It had been a few weeks since they arrived at the manor, and both of them had been so busy they barely had time for each other. Since returning, Craige was always out
before the sun even rose and came home late into the night. Luren, on the other hand, was occupied with learning etiquette and how to manage the manor properly.
"Luren, the designer for your clothes has arrived," Clara said, knocking before opening the door to his office. She had now become his secretary and assistant, helping him manage the sudden responsibilities.
"Let them in. We really need winter clothes, we don't have enough for this kind of
weather," Luren replied, setting aside a stack of papers. The clothes they brought were too thin, suited for the milder climate of the Capital with its four seasons. But here in the North, even summer came with a chill in the
breeze.
"Good morning, Master Luren!" Joe greeted with cheerful energy. He was a local
designer, modest in demeanor but clearly passionate about his craft.
"Good morning," Luren smiled back, appreciating the rare burst of color in the dull, work-filled day.
Joe laid out his collection, and they picked out the styles that suited both taste and
practicality.
Once Joe had left, Clara returned to his office with another stack of papers. "You also
need to interview a few applicants for the open positions around the manor," she said, her tone half-exhausted.
Luren glanced out the window and sighed. The garden was empty, no gardener in sight, and the courtyard looked lifeless.
"I didn't know I came here to work," Luren muttered with a dry chuckle, rubbing his
temples.
Clara laughed, leaning against the doorway. "Yeah, me too! I thought this was supposed to be a vacation."
"Anyway, your birthday is next week," Clara reminded him with a playful grin.
Luren gasped, eyes widening. He had completely forgotten. Back in their mercenary days, they used to celebrate with loud laughter and endless drinks, treating
the night like it was their last.
"Yeah... I really forgot," Luren said with a sheepish smile, rubbing the back of his neck.
"I don't think we can celebrate it here, we've been so busy lately."
"What? No way!" Clara exclaimed, her eyes sparkling with excitement. "We have to
celebrate! Let's drink until we drop!" she laughed, raising her hand and miming
a toast.
Knock knock knock.
Clara opened the door and found Butler Serio standing with a small stack of papers in
his hands.
"Sorry to interrupt. This is the financial report you requested for the past two years," he said politely, placing the papers neatly on Luren's desk.
"Oh, it's quite a small stack," Luren said, raising an eyebrow. But before he could
finish his thought, a maid entered behind Serio, pushing a cart full of boxes.
"This is for this year," Butler Serio added with a knowing smile, gesturing toward the cart. "The rest is here."
Luren and Clara exchanged a look and sighed in unison.
"Thank you, Butler Serio. And please, send in the next applicant," Luren said, rubbing his
temple.
The butler bowed and left.
The interviews stretched long into the evening, evidently, working at the Duke's
manor had become a coveted opportunity.
"We're finally at the last applicant," Clara muttered, glancing at the clock. It was
already seven in the evening.
"Let him in," Luren said, eyes still scanning the documents before him.
The door opened.
"Good evening, Your Gr—Luren?!"
Luren's head snapped up. "Axel?!" He stood up in shock before quickly crossing the room
to hug his old friend tightly. "What are you doing here?"
Clara looked between them, clearly puzzled.
"I'm actually from the north," Axel explained, beaming. "When I was young, I worked
on a merchant boat. Traveled everywhere, sold everything I could until…well, until we met that day." He laughed, his eyes crinkling with joy. "I never thought we'd run into each other again."
"Same here! It's been years," Luren said, still stunned.
"Wait—why are you here? Is this part of your mission? Are you acting as a duke's proxy
now?" Axel asked
"What? No!" Luren laughed heartily.
Luren turned toward Clara. "Anyway, Axel this is Clara. My sister. The one I told you
about, the one I got separated from."
Axel's eyes widened. "No way... This is her? The sister you kept talking about?"
Clara blinked, still piecing everything together.
"It's a pleasure to meet you, Clara," Axel said with a respectful bow, gently taking her hand.
"Likewise, Axel," Clara replied with a polite smile.
"So, are you planning to stay here for a while?" Luren asked, curiosity lacing his tone.
"Yes... I really need a job," Axel admitted, scratching the back of his head, a bit shy.
"Especially with the harsh winter coming, it's getting harder to grow crops."
"Well, that's perfect then," Luren said with a pleased look. "I've been looking for
someone good with finances and who has connections to merchants. I'm planning to stock up on supplies before winter sets in."
"I'm hired?" Axel blinked, surprised, almost not believing his ears.
"Of course," Luren said with a warm smile.
Axel hesitated for a moment. "But... what about the Duke? I heard he's returned. Do
you think it's alright to hire someone like me, I've been away from the North?" His voice lowered with uncertainty. "I know how it might look… he might think I'm a spy or something."
"Don't worry," Luren said gently, reassuring him. "I can vouch for you. Just do a good
job like you always have. You can start tomorrow."
Axel's eyes lit up with gratitude. "Thank you, Luren... you really are a blessing," he
said, his voice thick with emotion.
---
Craige arrived at the manor, utterly exhausted after a long day meeting with his
vassals. He had spent hours gathering reports and dealing with the traitors who
had taken advantage of his absence. The news was grim, a famine threatened the
region this winter. Some vassals had squandered the funds meant to support the
people, indulging in luxuries while the common folk faced hunger.
"We'll rest tomorrow," he said quietly to Keith as they climbed the stairs, his voice
hoarse with fatigue. They had been working non-stop for the past week without a
moment of proper rest.
"Right… I really need to sleep," Keith chuckled dryly, rubbing his eyes. "Damn those greedy old men… because of them, we've been running around like madmen."
They shared a tired look before each headed to their own rooms.
Inside, Craige found Luren already asleep, his expression peaceful in contrast to the
storm Craige carried within. He didn't have the heart to wake him. Instead, he quietly undressed and made his way to the bathroom, The hot water cascaded over
Craige's shoulders, loosening the tension in his body. The image of Luren asleep, bathed in moonlight, lingered in his mind like a warm echo.
After drying himself off, he stepped back into the dim room, careful not to make a sound. The fireplace crackled softly, casting gentle shadows on the walls. Luren lay curled on one side of the bed, his chest rising and falling in a steady rhythm, one hand resting on the pillow where Craige usually slept.
Craige couldn't resist. He climbed into bed slowly, slipping under the covers and
wrapping an arm around Luren's waist. The warmth of his lover's body seeped into him.
Luren stirred lightly at the touch. "Craige…?" he mumbled, voice thick with sleep.
"I'm here," Craige whispered, pressing a soft kiss to the back of his neck. "Go back to
sleep."
"You smell like soap," Luren murmured with a small smile, eyes still closed as he reached
back to intertwine their fingers.
Craige buried his face into Luren's shoulder and let out a breath he didn't realize he was holding. "I missed you," he said quietly, his voice laced with exhaustion and tenderness.
"I miss you too," Luren whispered, turning slightly to face him. Their foreheads touched.
Their lips met in a slow, lingering kiss, full of everything they couldn't say during the
endless days apart. And in that moment, surrounded by silence and warmth, Craige finally fall asleep.