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It was small, and if he were even slightly less in tune with his emotions, Evan never would've noticed it; he'd already been by the youngest Palatio’s side for four years at that point, and yet he felt as if he knew nothing of the man quite yet. Perhaps it was because of how utterly relaxed and comfortable Alon behaved in Rodmill — where the man would sigh tiredly or glare dully at a wall back at the main estate, in Rodmill, he practically floated through the halls in contentment.
The discovery that Alon hadn't hired any help and instead insisted on cooking all their food himself was surprising, to say the least, and Evan unconsciously filed it away for later then. The visible softening of his young master's behaviour in Rodmill puzzled him. Still, it did the opposite of pushing him away, although the man's surprisingly good cooking probably had a part in it. He had no idea when the man had learned how to cook, considering he'd spent his life practically locked away at the main estate, and seeing any noble cook with their own hands would come as a shock to anyone, but he wasn't complaining.
He thought back on Rodmill now, and a longing sigh escaped without permission. It had been peaceful, and oddly domestic — it had been just Evan and the youngest (now only) Palatio in the entire mansion, doing chores together and lazing about all day long with no obligations. Sometimes he caught himself thinking too long about the fact that Alon had chosen to only take Evan with him and had seemed perfectly content to live alone in a mansion in the countryside with the company of none but Evan for a much longer duration than it ended up being (he could briefly recall Alon calling the mansion his “forever home” when they'd arrived). Once or twice, he'd overheard the count mumbling to himself about missing Rodmill.
During their short time in Rodmill, Evan had properly first witnessed a softer, more domestic side to the only remaining Palatio, and it had stirred something in him more than he’d honestly care to admit. He packed it up in a neat little box and filed it away for later once Leo Palatio suddenly passed away and the two of them were forced to return to the main estate, Alon’s tenser behaviour returning along with it.
But that softer part of the young count didn't exactly disappear, either — or perhaps Evan just became more aware of it and found it easier to spot. It came out whenever they were on the road, and the two of them ate together. It appeared in little glimpses here and there whenever they'd both spend time in the count's study, and was strongest whenever the count whined about Yutiah being the only one of the children to write to him post-departure.
It was endearing, the way the count tended to lie face down on the plush couches in his study and complain about missing the children he hadn't met face-to-face until recently. The minuscule expressions Alon showed slowly became easier for Evan to read and tell apart, and the hired knight could now proudly claim he was the one who knew the count best – and he would fight for that title. Maybe not super seriously, but he would, nonetheless.
He'd heard a lot of different rumours and claims about the young count since Leo's passing, and while he'd had his own doubts about them in the very beginning (quickly disproven by Alon’s easy reminder that “you were standing right there with me, buttering the toast”), Evan could confidently point out the blatantly false rumours.
The one he'd found the easiest to disprove had, perhaps shockingly, been the claim that Alon Palatio was as cruel and cold as any Palatio before him had been.
Evan distantly remembered the way Alon had been treated by his brothers when the two had still been prancing around the estate. Alon was never confrontational with them and did his best to avoid them, so it wasn't often that Evan spotted him together with one of the two, but whenever he did, the elder brothers were always tormenting the youngest. He's pretty sure that he once spotted Tonio trying to use Alon as a chair, and Leo had definitely almost pushed the shorter man out of a window once while shoving him out of the way. The two older Palatios were both deeply involved in crime, and their father had always been too busy being high on drugs and sex even to bother acknowledging them, much less Alon — in Evan's humble (though dare he say most definitely correct) opinion, his master was nothing like his now deceased family had been.
Alon, while often confusing and enigmatic, wasn't cruel and avoided the underworld of his territory entirely. Evan would be the first to admit he didn't understand the motivation or reasoning behind a bunch of the count's actions — most notably the acquisition of powerful children — but he'd also be the first to step up in his defence. His trust in the count was more solid than his sword and had remained that way for years. Undoing that trust would require a lot of labour on the count's part, and the knight knew better than anyone how much the man loved to do nothing.
