Chapter 367: You Belong to Me! [1]
The next few days slipped by quickly at the estate.
Every afternoon, Callista came over to teach Alaric everything he needed to know about the Royal Academy. She went over the rules, the layout of the massive campus, and which noble factions to avoid.
His evenings were spent with Vanessia. Using his "memory loss" as the perfect excuse, he asked her countless questions about Thiaman. He learned about the major trading guilds, the powerful matriarchal noble houses, and the delicate political balance of the kingdom.
Now, it was his last day at the estate. Tomorrow, he would leave for the Academy.
But right now, he had to survive the courtyard.
"Focus!" a man hissed, swinging a heavy wooden practice sword straight at Alaric’s head.
Alaric ducked, the wooden blade cutting through the air just inches above his hair. He immediately stepped back, raising his own practice sword to block a quick follow-up strike to his ribs.
Clack!
The impact sent a dull ache up Alaric’s arm.
The man attacking him was Master Zak, an old, scarred mercenary instructor Vanessia had hired to test Alaric’s physical limits.
Zak was fast and hit like a cart.
His form is good, Alaric thought, his eyes tracking Zak’s footwork.
Probably a solid C-rank fighter. If I had my full strength and my magic channels weren’t restricted, I could end this in two seconds.
But right now, my temporary stats are still low. I have to rely purely on my past combat experience.
Zak lunged forward again, unleashing a flurry of fast strikes. Left, right, overhead.
Alaric deflected them with small, precise movements. He didn’t waste energy jumping around. He just guided Zak’s blade away at the last possible second.
"Beat him, big brother Azra! Hit the mean man on head!"
Anya’s high-pitched voice echoed across the courtyard. Alaric glanced out of the corner of his eye and saw the little girl jumping up and down on a stone bench, cheering as loudly as she could.
Mean man? Zak’s lips twitched with suppressed amusement.
A few feet away from Anya sat Vanessia.
She rested under the shade of a silk canopy, a cup of tea in her hands. She wasn’t cheering. But was watching Alaric’s every move with sharp, calculating copper eyes.
She was measuring her investment, making sure he was worth the ten thousand gold she was trusting him with.
"Don’t look away!" Zak barked, stepping in close to deliver a sweeping kick to Alaric’s legs.
But Alaric had already seen the shift in the man’s shoulders.
Instead of backing up, Alaric stepped directly into Zak’s guard. He ignored the incoming kick, took the hit against his thigh, and used the momentum to drive his elbow hard against Zak’s wrist.
Zak grunted as his grip slipped.
In a flash, Alaric hooked his foot behind the instructor’s ankle, twisted his hips, and sent the older man crashing onto his back in the dirt.
Before Zak could even blink, Alaric had the tip of his wooden sword resting lightly against the man’s throat.
The courtyard went completely silent.
Then, Anya threw her hands in the air.
"Yay! You won!"
Master Zak let out a rough laugh, breathing heavily as he looked up at the wooden tip at his throat.
"Good. Very good. You didn’t panic when I got close. You took a hit to make an opening. That’s real battlefield instinct."
Alaric lowered his sword and offered the man a hand. "You’re not so bad yourself, Master Zak."
Zak took his hand and pulled himself up, dusting off his clothes. He turned toward the canopy and gave a respectful bow.
"He’s ready, Lady Vanessia. His raw power is still recovering, but his instincts are sharper than most of the noble brats at the Academy."
Vanessia smiled, setting her teacup down. Her eyes gleamed with deep satisfaction.
"Excellent," she said softly. She stood up and smoothed out her dress. "Go get cleaned up, Azra. Have a good dinner and rest well. Tomorrow morning, you enter the Royal Academy."
Alaric nodded, wiping the sweat from his forehead. He looked up at the sky, feeling a strange mix of calm and anticipation.
His time hiding in the peaceful garden was over.
Tomorrow, the real game would begin.
---
Night fell over the estate.
Inside her private chambers, Vanessia sat at her heavy oak desk, silently looking over her merchant ledgers. Across the room, Henry was dozing on the couch, little Anya sleeping peacefully in his arms.
Knock! Knock!
A maid entered quietly. Carrying a tray with two crystal goblets filled with deep red wine. A small leather pouch sat beside them, barely noticeable unless you were looking for it.
Vanessia stood smoothly. Stretched her back.
"Henry. Take her to bed. I might be a little late tonight."
