The wait Frey had to endure from knocking on the door to the Cromwells' house to someone actually opening it was accompanied by a long, inner groan. This was not the first thing he would have liked to do after five days of forced bed rest.

"Lord Clausson." One of the Cromwells' servants opened the door. While there was nothing wrong at all with Frey's memory, he couldn't bother to try remembering the man's name. "So happy to see you've recovered."

"It's been a painful couple of days, mostly due to the confinement." Frey smiled brightly despite his bitterness. "It was done out of affection, of course, but I've been yearning for fresh air."

"I hope your current visit outside has provided you with an adequate amount then, my Lord" the servant said as he showed him inside. "Am I to assume you're looking for Master Cromwell?"

"No," Frey said, begrudgingly. "I'd actually like to see Noah, if he's available."

The servant let the hint of an amused smile appear on his lips before choking it just as quickly as it had appeared.

"I'm certain young Master Noah is not too busy for a visit."

It was an obvious jab at Noah not having much of a social life or interests outside the comfort of his home, but neither Frey nor the servant would address it further.

"Young Master Noah, Lord Clausson is here to see you," the servant announced as they reached Noah's room on the upper floor, and Frey raised his eyebrows as the concept of addressing Noah properly like that seemed terribly off.

It didn't take long for Noah to open the door. He didn't look excited by the visit, but he nodded for Frey to enter without meeting his gaze.

Frey shook his head to himself. And that boy was supposed to become town chief one day.

He was appointed the one chair present in the room, belonging to Noah's writing desk, while Noah himself sat down on his bed. He picked up an open book he'd placed upside down to keep it from closing and leaned forward to place it on the nightstand.

"Well, let's get things over with then," Frey began, noticing Noah's cat crossing the floor to jump up into her human's lap. "I suppose I was not in the best of moods on Dyris' day, for reasons you seemed to have guessed, and I said some rather insensitive things to you."

"It's alright, I forgive you," Noah said without looking up from his cat, pretending to be very interested in scratching her chin.

The corner of Frey's mouth twitched.

"I never apologised."

"And I don't think you want to," Noah continued with a shrug. "Damien's just forcing you to do it, so it doesn't really matter anyway."

Frey sighed. Bitter Noah was usually reserved for his sister's snide comments, so something must really have struck a nerve.

"Regardless of Damien's urging, I acknowledge my lacklustre behaviour and offer an... Apology," Frey continued, voice reluctantly strained. "As sincerely as I can."

It was Noah's turn to sigh, but he looked up to face him.

"Guess that's still something, coming from you."

With that, Frey decided that he was done there. Noah had already forgiven him before apologising so there was no need to expect it again.

"Did you talk to him though?" Noah asked as Frey was about to head through the door, and he turned around to shake his head in disappointment.

"I already almost-apologised for calling you nosy, don't make me take it back."

He'd just reached the stairs when he ran into Lucius who was on his way up.

"Frey?" Lucius frowned before glancing in the direction of Noah's room, a pitying smirk forming on his lips. "Apologising? How did it go?"

"Almost," Frey relayed, eyeing the pile of folded skirts in Lucius' arms. "I see you're Lucia today?"

"Yeah, short notice council meeting." Lucius' face looked tired. "Still gotta look the part."

"Right..." Frey nodded slowly in thought. "... Actually, there's something I've been meaning to ask you, if—"

"Could we take it while I get ready?" Lucius had already walked past him, to Frey's disapproval. "I like to prepare early, and if you want I can do your nails."

"Why don't you have your servants do all this?" Frey gestured at the vanity in Lucius' room, cluttered with makeup, hair accessories, and countless bottles of different sizes and colours. "You already let them close enough to help you with other things."

"They assist me if I need it." Lucius gave him a stern look. "But I like doing this myself. I know how I like it."

Frey understood that much. If he ever allowed someone to prepare him for an event only for them to mess things up he would throw plates at them until he ran out. It would be his tenth birthday all over again.

