Ch - 11 Stop nagging! I'm still a kid at heart, ma!
"Lewis, wake up! You're going to be late. If you're tardy today, your father will be truly disappointed," Lewis heard his mother's urgent call echoing down the hallway as he rubbed his eyes, rousing himself from slumber.
"I'm awake, and there's still an hour before the meeting begins," he replied, swinging his legs down from the bed and standing before the mirror. Lewis, was a seventeen-year-old with a youthful demeanor, boasted a slender frame and a countenance that emanated both innocence and determination. His eyes, a mixture of curiosity and resilience. His tousled auburn hair fell in an unkempt yet endearing manner, adding a touch of casual charm to his appearance.
"Yeah, if only you were awake 40 minutes earlier. There's less than 20 minutes left before the meeting," his mother retorted with an angry tone. She stood at the door, hands on her hips, glaring down at Lewis. Initially confused, Lewis soon grasped his mother's point. He yelled at her while hastily making his way to the wardrobe, "You should have woken me up earlier; I told you to wake me!"
"What do you think I was doing? I woke you up several times, but you just kept on sleeping," she said, delivering a swift hit to Lewis with the back of her hand. Lewis groaned in response. "And go take a shower before you leave," she added, emphasizing the need for haste.
"Ow, don't hit me, it hurts. I don't have time; I'll have breakfast with father during the meeting," Lewis protested as he changed his clothes. "Anyways, nobody will notice if I skip the shower. Bye, you big bully monster," he quipped, teasing his mother with a mischievous grin after he finished dressing. He rushed down the stairs, eager to put some distance between himself and his mother, who disliked that nickname as much as the person who gave it to her.
"Wait, you rascal! You're really in need of a beatin—," Lewis's mother began, but Lewis didn't stick around to hear the rest. He bolted out of the house, sprinting as fast as he could, determined to escape before his mother could catch up. He leaped into his carriage and urgently instructed the driver to move swiftly.
He continued glancing back at the door for a prolonged period, only easing up when he was certain he had put enough distance between himself and his mother. "Another day of running away, young master? Where should I take you?" the driver inquired, acknowledging the routine nature of Lewis's hasty departures.
"Yes, take me to Father's office, and hurry," Lewis instructed as he stared out of the window. Lewis Sawbridge was the son of Jon Sawbridge, one of the seven councillors of the Kingdom of Maridian, alongside three army generals, two navy admirals, and the queen. His father had three wives and four children, with Lewis being the youngest among them all.
It wasn't that his other step-siblings or mothers harbored any ill will towards him; in fact, he was adored by them as the youngest. The issue lay in the fact that he never quite measured up to his father's expectations for the job, unlike his older brothers and sister.
As Lewis peered out of the carriage windows, he observed a procession of houses passing by, each seemingly more splendid than the last, until the carriage eventually traversed into the realm of noble residences. His mother, harboring a preference for more modest abodes and a disdain for the extensive retinues that accompanied grand noble estates, continued to reside in the house she occupied prior to her marriage.
In due time, they arrived at the office—an imposing seven-story structure, its exterior painted in pristine white and encircled by expansive green gardens adorned with centrally placed fountains. At regular intervals along the walls, guards stood vigilant, spaced about every twenty feet or so. During his last count, Lewis had tallied over two hundred guards securing the premises. The carriage came to a halt at the gate, undergoing scrutiny before receiving the green signal to proceed.
The carriage pulled up only at the portico, signaling Lewis to disembark. Whistling a tune, Lewis ascended the stairs, encountering his father's butler awaiting him at the top. The butler, sporting red hair and an oval face, appeared relatively young for someone holding such a significant position of butler for someone within the council. Lewis harbored a distaste for him, as he never acknowledged Lewis's mother during their visits to the main family residence.
"Young master, if you may, kindly follow me. The meeting is on the verge of commencement, and your lord father, as well as your siblings, await your presence," he conveyed with a slight bow. The meeting included nobles who were going to do bidding of his father.
"Guide me to them, and could you arrange for something to eat? I missed my breakfast," Lewis requested as he followed the butler.
"As you wish, young master," the butler responded succinctly. Leading him up to the third floor, they traversed through three doors before reaching their destination. The butler opened the door, ushering Lewis inside. The room was already bustling with activity, filled to the brim with heated discussions. Likely, the topics revolved around the everyday matters such as gladiator arena victories or matrimonial alliances. His father had yet to arrive, providing them with the freedom to engage in these discussions.
Lewis noticed his sister, Miya, waving at him from the third seat adjacent to their father's on the table. He approached her, attentively listening to the ongoing discussion which now revolved around determining the prettiest maiden in the noble circle. Seating himself beside her, she remarked, "Father will not appreciate you being so late."
Miya, was a striking figure with her auburn hair cascading in waves around her shoulders, she possessed an oval face accentuated by captivating hazel eyes. Her refined features and graceful demeanor made her a standout presence in the room. She greeted Lewis with a smile that reflected a blend of familial affection and amusement at his delayed entrance.
"There's still time before the meeting starts, isn't there? You see, we were at the theatre yesterday, and they staged this incredible play that we had to watch three times to fully appreciate its brilliance. It was very late when I finally got home. Mother would have scolded me and my friends if not for Father. He did caution me to come early, but sleep got the better of me," Lewis explained enthusiastically to Miya.
"Don't attempt to fabricate excuses. Father was with me yesterday; we dealt with the entire Slansa Town incident," Miya scolded him angrily, delivering a swift slap to his head.
"Why do you all always hit me in the head?" Lewis whined, rubbing the spot where he was struck.
"Because maybe it'll knock some sense into that part of your brain after being hit enough times. Do you know—" Miya was on her way to share some wisdom when they heard the door swing open with a bang, and their father entered, accompanied by their two older brothers, Gus and Julian. Both were carrying a box each, their faces marked by a grave expression. Miya ceased speaking, recognizing that something serious must be afoot if their brothers wore such solemn expressions.
The room fell silent, the only audible sound being the steady rhythm of the boots worn by the three newcomers. All conversations about the 'Prettiest' ceased the moment their father entered. With a resounding thud, the father sat in his chair, emphasizing the gravity of the situation as the box was slammed onto the table. Gus occupied the seat beside their father, while Julian took the remaining unoccupied chair.
Gus and Julian, the older brothers of Lewis and Miya, presented a stark contrast in their appearances and demeanor. Gus, the elder of the two, possessed a commanding stature and a stern countenance. His features were chiseled, with a strong jawline and intense eyes that spoke of a disciplined and serious nature. His attire reflected a sense of authority and practicality, befitting his role within the family.
On the other hand, Julian, the younger brother, carried himself with a slightly more relaxed air. His countenance was marked by a charm that softened the edges of his features. Julian's eyes held a glint of mischief, suggesting a more laid-back and jovial personality. His style of dressing leaned towards a mix of elegance and casual comfort, reflecting a more easygoing approach to life.
"Let the session begin!" Jon Sawbridge's deliberate voice echoed through the room, signaling the commencement of the actual meeting.