~ 18 Years Ago ~
"Young master."
A freshly six-year-old Pendrick turned around at hearing his name. It was Donovan, the head butler, who had been serving the Dorns for three generations now. He was also the only person in the estate who actually cared to talk to the boy.
"Is something happening?" Pendrick laid his book flat on his desk, standing to meet the man at the door.
Donovan shook his head to dismiss any ideas the boy was forming in his mind.
"You have guests."
Pendrick stared plainly at the man, wondering if he'd heard him correctly.
"Guests... for me?" the blond asked calmly, his expression unreadable though Donovan could tell unending scepticism flowed through the child.
His head tilted innocently. "Why?"
The elderly butler stepped aside, guiding the boy outside with his hand and walking slowly to keep in step with him.
"It was your birthday three days ago," Donovan started. "The Strickland family have come bearing gifts to give their greetings and well-wishes to you."
"...Is that really why they're here?"
Donovan halted mid-step, clearing his throat.
"The Lord and Lady Strickland will be having a meeting with the patriarch after they've given you their greetings..." The butler watched as a look of cold understanding flashed across the blond's face. "But they've brought their young son along. You should get to know the boy. He's only one year younger than you."
"Right," Pendrick replied simply, moving onward to the entrance hall.
Coming into view of the four adults, he immediately noticed the boy cowering behind his mother's leg. He gave a respectful bow before raising his head to address everyone.
"Greetings, father, mother," he started cordially. "Lord and Lady Strickland, it is a great honour to meet you."
The lady giggled at observing the manner with which he carried himself.
"You've clearly raised this one to be more gentlemanly than your previous two, Lord Dorn," she said, her left hand barely concealing the smile on her face while her right rested atop the head of the child behind her. "I'm tempted to propose a marriage between him and Leonora."
Lord Strickland shot a disapproving look at his wife for her comment, which she simply shrugged off. Lord Dorn, however, gave a light laugh.
"He is indeed quite the bright boy," Tyber boasted, laying a hand on Pendrick's shoulder. "He surprises me often as well."
'Of course I do,' the blond thought, playing along and smiling up at his father. 'You know nothing about me.'
Brandt Strickland walked up to Pendrick, going on one knee and ruffling the boy's hair. He forced a brief smile, nodding at him.
"I look forward to seeing your accomplishments in the years to come," he said, his voice rougher than that of the blond's father. "I would hope that you rub off on my own boy..."
The boy caught the disappointment with which he looked at the young Strickland as he stood up.
"We would love to speak with you longer, but there are some pressing matters we must discuss with your parents," he continued. "Nonetheless, we've brought a number of gifts. You can feel free to open them right away."
The adults, except Donovan, all turned to go up the steps to his father's study. Lady Strickland leaned down to whisper into her son's ear, receiving a nod in response and going with the others.
Pendrick looked at the head butler, silently checking if it would be wrong of him to immediately go through his presents. Donovan, understanding the quiet question, shook his head and gestured for him to go ahead.
He walked to the right of the staircase, taking stock of the ten or so boxes of differing sizes and shapes. Rummaging through, his immeasurable disappointment quickly became evident on his face as his brows furrowed.
'Some generic toys and a bike...' he thought dryly. 'Did they just look for whatever things people think children would be interested in?'
Opening the last three boxes, his expression lifted in pleasant surprise. He held up a hardcover book, turning it around to read the description on the back. It was an encyclopedia that seemed to cover a wide variety of something referred to as "Gifts".
'Gifts? Like these ones? Why would someone write a book about that?'
Putting that aside for the moment, he focused on the final present.
"The great seal master's playset?" he blurted out loud, prompting Donovan to run over.
The man skimmed over the different parts and pieces that came in the box with a restrained expression of panic. Suddenly, after looking through everything, his shoulders slumped, and he released a great sigh of relief.
"What is it?" Pendrick asked, curious what had the man all riled up. "Is it something interesting?"
Donovan smiled at him. "It would be easier to explore this book and this set in our next series of lessons."
The blond pouted in disapproval, relenting only because he understood that it meant the topic was much broader than he thought. He felt excitement bubble as he now impatiently looked forward to his next class.
"For now," the butler started, snapping the giddy boy out of it. "Why don't you turn your attention to the matters at hand?"
Pendrick almost verbalised his confusion at that, but caught sight of the awkward boy fidgeting as he stood exactly where his mother had left him. He sighed, looking at Donovan one last time before stomping towards his peer.
"Come on," he said, grabbing hold of the other child by the wrist. "Let's go outside."
The head butler smiled as he watched them leave. As skilled at concealing his thoughts as the boy was, he recognised the third young master of the house was quite rough around the edges, mostly due to the neglect he faced from his parents. He hoped time with other children could help him become more open.
---
- Tyber's Study -
The two couples sat across from each other on the brown leather couches that were set in front of the Dorn patriarch's desk. Despite the jovial and casual nature of their earlier interactions, the air between the two families was now tense.