His eyes fell on a jar containing beige coloured paste on Lucius' desk, and after a moment of consideration he picked it up to inspect it as nonchalantly as possible. It was the same colour as Lucius' skin, without a doubt used to cover the numerous moles on his face in order to keep up his disguise as town chief, and since Lucius had been able to disguise himself for years it had proven to be more than efficient.

"It wouldn't help," Lucius said before Frey could open his mouth. "Not the way you want it to."

Frey's lip curled, and he scoffed before placing it down on the vanity again.

"It works on your moles, doesn't it?"

"Even if it could conceal such a large, discoloured area completely, people already know." Lucius pointed a hairpin in Frey's direction, specifically at his scar. "No one expects Lucia to have moles, so they don't look for them. Even if one would shine through just a little, it's unlikely people would notice."

Frey averted his gaze, brow persistently wrinkled.

"... But any attempt from me to hide it will call even more attention to it."

"It's like holding up a big sign telling people you're ashamed of it, and you know they'd attack that insecurity without a shred of mercy."

Frey thought back to Carrigan, who loved to point it out any opportunity he got. More people being aware of how much it bothered him would, to Frey's reluctant acknowledgement, be devastating.

"That's the problem with beauty," Lucius continued, adding a comforting tone to his voice. "The more you're praised for it, the quicker people will attack when something changes for the worse."

A sinking feeling grabbed hold of Frey. It wasn't fair. He could do his absolute best trying to move on, but others wouldn't forget, and they wouldn't let him either. That damned scar would haunt him for the rest of his life.

"So? Was that what you wanted to ask about?" Lucius raised his eyebrows while pinning his bangs back, seemingly done with the gloomy discussion. "Rare of you to want my advice."

"It's not that." Frey swayed from one foot to the other with a half-hearted shrug. "Not quite, at least."

"Go ahead then."

"Well, you've done a lot of stupid things over the years," Frey began, receiving an expected glare from Lucius. "But you're still the town chief. You keep going against society's expectations, but people still... Like you. You're still in your position despite everything."

"What I'm hearing is that you don't understand why people like me." Lucius' face remained unimpressed. "And here I thought that what, eighteen years of knowing each other would at least have you warm up a little?"

Frey scoffed.

"I wouldn't be so nice if I didn't tolerate you, but my curiosity should be understandable. People are... Rather judgemental, after all."

"I believe there are several reasons your situation is different from mine." Lucius began applying the beige paste to his cheeks. "First of all, I'm the town chief. You are at most the son of one."

"I have my fair share of land and connections," Frey protested, insulted that his title was disregarded.

"But as far as people know all of it came from Claus, and therefore they have no reason to place their trust or business in your hands."

"But that's not true!" Frey threw his hands out. "Yes, my father helped me when I was younger, but I still had to work hard to get where I am— Or... Was."

Lucius hummed absentmindedly.

"A head start is a head start, no matter how much you work. You were able to take risks others couldn't afford because you had your father's support to fall back on. No one knows where you'd be today if he hadn't been around."

The conversation Frey had endured with Carrigan made itself known in his head. He'd said something similar, hadn't he? That the respect people had shown him through the years was merely an extension of their respect for his father.

Frey gritted his teeth.

"So? More than half of them had parents help them out as well, so why are they suddenly so much better?"

"Because they're rich and successful." Lucius tilted his head to the side. "No one's gonna say shit about people they can't afford to have as an enemy. It's how everyone's been getting by. Your father, Damien, me... And until recently, you."

"Splendid," Frey muttered, knowing Lucius was right. Messing with someone who could cut one out of social circles or business opportunities was about the stupidest thing one could do in their world. He'd loved to deal with those who'd tried, exploiting and humiliating them into submission, all with a smile on his face.

And now he was in the opposite situation. Carrigan made no secret of his desire to see Frey humiliated and submissive, and from the sounds of it he was working on turning other lords against him as well. So what could Frey do to find his way back? To build his fortune enough so people couldn't afford to mess with him, like Lucius said. Accepting the kind of deals Carrigan offered him? It was out of the question, but seemingly the only deal that man was interested in, so Frey would have to try his luck somewhere else.

But where?