Funnily enough, it was during a simple conversation that Evan first recognised the nature of his shifting feelings towards the young count.
Evan hadn't been in the count's bedroom many times. He could probably count the number of instances with one hand, as there was rarely any reason for him to enter since his own room was adjacent to the count’s. Yet, he somehow still found himself standing in the secluded bedroom on a Thursday evening at the count's beckoning — the man had insisted he needed Evan's assistance with moving things around in the room, as he wanted one of the bigger gifts he'd received from other nobles placed in his bedroom and was too physically weak to move it himself.
“There,” the knight declared, glancing at the frankly beautiful bookshelf when he finished pushing it to the corner of the room. “Items?”
“Tomorrow,” Alon replied, getting up from the bed and making his way to the bookshelf. His fingers — long, pale digits that Evan had seen perform countless different hand signs for countless different spells and magical experiments — brushed the wooden carvings of the shelf with care, although his expression was one of disinterest. Evan quite prided himself on his ability to read the count better than anyone. “These gifts are getting ridiculous.”
The knight snorted. “I noticed that when you got sent dungeon gems,” he nodded. “If I didn't know better, I'd think they're fighting for the right to court you or something of the like with how extravagant some of the gifts are.”
Alon shuddered. “Don't even joke.”
The brunette hummed and leaned against the bookshelf (despite how uncomfortable it was with all the intricate carvings digging into his back). “Speaking of, what are you going to do about that?”
“About what?”
“Marriage.”
Alon’s gaze finally shifted away from the pile of books he’d been sorting through for the shelf, settling onto Evan’s own with a clear lack of mirth. “Why would I want to get married?”
“Fair point,” the knight agreed, but continued nevertheless, “but don’t you need an heir?”
The count paused, expression melting into one of discontent. “Can’t I just name one of the children my heir?” he asked, clearly not having thought about such a matter before. It does seem like something Alon would consider trivial and unimportant; the young count had never expressed an interest in romance or the desires of the flesh, and with the five children he wouldn’t feel an urgency for biological children, either. If the count even cared for such a thing, that is, Evan wouldn’t be at all surprised to find that Alon holds no affection for the idea of a blood bond. “Yutiah would be good at it, wouldn’t she?”
“It’s not unheard of, but it’s difficult for adopted heirs to gain respect and secure their position,” Evan responded, scratching the back of his ear. “I’m sure Yutiah is skilled enough, but–“
“She has her position as a priestess to worry about as well,” Alon finished, letting out a sigh. “It would be selfish of me to push the position of countess on her when she already has an established future ahead of her.”
The knight nodded, although that hadn’t been what he’d been about to say. It was endearing how Alon’s first concern instantly became the will of the children rather than anything else. “That,” he agreed, “and the fact that none of the children are legally recognised as yours at the moment.”
“Oh, right.”
Count Palatio fell silent, his gaze drilling into the cover of the book he happened to be holding as he thought the situation over. His brows furrowed just slightly, and his lip twitched in frustration, and eventually the shorter man sighed heavily and placed the book in his hand back in the pile next to him.
“Who would I even marry?” he challenged, the back of his hand settling on his hip. “It’s simpler to just keep things as they are; we don’t need anyone else in the picture. I can ask the kids if any of them are willing to become my heir, and if not, we’ll figure something out.” The count paused, tilting his head with a thoughtful hum. “We could always adopt another one officially…”
Evan, for the good of his sanity, decided to ignore the tingling in his chest at the continued use of ‘we’ in place of ‘I’ from the young count and moved away from the bookshelf behind him. “I suppose that could work,” he hesitated and levelled an amused gaze on the dark-haired man. “But it won’t exactly be easy.”
“Easier than finding someone willing to marry me,” Alon easily shot back, meeting Evan’s gaze, the knight wisely keeping his negation to himself. A small, amused huff escaped the count's lips. “Much less finding someone I would be willing to marry. Spending the rest of my life with someone else sounds annoying, and I already have you for that.”