Brandt glared harshly at Tyber, pure contempt visible in his eyes.
"How long do you intend to remain indecisive?"
The blond man leaned back, appearing not to take the discussion seriously at all.
"So it looks like indecision to you," he said, as if noting a new observation. "That's kind of funny."
"Tyber!" The head of the Stricklands jumped onto his feet, barely stopping himself from hitting his counterpart. Still on the couch beside him, his wife grabbed his hand, calling his attention and looking in his eyes. Brandt held eye contact for a bit before scoffing and settling back into the seat.
"People of the Nobility faction have been knocking on my door," Lord Strickland said, reining in his anger. "They want to know, are we with them or not?"
"You could always smile in their faces and feed them distractions," Tyber said absentmindedly, looking off to the side at the files on his desk. "That's what I would do."
"I'm not you," Brandt gritted out.
Tyber looked at the other man flatly at hearing that response.
"Right..." he spoke, appearing to debate speaking his mind before smiling. "What a shame that is."
"Lord Tyber!" Sophia Strickland exclaimed, jumping in before her husband could erupt once again. "We gave you our support. Joining hands with you and believing in the grandiose vision you sold us."
"We deserve at least some level of consideration and transparency, don't you think?"
Tyber nodded at her words. "Okay, you're not wrong."
He then stood up, walking behind his desk and grabbing an envelope that had already been opened. Pulling out the contents, he gave them a once-over despite having already gone through them.
"This stack of papers... is a collection of numerous signed letters of agreement."
Brandt, barely cooled off from earlier, scoffed once more.
"Agreement of what exactly?"
"The esteemed heads of the Great Central Noble Houses have invited me to their next gathering."
Three pairs of eyes widened, including Tyber's wife—Martha Dorn's. She quickly corrected herself, silently stewing in the fact that she wasn't told beforehand.
"All of them?"
Tyber shook his head. "All except one."
Brandt remained frozen in his disbelief. Grasping her bearings first, Sophia once again spoke in place of her husband.
"But how? How did you do it?"
Tyber stared blankly into space before turning to her and shrugging.
"I wouldn't know," he said lightly. "Those people's thoughts are beyond me..."
"Regardless, I'll go. The letters show that there is some interest in what we have to offer. This is the time to play on that interest and side with whoever gives the highest bid."
He observed the Strickland couple, though he had been doing so the entire time. Clearly, their minds were rattled, which was good. That was exactly what he wanted. He put the letters back into his drawer, turning to look out the window behind his desk and chair. Down below, he saw the children running around. Greatly disinterested in the sight, he turned away just before he would've witnessed something that would've certainly piqued his interest.
"Anyway, now you see," he said, calmly making his way back to the couch his wife sat on. "I have a plan, and it's working."
---
Pendrick's opinion on who he had mentally dubbed "the Strickland brat" had been undeniably negative. He felt as if he had to entertain him just to maintain the image of friendliness between the families, and he hated the thought of that with a passion.
When they'd first stepped outside, he quickly decided that the other child was boring and a waste of time. He even had to hound him a couple of times just to get his name out of him.
"Bach..." He'd said all meek and quiet. It made Pendrick want to throw up. Suddenly, the look of disappointment the boy's father had given him made all the sense in the world. It was then that Pendrick decided he would rather face the eventual backlash from ditching the kid.
Making to leave, Bach had grabbed the back of his shirt and refused to let go. The blond attempted to wrestle him off but found him more determined than he could have expected.
"Get off me!"
"No! You're trying to leave!"
Pendrick glared at the black-haired boy. "Exactly! What's wrong with that?!"
"Mom told me to make you my friend!" Bach exclaimed, his grip slipping momentarily and allowing the blond to run off. "Wait!"
Pendrick ignored the boy's cries, increasing the distance significantly as Bach tried pointlessly to catch up. When it went strangely quiet, he looked back to see if he was still there. He watched the boy slump over and breathe heavily.
Cold as he was, even the blond couldn't help feeling somewhat sorry for him. He stopped, exhaled and walked back toward him.
"Hey—"
Bach suddenly shot up, shoving his right hand into the blond's face, his palm facing the sky.
"Look!" he said, still out of breath.
The instructions his mother had whispered to him played in his mind.
"Go befriend him, okay?" she said. "And no matter what, don't show that to anyone."
His heart was beating out of his chest. Not from the running, but from the sense of fear he felt. He was about to disobey his parents for the first time. In his mind, there was no choice, though. He had to befriend the Dorn boy here.
Pendrick watched as a miniature carriage fizzled into existence in the palm of Bach's hand.
"What...?"
He leaned into it, poking a finger at it, which went completely through. The image then suddenly shifted around uncontrollably before falling apart. The green-eyed boy's feelings underwent a complete flip, a smile forming on his face.
"Bach, dear friend of mine," he said, smiling ear-to-ear. "Can you please do that again?"