The Cursed Extra-Chapter 53: [2.1] Even the Carriage They Gave Me is Embarrassing

Chapter 53: [2.1] Even the Carriage They Gave Me is Embarrassing

"The journey of a thousand miles begins with a single step."

***

The morning air smelled like dew and dying leaves.

I stood in the main courtyard of the Leone estate with my travel bag slumped over one shoulder. The leather straps dug into my collarbone. A minor discomfort, but I welcomed it. Physical sensations were grounding. A reminder that this body, this world, this absurd second life were all terrifyingly real.

Somewhere overhead, a crow cawed. Harsh and grating. I watched it launch itself from the manor’s western eave and disappear into the grey morning sky.

Even the birds knew when it was time to leave this place.

Lord Aldric’s steel-grey eyes swept over me once. A cursory examination that somehow managed to feel both withering and dismissive at the same time. He cataloged my rumpled clothes, my hunched shoulders, my nervous posture.

The complete picture of a son who had never quite measured up.

The silence between us stretched out. No words of encouragement. No fatherly advice. Just that single, curt nod that said everything his mouth didn’t need to.

Try not to embarrass us further than you already have.

I returned the gesture with a shaky bow. My hands trembled slightly as I straightened, fingers clutching at the worn edges of my travel bag. A nice touch, if I did say so myself.

Lady Vivienne remained inside. She hadn’t bothered to bid farewell to her husband’s least favored offspring. Probably sequestered in her drawing room, mentally counting the silver saved by not having to feed me for the next several months.

I could picture her there, surrounded by account ledgers and society correspondence, her thin lips pursed in concentration, scratching numbers into columns with her quill. Her cold eyes would occasionally drift toward the window, not to catch a final glimpse of me, but to ensure the carriage wouldn’t be delayed.

In her mind, she was already calculating how best to reallocate the resources no longer wasted on her husband’s disappointing third son – perhaps new drapes for the eastern parlor, or another stallion for Lucius’s growing collection.

Every copper spent on my tuition was a copper that couldn’t be funneled toward Lucius’s political ambitions.

"Try not to bring any more shame to our name than absolutely necessary, brother."

Lucius’s voice carried from his position on the manor steps. Pitched just loud enough to reach the gathered servants who were pretending not to watch while hanging on every word.

His smile was the perfect blend of fraternal concern and thinly veiled contempt. Political theater at its finest.

He’d positioned himself deliberately. The morning light caught the silver threading in his House Argent uniform, made him look every inch the rising star he’d worked so hard to become. Even in a moment as mundane as seeing off his embarrassment of a brother, Lucius was thinking three moves ahead.

Building his image. Always building his image.

"I’ll do my very best, Lucius," I replied. Let my voice crack slightly on his name. Added a nervous swallow for good measure.

"Your best." He let out a soft, derisive chuckle. Shook his head like I’d just told an amusing joke. The servants closest to the steps shifted slightly. Some struggled to hide their smirks.

"How deeply reassuring that is."

A few of the younger maids actually giggled. The sound rippled through the morning air before being hastily smothered behind white-gloved hands. Not that they bothered hiding their expressions. Eyes bright. Shoulders trembling with poorly contained laughter.

The court of public opinion had delivered its judgment on Kaelen Leone ages ago. I wasn’t even a person to them anymore. Just a punchline everyone eagerly anticipated.

Perfect.

I forced my face into a mask of wounded dignity crumbling into shame. Let my shoulders curl inward slightly. Dropped my gaze to study the gravel beneath my feet.

Keep dismissing me, brother. Continue your grand performance for these servants while I fade into insignificance right before your eyes.

The forgotten shadow is the one nobody bothers to watch.

The carriage waited by the estate’s iron gates. Dark wood frame conspicuously unmarked by any family crest or heraldic banner.

This was not the gilded conveyance reserved for the main family line. The one with golden Leone lions emblazoned on its doors and plush velvet seats that could comfortably fit six. This was transportation, nothing more.

Functional. Forgettable. Perfectly suited to ferrying the family disappointment away from polite society.

The wood was scuffed in places. The paint faded by years of weather and use. One of the wheels had been recently repaired. I could see where the newer wood didn’t quite match the aged oak of the others. Even the horses were unremarkable. Sturdy draft animals rather than the spirited thoroughbreds that pulled Lucius’s personal carriage.

Henrik, the weathered driver who’d served House Leone for longer than I’d been alive, helped load my single trunk onto the rear platform. His movements were completely devoid of the warm familiarity he showed when handling Lucius’s belongings.

I’d seen him laugh with Lucius just last week. Sharing some story about a mishap during a hunt. With me, he wouldn’t even make eye contact.

Funny how that worked.

Lyra emerged from the servants’ entrance. A small figure in her plain brown attendant’s dress. The fabric was well-made but deliberately modest, designed to let her fade into the background of any room she entered. Her dark hair was pulled back in a simple braid. She carried a single canvas bag that likely contained everything she owned in the world.

The contrast between her sparse belongings and the three trunks of clothing and personal effects that had been sent ahead for Lucius’s academy debut was almost comical.

Almost.

"Young Master," she said. Textbook-perfect curtsy. Eyes downcast. Posture the very picture of submissive servitude. "Shall I take your coat?"

"No, I can manage it myself. Thank you."

I shifted the bag on my shoulder and lowered my voice. Just enough that the watching servants would have to strain to hear.

"Are you absolutely certain about this, Lyra? The academy can be demanding. And not always in ways you might expect."

Her expression didn’t change. Same tired, resigned mask she’d been wearing for days. But her voice dropped to match mine.

"I go where my Master goes."