Chapter Twelve: Father and Son

A magnificent red sun rose in the east, casting golden ripples on the sea surface. The morning glow was like brocade, and faint silhouettes of sails could be seen on the horizon. Gentle sunlight bathed the gradually reviving city of Sepulus. The semicircular city walls meandered along the northern coast eastward, forming a curve before turning southwestward to create a semicircular barrier along the southern beaches, firmly guarding the beautiful and busy Sea ofSea of Hades routes routes.

The lily emblem representing the Philip family shone brightly on the purple flag fluttering in the air. The city gates were open, and travelers came and went. Yawning mercenaries stood guard, absentmindedly waiting for their shift to end. Waste carts had disappeared from the streets before dawn, and merchants began to open their shops, preparing for the day’s business. Tax collectors, carrying leather bags, moved around the city gates and workshops, carefully counting the goods passing by. Hardworking sailors wiped the decks of their ships under their masters’ commands, while porters, under the supervision of foremen, efficiently loaded and unloaded goods. Apprentice knights of the order were busy training in the fields on the outskirts, practicing horsemanship or swordsmanship, with knights standing aside to give guidance. Meanwhile, nobles who had partyed all night lay on their lovers’ soft chests and legs, sleeping soundly under the beautiful sunlight, their ugly bodies exposed—such was the morning in the beautiful Sepulus.

Unlike other nobles, Ramla Reiser, who got up early, sat in his study in a gloomy mood, deep in thought. His silver-white hair was neatly combed on his proud head, and his resolute face resembled a perfectly crafted sculpture from the side. That damned son—just back for a few days and already involved with those scoundrels, Lux and Moga. Not only that, but he had also provoked the powerful merchant guilds in the city. When would this son stop causing him trouble? Ramla pressed his temples hard, trying to relieve the pain caused by these worries. It was all his fault—his impulsive decision had led to such a miscreant. It was too late to regret it.

“Sanders, hasn’t Comer gotten up yet?” His stern tone couldn’t hide his anger, as his sharp eagle eyes scanned the silent butler standing by.

“Master, the second young master returned very late last night. He probably won’t be able to get up right away,” Sanders replied, head bowed, his emotionless tone leaving nothing discernible.

Ramla let out a long sigh and said coldly, “Go wake him up and tell him I’m waiting for him here!”
When Komer entered his father’s study, still groggy from sleep, Ramla’s gloomy expression didn’t fill him with fear at all; instead, he felt a sense of defiance and satisfaction. Three years of exile had made him fearless in the face of anything, and any lingering fears or hesitations had long since vanished during those years of fleeing.
“Oh? Father, you’re up so early. Why not sleep a little more? Has Duke Philip summoned you again?” Komer’s words were full of sarcasm, and his reckless attitude further enraged Ramla. But thinking of the important matter he wanted to discuss, he didn’t want to fall for his son’s tricks—he needed time to talk to him.
“Komer, sit down. I have something to discuss with you.” After taking a deep breath, Ramla gradually regained his calm.
“What could possibly be that important, Father, to wake me up so early?” Komer replied indifferently, his gray-blue eyes flickering occasionally as he restlessly crossed his legs in the armchair across from him.
“Komer, you’ll be eighteen soon. I want to hear your plans,” Ramla said calmly, unprovoked by his son’s words.
“Oh? So, Father, are you going to assign me a job? To work as one of those knights’ underlings or maybe as a cobbler? But I don’t know how to do any of that,” Komer replied rudely, staring coldly into his father’s eyes.
“I heard you bought some ore from barbarians yesterday. So, are you interested in business?” Ramla asked patiently.
“Father, as you said, I’ll be eighteen soon and will soon be thrown out. How much money do you plan to give me to get me by? Or maybe a small garden so I can support myself? But you know me well—I’m used to spending freely. That little money you give me won’t last long. If I go begging, it won’t look good for you either. And if you give me land, I’ll probably sell all the farmers there as slaves in just a couple of days.” Unconcerned about the consequences of his words, Komer continued to fidget with his legs, making the veins in Ramla’s neck bulge.