"For what it's worth, you'll have a comfortable life regardless, what with your land and ongoing trades elsewhere," Lucius said, snapping Frey back to the conversation. "Not nearly as much as you're used to, but who knows? It's you we're talking about. Just use your horrid, manipulative charm and win people over on your own."

He said it as if it was a fun challenge to try out, and Frey smiled as if he agreed but he didn't have the energy to make it look sincere, because he wasn't sure anymore if his charm had ever worked.

"I'm..." He grimaced in hesitation. "... Fairly certain you've figured this out by now, but... Understanding people, and social cues, and so on, never really came naturally to me despite everything. My entire childhood revolved around learning, but now... Even that's not enough."

To Frey's horror, Lucius let out a soft laugh before turning his head to look at him properly.

"Figured it out?" His stupid, amused look was devastating. "Frey, the first time we spoke I told you to drop the cutesy act because it creeped me out, and you insisted it was what everyone wanted because you'd reached some form of logical conclusion by watching others. As if you'd created a formula for how to charm people."

"... I may have done that, yes, but I was twelve," Frey mumbled, in denial that he'd tried to explain away his feelings for Marius with logic as well. "But also... I fear that problem may have returned too. Since these 'everyone' I've studied for so long have shifted drastically in attitude ever since Father died. I've been informed that most of them only respected me as an extension of him, so what I've taught myself to consider genuine before has been a lie built around my father's presence. With him gone, my knowledge up until recently is useless."

"Not to be rude, but you might be overthinking things," Lucius pointed out, indeed quite rudely. "Anyone can be fooled into thinking something false is genuine. It's actually very common in our social circles. In fact, shouldn't you of all people know that?"

"Well, should I?" Frey muttered, noticing he was swaying back and forth again. "I worked so hard to understand people, and it got me nowhere. As far as I know, the act I've put on has failed just as much."

Now Lucius clicked his tongue, and Frey had to once again feel offended.

"So it didn't come naturally to you, and so what?" he asked while blending differently coloured liquids in a small cup. "You put in the effort, and your nitpicky nature even managed to catch subtle hints no one else could. That's how you've manipulated people, right?"

Frey pursed his lips and let his gaze wander towards the window.

"That's true, I suppose, but it doesn't help me now."

"We're talking a gross amount of charm for it to help you with people right now." Lucius scoffed. "See, it's not that you can't make people like you that's the problem. It's that most never felt the need to do so in the first place."

Frey's mouth opened in a low, offended gasp, and he looked back at Lucius.

"I thought you were going to comfort me."

"I am. It's true like you said, that you've been an extension to your father, but you're wrong in thinking this change in people's attitudes is about you not understanding people. Because it's actually about them never changing attitudes at all. All that's changed is how they show it."

Frey let his gaze wander again as he processed it with a slow, reluctant nod.

"... They didn't care about whether I was likeable or not, because they'd have to treat me well regardless."

"They didn't even bother to try." Lucius' words were a slap in the face. "You could study and work your charm however much you wanted, but no one took you seriously. They just had to humour whatever you said or did, or they'd have your father to deal with."

Frey sighed, wanting to smack himself for not realising it sooner.

"And so, they want nothing to do with me now because they never cared to see if I was good at my job or not."

"Well that, and... You know, the incident," Lucius said, rather bluntly, but changed his attitude as Frey unthinkingly wrapped his arms around himself. "But hey, I promise you it's not that you're bad at people. If I were you, I'd keep pushing forward with that advantage, and... I don't know, make them like you whether they want to or not?"

Frey was almost moved. Despite their constant bickering they had reluctantly warmed up to each other over the years, it just didn't show very often. Which made the motivational speech unusually touching.

"Does that mean I have to stop blackmailing people though?" he asked, face scrunching up. Not only was he good at it, but it was so much fun, and had proven most useful of all his skills."

"No, that's just how high society is." Lucius shrugged. "If people don't hide their dirt properly, that's on them."

Frey laughed through his nose, a slight trace of relief blooming in his chest.

He could just keep doing what he'd always done. Utilise the new information and rebuild his reputation. It didn't matter if his father was around or not. Frey was good at what he did anyway, and if anything, their ignorance would catch them off guard. He'd have them wrapped around his finger in no time.

