Chapter 39: Taking the Laborer

A mere ten minutes later, she returned carrying four bottles identical to the previous healing elixir and a wooden box.

At Cheneys's signal, Barbour took the items from the maid and walked towards Glen. His steps deliberately slowed as countless thoughts raced through his mind: Should I seize the moment and strike him unaware? Not knowing his true strength makes it too risky. Young Master Lavelle's life is paramount... He glanced at Lavelle on the ground, then back at Glen, who appeared completely unguarded. This lack of posture didn't reassure Barbour; instead, it amplified the pressure he felt. In the end, Glen received the items without incident. Barbour hadn't dared to gamble.

Opening the wooden box, Glen found a pouch of gold coins alongside neatly arranged glass vials of liquid. Recognizing these as likely lower-grade healing elixirs, he accepted them readily.

"Now, please? Will you return our son to us?" Cheneys, still holding Sophia, pleaded once more.

Glen didn't answer immediately. His gaze fell upon Lavelle on the ground for the second time. The boy still trembled, but the hatred and savagery meticulously hidden in his eyes couldn't escape Glen's perception. He had seen that look too many times in his past life. The curly-haired youth's acting was pitifully inadequate.

"No." Glen's lips parted, delivering his refusal to the Lord.

The word plunged Lavelle into genuine terror. Raw fear washed over him, threatening to blank his mind completely.

"Why?!!!" Cheneys bellowed in anguish, teetering on the edge of losing control again. "I've given you everything you asked for! Why won't you honor your word?"

"Don't hurt my son!" Sophia shrieked.

"I never made you any promises whatsoever, noble lord. Get that clear," Glen stated, his voice slightly louder, carrying an edge. "And you can rest easy. I won't be taking your son's life."

"So...?" Cheneys trembled as he asked.

"I'm taking him with me. He'll serve as labor for a while. Since you clearly don't know how to discipline your son, I'll do it for you."

Countless outcomes had crossed everyone's minds, but this was the one scenario no one had anticipated. A stunned silence fell over the scene.

"Absolutely not!" Cheneys and Sophia reacted simultaneously, their voices sharp with refusal. They couldn't bear to imagine the horrors Lavelle might endure if taken by this monster. This son, cherished and rarely even scolded, how could they let him be taken away!

"You need to understand whose terms govern this now," Glen's gaze sharpened, sweeping across the assembled group, his tone laced with lethal intent. "From the start, you intended to take my life. The fact I haven't simply killed you outright is mercy granted solely out of respect for the depth of your parental bonds."

The men-at-arms swept by that gaze, and a certain hidden assassin, felt a sudden chill, an inexplicable dread gripping their hearts.

"How... how can I know you won't harm Lavelle?" Cheneys mustered every ounce of courage to ask.

"Heh... You have no choice. You listen to me." Glen's retort was a cold laugh.

Sophia no longer spoke, burying her face against Cheneys's chest, her body wracked with silent sobs. She knew there was nothing left they could do. Cheneys stared blankly, his expression vacant and lost.

Glen surveyed the scene once more. "It's settled then. The boy comes with me." With that, he reached down to grab Lavelle.

Seeing the hand descend, Lavelle snapped out of his daze, realizing what was happening. "Get away! Don't touch me!" he suddenly roared defiantly.

The response was a sharp, stinging slap across his face. The pain instantly subdued Lavelle. He went limp, allowing Glen to seize him by the collar, hoist him up, and unceremoniously shove him towards the direction of the estate exit.

"Walk nicely, Young Master Lavelle," Glen commanded, the threat hanging heavy in his words.

Just then, Cheneys seemed jolted back to awareness by his son's earlier shout. He remembered something crucial and cried out urgently: "W-Wait!"

Both Glen and Lavelle turned.

"Could... could you take one more person? To care for Lavelle's daily needs?" Cheneys implored.

"Huh?" Glen tilted his head slightly, perplexed. "Who did you have in mind?"

Instead of answering directly, Cheneys gestured behind him. "Tia. Come here."

A young woman with large, striking eyes and a pretty face, dressed in the black-and-white maid uniform, stepped forward from the crowd, wiping away tears. She approached Cheneys. This was the maid who had fetched the elixirs.

"This is my wife's most valued maid, and someone we trust implicitly," Cheneys explained, his posture utterly humble. "Please, take her as well. Otherwise, we cannot be at ease."

"Please take me," the maid named Tia said, giving a slight curtsey. "Young Master Lavelle requires my care."

With a single glance, Glen discerned something different about the girl. Her physique, the subtle lines of muscle beneath the uniform, and the calluses faintly visible on her hands – he could tell this was no ordinary maid, but one trained in combat. This old fox wants someone to coddle the brat? Once he's with me, he can forget such luxuries... Glen scoffed internally, but outwardly, he didn't refuse. "Fine. But only her."

After they had walked a short distance, Glen paused as if remembering something. He turned back and called out: "One more thing. Don't even think about spreading word of this. I'm not afraid, but I despise unnecessary trouble. If things become... unpleasant... it won't end well." As he spoke, he deliberately locked eyes with Lord Kuro, causing the man to flinch visibly.

Satisfied with the intimidation, Glen finally led his small party away.

The vast estate settled into an oppressive quiet. Everyone stood in silence, awaiting their master's command. A long moment passed before Cheneys finally spoke, his voice harsh and strained:

"What happened here today... no one speaks of it!"

...

A curly-haired boy and a young maid followed Glen. Their expressions were starkly different. Lavelle clenched his jaw, resentment and reluctance etched onto every feature. Maid Tia, however, wore a look of hesitation, as if wrestling with unspoken words.

"Excuse me..." Tia finally ventured, her voice small and timid.

"Hmm?" Glen turned his head slightly. Lavelle also looked at her, puzzled.

"Where... where are you taking us? Will... will you harm the Young Master?" The girl seemed to have summoned all her courage.

"Harm?" Glen paused, then nodded emphatically. "Of course! Definitely, if he doesn't behave."

Lavelle's face instantly paled, his steps faltering. Tia stiffened, then surprisingly, a spark of indignation flared. "Why would you do that? Even if Young Master Lavelle offended you, it's not right to bully him like this!"

Glen merely quirked an eyebrow at the girl's protest and countered: "Why is it they can bully me first, but I can't return the favor tenfold?"

The question struck Tia dumb. She struggled for a rebuttal, but none came after several moments.

Glen didn't give her much time to think. He pressed on: "Or tell me, in your time serving these noble lords and ladies, haven't you been beaten or scolded? Or seen other maids punished?"

Tia seemed to grasp at this. "No! Not at all!" she answered quickly. "The Lord and Lady... their tempers can be short, yes, but they don't beat us or scold us without cause!"