“Dare you! Komer, you’re too presumptuous! Look at yourself in the mirror—where is there any trace of a member of the Lasser family? I’m ashamed of you!” Ramla could no longer contain his anger and slammed the table hard, causing the blue-and-white porcelain tea set from distant lands to rattle noisily on the table.

“Heh, Father, since when have you considered Komer a member of the Lasser family? If Komer were truly one of us, I wouldn’t have had to flee to Cyprus overnight. Can confessing my feelings to a woman really warrant such severe punishment? The laws of the Kingdom of Nicosia don’t seem to allow for such things, do they?” Komer’s eyes gleamed with madness as his words cut like knives, targeting his father’s weaknesses: “Isn’t it absurd for you to talk about family at a time like this?”

“You, you wretched son! How dare you bring this up again? If it weren’t for the Grand Duke’s consideration of our family’s long-standing service to his house, you’d already be on the gallows! Still unrepentant? Do you really want to ruin the reputation of our Lasser family completely?” Ramla’s face turned red, his fingers trembling as he pointed at Komer, his lips shaking so badly he could hardly speak coherently.

“Enough, Father. I doubt you called me out of bed today to discuss these unpleasant matters. Since it’s already happened and I’ve endured whatever punishment you think I deserve, isn’t it pointless to keep talking about it? Just tell me what you really want.” Komer cut his father off sharply. His twisted face appeared almost monstrous, clearly touching on a wound he preferred kept hidden. Taking a deep breath, he tried to keep his tone calm. “As for doing business with barbarians, it was just helping a friend. He’s a barbarian, but he’s also my friend. I just couldn’t stand those merchants being too cruel, so I offered him a hand.”

Ramla looked at his son with sadness and helplessness. The young man’s temper and personality seemed somewhat similar to his own in his youth, but those unfixed eyes made him realize that this illegitimate son was far from as simple as he had imagined. The fact that he could easily push things aside showed he possessed enough wisdom to handle them.

“Komer, I remind you—the power of the merchants’ guild is not as simple as you think. If you intend to engage in business, it’s best not to alienate them too much. This will not only harm your family but also have a significant impact on you in the future.” Suppressing his anger, Ramla tried to speak to him in as calm a tone as possible.

“Thank you for your concern, Father. But I don’t have any intention of entering business yet. I lack experience, capital, a market—everything needed to get involved in this field. It seems a bit too late to start learning now.” Komer said insincerely, “This is just a one-time favor. I don’t want to make enemies of the merchants’ guild, but I also can’t stand by while my friend is exploited by them. I think if Father can explain things this way to them, they’ll accept it. What do you think?”

Glancing deeply at his son, whose thoughts he couldn’t fathom, Ramla nodded solemnly. “Very well. I hope this is the first and last time.”

“Father, I hope so too. I don’t want to cause you trouble, but I still need to live. I want to live a decent life like a nobleman. If you can send me out like a sticker to avoid embarrassing you in Sepulus, I’d be happy to accept that outcome.” Komer nodded politely with a smile. By now, he had fully regained his composure, though the malicious glint in his eyes hadn’t diminished at all.

Looking at him in confusion, Ramla sensed that there might be an underlying meaning in his son’s words, but he couldn’t grasp it right away. He wanted to ask further, but seeing his son’s impatient expression, he dismissed the idea. As a father, he didn’t want to show weakness in front of his son, even though he felt guilty deep down. Rudely standing up, Komer didn’t want to say anything more and strode out. There was still time—two months left until his coming-of-age ceremony. By then, he would be cast out. Perhaps everyone in the family hoped that day would come soon. Their eyes were fixed on his half-brother, who was their true heir. No one wanted to spare any attention on him. Komer’s lonely figure appeared desolate on the courtyard path.