Chapter 4: Burdens and Duty

Ethan remained seated, quietly poking at the food on his plate. Across the long dining table, Arthur set down his utensils with a soft clink. For a moment, he didn’t speak. He simply watched Ethan, his expression calm, but laced with something deeper. Not disappointment. Not frustration. It was… empathy.

Ethan didn’t say a word. But he noticed. And strangely, he appreciated it. That look. That silence. Like Arthur understood, without needing to explain himself. Like he wasn’t just some figure in charge of this strange new world but a man who’d seen this kind of confusion before. Maybe even felt it.

With a quiet sigh, Arthur rose from his chair and gathered a stack of parchment and bound documents beside him

“When you’ve finished eating, come find me in my study. We should talk,” Arthur said, offering Ethan a respectful nod before turning to the butler.

“Carter,” he called.

“Yes, my lord,” Carter responded, stepping forward with practiced grace.

“Escort Ethan to my office when he’s ready. There’s no rush.”

“At once, my lord,” Carter replied with a courteous bow.

With that, Arthur departed through the tall oak doors, papers tucked under his arm. The room felt quieter in his absence less tense, but heavier somehow. Ethan sat back in his chair, unsure what kind of talk this would be… but for the first time since arriving, he didn’t dread it.

Ethan eventually finished his meal, though his thoughts were anything but settled. He leaned back in his chair, debating whether to head straight to Arthur’s study or take some time to walk off the lingering tension. The manor was massive, and he’d barely seen more than a few halls.

Carter, still standing nearby, took a small step forward and spoke with the same polished grace as before.

“Might I inquire, Master Ethan, do you wish to proceed to the lord’s office now, or shall I accompany you elsewhere first?” Carter asked.

“I think I’ll look around a bit. Burn off some of that meal before I sit down for a talk,” Ethan replied.

“Very wise, sir. Might I suggest a stroll through the east gardens? They are quite peaceful at this hour, and well-suited for quiet thought.”

“Yeah… that actually sounds perfect.”

“Shall I guide you, or would you prefer to wander?”

“Just point me in the right direction. I’ll find my way.”

With a slight smile and an elegant motion of his hand, Carter directed him toward a corridor bathed in late afternoon light.

“Follow the main hall to the end, then take the archway on your left. The scent of lavender will greet you before you even arrive.”

“Thanks,” Ethan replied

[with another courteous bow] “I shall await your return, sir.”

And with that, Ethan stepped away from the dining room, footsteps echoing lightly through the grand halls, following the trail of lavender in the air.

The hallways of the manor were quiet, lined with high arched windows and rich tapestries. As Ethan walked, he noticed something strange every servant he passed, whether a butler or a maid, bowed slightly as he moved by. Not just politely. Respectfully. Almost reverently.

It threw him off. Just earlier, they had been whispering about him, side-eyeing him, some even laughing under their breath. Now, they acted as though he were someone important. Someone worth honoring. He didn’t know if it made him feel better or worse.

Eventually, he found the path that led out into the garden.

The manor’s east garden was stunning. A manicured blend of nature and artistry, with smooth stone paths winding through blooming hedges and quiet fountains. At the center stood a circular hangout area an open structure with no walls, only ivory pillars supporting a domed roof. Low marble fences circled the space, and creeping vines with soft blossoms climbed up one of the columns.

Ethan stepped inside and sat on the stone bench in the center. The silence wrapped around him like a blanket. He leaned forward, elbows on knees, staring at the ground.

Everything was still so overwhelming. This world. The way people looked at him. The fact that he had been summoned. He didn’t ask for any of it.

This tale has been unlawfully lifted from Royal Road. If you spot it on Amazon, please report it.

“How do I get home?” he thought bitterly. “Do I even have a say in any of this?”

The questions looped in his head, quiet but unrelenting.

“Oh my, I didn’t expect anyone to be here,” said a voice.

Ethan looked up, startled.