His eyes still lowered to the floor, narrowing as the relief in his chest faded, and an aching sensation took over.

What about Marius? Would Frey's influence or wealth be enough for him to fit into that future? Was there enough power in all of Kerilia for them to be together?

He managed a weak smile.

"It's a nice thought and all, but... Even with all that I'm not so certain charm and money will be enough anymore. Not for me."

Lucius cocked an eyebrow.

"Your family will climb back up as well. I know it's a sensitive subject, but even tragedies like what happened with your father will blow over. And neither you nor your mother or sisters had an actual part in it."

"Right," was all Frey managed to reply. He had no desire to talk about those things, and it wasn't even what he was concerned about.

"Yet you're still so excruciatingly certain that your social life is ruined?" Lucius picked up a nail file and held out his hand to Frey as an offer to work on his nails. "Even after we've agreed that you are skilled enough to turn it around? It's not like you to be this dejected when it's something you know you excel at. Or anything, really."

Frey held up a hand to decline the offer.

"I'm not dejected, it's just an understandably frustrating situation."

To his dismay, Lucius was not convinced.

"Is there something else?" he asked accordingly, but Frey rolled his eyes.

"Nothing else."

Unfortunately for Frey, Lucius' own inability to lie did not mean there was something wrong with his ability to sniff one out, and after years of time together even Frey's skills tended to fall flat.

"Frey..." Lucius' voice lowered, and Frey had no chance to ready himself for what came next. "... The person you like... He's not of a lower class, is he?"

It was like standing firm after a punch. Frey had to shut down every nerve in his body that wanted to flinch at the question.

He could guess what had happened though.

"That nosy, fucking—"

Lucius sprayed perfume in his face.

"Noah didn't say anything."

Frey found that hard to believe. Noah was the only one who knew even a little about Marius, and it was very little.

"Though I suppose you yelling 'I don't like him' to Noah was indirectly a hint from his part," Lucius acknowledged, not without an amused smirk. "But mostly from you."

"I believe that indicates I do not like this person." Frey's voice was dry, and he mimicked Lucius' smile. "Very clearly, actually."

"It's an odd thing to yell about, if it was actually true."

"You know me." Frey performed a nonchalant shrug. "Always yelling."

It was a pointless battle and they both knew it, but Frey had already felt vulnerable once that day, so he couldn't just up and admit romantic feelings like that. Certainly not to Lucius.

"Well, you're not one to spill secrets, at least not your own, even if there were any." Lucius shrugged again and put the nail file away. "So I guess that means I'm out of advice for today, unless you want to discuss that questionable head accessory of yours."

Frey glanced up, confused at first, but soon scowled.

"You mean the bandage? For when I hit my head?"

"Yeah, you shouldn't have done that." Lucius shook his head, and Frey had a long, inner struggle not to stick his tongue out at the man. Normally he'd make some rude comment about Lucius' own head, possibly the grey hairs that had started showing here and there, but he didn't have the energy to.

Which said a lot, he realised.

"I'll keep it in mind," he muttered instead, turning around to leave.

"Oh, right. On the topic of your head injury..." Lucius then said, and Frey wrinkled his nose before stopping just outside the door to glance reluctantly over his shoulder.

"What about it?"

"Damien said you should thank the stable boy who found you and helped you inside," Lucius said, and to Frey's horror there was a playful smile on his lips. "I'm sure you'll see him soon enough again."

Frey balled his fists, but swallowed down his discomfort.

"Of course," he said, as dead of a voice as he could muster. "I'm at the stables daily."

"Well, isn't that fortunate?" Lucius wasn't even trying to hide his smugness anymore. "Now, I know you're not one for talking to servants, and certainly not thanking them, but I'm sure you'll figure something out."

Frey's eyes narrowed as he tried to kill the man with a glare for possibly the hundredth time since they'd known each other.

"So you really don't need to say much if you don't want to," Lucius went on, looking like he was enjoying his life to the fullest at the moment. "After all, there are other ways than words to say thank—"

Frey slammed the door shut behind him.