The Baron rose from his seat, adjusting the cuffs of his coat.
"Well, then. I believe it's time we discussed the security arrangements. Cain, would you mind accompanying me? There are a few things I'd like to go over before we settle on anything."
Lucius glanced towards Owen.
Owen gave him a barely perceptible nod.
"Of course, Baron."
Thaddeus smiled and gestured towards the door. "Excellent. Luke, would you mind keeping our guest company?"
"Not at all, Father."
The two men departed, their footsteps gradually fading into the corridor.
And then there were only two.
Silence settled over the room.
Luke remained seated, his green eyes fixed on Owen. He hadn't looked away since his father had introduced them. There was something almost uncomfortable about the intensity of his gaze.
Owen returned it.
He couldn't quite explain what was bothering him. Something about Luke's expression, the way he held himself, the occasional tension around his eyes...
Something was wrong.
After a while, Luke released a quiet sigh and pushed himself to his feet.
"Come with me."
Owen said nothing, simply following him out of the room.
They crossed the manor's corridors and eventually stepped into the gardens. The afternoon sun filtered through the branches of the trees, scattering patches of light across the neatly maintained paths. A gentle breeze stirred the leaves overhead.
Luke led him towards a secluded bench beneath a particularly large tree.
They sat.
For a while, neither spoke.
The silence wasn't particularly uncomfortable. It was simply... unfamiliar. Two people who had once known each other quite well, now sitting together with years of unspoken history between them.
Eventually, Luke broke it.
"Are you really Owen?"
Owen turned his head.
There was no point pretending anymore.
"Yeah."
He paused.
"Owen Landergrey."
For a moment, Luke didn't move.
Then his lips slowly curved into a smile.
It widened until he was practically grinning, and somewhere along the way, a tear slipped down his cheek.
He didn't seem to notice it.
Owen did.
Beneath that smile, beneath the unmistakable relief in his expression, there was something else. Something considerably heavier.
Pain.
Luke chuckled, lowering his head for a moment.
"Unbelievable..."
He wiped his cheek and looked at Owen again.
"So, you really are alive."
Owen remained quiet.
"Tell me something." Luke leaned back against the bench. "Why did you leave Landergrey before the accolade ceremony? You just disappeared. No explanation, no farewell. One day you were there, and the next..."
He trailed off.
"Where have you been all this time? What have you been doing? And..." His smile softened. "How have you been?"
Owen stared ahead.
The questions were simple enough. Their answers weren't.
He could have told him about the things he'd witnessed, the people he'd buried, the places he'd visited and the lives he'd left behind. He could have spent hours trying to explain how a boy who once struggled to find his place in the world had somehow ended up here.
But where would he even begin?
"Quite a lot happened."
Luke waited.
"Though, I don't think that's particularly important right now."
Owen turned towards him.
"I'm here because of your father."
Luke blinked.
Then he laughed.
"Of course you are."
He shook his head, looking rather amused.
"Here I was, thinking we'd have a touching reunion. Instead, you show up at my father's doorstep looking for work."
"Something like that."
Luke studied him for a moment before his smile returned.
"Well, I suppose some things never change."
He leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees.
"Although, looking at you now..." His eyes briefly travelled over Owen. "Looks like someone's gotten stronger."
Owen didn't return the smile.
"Luke. I'm serious."
"So am I."
The amusement gradually disappeared from Luke's face.
"I think you should leave, Owen."
A brief silence followed.
"If you stay here, you'll die."
Owen's expression remained unchanged.
"Luke..."
His voice was quiet.
But something about it had changed.
The relaxed posture, the indifferent expression, the almost casual manner in which he'd carried himself since arriving at the manor — all of it seemed to disappear.
His scarlet eyes settled on Luke.
"Don't tell me what I can and can't do to these bastards."
The words came slowly, each one carrying a weight that hadn't been there before.
"I'm not turning away from this. Not after everything I've lost."
He paused.
"And I couldn't care less whether I die doing it."
Luke stared at him.
He had expected many things from this reunion. Perhaps an explanation. Perhaps an apology for disappearing. Maybe even a glimpse of the boy he'd once known.
But this?
This was something else entirely.
He could feel it.
