The Useless Extra Knows It All....But Does He?

Chapter 476: Chapter 475 - Lead the Way! (4)

The atmosphere inside the Duke’s study gradually settled into an almost unbelievable calm.

For a brief moment after the battle had ended, Luca simply stood there, expecting servants to spend the next several days repairing the destruction that covered every corner of the room. The cracked marble floor, the shattered bookshelves, the collapsed pillars, and the countless ancient books scattered throughout the chamber painted the picture of a battlefield rather than a study.

Then—

A faint golden light quietly spread across the room.

Intricate magical formations hidden beneath the floor illuminated one after another, their runes glowing softly before extending across every damaged surface. The fractured stone began knitting itself together as though time itself had been reversed, splintered bookshelves slowly reassembled piece by piece, torn pages drifted gently through the air before returning to their rightful places within their respective books, and broken furniture quietly restored itself until not a single crack remained.

Luca watched the entire process in silence.

Within less than a minute—

The study stood exactly as it had before the battle began.

Not a single trace of destruction remained.

It was as though the fierce exchange from moments earlier had never happened at all.

The Duke merely glanced around once before walking toward the large desk at the far end of the room.

"Sit."

The invitation carried none of the commanding pressure from before.

Instead, it sounded surprisingly ordinary.

Luca nodded quietly before following him.

The two of them took seats opposite one another, separated only by the massive crimson wooden desk that had somehow survived both the battle and the magical restoration without the slightest imperfection.

For a few moments, neither spoke.

The silence felt different now.

No longer tense.

No longer oppressive.

Simply calm.

The old Duke rested both hands comfortably upon the armrests of his chair before looking directly at Luca.

"I have been hearing your name rather frequently these past several months."

Luca smiled awkwardly.

"I’m not sure whether that’s a good thing."

A faint chuckle escaped the old man.

"That depends entirely upon who is speaking."

His burning eyes studied Luca carefully.

"I heard about your activities during the vacation."

He paused briefly.

"The expedition into the elven forests."

"The incident involving the cultists."

"The assistance you provided during several cultist invasions."

"The reports regarding your leadership."

His expression remained unreadable.

"I also heard the stories circulating throughout the Academy."

Luca listened quietly.

The Duke leaned back slightly.

"At first..."

A faint smile tugged at the corner of his lips.

"...I paid them little attention."

He shook his head slowly.

"Young nobles have always enjoyed exaggerating the achievements of their friends."

A quiet laugh escaped him.

"Every generation produces stories of unparalleled geniuses capable of defeating armies before reaching adulthood."

His gaze became noticeably sharper.

"And most of those stories disappear the moment reality arrives."

The old man folded his arms.

"As the saying goes..."

His deep voice carried calmly throughout the room.

"...seeing is believing."

Luca smiled wryly.

"I suppose that explains today’s... rather unusual greeting."

The Duke nodded without the slightest embarrassment.

"It does."

The answer came so naturally that Luca couldn’t help laughing.

"I wanted to see the young man behind the reports."

The Duke’s expression softened almost imperceptibly.

"I dislike judging people through the words of others."

"I prefer reaching my own conclusions."

His gaze rested upon Luca for several quiet moments.

"I have now done so."

Although the Duke offered no further explanation, the meaning behind those words was perfectly clear.

The spar had never been about victory.

It had been an evaluation.

A measure.

Luca inclined his head respectfully.

"I hope I did not disappoint."

A deep chuckle rumbled from the old man’s chest.

"If you had disappointed me..."

His eyes briefly drifted toward the black spear resting beside the desk.

"...that conversation would have ended much earlier."

Luca instinctively decided not to ask what exactly that meant.

The Duke remained silent for several moments before his expression grew noticeably gentler.

"More importantly..."

His voice lost much of its earlier severity.

"...thank you."

The sudden gratitude caught Luca completely by surprise.

The Duke continued before he could respond.

"For taking care of those two children."

His gaze shifted briefly toward the large windows overlooking the estate.

"I can see the difference in them."

There was a quiet certainty in his voice.

"When they returned from their journey together, something had changed."

"Aurelia smiles more often."

"Kyle carries himself with greater confidence."

"They argue no less than before..."

A faint smile appeared beneath the old man’s beard.

"...but they understand one another better."

He slowly looked back toward Luca.

"The burden they carried before leaving..."

His voice grew quieter.

"...no longer seems quite as heavy."

Luca remained silent for a moment.

Then a gentle smile appeared on his own face.

"I don’t think I deserve all the credit."

The Duke raised an eyebrow.

"They changed because they chose to."

Luca spoke honestly.

"I was merely fortunate enough to walk beside them while they did."

The old Duke observed him carefully.

Then nodded once.

"A modest answer."

Luca laughed softly.

