Chapter 34: Classes with the Duke

Julian had to take a moment to process the domestic chaos he had missed while he was dead to the world in his own bed. He stood with his lesson plan in hand, looking at the pair before him.

The Duke’s presence was like a mountain sitting in a small room. The ’Empathic Resonance’ skill he had unlocked earlier flickered to life. It was a bonus reward he got after watching the Duke’s past.

And it seemed like it was in effect right at that moment.

From the Duke, Julian felt a strange curiosity and a layer of stubborn determination. From Lucius, there was a radiant, golden pulse of pure adoration.

Julian sighed and adjusted the parchment in his hand. If the Duke wanted to be a better parent, Julian was more than happy to give him a crash course—even if it meant Julian’s heart rate stayed at a steady 100 beats per minute.

"Since you’ve agreed to participate, Your Grace, we shall move away from the traditional lecture," Julian said, his professional persona snapping into place. "Today’s lesson for the Young Lord was intended to be on ’The Economic Geography of the Empire,’ specifically the trade routes between the North and the South."

The Duke raised an eyebrow. "Geography for a seven-year-old? Isn’t that a bit dry?"

"It is if you only look at maps," Julian countered. He laid the large, blank parchment on the table between father and son. "But today, we are going to build a merchant empire. Lucius, you are the Merchant King of the North. You have wood, fur, and iron. But..." Julian looked at the Duke. "Your Grace, you are the Merchant King of the South. You have the lemons, the silk, and the grain."

Lucius perked up, his eyes darting between Julian and his father.

"Lucius needs to convince the Merchant King of the South to trade his grain for the North’s iron," Julian explained. "But there is a catch. A heavy snowstorm has blocked the main mountain pass. Your Grace, as the Southern King, you are greedy. You want to charge him double for the grain because you know his people are hungry."

The Duke leaned in, a sharp, competitive glint appearing in his blue eyes. He looked at Lucius, who was suddenly clutching his quill like a weapon.

"Double, you say? That seems fair for the risk of transport."

Lucius looked at the map, then at his father. He hesitated, his face scrunching up in thought. He grabbed a small piece of charcoal and drew a jagged line around the ’mountain pass.’ Then, he looked at Julian, a question in his eyes.

"You’re asking if there’s another way?" Julian translated, impressed.

"Is there?" The Duke asked.

Lucius pointed to the ’Eastern Coastline’ on the map. He drew a little boat.

"The sea?" The Duke laughed, a deep, genuine sound that made the nanny—who was peeking through the cracked door—nearly faint from shock. "In winter? The waves will swallow your iron, little King."

Lucius didn’t back down. He drew a larger boat, and then he drew a symbol for an ’Ice-breaker’—a technique Julian had mentioned in passing weeks ago.

The Duke paused, his gaze turning serious as he looked at the drawing, then at Julian. "You taught him about hull reinforcement?"

"Among other things," Julian said, his voice tinged with pride. "Your move, Merchant King of the South. His iron is at your docks. Do you still want double the price for your grain?"

The Duke looked at his son. The ’Empathic Resonance’ showed Julian that Duke Alaric was feeling a sudden, sharp spike of respect.

He wasn’t looking at the kid who only knew how to cry for attention, he was looking at a sharp, capable mind that shared his own tactical blood.

"Fine," the Duke grumbled, though his lips were twitching, fighting a smile. "I’ll take the iron at market value. But I want a 10% stake in your shipping company."

Lucius’s eyes widened. He looked at Julian, who gave him a wink. Lucius turned back to his father, stuck out his small hand, and—mimicking the Duke’s own serious expression—waited for a handshake.

The Duke stared at the tiny hand. He reached out and enveloped Lucius’s hand in his massive, calloused one.

"Then, we have a deal."

*Ting* the system chimed.

> [Target: Duke Alaric — Affection: 16%] 𝗳𝚛𝚎𝚎𝘄𝕖𝕓𝕟𝕠𝚟𝚎𝕝.𝗰𝕠𝐦

> [Target: Young Lord Lucius — Affection: 55%]

> [System: Hidden Interaction ’The Merchant Kings’ Complete!]

> [Reward: 50 SP]

Julian was glad for the special reward, among other things, and was most especially glad that the Duke was getting along with his son.

As the lesson continued, Julian noticed the Duke’s gaze shifting. Duke Alaric wasn’t just watching the map anymore; he was watching Julian.

He was watching the way Julian encouraged Lucius without coddling him, the way he turned complex politics into a game, and the way he seemed to smoothly bridge the gap between a father and son who had been strangers for seven years.

"Astrea," the Duke said suddenly, interrupting a debate about silk taxes.

"Yes, Your Grace?"

"You mentioned you’d apologize for your rudeness," Duke Alaric said, his eyes unreadable and Julian’s palm grew sweaty in an instant.

Why was he bringing that up in the middle of the lesson?

"But I find I don’t want an apology." The Duke added. "I want to know where you learned to see the world like this. You don’t teach like a scholar. You teach like a... strategist."

Julian felt a bead of sweat roll down his back. It seemed like his interaction with the Duke was getting him more interested in him.

If he dug into the truth elsewhere, of course he wouldn’t find anything since Julian did not learn any of this in this world. But then that would only make him seem more suspicious... As if he erased his own past.

"I’ve traveled a lot in my mind, Your Grace," Julian replied smoothly. "And as I said, I only care for the Young Lord’s future."

The Duke stood up, the chair scraping against the floor. He walked around the table and stopped directly in front of Julian. He was so close that Julian could smell his cologne.

He gulped.

"We leave for the South in three days," the Duke said. "Lucius, myself... and you."

Julian blinked, dumbfounded. "Me?"

"You’re the one who wanted the lemons, aren’t you?" The Duke reached out and flicked Julian’s forehead, just as he had pinched Lucius’s nose earlier. "Besides, you still need to make up for your rudeness." He grinned. "Pack your bags, Astrea."