Saved By The Mad Duke
Chapter 85: A Bothersome Younger Brother

Chapter 85: A Bothersome Younger Brother

Tillian’s study enveloped itself in a serene hush, undisturbed by the faintest whisper of noise. The Duke assumed a solemn stance beside his desk, his presence commanding reverence, while Yuraon observed Bella’s careful movements as she poured steaming tea into a porcelain cup.

From time to time, the maid cast furtive glances toward the youthful King, not so much to admire his chiseled physique as to appraise his audacious demeanor. With each glance, she pondered silently, her thoughts veiled behind the facade of her menial tasks. Was such daring attire truly necessary, she mused, or merely an indulgence of royal antics?

Upon meticulously arranging the tea and accompanying snacks upon the polished surface of the small wooden table adjacent to the supple leather couch, Bella, with a polite excuse, withdrew from the room, granting the two men a moment of solitude at last.

With a subtle smile gracing his lips, Yuraon lifted one of the cups, savoring the light herbal flavor of the tea as he took slow, deliberate sips. Irritated by what he perceived as feigned indifference, the Duke released a weary sigh before finally addressing the matter at hand.

"What is the true reason for your unannounced and solitary visit?" he inquired, his tone tinged with a hint of frustration.

Disappointment flickered across the countenance of the young King, exacerbated by the fact that his cup remained only half-empty. Setting the tea aside, he reclined on the couch, fixing his glowing blue gaze upon the Duke as he offered a response,

"The skepticism in your tone wounds me, Your Grace."

However, Tilian remained unmoved by the attempted humor. Instead, he narrowed his red eyes, projecting an air of sternness and intimidation that eventually prompted Yuraon to give in.

"Very well, no need to fix me with such a stern gaze," the King relented, acknowledging the intensity of the King’s scrutiny. "One of my scouts detected suspicious activity along the border with Utar. Likely bandits, but I’ve dispatched my men to safeguard your caravans. Don’t be alarmed if some return prematurely before reaching neighboring kingdoms. It’s for their own good."

"Is that the extent of it?" Tillian was grateful for the King’s thoughtfulness but remained skeptical about the urgency of his visit to The North.

"Well..." Yuraon hesitated, toying with a lock of his dark blue hair as if pondering further information. "Your King has extended an invitation for me to attend the Crown Prince’s wedding with Princess Melania. I’ve yet to respond, wanting to hear your thoughts first. Davoor still harbors reservations about Ruans’ rule, but if it meets with your approval, I’ll travel to the Capital."

Duke Valentine crossed his arms, maintaining a serious expression on his face, unwilling to relinquish the shadow of tension that cloaked him.

"You could have written all this in a letter, Your Majesty."

Yuraon cast another pained look towards Tillian, justifying his unanticipated visit with a touch of playful mockery in his tone.

"Letters lack soul, Your Grace. They erect barriers between us, keeping us at arm’s length. As your protege, I prefer closeness to my mentor, especially when confronted with significant political dilemmas."

Another weary sigh escaped the Duke’s lips. He understood that Yuraon’s actions weren’t entirely irrational, yet the King’s penchant for whimsy lingered, a reminder of the childhood he was prematurely thrust out of.

With a patronizing tone, Tillian retorted,

"Regardless of whether you intend to extend your stay for another wedding, it’s not advisable for a King to be absent from his throne for such a long period."

"My subjects don’t require constant supervision, Your Grace. Besides, I’ve been tirelessly dedicated to my duties since ascending the throne; a brief vacation won’t hurt."

Duke Valentine considered offering another retort but opted for silence. Despite his annoyance, he begrudgingly acknowledged Yuraon Davoor’s status as something of a younger sibling. Infuriatingly bothersome, yet still a brother.

Shifting his crimson gaze to the young man’s torso, he meticulously examined his skin for nearly a minute before meeting the King’s eyes and inquiring,

"What about your health, Your Majesty? I’ve noticed new markings on your skin, as well as changes in older ones... How often does this occur now?"

Yuraon lowered his gaze, scrutinizing his chest before returning his attention to the Duke, responding with a dismissive shrug,

"I can’t say for certain anymore; I’ve ceased paying it much heed as it’s become disheartening. However, the sages concur that I have only twelve, perhaps fifteen, years remaining before the curse finally eats me. I suppose I, too, will need to consider marriage sooner rather than later."

The seemingly nonchalant response from the young man tugged at Duke Valentine’s heartstrings. He released yet another lengthy sigh, running his fingers through his cascading locks before moving to join the King. Settling into a seat beside him, he leaned against the back of the couch, resuming,

"Ahspid, the mage you encountered outside the castle, possesses formidable skills and knowledge. I believe he may be able to offer some assistance here. While he might not be able to completely lift the curse, there’s a possibility he could at least extend your lifespan."

Yuraon offered a smile, acknowledging the genuine concern underlying his mentor’s words. However, his response, much like his mindset, remained tinged with a lack of optimism or hope.

"Though it’s untrue that the curse was inflicted upon my people by the gods, it remains accurate that it wasn’t wrought by human hands either. No man could dispel it over the span of countless years, nor can one do so now. My bloodline is fated to wither away; the Davoor name is destined for extinction. I have no option but to embrace this reality. It is my fate," he concluded with a heavyhearted tone.

Once again, the study was engulfed in silence, the weight of the King’s words hanging heavily in the air.

Both men understood that no words could alleviate the burden of such a fate. To their immense relief, they didn’t need to try, as a gentle knock on the door broke the silence.