"A truthful one."

For a few moments, neither of them spoke.

The peaceful silence returned naturally.

Eventually, the Duke reached toward the center of the desk where an elegant iron kettle rested above a small enchanted flame, gentle wisps of steam continuing to rise from its spout. Beside it sat two finely crafted porcelain cups decorated with the crest of House Drayden.

The old man rested one hand upon the kettle before looking toward Luca.

"Would you care to have some tea with an old man?"

The invitation was simple.

Unexpectedly so.

Luca instinctively opened his mouth, prepared to decline out of courtesy.

After all, he had already occupied enough of the Duke’s time.

Yet before the words could leave him, he paused.

Looking at the old man sitting opposite him, Luca realized that this invitation carried more meaning than tea alone.

Slowly, a small smile appeared upon his face.

"I would be honored."

The Duke gave a quiet nod.

Then, with practiced movements refined over countless years, he reached for the kettle.

The atmosphere inside the Duke’s study had become remarkably tranquil.

Sunlight streamed through the towering windows, casting long golden rays across shelves filled with centuries of accumulated knowledge while the rich fragrance of freshly brewed tea gradually spread throughout the room. The scent carried an unusual depth, earthy yet subtly sweet, possessing a richness that immediately distinguished it from the teas commonly served within noble households.

The old Duke reached calmly toward the kettle.

Before his fingers could wrap around its handle—

Luca spoke.

"Please..."

He smiled politely.

"Allow me."

The old Duke looked toward him for a brief moment.

Then, unexpectedly, a faint smile appeared beneath his beard.

Without saying a word, he withdrew his hand.

Luca rose slightly from his seat before carefully lifting the heavy iron kettle. The porcelain cups rested silently upon the polished wooden desk while the amber-colored tea flowed smoothly into them, releasing another wave of its warm, comforting aroma.

The Duke watched quietly.

Not merely watching the tea.

Watching Luca.

The young man’s movements remained steady despite the earlier battle.

Neither hurried.

Nor overly cautious.

Simply natural.

Once both cups had been filled, Luca gently returned the kettle to its place before sliding one of the cups toward the old Duke.

The elderly man accepted it with a quiet nod.

For a few moments, neither drank.

Instead, the Duke slowly observed the swirling surface of the tea before speaking in his deep, measured voice.

"This tea..."

His fingers rested comfortably around the porcelain cup.

"...comes from a tree that grows nowhere else."

Luca listened attentively.

The old man’s gaze drifted briefly toward the windows overlooking the vast estate.

"The first tree was planted by the founding duke several centuries ago."

His voice carried a quiet nostalgia.

"Since then, each generation’s duke has cultivated another beside it."

A faint smile crossed his weathered face.

"No servant touches those trees."

"No gardener trims their branches."

"No attendant gathers their leaves."

His thumb slowly traced the rim of the porcelain cup.

"Each generation performs those tasks personally."

Luca glanced briefly toward the tea.

The Duke continued calmly.

"The leaves are gathered by hand."

"They are dried by hand."

"They are prepared by hand."

He lifted the cup slightly before continuing.

"And when the first harvest is complete..."

A quiet chuckle escaped him.

"...the first cup is always brewed by the one expected to carry the family’s future."

Luca remained silent.

The old Duke took a slow sip before setting the cup back down.

"Many outsiders consider it an unnecessary tradition."

"They say experienced servants would undoubtedly produce better tea."

Another faint smile appeared.

"They are probably correct."

The admission surprised Luca slightly.

The Duke noticed.

"The tea itself is rarely extraordinary."

He looked toward the amber liquid resting within his cup.

"Some years it tastes excellent."

"Other years..."

He laughed quietly.

"...it tastes rather terrible."

Despite the humor, his expression gradually became thoughtful.

"But strangely enough..."

His gaze lingered upon the cup.

"...that has never really been the point."

The room fell comfortably silent once more.

The warm fragrance of tea continued filling the study.

After several moments, the old Duke slowly looked toward Luca.

"When someone spends years nurturing a single tree..."

His voice remained calm.

"...watching it endure harsh winters and scorching summers alike..."

His fingers rested gently against the porcelain.

"...when they patiently care for it season after season before finally brewing a cup with leaves gathered by their own hands..."

He paused briefly.

"...the tea begins carrying something beyond its flavor."

Luca quietly considered those words.

The Duke did not explain further.

He didn’t need to.

The meaning lingered naturally between them.

Not forced.

Not preached.

Simply offered.

The old man finally lifted his cup once again before taking another unhurried sip.

Only then did he look back toward Luca.

A faint smile rested beneath his beard.

"So..."

His burning eyes carried the quiet wisdom of someone who had spent an entire lifetime carrying responsibilities few could truly understand.

"What do you think about that?"