Chapter 13

While they were all in the car, Cassian said, "I'm sorry, Mom. You suffered today because of me."

"What are you saying, you silly child?" Jasmine chided. "So many things have been happening to you at the hospital! I can't believe you hid everything from me. How long were you going to keep this from me if I hadn't come over to the hospital today?"

"I just didn't want you to worry," Cassian replied.

"Take my advice, okay? Don't force yourself to put up with it. If things get too difficult for you in this hospital, then find another one. As for Lydia, well, she's changed. She's no longer the sweet and kind young woman she used to be. It's a good thing you two broke up," Jasmine declared.

"Okay."

"I'm sure Mr. Hudson here has important matters to discuss with you, so I won't take up any more of your time. I'll get off here."

Once the car stopped by the side of the road, Cassian helped Jasmine out of the car.

"Thank you for your help today, Mr. Hudson," Jasmine said courteously.

"Not at all. It was nothing," Claude responded just as politely.

Turning back to Cassian, Jasmine instructed, "Come home early today. I'll wait to have dinner with you. I'm making your favorite beef stew today."

"Got it."

As the car drove off once more, Cassian said somewhat sheepishly, "Sorry about that, Mr. Hudson. My mom rambles quite a bit sometimes. I hope it wasn't a bother."

"It's rather nice, actually."

Claude thought it was nice?

Cassian eyed Claude in confusion, but Claude focused on driving without saying anything else.

The prolonged silence made the atmosphere in the car feel a little stifling. Though plagued with the urge to say something, Cassian kept holding himself back.

After 20 minutes, Claude abruptly remarked, "I'm sure you have a lot of questions, right, Dr. York?"

"That's right," Cassian replied, choosing not to deny it.

"Ask away. I'll tell you everything I'm at liberty to say."

"Who is Lord Drakeford?" Cassian swiftly queried.

He'd been dying to ask this question the whole time.

"Lord Drakeford is the king of the underworld here in Rivershire, and he once entered the Tigrine Ranking!" Claude answered. "Actually, you've already met him."

"Is he the old man who was with you yesterday?" Cassian checked.

"That's correct."

It was him, indeed!

Upon seeing Thiago yesterday, Cassian got the feeling that he wasn't just an ordinary man. He was right after all.

"What's his title?" Cassian inquired.

"We address him as Lord Drakeford out of respect," Claude corrected. "His real name is Thiago Drakeford, but everyone calls him Lord Drakeford."

Cassian finally got the gist of who Thiago was. Curious about Claude's identity, he asked, "If you don't mind my asking, Mr. Hudson, how are you related to Lord Drakeford?"

"I'm Lord Drakeford's personal bodyguard."

"You must be an excellent fighter then."

Claude simply chuckled without responding. They had now driven into the city center before turning onto a quiet mountain road.

After glancing out the window, Cassian asked, "Are we heading up Nimbus Peak?"

"We are. That's where Lord Drakeford lives."

Cassian was stunned. Right in the heart of Rivershire was a mountain with an elevation of approximately 1,640 feet. It boasted of picturesque scenery and a pleasant environment.

During the founding of the country, a park had been built on Nimbus Peak. Later on, it was developed into a luxury residential area. Only the most powerful and prestigious people in Rivershire could reside here.

15 minutes later, a series of grand, exquisite villas entered Cassian's view. They were nestled among the trees, looking rather peaceful.

The car continued making its way to the top of the peak before finally coming to a stop outside a classical-looking villa.

"We've arrived, Dr. York," Claude announced.

Nodding, Cassian got out of the car. He immediately spotted four guards standing at the entrance of the villa. They all sported sturdy builds and piercing eyes, exuding a similar kind of energy that he'd picked up from Claude, though theirs was much weaker.

"Mr. Hudson!"

The four guards greeted Claude respectfully.

"This is Cassian York. He's a guest of Lord Drakeford," Claude said as he pointed at Cassian.

The guards glanced at Cassian before quickly allowing him entry.

"Do come with me, Dr. York," Claude said before leading the way.

After stepping through the entrance, Cassian was greeted by a massive courtyard with fish ponds, rock gardens, waterside gazebos, as well as various rare flowers and plants. It felt like an idyllic resort hidden among nature.

In the middle of the courtyard stood a majestic oak tree that had to be at least a hundred years old, with its sprawling branches and dense leaves. Beneath it was a stone table which had a large sheet of paper spread across it.

Thiago was sitting there doing calligraphy.

"Lord Drakeford doesn't like to be disturbed when he's practicing his calligraphy. Walk quietly," Claude murmured, to which Cassian nodded.

The two men approached Thiago. Craning his neck to take a look, Cassian saw the lines Thiago had written.

"If I could but achieve His Majesty's dream of uniting the lands. If I could earn an eternity of glory. Alas, the white hairs have come."

The words flowed across the paper like snakes bearing their teeth. Each stroke seemed to be filled with unmistakable ferocity.

Cassian abruptly remarked, "They're beautifully written. It's a pity…"

"What's a pity?" Thiago asked lightly.

"It's a pity the writing gives off a murderous feeling."

With a loud thud, Thiago threw down his calligraphy pen and looked up at Cassian. For a brief moment, Cassian felt as though he'd just caught the eye of a formidable predator. All his hair stood on end.

Seeing this, Claude hastily urged, "Hurry up and apologize to Lord Drakeford, Cassian."

But before Cassian could say anything, Thiago asked, "Are you familiar with calligraphy?"

"I know a thing or two about it."

The art of calligraphy was among the areas of knowledge he had inherited from his York family ancestor.

"You said the writing gives off a murderous feeling. Does that mean you think I wasn't in the right headspace when I wrote it?" Thiago questioned.

Cassian had no choice but to do his best to reply. "Eomer Sinclair, the man who wrote those lines, was a famed general who fought off the northern invaders, doing all that he could to reclaim the land for his country. However, he was sidelined, and his talents went unappreciated. He spent nearly two decades without being able to serve his country.

"He wrote that poem during his period of idleness. Though he spoke of wanting to fight for his nation and amass glory for himself, he ended with a poignant remark about his white hairs. That particular line reflected the anger, sorrow, bitterness, and helplessness he felt about not being able to serve his nation."

Cassian continued, "Yet, you have written those words with force and might, evoking a sense of dominance and aggression which is entirely opposite from the poet's state of mind. That being said, it also seems filled with a formidable spirit of a predator ready to pounce.

"It reminds me of another poem by a different poet. Though the horse rests in his stable, he dreams of galloping a thousand miles once more. Though the warrior has reached his twilight years, his heroic passion lives on."

Thiago stared intently at Thiago with his dark, unreadable eyes. Though he said nothing, he continued to give off the same imposing air.

Cassian was so nervous that he broke out in a cold sweat.

After two whole minutes, Thiago suddenly started laughing.

"You're not too shabby, Cassian."

At last, Cassian could exhale in relief.

"I didn't disrupt your work by having Claude bring you over, did I?" Thiago asked kindly.

"Not at all."

"That's good to hear."

Smile fading, Thiago said in all seriousness, "Cassian, I invited you over because I need your help with something."

"What is it?"

"I want you to treat me," Thiago replied. "I'm about to die."