“For what, annoyance?”
“Sure.” Evan watched the count take a step or two and stretch his arms. “Isn’t it too early to think about an heir anyway? It’s not like I’m about to drop dead.”
“Well, if you plan to adopt…”
“Right, the kid needs to grow up. I’m sure the children would appreciate some years to prepare, too, if one of them decided to take up the mantle,” Alon hummed in thought. With a slow nod, he continued, “I suppose I should draft a letter for them soon.” He glanced back at the bookshelf. “...After we finish setting up this shelf tomorrow.”
“As you wish, count.”
Evan wasn’t a fool; he recognised the reason behind his elevated heartbeat and could quite easily deduce why the topic of the count’s possible future marriage weighed on his mind more than it should. It wasn’t proper for a knight to harbour such feelings and thoughts for their master, but he reasoned it would be fine as long as he didn’t act on them. After all, it wasn’t like reading minds was an ability commonly found in Asteria (or any nation, for that matter), so as long as Evan kept it to himself, nobody would ever know.
He was a grown man; he was capable of burying his feelings if need be.
Two months after his unceremonious realisation, Evan was visiting the mercenary guild for something for the count. It wasn’t unusual, but not particularly common, either, since he was a full-time knight now and had been for years.
“What brings you to our humble abode, Evan?” the guy at the front desk, Taylee, greeted. He was missing a tooth or two, but otherwise looked very put-together amongst all the mercenaries. “Been a while!”
The brunette smiled lopsidedly. “Just running some business for the count again,” he answered. “How’re things here?”
“Of course you are,” Taylee huffed, amusedly and then shrugged, not bothering to take his boots off the desk. “Nothin’ much. Been pretty calm as of recent, so I don’t really have anything else to do but to listen in on gossip and the like.” He snorted. “Me! Gossip!”
Evan hummed, hands on his hips. “So nothing new.”
“Hey!” Taylee exclaimed, slightly offended. Evan just laughed in response, not noticing the wicked glint manifesting in the clerk's eyes. “At least I’m just listening in on gossip and am not the topic of it, unlike someone.”
The knight blinked, his laughter stopping short due to his confusion and surprise. “Excuse-a-what now?”
Taylee grinned widely, swinging his boots off the desk and leaning forward conspiratorily. “Y’know, I had my own doubts start appearing somewhere ‘round year two, but I really gotta ask…” His voice quieted, but not enough to be a whisper. “...Are you and your count really sharin’ a bedchamber, you know what I mean?”
Huh?
“What,” Evan croaked, cheeks definitely reddening more than was dignified for an experienced, fully grown man like him. “Hah, that’s weird, who’s saying that?”
Taylee ignored Evan’s question and leaned back in his chair, barking out a mirthful laugh. “Ha! Oh, you totally are, aren’t you?”
“The count and I have an employer-employee relationship,” Evan retaliated, unable to stop the fidgeting of his fingers as he did. “I would call us friends lest my position allow it, but it doesn’t!” He crossed his arms over his chest and looked around the room, as if trying to find the person behind the rumour. “Who started that rumour?”
The clerk shrugged, amusement still tugging at his lips. “Dunno. I think it was one of the maidservants at that event you recently accompanied Count Palatio to, but can’t say for certain.” He gestured around vaguely. “But it doesn’t really matter when half the county already suspected as much.”
“I suppose– Half the county?!”
Evan was aware that Deus wasn’t exactly fond of him. However, frankly, he’d assumed that slight hostility only extended as far as to keep him from getting “too close” to Shelley, so the current situation was honestly more than a little baffling.
“Stay away from my benefactor.”
Deus definitely looked serious when saying it, what with his eyes squinted in what appeared to be suspicion and his strong glare, backed up by his hostile aura. Alon was in a different room at the moment, and Evan had intended to join him (as was his job as the marquis’s escort knight) before Deus had slammed the door shut before him and started glaring at him.