She stood just outside the edge of the pillars so quietly that he hadn’t noticed her approach. A girl, or perhaps a woman, with an otherworldly presence. Her black hair shimmered with a faint violet hue, styled in an elegant half-bun while the rest flowed smoothly down her back.

Her face was beautiful in a way that felt carved from serenity itself sharp yet soft, unmistakably reminiscent of the refined elegance often seen in Japanese or Chinese nobility. High cheekbones, a graceful jawline, and lips that rested in a calm, unreadable expression.

She wore a white blindfold with delicate red markings across its surface like an ornamental veil rather than a disability. And in her arms, as if cradling a child, she carried a sleek, guardless Chinese dao.

“Uh… sorry. You can have the spot if you want,” Ethan offered.

She stepped forward with the slow grace of a drifting shadow, head slightly tilted.

“No. I came because I sensed something. Heavy. Restless,” she said, stepping forward. “It was you.”

And just like that, Ethan felt like she was staring directly into him… blindfold or not.

She sat down across from him, folding her hands neatly atop her weapon as it rested against her lap. It felt like she was looking right at him, and the silence stretched.

“I’m… Ethan. Ethan Peirce. And you?”

“Sayo.”

“What’s with the blindfold? Is your sight… taken?”

She smiled, just faintly.

“I wear it to protect others.”

She didn’t explain further. Ethan could sense there was more to it, but something told him not to pry.

“You’re scared. Confused.”

Ethan blinked. “How’d you”

“I can see it. In you. Confusion. Fear.”

She tilted her head, then added, voice softer almost hesitant:

“Regret?”

Then she clasped her hands together in a light gesture of realization.

“Ahh, you must be a Kingmaker too.”

“Wait ‘too’? You mean… you’re one?”

He leaned forward, surprised. He hadn’t considered that there might be others like him.

“Yes. And you’re not the only one. Most of us fought the leash at first. Some still do.”

She smiled again small, enigmatic

“You’re not much of a fighter. I can tell. You have that look… the look of refusal.”

“You’re right… I’m not a warrior. I’m just a normal person.”

“Pity.” She muttered

She sounded almost disappointed, as though she had been hoping for a spar.

Sayo gently rested the dao across her lap, tracing her fingers along the smooth, unguarded edge of its scabbard. Her voice was calm, but there was a quiet pride beneath it.

“This is Shura. A blade that carries the breath of Ashura the madness of endless war.”

There was no boast in her tone. Just certainty. As if she had accepted the weight it carried.

Ethan glanced at the weapon, then down at his own hands.

“Mine’s… a dagger. But it’s kind of… defective, I guess.”

The moment the word defective left his lips, a sharp pulse surged through his chest like a flash of heat and pressure beneath his ribs. He winced, hand instinctively pressing to the spot just above his heart.

“Ow! what the hell…” Ethan winced.

Suddenly, a voice not Sayo’s cut through the quiet. It was deeper, more primal, resonating from the weapon itself.

“He looks weak. Let me taste his flesh,” growled the voice from the blade.

Ethan stiffened, eyes wide as he instinctively pulled back.

“Hush now,” Sayo said calmly.

She gently placed a hand on the blade, like one might calm a restless pet.

“Forgive her. She has… impulses.”

Ethan blinked, stunned. “Your weapon just talked. And threatened me.”

“She tends to do that.”

Sayo stood gracefully, brushing nonexistent dust from her skirt.

“Farewell for now, Ethan Peirce.”

She turned to leave, then paused at the edge of the platform.

Before turning to leave, Sayo paused at the edge of the garden path. Her voice remained calm, but carried a quiet finality.

“Tell me, Ethan… when the time comes when conflict finally finds you will you stand and fight… or turn and run?”

“Because if you remain as you are now defenseless, hesitant then the other Candidates and their Kingmakers will devour you… and your King Candidate will fall with you.”

She turned away without waiting for a reply, her words lingering in the still garden air like a warning etched in stone.