History of Europe. Both are quite entertaining and will leave you with a rich impression.

Historical truths are inherently complex, veiled like a sheer gauze. My narrative deliberately distorts political systems, cultures, and economic developments—much of it meant for amusement rather than strict accuracy. Dear readers, just enjoy the ride.