In A Fantasy World I Can Absorbs Abilities

"Oh, Sir Michael! Come in. I've had a meal prepared for you as well. Servant, bring in the food!"

Michael sat down, his guard not entirely hidden. Shortly after, a servant dressed immaculately entered with a well-prepared tray. The meal was overly luxurious for a battlefield: rich tea accompanied by cream and sugar, freshly baked bread, bacon, prosciutto, scrambled eggs, butter, and milk.

Indeed, high-ranking nobles were on a different level.

"This is a splendid feast. I won't refuse," Michael said, digging in.

After finishing his meal and sipping tea, the conversation turned to business. Count Charles clasped his hands together and fixed his gaze on Michael as he began.

"Sir Michael, I've heard of your exploits. They say your quick judgment was key to entering the fortress first. How old are you?"

"I turned 17 this year," Michael replied.

"Ah, an early awakening to aura! If I may be so bold, I've heard you didn't grow up in a castle. Who taught you swordsmanship?"

"My maternal family oversees five territories as executioners. I grew up there and learned the beheading blade technique from my grandfather. I've had no other formal instruction."

Count Charles's eyes sparkled.

This was precious.

A raw talent who had awakened aura without growth stimulants or formal swordsmanship training! A rough diamond, the finest grade of all.

"Ha ha! Truly remarkable at such a young age. You have a shining gift. I understand you were appointed heir after your brother's death. The burden must feel heavy all of a sudden. Are you coping well?"

Michael found the Count's sudden familiarity unsettling. What was he after? He studied the Count with wary eyes. Sensing Michael's apprehension, the Count cleared his throat and got to the point.

"Ah, well... The truth is, you remind me of my son. My youngest is about your age. I plan to assign him to the supply unit, and I was wondering if you could keep an eye on him. What do you think?"

Count Charles's youngest son was the apple of his eye, a late-born child cherished despite already having an heir who had grown old enough to give him grandchildren. The boy had been force-fed growth stimulants to artificially awaken aura, but such an awakening made him only a half-knight at best.

The young man's first campaign had left him terrified. As the battlefield drew nearer, his silence and shrinking demeanor had worsened. Unable to bear it any longer, Count Charles had made this decision. He had tried scolding and cajoling his son, but there was little he could do about the boy's timid nature.

If anything went wrong, it would be disastrous. He intended to protect his son by assigning him to the safest position at the rear while also observing Michael's character.

Michael, however, was flustered. He had raids to carry out!

"I'm afraid I lack the qualifications to accompany your son. Perhaps a more experienced knight would be better suited?"

The Count laughed heartily.

"Ha ha! No need to worry. My son has already agreed and is eager to befriend you. Being a late-born child of high status, he has no peers his age. Forming a friendship with you would be ideal."

Count Charles had other intentions as well. The Crassus Barony was in an excellent position to be drawn into his influence. Protecting his son while assessing Michael's character, and perhaps even marrying off one of his daughters if Michael proved worthy, seemed like a solid plan. His fourth daughter, though born of a concubine, was legally adopted by his first wife, which would make her an acceptable match for the Crassus family.

While the Count indulged in his schemes, Michael was speechless. If he took responsibility for the Count's youngest son, he would have to abandon the raid. Worse, if the boy were to get injured or killed, it would spell disaster.

He would be saddled with a useless burden. Yet, there was no way to refuse. Feeling as though he had been struck by lightning on a clear day, Michael was near tears. His plans for a profitable raid that day were dashed.

It seemed he would have to ask his father to take charge of the operation instead.

"Well, then. Let me introduce you to my son. Bring Louis in!"

Moments later, the tent's entrance opened, and a young man with unremarkable brown hair and a fragile demeanor entered. His expression was somber. Glancing briefly at Michael, he quickly bowed his head.

"I am Louis Brian de Charles. Please take care of me."

Resigned, Michael had no choice but to accept.

"Likewise, I am Michael von Crassus. I look forward to working with you."

Back at the camp with the timid Louis in tow, Michael sought out his father. He needed his father to take charge and secure plenty of spoils in his stead.

"This is how things turned out, Father. Please lead the recovery mission for me."

Baron Crassus sighed. Their family's lack of influence had reduced them to caretakers for others.

"Well, there's no helping it. Now that it's come to this, do your best to get along with him. Ensure he stays out of danger."

"That's my plan. The Count must truly care for his son; he assigned twelve knights to guard him. If I place him among them, he won't slow us down."

"Good thinking. And be careful with your words. Count Charles wouldn't send his son out for such a simple reason. He likely has an ulterior motive, though we don't know what it is yet. Don't give him any reason to find fault with you.

"Still... who could I blame for having such an outstanding son? It's all because of you."@@novelbin@@

Despite his words, the Baron's face was full of pride and joy. The root of this issue was, after all, his son's exceptional talent.

No matter how much Michael tried to hide his brilliance, it was impossible to suppress it. Like a needle piercing through cloth, his talents inevitably showed.

Seeing his father practically glowing with pride, Michael cleared his throat.

At least he seems to be taking this well, Michael thought.