A Day in Motion (ii)

The council chamber of the Shelb estate was bathed in the soft glow of midmorning light. Duke Louis von Shelb sat at the head of the long table, his imposing figure commanding the room. Across from him, his eldest son and heir, Ethan, stood with his usual stoic demeanor. Beside Ethan was Adrian, the second son, who managed the army's finances. Reginald, the Duke's trusted assistant, stood slightly to the side, ready to provide his meticulous insights.

Adrian finished his report, his tone crisp. "The upgrades to the supply line carts have been completed, Father. The reinforcement enchantments will ensure their durability through rough terrain. These adjustments should streamline logistics across the northern battalions."

The Duke gave a curt nod but raised a questioning brow. "You mentioned surplus funds allowed for these upgrades. Where, precisely, did this surplus originate?"

Adrian's brows furrowed. "I assumed it was from estate revenues, but I wasn't informed of its source."

Reginald stepped forward smoothly, his expression calm and professional. "The surplus, Your Grace, comes from a deal orchestrated by the young master Micheal. He secured exclusive buying rights to the Central Plains' wheat for five years, offering in exchange the high-yield seeds recently developed by the Eastern Mage Tower."

Adrian blinked in surprise, leaning back slightly. "Micheal? He's barely left the Southwest. How did he even know about this opportunity?"

Reginald allowed himself a small, approving smile. "The young master has a remarkable ability to gather and piece together information. He understood the market's needs, aligned them with the mage tower's capabilities, and struck the deal. It's not his first success, either. Many of the funds supporting the army now originate from businesses Micheal began investing in when he was just sixteen."

Ethan, who had been listening with a frown, finally spoke, his tone sharp. "If Micheal is capable of achieving so much, then he is more than capable of fulfilling his duty in the army. Every Shelb man must serve, regardless of their other contributions."

The Duke's expression darkened. His gaze settled on Ethan, who met it with unwavering conviction. "Micheal is not like you," the Duke said evenly, though there was a distinct edge to his voice.

"Discipline can be taught," Ethan countered, his tone unwavering. "It's about honor and tradition. Service isn't optional—it's a rite of passage for every man in this family."

Reginald intervened diplomatically. "Micheal's contributions to the estate and army are significant, my lord. Perhaps his path simply differs from the traditional."

Ethan's frustration was evident as he turned to Reginald. "Significant or not, Reginald, tradition matters. How can we expect the men under us to respect the Shelb name if one of our own shirks his duties?"

The Duke raised a hand, silencing the brewing argument. "Later," he said, his tone brooking no dissent. "For now, Micheal contributes where he is most suited. This discussion is closed."

Though Ethan clenched his jaw, he nodded, respecting his father's authority. Reginald wisely redirected the conversation. "Shall we review the logistical support for the northern battalions, Your Grace?"

The Duke nodded, but his thoughts lingered on Micheal. As Reginald and Adrian resumed their reports, he thought of his youngest son—a delicate balance of wit and eccentricity. The Duke pictured Micheal in the barracks, surrounded by the harsh discipline of military life, and felt an inexplicable pang.

To Louis von Shelb, Micheal was like a piece of costly porcelain—fragile, intricate, and irreplaceable. The thought of sending him to the army, exposing him to the grit and danger, felt almost cruel. Yet, the Duke despised this line of thinking. Was he fostering weakness? Shielding his youngest too much?

Adrian broke into his thoughts. "Father?"

The Duke shook his head. "Continue."

Reginald smoothly took over, shifting the discussion back to logistical priorities, but the Duke's inner turmoil remained. He resolved, at least for now, to keep Micheal safe—out of tradition's reach and far from Ethan's unrelenting expectations.

As the conversation moved forward, the Duke glanced toward the windows, where sunlight streamed in. Micheal was unconventional, yes, but in his own way, he was becoming invaluable to the Shelb legacy. Perhaps that was enough for now.

-----

Ethan strode out of the meeting room, still mulling over the morning's discussion with the Duke and his brothers. His father's unusually protective attitude toward Micheal gnawed at him. 

He believed it was a necessity for every able-bodied man to serve in the army at least once in their lifetime. The Duke's reluctance to include Micheal stood in stark contrast to his own father's ideals.

As he approached the grand staircase, the sight of Micheal wrestling with Barnaby snapped him out of his thoughts. Barnaby had a vice-like grip on Micheal's arm, dragging him toward the estate's entrance.

"Barnaby, for the love of all things noble, let go!" Micheal yelped, his face red with effort.

"You've procrastinated long enough, my lord," Barnaby replied, his tone both stern and calm. "We will make it to the library before it closes."

Ethan paused, his initial irritation melting into amusement. The scene was utterly absurd. For all of Micheal's antics, it was hard to stay mad at him when he looked like a rebellious child being dragged to his lessons.

"Barnaby, stand down," Ethan called, stepping forward. His commanding voice cut through the chaos.

