Chapter 46 : Chapter 46
Chapter 46. The Head Pat
After handling the aftermath of testing the sword at the drill ground and arranging several urgent matters within the territory, Eli went to find Sebastian, who was working through the accounts.
“Steward,” Eli said without preamble, “do you have time now? I would like to take you to see that place.”
Sebastian set down the quill in his hand, as though he had been waiting for this moment all along.
“At any time, Young Master.”
Out of habit, Eli was about to summon a few guard knights to accompany them. After all, the depths of Nightsong Forest were not absolutely safe.
Yet before the words could leave his mouth, Sebastian seemed to have already seen through his thoughts.
“There is no need for anyone else. This old servant is enough to keep you safe.”
His tone was calm, but it carried an absolute confidence.
Eli looked at Sebastian’s unreadable face and recalled the horrifying fact that he had served eight generations of household heads.
He nodded. “All right.”
The two of them left the noisy camp and entered the deep, shadowed Nightsong Forest.
It was still the same path that Wolfgang and Eli had walked many times before.
But this time, Sebastian followed silently at his side.
Eli felt as though even the forest around them had become quieter. Even the cries of birds and insects seemed to lower themselves by a few degrees.
Sebastian’s presence was faint, yet it seemed to carry an invisible aura that made any lurking watcher instinctively retreat.
Passing through the familiar curtain of waterfall water, they once again arrived before the massive elven stone gate and stone monument.
The moment Sebastian stepped into this hall forgotten by time, a subtle change appeared on his impassive face.
He was not as shocked as Eli had been when he first entered.
Instead, he slowly swept his gaze across the collapsed giant pillars, the shattered reliefs, and the strange glowing patterns on the walls.
Behind the gold-rimmed glasses, his eyes revealed a complicated emotion.
“Young Master,” Sebastian said, breaking the silence of the ruins.
There seemed to be a trace of distant age in his voice, so faint it was almost impossible to detect.
“Do you know the ancient legends of the elves of the Western Frontier?”
Eli nodded, recalling the story Old John had once told him.
“I know a little. The legends say that the Western Frontier was once the land where they lived. Roderick, an ancestor of the La Roche Family, once took an elf as his queen, but later… he killed her with his own hands and drove out all the elves.”
“More or less.”
Sebastian inclined his head slightly, offering no judgment on that bloody ending.
He began to walk, like a silent guide, leading Eli through the magnificent ruins at a slow pace.
He stopped before a huge stone pillar half-buried in the earth.
Pointing at the relief on it, where stars and vines intertwined, he said, “This is the Star-Speech Pillar. It records the ancient wisdom the elves used to observe the movements of the stars.”
His fingertips brushed over the cold stone surface with a gentleness that was almost reverent.
They moved again and stopped before a relatively intact archway, its crown carved with the image of a crescent moon encircled by seven stars.
“This is the Moon Deity Archway. It symbolizes the moonlight elves’ faith in lunar radiance.
Legend says that under certain lunar phases, moonlight would activate the runes upon the arch and form a temporary protective barrier.”
Sebastian’s voice remained flat, yet it sounded like the recitation of an epic buried beneath dust.
He pointed toward a section deep within the hall, where only a smooth crystal recess remained now.
“That should have been where the Heart of Moonlight was located, the core where the elves held their most sacred rites.”
“As for the spring water you drank, if this old servant’s judgment is correct, it should be the sacred object the elven race regarded as the source of life and power—the Moonlight Spring.”
Understanding dawned in Eli’s heart, but on the surface he revealed a perfectly measured trace of confusion.
“So that is how it is. Then... Steward, this spring water is so miraculous. Does it have any... side effects?”
Sebastian turned his head. His gaze passed through the lenses, as though it were looking straight into Eli’s soul.
He did not answer the question of side effects directly.
Instead, in a flat tone that sounded almost like a maxim, he said,
“Young Master, I ask only that you remember one thing.
Every gift bestowed by fate already has its price marked in secret.”
He paused, his eyes sweeping over Eli’s striking white hair.