The anger beneath Owen's composure. The resentment buried so deeply that even his silence seemed to carry it. There was something almost suffocating about the atmosphere around him.
Even with his mana masked, the sheer density of it was difficult to ignore.
Luke swallowed.
"Are you not afraid of dying?"
Owen looked at him.
For a brief moment, neither spoke.
Then Owen smiled.
It wasn't a particularly pleasant smile. There was no warmth in it, no amusement. Only a strange, unsettling conviction.
"Death?"
He tilted his head slightly.
"Me? Afraid of death?"
A quiet chuckle escaped him.
"No, Luke. You've misunderstood."
His scarlet eyes remained fixed on the man beside him.
"Death is the only freedom this wretched world has ever promised me. If it wishes to claim me, then let it come. I'll dance with it until the very moment it finally takes me."
Luke said nothing.
He simply stared.
And somewhere within that silence, something became painfully clear.
The boy he remembered was gone.
Not entirely, perhaps. There were still traces of him in the way Owen spoke, in the occasional inflection of his voice, in the familiar face sitting beside him.
But the person before him was no longer the young squire he'd once tried to protect.
That boy had grown into a man who no longer seemed to distinguish between victory and death.
A man who had walked so far beyond the boundaries of reason that even the possibility of dying no longer seemed capable of stopping him.
Luke lowered his gaze.
What happened to you, Owen?
He had so many questions.
Yet none of them seemed appropriate anymore.
"Your mana..."
Luke's eyes narrowed.
"How?"
Owen glanced at him.
"How what?"
"Your mana. I can feel it."
Luke paused, as though only now realising the implications of what he'd sensed.
Mana?
He looked at Owen again.
Since when?
But before he could ask, Owen spoke.
"Actually, I have a question for you."
Luke blinked.
"Ask away."
"Back when we were younger, you had greater mana reserves than Cedric. Quite considerably, if I remember correctly."
Owen's gaze lowered towards Luke's hands.
"But now..."
He looked back at him.
"I can barely feel anything."
A moment passed.
"What happened?"
Luke's expression changed.
For the first time since they'd left the manor, the smile disappeared completely.
He looked down at his hands, opening and closing his fingers as though inspecting something that had long since ceased to belong to him.
"My core."
He spoke quietly.
"It was shattered during the attack."
Owen didn't interrupt.
"I survived, obviously. Though surviving and recovering are two very different things."
Luke let out a faint breath.
"I can't hold out for much longer, Owen. Without a functioning core, my body has been gradually deteriorating. The healers have done what they can, but..."
He shrugged.
"There's only so much they can do."
His eyes wandered towards the garden.
"I'm slowly dying."
The words hung between them.
"Sometimes, I wonder if it would've been better if I'd died that day."
He chuckled faintly, though there was little humour behind it.
"But it doesn't really matter anymore. Whether I want it or not, it'll happen eventually."
He turned towards Owen.
"That's simply how things are."
Owen didn't answer.
For a long moment, he simply looked at Luke.
The afternoon breeze passed through the branches above them, carrying the faint rustle of leaves across the garden. Somewhere in the distance, servants continued their work, unaware of the conversation taking place beneath the tree.
Luke had smiled when he recognised him.
He had laughed, asked questions, remembered their childhood and welcomed him back as though the years between them could be bridged with a few words.
Yet beneath that smile had been a sadness Owen hadn't understood.
Now he did.
He looked at Luke's hands again.
Hands that had once carried him through the corridors of Landergrey. Hands that had once beaten Cedric for treating him like something beneath his notice. Hands belonging to someone who had possessed more than enough strength to protect the people around him.
And now...
Owen lowered his eyes.
How many more?
How many more people would he have to meet again, only to discover that something had already been taken from them?
How many familiar faces would he find waiting at the end of a road he had never intended to walk?
He had spent so long chasing the people responsible for his suffering that he'd almost forgotten the world continued moving without him.
People grew older.
People changed.
And sometimes, the people he remembered were still there — only pieces of the lives they'd once lived remained.
For the first time since arriving at the manor, Owen found himself unable to think of anything to say.
The silence between them returned.
But this time, it was heavier.
Some wounds were inflicted by enemies. Others were left behind by time. And no matter how sharp his blade became, Owen was beginning to understand that there were things he could never cut away.