Barnaby released Micheal with a reluctant sigh. Micheal stumbled back, smoothing his coat and shooting his brother a grateful look. "Ethan! Finally, someone with a shred of humanity."

Ethan crossed his arms, a smirk playing on his lips. "What's going on here?"

Barnaby straightened. "Lord Micheal has overdue books that must be returned to the city library before it closes for lunch. Today is the final deadline."

Ethan raised an eyebrow. "All of these?" He gestured to the teetering stack of books at Barnaby's feet.

"Yes," Barnaby replied firmly. "Punctuality and honor, my lord."

Micheal groaned. "It's just books! The library isn't going to collapse if I'm a day late."

Barnaby's glare could have cut glass. "A noble's reputation is built on such matters."

Ethan chuckled and bent down to pick up the stack of books with ease. "Micheal, get in the carriage. I'll make sure you get there on time."

Barnaby hesitated before giving a slight bow. "As you wish, Lord Ethan."

As they headed toward the carriage, Micheal glanced back at Barnaby. "See? This is why Ethan's my favorite."

Inside the carriage, Micheal sprawled across the seat, clearly reveling in his newfound freedom. Ethan sat opposite him, balancing the books effortlessly.

"So," Micheal began, his voice light. "Why the scowl earlier? Did Father lecture you about something?"

Ethan shot him a sharp look. "Not me—he was talking about you."

"Oh, great." Micheal groaned, throwing his head back. "Let me guess. 'Micheal needs to grow up, take life seriously, and stop embarrassing the Shelb name.'"

Ethan smirked. "Something like that. Though, he did mention being impressed by your deal with the Central Plains."

Micheal straightened, his chest puffing out slightly. "He said that?"

"Don't let it go to your head," Ethan warned. "You've got a knack for business, I'll admit. But you've still got a long way to go."

Micheal tilted his head, his tone turning teasing. "Look at you, Ethan, playing the wise older brother."

Ethan leaned forward, his expression serious. "You've been given a second chance, Micheal. Don't waste it. Your health—"

"My health is fine," Micheal interrupted, his tone defensive.

Ethan's sharp gaze didn't waver. "Do you remember when you were five? You used to follow me around with that toy sword, mimicking everything I did."

Micheal's brow furrowed. "Yeah. I remember. I was pretty good, wasn't I?"

Ethan sighed. "You were better than good. You awakened your aura that day. The youngest in the family to ever do it. But then..." His voice softened, trailing off.

Micheal's chest tightened as the memory surfaced. The triumph of that moment was overshadowed by the searing pain that followed. He had fainted, and when he awoke, the family doctor delivered a crushing verdict: his heart couldn't withstand the strain of aura manipulation.

"That was the last time I ever used aura," Micheal murmured, his voice heavy.

Ethan nodded. "You're a genius, Micheal. But your body isn't built for it. That's why Father is so protective. He sees you as... fragile."

Micheal's eyes darkened. "I'm not fragile."

"I know you're not," Ethan said, his voice softening. "But you need to be careful. Without aura, you're vulnerable. Work on your physical strength. Prove to Father—and to yourself—that you're more than what he thinks."

Micheal leaned back, crossing his arms. "You sound like Barnaby."

Ethan smirked. "Speaking of Barnaby, do you know why Father assigned him to you?"

Micheal shook his head. "I assumed it was because he's relentless."

Ethan chuckled. "Partly. But mostly because Barnaby's mana went rogue five years ago. He can't stop using it. That makes him a liability on the battlefield, but as a butler, he can manage it. Father thought pairing someone who can't use aura with someone who can't stop using it was poetic."

Micheal blinked, stunned. "Barnaby... was a soldier?"

"One of the best," Ethan confirmed. "And now, one of the best butlers. Though, I admit, he's a bit intense."

Micheal let out a low whistle. "I'll never complain about his punctuality again."

The carriage rolled to a stop outside the city library with mere minutes to spare. Ethan stepped out, balancing the stack of books with ease. Micheal followed, adjusting his coat.

"You're going too slow," Ethan said flatly.

Before Micheal could retort, Ethan threw the books onto one shoulder and hoisted Micheal onto the other.

"Ethan! Put me down!" Micheal flailed helplessly.

Though Micheal was as tall as his elder brothers and fairly well-built for an average human, he appeared as weak as a bunny compared to the aura-wielding strength of his elder siblings.

Ethan smirked. "We're in a hurry."

Bounding up the stairs two at a time, Ethan reached the top and deposited Micheal unceremoniously. Micheal stumbled to his feet, his face flushed with indignation.

Inside, the elderly librarian raised an eyebrow at the sight of the disheveled younger brother and his composed elder. "A punctual return, Lord Micheal. Impressive teamwork."

Micheal muttered a sheepish thanks, while Ethan's smirk deepened. As they exited, Micheal glared at his brother. "You're impossible."

Ethan's voice was warm, though teasing. "And you're lucky I care."