Definitely need that shop, Lloyd reaffirmed mentally, the urgency sharper now. If Fang's hiding this kind of potential, what else am I missing? What other threats or allies are operating on levels I completely misjudged in my first life?
"Breakfast," Lloyd murmured, finally offering the platter. Fang ate with focused efficiency, each bite precise, powerful. No wasted motion. When finished, he looked up, gave that unnerving, almost human-like nod, and dissolved back into shimmering motes of light at Lloyd's silent command. The platter was spotless.
Breakfast with Arch Duke Roy Ferrum was, as anticipated, an exercise in navigating unspoken tensions. Roy ate with his usual focused precision, but Lloyd felt his father's gaze linger on him more often today, sharp and analytical. Had Ken reported yesterday's display of unexpected logistical insight? Or perhaps Master Elmsworth himself had conveyed his… surprise? Roy said nothing beyond curt inquiries about the day's schedule, but the weight of his scrutiny felt heavier. Lloyd ate quickly, kept his answers brief and respectful, and escaped the dining hall as soon as politely possible.
Outside the main doors, Ken Park waited, impassive as ever, ready to assume his duties. The morning air was crisp, carrying the sounds and smells of the awakening capital city – merchants shouting, wheels clattering, the aroma of baking bread mingling with less pleasant odors.
"Ken," Lloyd stopped just beyond the massive estate gates, pitching his voice low, ensuring privacy amidst the gathering bustle.
The butler-bodyguard paused instantly, his gaze steady. "Young Lord?"
"A change in protocol for today's escort," Lloyd stated, meeting Ken's eyes directly. He needed to project confidence, command. "I require you to follow, yes. But maintain distance. Remain unseen. Become a shadow." He let the instruction hang for a moment. "Observe only. Do not, under any circumstances, reveal yourself or intervene." He paused, adding the crucial caveat, "Unless you assess my life to be in immediate, mortal peril with no other possible outcome."
He watched Ken closely. No outward reaction, of course. The man's face was a masterclass in stoicism. But Lloyd saw the faintest tightening around his eyes, the fractional hesitation before he responded. Ken wasn't just muscle; he was intelligent, fiercely loyal to Roy, and constantly assessing threats. This deviation from standard protective detail was significant. It signaled… something. Trust? A test? Recklessness? Ken would analyze the implications.
"Understood, Young Lord," Ken replied after that briefest pause, his voice the usual flat monotone. "Shadow protocol engaged." He executed a shallow, precise bow. Then, with disconcerting fluidity, he stepped back, seeming to merge with the deep shade cast by the high stone wall. One blink, he was a solid presence; the next, he was simply… gone. Utterly vanished from sight, yet Lloyd felt the unwavering certainty of his hidden presence, an invisible guardian angel armed with lethal proficiency.
Alright then, Lloyd thought, taking a deep breath and stepping out into the flow of the city. A flicker of cold resolve settled within him. He wasn't just testing himself; he was sending a message, both to Ken and, through him, to his father. He wasn't a child needing constant, overt protection. And he suspected today might provide an opportunity to demonstrate that. He deliberately adjusted his route, veering away from the wider thoroughfares, choosing instead a winding path through a tangle of narrower, less reputable alleyways. The kind of place respectable folk avoided, where shadows lingered long after sunrise, and trouble often brewed undisturbed.
He walked with purpose, his senses heightened, scanning doorways, rooftops, the deeper pockets of gloom. He felt the pulse of the city around him – the distant shouts, the rumble of carts – but his focus was narrower, sharper. He felt Ken's presence like a faint pressure at the edge of his awareness, a ghost flitting through parallel shadows. He was alone, yet not alone. A perfect setup.
It happened as he turned into a narrow passage between a leaning tenement and a boarded-up butcher shop. The smell of refuse, damp stone, and stale desperation hung heavy in the air. Three figures emerged from the gloom ahead, deliberately blocking his path, their postures radiating hostility.
Them. As expected. The leader stood front and center, his face a mask of ugly fury, the lingering bruise from Lloyd's slap a dark counterpoint to the sneer twisting his lips. His two companions fanned out slightly, cutting off any easy retreat, knuckles white as they clenched their fists. They looked jumpier today, less swagger, more raw aggression fueled by humiliation.
"Well, well," the leader spat, his voice rough, echoing slightly in the confined space. "Lookie what the cat dragged in! All by your lonesome today, little lord?"