Chapter 20
It was only by his master’s grace that Rude Wayne, who turned seventy this year, was still able to work as a butler. To a man who had lived as a butler for over forty years, retirement was no different from being evicted from his own home.
The only thing the lifelong bachelor loved was this townhouse, which stood out as the most beautiful residence even in the magnificent Glanz Court.
The Glan family’s Isen townhouse perfectly preserved the architectural style of three hundred years ago, dating back to the early days of the nation’s founding. Even for simple repairs, scholars were consulted for thorough historical verification before construction began; the successive Dukes of Windberg spared no expense or effort for the sake of the family’s heritage. Such devotion to history and tradition was the mark of true nobility.
Following that spirit, Butler Wayne devoted himself to this house. Since the masters rarely stayed here, his primary duty was managing the building itself. Despite having resident servants, he personally patrolled the entire structure every night, returning to his room only after confirming that every light was extinguished and every door secured.
Tonight, after finishing his routine as usual, the seventy-year-old butler was heading down to the basement level where his quarters were located when he unexpectedly ran into a younger colleague.
“Hans.”
“Butler Wayne.”
The young footman stood on the landing and waited for the butler to descend. The service passages were narrow, making it tight for two people to pass at once. Butler Wayne fixed his eyes on the silver tray held by the footman in full uniform.
“What is that?”
“The Duke requested it.”
The footman answered promptly, but Butler Wayne was puzzled. As he walked down and drew closer, his confusion grew. On the silver tray sat a teapot, an empty teacup, and a single sugar bowl.
He wants tea? At this hour? But he doesn’t take sugar in his tea.
“Did he ask for sugar as well?”
“No, sir. This is honey.”
“Honey?”
Wayne furrowed his brow at the unexpected answer. He lifted the lid of the porcelain bowl and saw that it was indeed honey. Inside the small jar was smooth, pale gold honey with a teaspoon tucked inside.
“What exactly did the Duke ask you to bring?”
“He asked for a spoonful of honey and a glass of warm water.”
“……I see.”
He nodded, but he still didn’t understand. Why ask for honey and water separately instead of honey tea?
Though Butler Wayne had only served the current Duke a few times, experience told him that what a man like him would usually request at this hour was liquor, not honey. He couldn’t help but wonder what its purpose was.
“Give it to me. I’ll take it up.”
“No, sir. It’s late; you should go in and rest.”
“The Duke leaves tomorrow, does he not?”
He smiled warmly at his younger colleague.
“You will serve him many more times, but I have no certainty that I’ll still be alive the next time he visits.”
“Oh, sir, really now.”
The young footman looked at him with a weary expression. Being able to startle the youth with such jokes was one of the few pleasures of being old. Having successfully taken the tray, Wayne retraced his steps back up the stairs he had just descended.
The Duke’s Master Suite was on the second floor. It was a magnificent room with an interior as grand as the view that overlooked the Sophia River and the western bank beyond. It was a space so beautiful it felt like a shame the master rarely stayed there.
When he entered, the Duke was sitting with his back to the door. He had moved an armchair to the window and was watching the night view of the city. Butler Wayne quietly observed the man’s thick, dark curls—so like his father’s—which still held the vitality of youth.
The Duke had seemed to be in a foul mood since returning from Lord Mendel’s banquet. One could tell simply by the fact that he had returned earlier than usual. He had even ordered preparations to return to Windberg tomorrow morning; it was the first time he had ever decided on such a sudden departure.
“I have brought what you requested.”
When he made his presence known carefully, the Duke turned his head. The hair falling over his forehead was almost dry. Dressed in his indoor clothes, his face looked unusually youthful, reminding Butler Wayne that the man had only just turned thirty-one today.
“Wayne. You didn’t have to come yourself.”
“I am still of some use, Your Grace.”
“I am well aware of how capable a butler you are. Leave the menial tasks to the others.”
