"Are you pregnant?"
The deep voice resonated suddenly from behind her. Farland jumped, her heart leaping into her throat. She spun around to find Frank, the tall, robust captain of the manor guard, standing there, his tranquil blue eyes seeming to see through everything.
"Frank! What brings you here?" A cold sweat broke on her forehead as she desperately urged herself to remain calm.
"I was just wandering about. It's my duty to protect the estate," he replied, his tone deceptively casual. "Yet, why are you so anxious? Moreover, you are pregnant. It cannot belong to the master, can it? If he discovers this, he will surely torment you to death. The child within you may very well be extracted and fed to the fish or the dogs. Most likely minced to feed the hounds. Do you remember Maya?"
His tone was as calm as still water, but the threat was as sharp as a blade. Maya had been the former head maid, who suffered a similarly grim fate for the same transgression.
"I don't know what you're talking about," Farland stubbornly prepared to deny it, praying he would not delve deeper.
However, Frank's next words plunged her into despair. "Let me guess, the child belongs to that scoundrel, Aegon Furito, does it not? No need to rush to deny it. The entire estate is under my watchful eye. You've been quite close to him lately."
"It was merely a few exchanged words. You are overthinking it, my lord Frank." Her voice quivered, a fact she herself did not notice.
"Is that so?" Frank confirmed his suspicions. He continued, mercilessly, "If so, I shall have that scoundrel minced into pulp for bait when fishing."
To his surprise, Farland's expression shifted from fear to one of furious determination. "Stop with the nonsense, Frank. What exactly do you want?"
Frank scrutinized the tall, beautiful maid. "Oh, do not act like that, Farland. Anger is not good for the fetus. Shall we find a place to discuss this properly?"
Taking a deep breath, Farland ultimately acquiesced. She could not afford to relinquish any potential opportunity. Frank turned and departed, and she lowered her head, following closely behind him until they arrived at a secluded woodshed.
Frank casually settled onto an old wooden bench that creaked under his weight. "This place is quite safe now. Speak freely. Whom have you secretly contacted among the governors?" He presumed she must have reached out to a powerful figure; why else would she show such spine?
"It is not a governor," Farland hesitated, "but rather a nobleman."
However, Frank persisted, relentlessly probing for information, even resorting to threats against Aegon's life. "Are you not concerned about Benick discovering your condition?" he inquired with genuine curiosity, pondering who could grant her such audacity. "Benick won't be able to lord over us for much longer."
"Have you considered an alliance with me?" Farland refrained from directly answering and instead extended an invitation for him to join her clandestine faction.
Frank shrugged. "I am unaware of your benefactor's identity. Should it turn out that you merely wish to escape with Aegon, I would merely become your stepping stone."
"Knowing the nobleman's identity leaves no path for retreat."
"That would be my honor," Frank replied with a smile. He was no mere servant; his origins were not of servitude. Aligning with a rising power was a far better prospect than serving a sinking one. He needed to secure his future in advance.
As dusk fell, the city of Lys began to sparkle with lights, a mere glimpse of the opulence reserved for the elite. Unlike his usual excursions to the harbor, Cayman chose to host a banquet within his heavily fortified estate.
Upon arriving, Governor Ivika was greeted by a peculiar sight. The exterior was a military fortress, bristling with guards, yet the interior exuded a festive, almost decadent atmosphere—an oddly contradictory ambience.
"Governor, there is a banquet this evening. Lord Cayman awaits you in the main hall. Allow me to escort you there." A maid clad in a fitted gown led the way, swaying her hips enticingly.
Ivika trailed behind, casting furtive glances around. A sudden wave of unease washed over him. The last time he had visited, the estate was a picturesque haven of birds and blossoms. Now, it was the lair of a warlord.
In the manor hall, the maid announced, "My lord, Governor Ivika has arrived," bowing gracefully before retreating.
"Governor Ivika, it has been a long time. You still appear quite robust." Cayman's hearty laughter echoed, causing Ivika's eye to twitch slightly. The words bore the flattery of their past encounters, but the tone was devoid of its previous civility and obsequiousness.
"It has indeed been a while. You've grown quite sturdy yourself," Ivika replied, quickly composing himself. "One might even invite me to sit?" He engaged Cayman from what he hoped was an equal standpoint. The war in the Stepstones was suddenly the last thing on his mind. He was now far more eager to understand the reason behind the profound and unsettling transformation of the young man before him.