Lucen was standing in front of the door to his father’s study. Before he regained his past life’s memories, he would have never dared to come here without being called, but now he had come by several times on his own initiative.
’I guess any normal child would be intimidated meeting a father like Vardon.’ After thinking briefly, Lucen knocked on the door of Vardon’s study.
Upon entering the study, he saw his father, Vardon, the unwavering shield of Norvaegard, reading a bunch of paperwork with a map on his table.
Vardon lifted his head and looked at Lucen. He then put down the pen in his hand and was now fully focused on Lucen.
"Have you come to make your report?"
"Yes, sir." Lucen stepped forward and gave a crisp nod. "The situation in Dorsen has been resolved. The bandits have been killed or captured, the villagers have been saved, and now they are rebuilding the village into a bigger and better place."
Vardon’s gaze flicked toward the map, then back to Lucen.
"Minimal. No deaths. Some injuries from the night raid, but Thornefang held strong... But..."
When Vardon asked his question, Lucen once again remembered Milos’s face when they arrived and how they were too late to save some of the villagers from death. He hesitated for a bit, but then used Acting Adept to shield his emotions, once again protecting himself.
Vardon noticed this subtle shift in Lucen’s demeanor.
"We arrived too late, and some of the villagers have already been killed by the bandits."
Lucen kept his tone even, but Vardon saw the flicker of something, anger, guilt, perhaps both, in his son’s eyes before it vanished behind the veil of control.
Vardon did not know if he should be proud or worried. This aspect of Lucen would serve him well when he becomes the Duke of Stellhart...
It was a strength, yes, one a leader needed. But it was also a curse. He knew that better than anyone.
Being able to control one’s emotions to keep going is good for those on the battlefield, but... If you keep emotions always in check, you become dull from the pain, from everything, you become like him.
Someone who could not cry, not even from the death of his beloved wife. Someone who could not show any weakness even when his children needed him, in the moment of their grief.
’Is this truly what I want for my son?...’ The face of his wife, Veyra, suddenly appeared in his mind... Vardon sighed as he got up from his chair and walked towards his son.
Seeing the towering figure of his father approach him, Lucen grew confused. As soon as Vardon reached Lucen, he did something no one expected. Vardon hugged his son.
Lucen froze, unable to comprehend what was happening. All the scenarios in his head, never in his wildest dreams would he expect this to happen.
Neither the gamer from his past life, nor the Lucen of this world, had ever imagined this moment happening.
Yet the Iron Duke’s arms, once thought of as cold as the North itself, were warm, painfully so. Lucen always imagined the Iron Duke’s blood was also frost. He could not understand why, but for some reason, Lucen felt safe in Vardon’s embrace.
A flood of emotion then came out unconsciously as Lucen hugged his father back. He didn’t notice it, but tears were already flowing down his face.
"You’ve done the best you could."
The words that came out of Vardon’s mouth were with his usual cold, flat tone, but for some reason, it sounded so warm to Lucen, who cried a bit harder.
The father, who had to be like steel for his people and his family, and the son who had been chasing his father’s back unrelentingly, simply hugged each other in silence.
After a long, quiet moment, Vardon pulled away, just enough to look his son in the eyes again. The weight in his gaze hadn’t lessened, but something had changed. The ice had cracked, just a little.
"...Go on," Vardon said, his voice returning to its usual calm steel. "Finish your report."
Lucen took a slow breath, gathering himself. He wiped his face quickly with his sleeve and straightened his back.
Lucen started recounting the details of the expedition from defeating the bandits, rescuing the villagers, surviving the night raid of the bloodhounds, to supposedly rescuing some villagers near the borders of Viscount Drenwick from unknown bandits and bringing them to Dorsen.
Of course, without even saying anything, the two of them already knew that there were no bandits and it was just Thornefang saving the commoners from Viscount Drenwick.
Once the report was over, silence lingered again. Vardon, who had already sat back in his chair, was tapping on his table.
"It seems you’ve gained much from this mission. You’ve fulfilled the task I entrusted to you. So, what reward do you seek? Just know, knighthood is still out of the question for Thornefang. They’ll need to prove themselves further."
"... Father, can you give me Dorsen?"
"You want to have the village you saved? You do understand governance of a village or town is different from commanding a regiment."
"It’s not just about collecting taxes. You’ll be responsible for the people’s needs, food, security, disputes, and more."
"I understand. I don’t plan to have it for now, but in the future. If you allow it, I want to make it something more."
"That would take money, and I will only be able to provide minimum support since I have to think about the entirety of Stellahart."
"I will find a way to make money."
Vardon looked at the determined eyes of Lucen and sighed inwardly.
"... Since the old village chief has died from the bandit attack. The knight I sent is maintaining order, but he’s not trained in administration. Dorsen has grown beyond what it once was."
He tapped the map with his finger.
"Very well. I’ll assign a proxy to govern in your stead. Someone with experience. They’ll report to Stellhart for now—but when you’re ready, and if you still want it, I’ll hand it to you."
Lucen nodded firmly. "Thank you, Father."
There was a moment of silence again, as Vardon stared at Lucen. The father and son had not said a single word for several seconds. Lucen was simply waiting for Vardon to dismiss him, but then, like the hug, Vardon said something unexpected.
"... Now that we’re done with official matters. My son... Will you tell me about what you’ve been through... Not as the commander of Thornefang, but as my son."
Lucen was once again caught off guard, but this time he reacted better.
’I guess even a man of iron and steel is still a father.’ Lucen’s lips curved up into a small smile.
"I guess... I do have the time."
Lucen and Vardon finally started having a conversation not as a Duke and his heir, but as father and his son.