Light And Shadow

Red Wind

Elsewhere, Count Polit was venting the burning anger he felt toward Eli on his eldest son, Gothe.

"You think your glory will last forever just because His Majesty is letting you stand next to him?! What an arrogant bastard! I have more than enough men and re sources to make you surrender everything you have. How atrocious that a mere commoner like you owns the title of a duke! I won't leave you be, Eli. There are only two days left. After tomorrow, your precious territory will be burning while you're busy flaunting your strength in the jousting tournament." When his irritation did not sub side after the angry outburst, he glared at his 22-year-old son standing in front of him. 

"Why aren't you saying any thing?" the count snarled.

"I'd like to participate in the jousting tournament, Father."

Gothe's sudden, unexpected words, caused Count Polit to narrow his eyes. "The jousting tournament, you say?" 

"Wouldn't it be my duty as the eldest son of the house hold to step up, since Keefer is not here with us? After all, it's a place for noble families to show their strengths and keep each other in check."

Gothe argument was sound, but it was a strange suggestion coming from him given his passive nature.

Monde's recklessness wasn't the only problem Count Polit had to deal with; Gothe's excessively calculating yet timid personality was also an issue. Although he had many pos itive traits, Gothe was too cowardly to be presented as the eldest son of the family. Yet, all of a sudden, he was taking initiative and going so far as to emphasize his status as the firstborn son?

"Are you saying that while knowing who your opponent will be?" Count Polit smirked.

"I might be injured, but Eli won't kill me. Why don't we show him the power we have? We must show him that we have the means to resist him if he were to attack us,"

"So, you decided to participate in the tournament be cause you're certain that you won't die?" 

"Yes, father. Eli is a cruel man, but the matches are fair instances to show off one's power. There's no room for him to go on a rampage, which means it is the right place for me."

"I see. Of course, I should've expected you to say something like that. Perhaps your calculative nature is something worthy of praise," the count remarked, his voice dripping with blatant sarcasm directed at Gothe's scheming words. 

"Well, if you insist, why not? It will be a good place to test your strengths. I can understand you wanting to show me that you possess as much brawn and courage as Monde, and are worthy of being my eldest son. Alright, then, I grant you permission."

"Thank you, father." Blushing, Gothe bowed to his father and left for his room. Little did the count know, Gothe felt ashamed every time he had to hear his father's sardonic barbs and taunts thrown at him. His face was flushed from anger and embarrassment.

Settling down, he began shining his armor in prepar ing for the jousting tournament. As the eldest son, he couldn't allow Monde to continue running wild anymore. He smiled bitterly, when he thought about how his fa ther loved his brother, despite his reckless and impatient character. If Monde had been born the eldest, it was likely that Gothe wouldn't have been spared any scraps. 

Clenching the breastplate in his hands, Gothe gritted his teeth and spat out, "I have to show father that I have the qualifications to be his eldest son. I can no longer be swayed by Monde, because I am the firstborn of the Polit family."