It was getting dark.
Alaric and his riders left the village as the sun touched the horizon, leaving one last kiss upon the world before darkness swallowed the sky.
“Who is the lord of this region?” Alaric asked.
After spending so long at the borders, he was no longer certain he remembered every noble’s name.
“It is Baron Worsley, Your Majesty,” one of the soldiers replied.
“And how far is his estate?”
A soldier unfolded the royal map and examined it briefly.
“We should be able to reach it before nightfall.”
Alaric nodded.
“Very well. I suppose another visit is overdue.”
The riders turned their horses toward the road leading to Lord Worsley’s estate.
——
As always, when word spread that the new king was visiting, the gates of every noble house opened wide. The lord and lady would step forward personally, wearing their warmest smiles to welcome him.
The gates opened just the same this time.
But something was different.
The figure walking out, surrounded by attendants, was a child.
He looked no older than twelve. A red velvet cloak rested on his shoulders, with a long dark robe flowing beneath it.
The boy bowed silently to Alaric.
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A butler stepped forward quickly, his face full of apology.
“Your Majesty, please forgive us. Our lord is naturally mute. He cannot speak, but he is very grateful to receive Your Majesty.”
A child who cannot speak?
Alaric studied the boy quietly.
Lord Worsley… is a child?
If that starving village truly belonged to this estate, did the boy even understand what was happening there? Or was he still at the age of playing with toy swords and wooden horses?
Alaric gave a polite nod.
“No need to apologize. I am glad to meet you, my lord.”
As he spoke, he tilted his head slightly, glancing toward the butler without making it obvious.
The man looked to be around forty. Well-built. His posture was straight, his manners refined. His behavior carried the quiet discipline of someone well educated.
Almost… noble.
The butler bowed again.
“Your Majesty arrived just in time. Our lord was about to have dinner. If you do not mind, would you honor us by dining with him?”
Alaric smiled faintly.
“That would be my pleasure.”
Then he asked casually,
“How do you normally know what your lord wishes to eat?” Alaric wanted to know how they communicated, but he asked about it indirectly instead.
The butler smiled politely.
“I was the late lord’s study companion when we were young. He was gracious enough to allow me to learn reading and writing alongside him.”
“I later developed a special way to communicate with our lord.”
He turned and twisted his fingers in a series of quick signs toward the boy.
The boy responded with several gestures of his own.
The butler turned back to Alaric.
“I informed my lord that we had prepared his favorite roasted chicken tonight. My lord just expressed his satisfaction… and asked whether Your Majesty would enjoy the same dish.”
They continued speaking while walking toward the main hall.
Several servants approached and respectfully guided the soldiers to a separate dining hall, as was customary.
Only Lord Worsley, his butler, and Alaric remained together.
As they entered the hall, something caught Alaric’s attention.
In the distance, a servant was carrying a painting that had just been removed from the wall. It was covered with cloth, so he could not see what it was.
Alaric raised an eyebrow.
“My lord, are you redecorating your hall?”
The butler followed his gaze. He signed briefly to the boy, who responded with a few quick gestures.
The butler then turned back with a polite smile.
“Yes, Your Majesty. Our lord was playing earlier and accidentally spilled paint on the painting. The servants have removed it so they can attempt to restore the original image.”
Alaric nodded slowly.
“I see.”
Yet for a brief moment, his eyes lingered on the covered painting.
Something about the scene felt… slightly out of place.
But he said nothing.