Wayne approached him with a smile. As if to say this was hardly a task at all, he set the tray down on the side table with the elegant poise of a seasoned butler.
The Duke stood up just as Wayne lifted the teapot to fill the cup halfway. Wayne looked up at his young master, who stood much taller than him.
The Duke reached out and picked up the honey jar. He opened the lid and brought the teaspoon directly to his mouth. Watching him take a spoonful of honey before picking up the cup and saucer with practiced ease, Wayne looked on with a touch of fascination.
Returning to his armchair with the cup, the Duke remained silent for a long while. He kept his mouth closed and stared out at the city’s nightscape, a view filled with yellow lights shimmering in the darkness.
It was only after a sufficient amount of time had passed that he spoke. Likely when the honey on his tongue had finally melted away completely.
“I heard it helps with sleep,” the Duke explained in a low voice.
“I see.”
“……And it does seem to actually help.”
“You have found a truly wonderful method, then.”
Wayne chimed in with sincere admiration. It was welcome news that it helped with insomnia. How worried he had been last spring, seeing the Duke drink alcohol like water every night. Honey was, without a doubt, a superior alternative.
The Duke who had come to the townhouse this time, half a year later, was quite different from the man he had been last spring. His complexion was good, he smiled often, and above all, he was motivated. He had been very busy throughout his stay of over two weeks, and because he hosted guests daily, the townhouse had been filled with an unprecedented energy.
What had changed in those six months? There was only one reason Butler Wayne could think of: the fact that he had married last summer. It only made him more curious about what kind of person the Duchess was.
“Wayne.”
“Yes, Your Grace.”
“Do you have something to say to me?”
“No, Your Grace.”
The Duke turned his head and looked at the butler curiously. Only then did Wayne realize he had momentarily forgotten his place. It was not the proper conduct of a butler to look upon his master with such obvious paternal warmth.
“I shall take my leave now. Is there anything else you require?”
“I’m fine.”
“Good night, then.”
“See you tomorrow.”
With a polite bow, Butler Wayne left his master’s room. He, too, needed to get to bed quickly to prepare for tomorrow’s duties. The express train to Windberg was scheduled to depart at 10:00 AM, and the preparations for the Duke’s send-off had to begin three hours prior.
The train departing from Lorelia Station raced toward the north. Except for stops at major hub stations, it did not cease its journey for four days. Jared felt that this trip, which he had taken countless times, was exceptionally long and tedious.
The special first-class carriage, reserved for the Imperial family and state guests, was his alone for the entire duration. As a Duke held a rank equivalent to royalty, he was the only hereditary noble permitted to use the special carriage. Thanks to that, he enjoyed the space and facilities of an entire train car to himself, but with no one to share it with, the vast space felt useless.
There were attendants within call, but he did not converse with them. Jared spent most of his time reading documents; since it was nearly the end of the month, reports from several businesses had arrived early. Although the deadlines for approval were generous, he decided to review them in advance. That way, he would have more free time once he reached Maxville.
‘I’m looking forward to walking through the crimson woods. By the time you return, autumn will be in full bloom.’
When his eyes grew weary from reading, he looked out the window. Staring blankly at the scenery beyond the red curtains, he counted down the remaining time. Two days until home. One day until home. Five hours until home.
The four-day journey was long, and the train was slow. Even though it was an express train with almost no stops.
When he finally arrived at Windberg Station, Jared found himself smiling despite himself.
“Welcome back, Your Excellency.”
Peter Morrison was there to greet him on the platform as usual. Stepping out of the train for the first time in four days, Jared took a slow, deep breath. Every tree surrounding the station was dressed in red and yellow autumn leaves.
At the end of September, the crisp autumn air was sweet.
“Let’s go.”
He let out a long breath and began to walk. He didn’t even realize he had skipped the formal greeting to his chief attendant, whom he hadn’t seen in three weeks. Late afternoon in Windberg was thick with a cool, golden light.
Twenty minutes until home. He smiled.