Henry blinked his eyes open, looked at her, and gave a quiet nod.
Carefully gathered Anya into his arms without waking her.
"Don’t stay up too late."
"I won’t."
And then he left. The door closed softly behind him.
Once they were gone, Vanessia turned to her maid. She took the tray from her hands.
"That will be all. I don’t want to be disturbed."
The maid bowed and retreated.
Then Vanessia stepped out into the dimly lit corridor. As she walked toward the guest wing, her mind was focused entirely on tomorrow.
Azra was leaving for the Academy.
Her jaw clenched just thinking about it.
She knew exactly how those aggressive, power-hungry noblewomen operated.
They would see Azra—a handsome, talented, and seemingly unconnected young man—as nothing but fresh prey.
Who’d circle Azra the moment he showed promise, trying to claim him, bind him, own him.
A sharp smile touched her lips. "That won’t do..."
She then stopped in the shadowed corridor. Set the tray on a side table. Picked up the small leather pouch. Opened it carefully and poured a pinch of shimmering, silver powder into one of the goblets.
It dissolved instantly. Tasteless. Just a slight difference in scent that most wouldn’t notice.
She picked up the tray again and continued walking.
---
Meanwhile, inside the guest room, Alaric sat cross-legged on his bed. He was reviewing everything that had happened over the past few days, quietly checking the slow progress of his essence channels.
Knock! Knock!
He opened his eyes, frowning slightly.
Who would be at my door at this hour?
"Come in," he called out.
The door opened, and Vanessia walked in.
She had changed out of her heavy daytime dresses and was wearing a sleek, dark red silk nightgown with a matching robe tied loosely at her waist.
The kind of garment that was technically modest but suggested... accessibility.
She held the silver tray in her hands.
Alaric raised an eyebrow. "My lady. What brings you here at this hour?"
Vanessia stepped inside and kicked the door shut behind her with her heel.
And gave him a soft pout. "What? You leave tomorrow. Can’t I spend some time with you here before you go?"
He blinked, his expression remaining neutral.
"No. Of course you can."
Her smile returned.
She walked over, placed the tray on the side table, and sat right on the edge of his bed.
Picked up the goblet with the silver powder and handed it to him, then took the other for herself.
She took a slow sip.
"Drink. It’s Moon-Vine. It is very rare, and very good for relaxing the muscles before a big day."
Alaric looked at the dark liquid. He took a small sip.
Internally he frowned. This smells... a bit different. And there is a faint trace of mana in it. It’s something familiar...
But it wasn’t poison, so he swallowed it.
Vanessia smiled. Sipped her own wine. "So. Tomorrow you begin at the academy. Are you nervous?"
"Not particularly." He took another drink. "Just another challenge."
"Mm. Such confidence." Her hand moved. Rested on his knee. "I admire that about you."
Alaric’s attention sharpened. That’s...
Her fingers traced patterns on his thigh.
Still over his pants. Nothing overtly inappropriate. But deliberate.
Alaric blinked.
"My lady—" He started.
"Vanessia." She corrected gently. "We’re alone. You can call me Vanessia."
Her other hand reached up. Cupped his cheek.
Her copper eyes were half-lidded.
Alaric caught her wrist. Not roughly... just stopping the movement. "What about your husband—"
"Henry?" She smiled. Almost laughed. "Don’t worry. He’s asleep. With Anya. He won’t disturb us."
She reached over and placed her goblet on the table. Then, she took Alaric’s cup right out of his hand and set it down too.
Before he could react, she shifted her weight, wrapping her free hand firmly around the back of his neck, her thumb brushing his cheek. She leaned in close, her eyes locking onto his.
"This is just a down payment," she whispered, her breath warm against his skin. "The rest... I’ll give you later."
Alaric opened his mouth to retort, to tell her to back off.
But a sudden rush of heat flooded through him.
Starting low in his abdomen and spreading outward like wildfire. His essence channels suddenly felt like they were burning from the inside.
What the hell—?
Before he could form coherent thought.
Vanessia closed the remaining distance and crashed her lips against his.
She let out a soft "Mmm," pulling him just a fraction closer.
Her mouth was insistent and demanding. One hand tangled in his hair. The other gripping his shoulder.
The sweet, heavy scent of her perfume and the magic from the wine completely surrounded him.
A small sound escaped her throat.
Now, when those Academy girls look at you... they’ll know exactly who you belong to.
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