CH285 Toast between Father and Son

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The next day, before Alex could send a message to Ashen Castle to schedule a meeting with Earl Drake, a messenger arrived carrying summons from the Earl himself.

Alex was already prepared to leave for the Castle, so he immediately called for Dread, mounted up, and departed with the messenger.

He was accompanied by Udara, who also had a meeting at Ashen Castle—though hers was with Allen Holder, the head of the Black Mantle.

As for the other main occupants of the Back Mountain Lodge—Fen and Senu—they had slipped out at dawn to the back mountains. Their training was a mix of collective hunting and individual experiments in cooking and gourmet skills, which spared Alex the responsibility of feeding them.

At the castle gates, Alex and Udara parted ways, each heading to their own appointment.

Alex made his way to the Earl's office once again.

Unlike previous visits, Earl Drake Fury was neither busy nor standing with solemn poise at the window, brooding at his reflection with melancholy.

Instead, he lounged casually at his desk, legs stretched and crossed atop it. In his massive hands he cradled a wine jar, drinking directly from the container.

What struck Alex wasn't just the sight itself, but how natural it looked. In the Earl's hands, the jar didn't appear oversized at all—it seemed the perfect fit.

Earl Drake was a giant of a man, standing over two meters tall, but it wasn't simply his size. It was the way he drank. He made it seem like an art.

Chuckling to himself, Alex walked up to the desk.

Drake tipped back the jar, gulping the last of its contents in one long draught before slamming it down and lowering his feet from the table.

"Should I be worried?" Alex asked dryly.

"Please… as if this little alcohol could affect me even if I let it. Wouldn't becoming a Legend be pointless if ordinary liquor could poison me?" Drake replied.

Alex glanced at the jar. Judging by the sharp, pungent scent, the alcohol content was easily fifty percent. There were three five-litre jars stacked on the floor, and judging by his father's pace, it would take more than an iron stomach to drink that much without collapsing.

"Still," Alex pressed, "why are you ingesting poison at all if it does nothing for you? Surely a Legend has no need to build up poison resistance anymore.

"Today marks four decades since I had my first drink," Drake revealed. "It also makes three decades since I first met your mother. Do you know the first thing she ever said to me?"

"You've got great drinking form, but you should cut back on the booze?" Alex replied without thinking.

Drake froze.

'Don't tell me—?!' Alex's eyes widened.

The Earl's gaze softened, melancholy settling in his crimson eyes as a thin smile tugged at his lips.

"Essentially," Drake admitted. "At the time, she was an aspiring healer. She didn't have proof—no one cared to research such things—but she was convinced alcohol damaged both body and mind.

"I am a berserker. After every battle, I needed something to numb the emptiness, and over time, I leaned on drink more and more. When your mother met me, she made it her mission to strip that poison from my life. She called it her healer's duty."

A genuine smile formed on Drake's face.

"She took away the poison that numbed me for a moment," he said softly, "and became the medicine that numbs me permanently."

Alex's jaw tightened, but he said nothing.

Beneath the table, he clenched his fists. Then a thought came to him.

"Can you pour me a cup as well?" he asked.

Drake raised a brow. "I thought you said you'd never drink."

"Just pour the cup, old man," Alex said with a pointed glare.

Drake's lips twitched. To an outsider, Alex might have looked reckless. But Drake knew better. Amused to see where this would go, he poured two cups—one for himself, one for his son.

Alex raised his cup.

"To Amelia," he toasted, "the greatest healer to ever live."

Drake smiled faintly, clinked cups with him, and together they downed the liquor.

Drake's Legendary body instantly dismantled the alcohol, breaking it down into harmless energy before it even reached his stomach. It had no chance to touch him.

To his surprise, Alex wasn't far behind. The moment the liquor slid down his throat, AetherKindle roared awake. The primal Origin Flame refined the liquid into something pure and harmless, leaving Alex's body unscathed.

For both men, the alcohol might as well have been water.

Alex continued, voice steady: "Rest in peace, knowing the two men you loved most—and who loved you most—will never again be harmed by alcohol, just as you wanted."

Drake stiffened, caught off guard. Then he erupted in laughter, deep and booming. His shoulders shook until tears streamed down his face.

They were suspiciously many, but Alex chose to believe it was just the laughter. After all—true men didn't cry, right?

Alex studied his father.

Thanks to his past life's perspective, he saw what most others wouldn't: a melancholic man weighed down by guilt. A man who silently blamed himself for the death of his wife, and in turn, had distanced himself from his own children. Out of fear—unfounded or not—that he might harm his fragile younglings as he had harmed his one true love.

Even as a Legend—supposedly unbound by mortal shackles—Drake still carried a raw, flawed humanity. More than most men Alex had ever known across both lives.

It was one of the reasons Alex respected him so deeply. So much so that, somewhere along the way, he had begun to call him "father" with sincerity. Reincarnation or transmigration aside—Drake was his father, truly.

The Earl eventually recovered, wiping at his tears after long moments of laughter. Yet even then, he remained a Legend. His Aura had quietly expanded to seal the office, ensuring his laughter never slipped beyond these walls. He had a reputation and legend to maintain after all.

His gaze shifted to Alex's hand, spotting the familiar stack of papers.

"You came up with another set of ideas in just a few days?" Drake asked, surprised.

"Yes and no," Alex replied. "These aren't the kind of plans you're thinking of. I had a meeting with my siblings. I got them to talk about their dreams and ambitions. Since they can't approach you the way I can, I decided to present them to you on their behalf. Now you'll know what they truly want without groping in the dark."

Alex smiled faintly.

"You would help your siblings?" Drake asked, studying him.

"Why not?" Alex shrugged.

"Are you not afraid they'll try to usurp your claim to my seat?" Drake raised an eyebrow.

"Why should I be?" Alex's shrug was casual. "If they want to, they're welcome to try. It won't change anything for me."

His eyes sharpened slightly as he added, "And if, by that argument, I'm supposed to put them down, then you're even stranger than me. I told you directly that I'd take your seat for myself. Not only did you not punish me, you're actively helping me. Compared to that, their secret ambitions—if they have them—are tame. Everyone has ambitions. And besides… we're Furies. We're not like other noble families."

"Indeed, we are," Drake nodded, amused.

He accepted the papers from Alex and began reading. This time, the documents weren't layered or overly complex. They were simple, straightforward. Easy enough for Drake to finish in a single sitting.

"I can understand the help you've requested for Wilbert. The others, on the other hand… I don't know what you're thinking." Drake frowned. "There's a reason no family member holds the position of Lord Marshal. You should have struck down that ambition instead of fuelling it."

"Father," Alex countered calmly, "when a teenager going through puberty wants something, it's wiser to let them try. If they stumble, then so be it—just be there to pick them up. Because with the chance to fail comes the chance to succeed.

"That's why I didn't shut him down. Even if Ulfman falls short, he'll still be in a better position than he is now. Chasing a dream, even an unrealistic one, will sharpen him into someone stronger than before."

Drake's eyes narrowed. "And what about the twins? You're recommending them as vice-lords if we secure the Korandin barony during the war reparation negotiations?"

"Indeed," Alex nodded. "Sofi has a head for leadership and administration, while Sera listens to her and can keep the soldiers disciplined. Together, they're a complementary pair. If you ask me, they'd be perfect for the role."

Drake fell silent for a long moment before finally saying, "Very well. I'll accept your recommendations… but you'll have to earn them first."

Alex tilted his head. "And how exactly am I supposed to do that?"

"By leading the war reparation talks yourself."

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