Then, as though piercing through the dome of the ruins and looking toward some unknowable distance, he continued,
“Has your luck... or rather, fate’s favor, not been a little too abundant? A mithril vein... the Moonlight Spring... For an ordinary person, obtaining even one of them would already be a blessing beyond anything they could ask of heaven.”
Eli’s brows drew together slightly, and a sharp glint flashed through his blue eyes.
“Steward, what are you trying to say?”
He could sense that Sebastian’s words carried a deeper meaning. They were not spoken idly.
Sebastian met Eli’s gaze directly, his voice low and grave.
“This old servant only wishes to say, Young Master, that the fate you bear is likely to be heavier than anything before it.
Great gifts come with great responsibility.
And they will inevitably draw great covetousness and whirlpools beyond imagination.
Every gift you possess
will become the force that drives you forward, but it may also become the chain that drags you into the abyss.
The road ahead will require you to be cautious in all things, as though treading on thin ice.
One wrong step, and you may be doomed beyond all redemption.”
His words rang through the ancient hall like a cold warning bell.
Eli fell silent.
Sebastian’s words were like icy spring water, extinguishing the faint rashness that had risen within him because of his rapidly growing power and immense wealth.
Fate brought opportunities, but it also brought responsibility and danger.
He drew in a deep breath and straightened his back. Beneath his white hair, his gaze became incomparably serious and resolute.
“I will remember your warning, Sebastian. I will weigh every step with care.”
This was not perfunctory politeness. It was respect—for this guardian who defied common sense, and for a clear understanding of his own situation.
Sebastian looked at the young white-haired lord before him.
In those deep blue eyes, he saw the alertness of someone who had been awakened, along with a will that had grown all the firmer.
For a moment, Sebastian seemed lost in thought.
He remembered a figure from long, long ago.
Another person who had likewise been favored by fate, who had likewise risen from humble beginnings, and who had ultimately built a vast empire.
Caesar Aurora, the founding emperor of the Kingdom of Orlando.
That man, too, had once possessed such brilliant eyes—eyes burning with ambition and responsibility.
An emotion difficult to put into words— perhaps wistfulness, perhaps expectation, perhaps a trace of weariness accumulated over the endless years— sent ripples across the still surface of Sebastian’s heart.
For him, such emotion was exceedingly rare.
Just as Eli thought the conversation was over and was preparing to ask more about the details of the elven ruins, something happened that utterly exceeded his expectations.
Sebastian suddenly stepped forward and, with perfect naturalness, raised his gloved hands—the same immaculate hands that were always precise and faultless.
Under Eli’s astonished gaze,
that hand carried a warmth that went beyond the boundary of master and servant, something almost familial, almost like that of an elder.
Gently, it descended onto Eli’s snow-white hair and ruffled it once.
The motion was light and brief, gone the instant it touched.
“...”
Was that... a head pat?
Eli was completely stunned. His body froze instantly, and his blue eyes filled with utter disbelief.
That gesture...
was far too intimate.
Far too... unlike Sebastian!
Sebastian withdrew his hand as though that astonishing gesture had never happened.
His face still wore that same eternally unchanged, expressionless calm.
No one could see the emotions hidden in the depths of his eyes.
He bowed slightly, and his voice returned to its usual, utterly level tone.
“Young Master, it is not suitable to remain here for long. It is time to return.”
With that, he no longer looked at Eli’s stunned expression. He turned and took the lead toward the exit of the ruins.
His footsteps made no sound as he disappeared once more into the ancient, unchanging shadows, as though that brief flash of emotion had been nothing more than Eli’s illusion.
Eli remained standing where he was, the top of his head seeming to retain the fleeting trace of that touch.
He looked at Sebastian’s back as it vanished beyond the waterfall curtain, and the shock in his heart refused to settle for a long time.
This mysterious steward, who had served eight generations of household heads, seemed to be even more unfathomable than Eli had imagined...
And that warning of doom beyond redemption, because of that uncharacteristic gesture,
was branded even more heavily and more truly into the bottom of his heart.
The road ahead was shrouded in mist.