CH360 Drake Returns

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"Why are you here?" Alex asked, his surprise evident as he took in the familiar, imposing figure before him.

"What? Shouldn't a son be happy that his busy father found time to visit him?" the man replied dryly.

It was none other than Earl Drake Fury.

The Earl strode into the house without waiting for an invitation, his presence commanding the space as naturally as if it were his own.

Alex shut the door and quickly followed behind.

"Of course, I'm happy to see you, Father," Alex said. "I just wasn't expecting it. I thought you'd still be busy with the war in the Marblebrook Plane. You've only been gone a couple of months or so."

"A couple of months here," Drake corrected, "is more than half a year in Marblebrook. Do you think a mere war in a lesser plane could tie me down for that long?"

He sat in the single-seater sofa in the living room and glanced around. His brow creased.

"Why am I not surprised?" he muttered. "This décor is unbefitting of the scion of a warrior family. Too many books, with too few weapons or trophies."

Alex only shrugged as he took his seat opposite.

"This is just a temporary accommodation," he replied evenly. "And the décor fits my current status here in the Enclave as a mage, craftsman, and scholar."

He smirked faintly. "Besides, don't forget there's still the drake head and the weapons from defeated foes lining my study walls back at the Back Mountain Lodge."

Drake gave a snort. "Don't make it sound like you put them there yourself. I know it was Colton's child—"

"Laura," Alex cut in. "Her name is Laura, Father."

"Yes, Laura," Drake nodded curtly. "That lass decorated the study for you. You probably never thought of doing it yourself."

Alex only shrugged again. He couldn't really deny that.

"So," Drake said, leaning back, "how are things in my absence?"

"Don't you already know?" Alex countered.

"I'm asking you, am I not? That means I want to hear it from you," Drake said, his tone brooking no argument.

Alex chuckled wryly. "Fine," he said. "The most important thing I have to report would be the negotiation with the Kellermans. I succeeded in getting—"

"I don't care about that," Drake interrupted, waving a dismissive hand. "That was a foregone conclusion from the start."

"I've been hearing some interesting news lately. Something about you following in my footsteps—earning infamy across the continent. But apparently, yours wasn't earned through battle prowess or reckless antics." Drake smiled faintly.

Alex's lips twitched.

He could almost see the teasing glint in Drake's eyes. The man had a way of making serious matters sound trivial, especially when it concerned him. It was absurd that his father would ignore the pressing issue of House politics just to pry into his personal life.

He'd long suspected Drake cared little about the Kellerman negotiations, and once again, the man proved him right.

Alex even felt a pang of sympathy for Earl Jorg Kellerman. The poor man viewed Drake as a rival—a competitor on the grand stage of nobility—yet Drake barely even regarded him as worth a thought.

'I wonder how Earl Kellerman would feel if he realised that,' Alex mused dryly.

But he quickly brushed the thought aside and launched into the story of his latest escapades— the harrowing tale of how he struggled and climbed difficulty after difficulty to ultimately win the heart of the most eligible spinster in the Empire… at least, of his generation.

He didn't stop there. He added how he befriended Prince Caesar and Prince Archellis Maximillian—better known as All Might—and finally, how his relationship with Udara had developed since.

Drake listened quietly until Alex finished, then exhaled a low chuckle.

"So, let me get this straight—you tore up a perfectly fine marriage agreement just to sign a new, convoluted one? And for what? Love? Trust?" He scoffed, shaking his head. "Couldn't you have built that after the marriage fell through?"

He clicked his tongue, half amused, half exasperated. "Well, I suppose you had too much free time. You had to waste it somehow."

Alex's face twitched again. He wanted to retort, but the look on Drake's face made it clear his father wasn't interested in a debate.

Drake's expression sobered after a moment. "Friendship with royals is indeed worth its weight in gold—especially with genuine individuals like Caesar and Archellis. But make no mistake, Alex. Your own strength will determine whether you can maintain such relationships. Your potential attracts them now, but only by translating that into true strength can up keep them as friends.

"A dragon doesn't stay friends with a worm. It's simply impossible."

"I'm aware, Father," Alex said, his tone equally serious.

Drake nodded slightly, satisfied. He knew Alex understood the truth of that principle even without being told, but he couldn't resist reminding him all the same.

Alex's calm, resolute response eased whatever lingering concern Drake had. He didn't press further.

"The matter with that lass, Udara, is a little delicate," Drake said calmly. "Don't push her too much. Just create opportunities for her to come out of her shell."

"Father, you seem to know something," Alex said, narrowing his eyes.

"Of course I do. Do you think I'd allow an unknown variable into my house?" Drake crossed his arms with that familiar air of authority. "But I can't tell you. I made a promise—to the lass and to the Dragonslayer. She'll open up to you when she's ready."

"I see…" Alex frowned, unsatisfied but unwilling to press further.

"Don't overthink it," Drake continued. "The matter isn't anything grand—just a small incident from the past. At least, it's small to you. To her, it's a bit more personal and major. No good will come from me telling you anything. But if you're patient, it'll help her trust you when she decides to speak."

"I understand, Father," Alex said with a nod.

A moment of silence passed between them before Alex remembered something. "Oh, right. I think the Wastelanders, the Machholts, and the Reicherts are up to something."

Drake's brow furrowed slightly. "I can understand the Reicherts, but why the Wastelanders? I have no quarrel with Siegmund, and our territories aren't even close. His lands are in the Central East, ours are in the Northwest."

"That would be my fault, Father," Alex admitted.

He then recounted the series of events that led to his feud—if it could even be called that—with Alric Wastelander.

Drake listened quietly, his expression unreadable. When Alex finished, he spoke firmly. "Then it's not your fault. If there's anyone to blame, it's Siegmund's son—Alric, was it?"

He paused for a moment, deep in thought, before continuing. "The Machholts and Reicherts as Houses wouldn't get involved in this. Neither would Siegmund. He wouldn't move against me without cause. If there's truly a plot brewing, it must be coming from the heirs themselves."

"If it's the heirs, then I can handle them," Alex said with quiet confidence.

"As you should," Drake replied with a nod. "Don't worry—I'll make sure the elders of their Houses stay out of it. That's my responsibility."

Then his tone hardened, and the weight of command returned to his voice. "But don't underestimate them. Each one is not only stronger than you but they are also scions of Ducal and even Grand Ducal Houses. Tread carefully."

"I'm aware, Father." Alex's expression turned solemn, his voice steady.

**(10/70)**

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