Chapter Five: Laserion (Part Two)

“It's getting late; you should rest first.” It was already around one in the morning. Fletcher had no intention of letting Velaric stubbornly stay awake, absorbing information inefficiently. “We’ll resume promptly at five.”

“Understood.” Velaric agreed and, along with Fletcher’s two bodyguards, helped carry the two drunken men, Nord and Dumps, who were utterly wasted, into a private room to rest. Meanwhile, Velaric himself was ‘imprisoned’ in a separate room under surveillance.

As the Thomas family’s last hope, it was expected that he would be watched closely to prevent any escape. Lying on the bed, Velaric stretched his body, resting his hands behind his head, paying no mind to the two burly guards stationed outside the door. Instead, he focused intently on contemplating how to maneuver among the various forces in Lazein, how to seize immense benefits for himself while ensuring a safe exit in the end.

It was no easy task. Neither the vast Thomas family nor the resilient rebel organization that stubbornly survived under the iron-fisted government’s suppression were entities he could easily manipulate. Moreover, it had only been a few hours since his rebirth and his decision to return to Lazein—there had been no time to meticulously plan for the future.

Now, he had taken the first step down this familiar yet strange path of fate—a path that seemed smooth but was in truth fraught with peril. It was time to make a preliminary plan and strive for that elusive bright future.

A train, like a giant serpent, spewed thick smoke as it raced through winding mountains.

The windows of this room were sealed shut. If Velaric wanted to escape, he could only exit through the main door. Therefore, the two guards stationed there were not particularly worried. Fighting off drowsiness, they idly chatted about trivial matters.

Little did they know, Velaric had no intention of fleeing. At dawn, as the sky began to brighten, his eyes remained unusually clear, his mind gradually forming some plans.

“Knock, knock, knock.” The knocking came, and one of the guards opened the door, coldly ordering, “Get up.”

Velaric sat up on the bed, dressed, and followed the guard to the washroom to freshen up, then was led to the dining hall. Fletcher was already seated, and the table was set with an abundance of cutlery, food, and drinks.

“This will be a lesson in dining etiquette,” Fletcher invited Velaric to sit and explained that he intended to teach Velaric to quickly adapt to Chris’s habits through every aspect of daily life.

Velaric sat down, feigning uncertainty.

To accommodate Velaric’s absorption of information, Fletcher deliberately slowed his speech. “First, let’s get acquainted with the cutlery. Directly in front of you are the main plate, dinner plate, and salad plate. To the left are the salad fork, dinner fork, and napkin. To the right are the dinner knife, teaspoon, and soup spoon. In front are the white wine glass, red wine glass, water glass, dessert fork and spoon, bread plate, and knife.”

As Fletcher spoke, Velaric’s gaze swept over the utensils.

“In our dining etiquette, most items on the table can be touched by hand, such as asparagus, bread, biscuits, boiled corn, small meat rolls, snacks, sandwiches, and fruits with stems. For everything else, you use the knife and fork to cut and eat...” Fletcher detailed everything meticulously. Seeing Velaric nod slightly as if taking note, he watched him with interest. “Now, try eating.”

Velaric picked up the knife and fork, cut a small piece of bread, and gently chewed it.

“Try not to make noise while chewing, and it’s best not to talk while eating,” Fletcher reminded him. “No matter what you’re eating, always be graceful. If something is out of your reach during the meal, you may ask someone to pass it to you, and you should do the same for others. Remember, always pass with your right hand. Also, when eating fish or meat with bones or spines, don’t spit the bones out directly. Instead, cover your mouth lightly with a napkin, gently spit the bones onto it, then place it back on your plate...”

Velaric nodded.

“When holding a stemmed glass, grip it by the stem.” Fletcher lifted his wine glass, gently swirling the liquid. After clinking glasses with Velaric, he took a sip. “This is premium rosé champagne... How is your tolerance for alcohol?”

Velaric held the glass properly, took a sip, and replied, “Not bad.”

“Chris has a strong tolerance,” Fletcher said, putting his glass down. “If you finish the wine in your glass and want more, you can simply place the glass on the table, and someone will refill it for you. If you don’t want any more, just lightly cover the glass with your hand.”

“Got it,” Velaric responded, appearing attentive.

“This setting is somewhat simple; there’s no finger bowl prepared. At formal banquets, when a course involves food eaten by hand—like chicken, lobster, or fruit—a finger bowl is served alongside. It contains water with rose petals or lemon slices. Never mistake it for a drink. After eating with your hands, you can dip your fingers into the bowl to rinse them, then dry them with a napkin.” Fletcher added, “All clear?”

“Yes.”

“You have a good memory. From now on, I’ll eat with you at every meal to help you get used to it quickly. When we return to Lazein tonight, I’ll first take you to meet Mr. Carmine, then proceed with other training and preparations,” Fletcher said. “For now, keep reviewing the notes in your booklet.”

“Okay.” Velaric took out the booklet.

“By the way,” Fletcher suddenly remembered, “Have you ever been to Lazein?”

Velaric looked up at Fletcher and shook his head.

“Anywhere else?”

“No, I’ve never left Zwode City,” Velaric replied.

“Twenty-six... years?”

“Yes.”

“Your family?”

“I don’t remember,” Velaric said plainly. “But since you found me here in such a remote place like Zwode, you must have already uncovered my background, right?”

“I’m curious to know what you think it’s like,” Fletcher said with narrowed eyes and a smile. “Curious about the wider world outside?”

Hearing this, Velaric pondered seriously for a moment. “...Probably all the same, right?”

“Heh heh...” Fletcher chuckled softly and stood up. “You should continue eating.”

With that, Fletcher prepared to leave.

“May I go see my two friends first?” Velaric asked.

“Of course. Comfort them well.” Fletcher returned to his own room.

Under the watchful eyes of the two guards, Velaric entered the room where Nord and Dumps rested. Both were fast asleep, exhausted and heavily intoxicated. Velaric took some time to wake them.

“Where is this...” Nord rubbed his sleepy eyes.

“On the train to Lazein,” Velaric answered.

“No way...” Nord’s face drained of color. “I thought it was a dream...”

Dumps, more alert than him, glanced at the cold guards by the door and whispered, “What do we do...”

Velaric did not reply quietly but spoke clearly, “We go to Lazein. We survive.”