“Excuse me?” He let out a disbelieving laugh. “I am Marquis Palatio’s personal knight. It would be breaking my vows and practically asking to be fired if I were to ‘stay away from him’.”
The purple-haired swordmaster glared at him even more fiercely. Evan would rather be anywhere else, thank you; he’d rather not risk getting skewered by his marquis’s son.
“You’re not good enough,” Deus replied gruffly, eyes looking Evan up and down, clearly evaluating him and disapproving of whatever it is he found. “You have foul intentions towards my benefactor.”
“Foul– ?! I am the Marquis's knight, and I have served him as such for years now!”
“You are unworthy of him. You are a distraction.”
“No respect for your elders, I swear– !”
The door opened with a loud creak – wow, they should oil those hinges – and the two men both turned to look at the newcomer. Alon stared at both of them impassively, although Evan could easily tell he was confused by the altercation and apparent hostility from Deus. The brunette couldn’t help but feel himself relax at the sight of his Marquis.
“Evan. What is the issue?”
The older knight could’ve sworn he saw Deus’ expression fall by the smallest smidge at not being addressed, but it was gone before he could confirm. With a barely audible sigh, Evan attempted to form a sensible response.
“Your son wants me fired,” he blurted out instead — not noticing how Deus stiffened at being referred to as the Marquis's son — and moved to stand by Alon's side (where he belonged, thank you very much). “It seems that because my skills as a knight are inferior to his, he deems me unworthy of being your escort knight.”
Alon's brows furrowed briefly in confusion at the words, but he quickly recovered and turned to Deus, who was now staring at Alon as if he was awaiting his death sentence (the purple-haired man's expressions were barely discernible, but after all the time Evan had spent with his marquis, he could somewhat confidently apply the same rules to reading Deus).
“Is that so?” Alon began, voice level and calm in a way that would've been frightening to any child who thought they were in trouble — but knowing Alon, the man probably didn't even realise the effect his usual level manner of speaking had on others. “I appreciate you looking out for my safety, Deus, but Evan is well qualified for his position and has been working for me for many a year.” He paused, as if having just then thought of something. “Or did you mean something else?”
Deus nodded rather hastily for his usual stone-cold demeanour. “This man holds intentions unbefitting of his position.”
Alon blinked, glanced at Evan in clear bafflement, as if asking whether Deus had eaten a poisonous mushroom or something while he wasn't looking (not that Evan was aware of, but he could understand the confusion), and then locked his gaze onto the young man again. “...Intentions?”
“This man covets your heart, benefactor.”
“What,” Alon croaked, and Evan choked out a “what?!” in nearly perfect sync. The marquis miraculously recovered at lightning speed (or perhaps he was just pretending, which Evan personally figured was more likely), and quickly formed a more eloquent response. “Ah, so you think that Evan isn't unworthy of being my escort knight, but rather… unworthy of being my– “ he cleared his throat– “lover?”
“Yes, sir,” Deus was quick to confirm, nodding and briefly turning a scathing look to Evan before returning his gaze to the Marquis. “It is inappropriate of him to harbour such feelings for you when he is so below you in position and power unless explicitly given a pardon to do so.”
Evan, quite frankly, felt a little dizzy. Alon's face held a bit more colour than usual, although the difference was barely discernible, and he was staring at Deus as if the man had grown a second head.
“Ah, uhm, well,” Alon began eloquently, “While I'm sure you're… mistaken. If Evan, or anyone else for that matter, were to hold such feelings for me, it would not bother me lest they act upon it unwarranted.” He paused, and in Evan's opinion, he looked a little flustered and perhaps uncomfortable. “These matters are the kind I'd prefer to hear directly from the person involved.”
“I understand.” Deus bowed his head and dropped the matter, much to Evan’s relief. Now, if only he was lucky, the Marquis would dismiss the accusation as nonsense and forget about it. As soon as possible.