“What is it?”
The Count asked, forcing his butler to return from his mind trip to the present moment.
“I am sorry for the distraction, Sir.”
The Count supported his body weight on his two palms, using the desk as a prop. Helping his legs to move his torso that got glued to the seat while he denied: “No, I truly needed some distraction. What is it?”
“I am here to ask to form another contract between us.”
Seaben speech was direct, somehow shameless, and because the Count didn’t expect this turn of events, his poker face couldn’t hide the dazzle that took hold of his eyes for a brief moment. He was sure that the contract between them will come to an end with his decision to abandon the farm. And After that, there will not be any gains or benefits that tight this greedy creature to him anymore.
What he wants now? The Count wondered.
He left his body surrendering to the force of attraction that the seat was emitting just a few moments after he broke away from it. Then he gave his full focus to what his soon to be his former contractor to say:
“This time, it will be different,” Seaben elucidated, “this contract will be a temporal rather than spatial… as it was in our first contract.”
“Temporal? Like in when should it end?” The Count’s voice gave the impression of being interested in the proposal, thus gave Seaben a new restock for his near lost self-confidence:
“A sufficient period, like until you get to Lundein.”
The Count pinched his lips together while tapping with his index finger on his knee, then he looked at Seaben before he asked: “What do you want in exchange?”
“The life of Hendrickson.”
What a greedy bastard this creature is. Francis thought; he didn’t know how he could hold himself to shout at him: “You know that Hendrickson’s life and death are and will always be, only in my hands, and this matter is a closed case.”
Seaben already had foreseen the Count’s firm refusal. He noticed that in any business that concerned the Count’s ex-friend’s life or death, the Count always applies an underneath or straightforward resistance against anything powerful enough to threaten Hendrickson’s life.
Unfortunately, Seaben actually noticed this rather late, and recently enlightened that his pursuit after Hendrickson is hopeless as long as the Count is present. Thus, he required a divergence, a way to shift the Count’s attention far from his own real agenda.
Based on what has Seaben experienced and despite the Count’s passive attitude, he must not repeat his mistake and underestimate this man.
He felt that this was his last chance to strike: “Then, I want the girl in the coffin.”
Impossible! That’s what Seaben had perceived from the momentary hidden change on the Count’s face that lasted barely a wink of an eye.
It was exactly what he wanted. Though, he felt a bit of disappointment because of the calm and flexible answer of the Count:
“Give me some time to think about it.”
It only confirmed yet once more to Seaben the concealed dangerousness and the dull facade of the Count. And once again he sensed the tentacles of anxiety, fear climbing up over his feet.
The Count surely is not the simple person he imagined him to be when he approached him that day. He wasn’t the hopeless person who had signed an unbalanced deal with him.
If the Count doesn’t make another deal with him, Seaben will find himself obliged to sign the deal the Duchess of Di Nobilis had presented to him.
Francis returned his focus to the papers on his desk, but not for the purpose of reading them. He was just searching for a distraction to avoid looking directly at the profile of his butler in a final attempt to keep his cool. He was biting the corner of his lip when a tiny red line got licked away by his tongue. From where this Chimera got the boldness to ask for such a thing?
Francis wondered how he succeeded in restraining himself and didn’t drain this vulgar bastard from existence. This obscene creature really had forgotten his place. It seemed that what have Nicolai said about his greedy nature was true.
Back then, the Count didn’t believe in Nicolai’s words. He thought of it as one of the many games that spin between those two. He just proved to himself that he is really a bad judge of character.
When the head of the maidservant excused himself, the Count tried to distract his agitated mood by focusing on truly rereading the conditions that were sent by the Crocotta clan… It was only a few counted days that separated their meeting to start the actual negotiation. The negotiation will resolve the current conflict without significant losses; hopefully…
Retreating without entering a losing battle, reserving some gains, and keeping his old chain of supply working, naturally, that’s what Francis is hoping for by taking this negotiation. Besides, his present state didn’t allow him to shoulder further damage more than he already had, as well as considering the latest report he had received from Lundein. They didn’t bode well, and they required his personal presence to deal with them.
After merely rereading a handful of lines, Francis pushed aside the papers, concealing them from his sight. He couldn’t contain the fast relapse that his position had declined. Half of his estate in Lundein is now in Di Nobilis’ hands. His debts are increasing. He needs to seduce the Crocotta to let him keep the supply chain from this farm no matter what…
Nerves tired of thinking, He reached for the glass bottle and served himself a drink after a drink without a pause till he couldn’t hear the raucous dance of the sullen thoughts inside his weary head.
As soon as his head became a little bit dizzy, he finally felt a sort of fleeting ethereal peace. In this momentary heaven, an unopened bottle entered his visual field and gave him a funny idea. He thought why he didn’t go and asked Nicolai to help him to empty it, together, like the same forgotten old days.
He stupidly began to implement this idea, hardly steadying his posture and working his way to the music room. The red liquid inside the bottle was changing the level depending on the ever-ending positions the bottle was held in. With his other hand, he carried two shining glasses, reflecting the projected dim light as if they were made from diamond.
At the door, he guided his half-open eyes to inspect the lonely piano that beautified the center of the room. Seeking the outline of his soon to be his drinking companion.
To his surprise – because he didn’t find him-, he positioned what was in his hands on the flatness of the piano. Then he advanced toward the window, wondering about his whereabouts. After, he first searched for him under the piano and behind the curtain without a success. He thought that maybe the man was taking a stroll down on the farm.
Across the glass of the window, Francis, in his state of drunkenness, glimpsed the Crocotta young girl sitting on a big stone in the garden. She was reading a small notebook and as she turned the page, the expression on her face switched from neutral to a certain quality of frustration. It made Francis feel an extreme urge to learn what was written in the notebook. Then, he decided without a second thought that it must be love. She must be reading letterers about love. Yes, nothing can change a young woman’s mood as fast as love does.
The Frustration in Kanari’s face turned to fear, the kind of fear that clobbered the children’s faces when they know that they have committed something their parents won’t much appreciate.
She quickly shut her notebook and sat on it. Next, she made a catatonic smile in the direction of the road that led to the main house.
