FL - Chapter 91: The Prodigy

Before the blushing Sif could invent an excuse, someone knocked at the door.

"Reporting, my lord. The cook is here." A knight-guard pushed the door open and entered.

Louis turned. "Send him in."

Moments later, a cook in an apron stepped carefully inside, balancing a wooden tray. "Rabbit soup's here! Stewed four hours."

Louis had ordered it the night before.

Sif's gaze flicked to the bowl. She noticed right away this was no ordinary soup. It looked expensive.

"Leave it on the desk." Louis gave the order offhandedly, then turned to the guard. "Go find Barnes. Have him bring Weir here."

"Yes, my lord." The guard bowed and departed.

When the room quieted, Louis glanced back at Sif. "You were about to say something earlier?"

Sif's face turned an even deeper shade of red.

"N-nothing!" She ducked her head, her voice so fast it was barely audible.

Louis nodded, thought nothing of it, and went back to flipping through the papers on his desk. He read with full concentration, brow furrowed, completely unbothered by the exchange a moment ago.

Sif finally let out a breath. She stepped back from the edge of the desk and felt her heartbeat finally begin to slow. But the red at the tips of her ears—that refused to fade.

It wasn't long before footsteps sounded from beyond the door.

"Reporting. Barnes is here, my lord."

The door swung open, and an old knight strode into the room. Behind him came a boy whose frame had yet to fill out.

"My lord, you asked me to bring someone. I knew right away you must have heard about this kid's performance."

Barnes grinned and clapped the boy on the shoulder. "This boy, Weir, is the most talented trainee knight I've ever trained. I served as a knight instructor for House Calvin for ten years. I've taught over two hundred students. Gifted ones, hardworking ones, ones of noble blood. I've seen them all. But never has a single one been like him."

He lowered his voice, treating the next words like an extraordinary secret.

"In two months, Weir went from a little brat who hadn't even awakened his bloodline to a high-rank Apprentice Knight! Not through some divine blessing. Not through a pile of resources. Purely through raw talent, the kind I can barely wrap my head around, and sheer, relentless grit. A few times, on night patrol, I spotted him alone, practicing with a training sword. Covered in wounds and still going at it. The next morning, he'd be standing in the front row of formation like nothing happened."

The boy listened without pride, growing more solemn with every word of praise.

He stepped forward without a word, knelt on one knee, and spoke with a reverence that bordered on worship. "Lord Louis."

He lifted his head. Fierce devotion burned in his eyes, gratitude carved into bone and blood.

Weir knew exactly what this young nobleman had done for him. Louis had bought him and his mother from a slave trader. He had struck the chains of slavery from their names, pulled them out of the mire of fate, and promised them a future. From that moment on, Louis had become the one and only sun in Weir's sky.

If enemies came, he would take every blade and every arrow for this lord.

Louis looked down at Weir where he knelt.

His expression barely shifted. He simply nodded, his eyes calm. But inwardly, he was genuinely stunned.

*High-rank Apprentice already? It's only been two months…*

Louis had always known Weir possessed monstrous talent, but the speed of his advancement still left him stunned.

More than the talent, though, what caught Louis's attention was the look in Weir's eyes. That fierce, reverent light. Something close to belief.

Louis had grown familiar with that look in the Northlands. Impoverished natives, escaped slaves, and refugees in the ruins placed their hopes upon him. They answered his kindness in the most direct way possible: by offering everything, even their lives.

Louis studied Weir and made a quiet assessment. *Loyalty… yeah, probably over ninety. He's the type who knows what gratitude means.*

"Stand up," Louis said, his tone flat.

But Weir received it like a divine decree. He rose with his spine ramrod-straight, practically glowing.

"Rabbit soup. Highly nourishing." Louis gestured idly toward the wooden bowl on the desk and spoke to Weir. "Drink it."

The broth was icy blue and faintly luminous, its chill stirring the surface like a northern lake beneath the night sky.

Barnes eyed it. He hesitated, then leaned closer for a better look.

"This… my lord, is this…?" Barnes's voice wavered in disbelief.

"Frostmane Tundra Hare." Louis kept flipping through his papers, answering as casually as commenting on the weather.

"This isn't right!" Barnes stammered at once. "Something like this would go for at least several thousand Gold Coins at auction! How can you just give it to Weir?"

"What's not right about it." Louis didn't even look up. "Just tell him to thank me properly."

"You little brat, what are you standing there dumbstruck for? Thank the lord!" Barnes spun and smacked Weir on the shoulder—hard enough it nearly drove the boy back to his knees. "This is a treasure I've never even dreamed of tasting!"

Only then did Weir snap out of it. He dropped to his knees with a heavy thud.

"Thank you, my lord! Thank you! Thank…" He kowtowed over a dozen times in one breath, his forehead turning red.

Louis reached out and pulled him to his feet.

"This stuff is good, sure. But more importantly—from now on, you'd better show me the kind of strength that's worthy of this bowl."

Weir raised his head. Tears were already streaming down his face. He nodded through the weeping. "My lord! I swear I will!"

Sif, standing to the side, had gone wide-eyed.

She looked from the priceless soup to Weir's tearful face and finally to Louis's calm expression. She had never imagined he would give such treasure to a lowborn boy.

"Quit dawdling." Louis nudged the bowl forward. "Drink it while it's hot."

"Yes!"

Weir lifted the bowl with both hands and drank. Cold sweetness washed through his body like snowmelt; an instant later, searing heat erupted from his chest.

"Ngh!" His body jolted. Pain and shock flickered across his face. He nearly lost his grip on the bowl.

Something inside him had just ignited.

A flame-like energy surged upward from his abdomen, roaring along his bloodlines, blazing through every limb and bone.

"Don't move!" Barnes shouted. "Don't move! Cross your legs, shut your eyes! Follow the breathing method I taught you! Steady your energy—don't let the Battle Aura run wild!"