The Villain Professor's Second Chance

Alfred stood by, his calm presence a steadying influence. "Master Draven, the trade agreement with the Western Isles requires your immediate attention. They are proposing new terms," he said, handing me a parchment.

I glanced through the document, noting the details and implications. "Their terms are acceptable, but ensure they know that we expect timely deliveries. Delay will not be tolerated," I replied, signing my name with a flourish.

Alfred nodded, making a note. "And the proposal from Baron Redcliffe regarding the new irrigation system?"

I skimmed the next document, recognizing the baron's familiar handwriting. "Approve it. His plans are sound, and it will benefit our lands greatly," I said, adding my signature.

The rest of the morning continued in this manner until I had addressed all pressing matters. With the bulk of my duties completed, I decided it was time to visit the Icevern Mansion. The engagement with Lady Icevern was a political necessity, one I could not ignore, no matter how little I cared for the concept.

"Alfred, prepare the carriage. We leave for the Icevern Mansion shortly," I instructed, standing and stretching slightly.

Alfred hesitated for a moment before speaking. "Master Draven, might I suggest taking a contingent of guards for this journey? The roads to the capital are not always safe."

I shook my head, my decision firm. "A large entourage would attract too much attention. We go alone. Discreetly."

Alfred's expression remained neutral, but there was a flicker of concern in his eyes. "If I may insist, sir, I will accompany you personally. It would be unwise to travel without some form of protection."

I considered this for a moment, weighing the risk against the benefit. Alfred was not only my butler but also an incredibly skilled combatant, his loyalty unwavering. "Very well, Alfred. You may join me."

The carriage was prepared swiftly, a testament to the efficiency of my household staff. As we set off towards the capital, the rhythmic clatter of the wheels against the cobblestones was almost soothing, a temporary respite before the inevitable complexities of political maneuvering.

The journey began uneventfully, the landscape rolling past in a blur of verdant fields and dense forests. Alfred and I sat in companionable silence, each lost in our own thoughts. However, it wasn't long before I noticed a figure standing in the middle of the road, clad in the uniform of a guard.

"Halt," the man called out, raising a hand. "Inspection for your safety, my lord."

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I peered through the carriage window, my eyes narrowing as I took in the details. Something about the guard seemed off, a discordant note in the otherwise harmonious scene of a routine inspection. His uniform was correct, but upon closer examination, subtle discrepancies became apparent. The buttons on his tunic were tarnished, lacking the meticulous shine one would expect from a disciplined soldier.

His posture was another giveaway; he stood with a slouch, his shoulders not squared as they should be, betraying a lack of military bearing.

More telling were his eyes—shifty and constantly darting around as if expecting something to go wrong. The eyes are windows to the soul, and his revealed a man on edge, a stark contrast to the calm vigilance typical of a guard. As he approached the carriage, I scrutinized him further. His hands were trembling slightly, and there was a nervous energy about him, almost palpable.

He avoided making direct eye contact, a clear sign of deceit or ulterior motives.

I shifted my gaze to his boots, noting they were muddied, far more than they should have been for a guard supposedly stationed on this road. This stretch of the path had been dry for days, with no recent rain to account for such a state. These small details painted a broader picture of a man who did not belong, whose guise was hastily assembled and poorly maintained.

Reaching out with my psychokinesis, I felt for hidden weapons. The mental probe confirmed my suspicions when I sensed several blades concealed on his person, each coated with a faint magical residue that suggested poison. The implication was clear: this man was no mere guard but an assassin, sent to intercept me under the guise of a routine inspection.

His nervousness and lack of discipline further indicated he was likely a novice, possibly desperate, and driven by orders he barely understood.

Before he could get too close, I raised a hand, immobilizing him with a thought. The guard froze, his eyes widening in panic, the realization of his predicament dawning on him. Alfred moved with the speed and grace of a predator, appearing behind the man and delivering a precise chop to the back of his neck. The faux guard crumpled to the ground, unconscious.

I stepped out of the carriage and inspected his body more closely. Five knives shimmered with a sickly green poison, their lethal intent unmistakable. Alfred glanced up at me, his expression grim. "It seems our journey will not be as uneventful as we hoped."

I nodded, already scanning the surroundings for further threats. "Let's move quickly. There may be more waiting."

We continued our journey with heightened vigilance. The next attack came swiftly. Arrows rained down from the treeline, their tips glowing with magical energy. I raised a barrier with a flick of my wrist, the arrows shattering against it harmlessly. Alfred leaped from the carriage, disappearing into the underbrush with a speed that belied his age.

Moments later, the sound of a brief scuffle reached my ears, followed by silence. Alfred re-emerged, brushing leaves from his coat.

"Two more down," he reported. "It seems someone is very eager to prevent this meeting."

The third attack was even more insidious. A section of the road ahead had been enchanted with a powerful illusion, designed to trap us in a loop. As we approached, the landscape began to repeat itself, the same tree, the same rock, the same bend in the road over and over.

I focused, extending my senses to detect the magic. The illusion was complex, but not impervious. With a concentrated effort, I unraveled the spell, the landscape snapping back to reality.

"Shit," I muttered under my breath, the realization dawning on me. "I should have anticipated this. The Royal Banquet is approaching, and these attacks are likely a prelude."

"No wonder you insisted on guards," I said, glancing at Alfred. He simply nodded, his expression one of resigned agreement.

"Indeed, Master Draven. The stakes are high, and your enemies are many."

I sighed, the weight of my position pressing down on me. The political machinations of this world were relentless, a constant game of survival and dominance. "Let's continue. We can't afford any more delays."

The rest of the journey was tense but uneventful. As we approached the Icevern Mansion, the architecture loomed large against the backdrop of the setting sun. The mansion was a fortress of ice and stone, its towers piercing the sky, a testament to the power and wealth of the Icevern family.

We were greeted at the gates by a retinue of servants, their demeanor respectful but cautious. "Welcome, Lord Draven," one of them said, bowing deeply. "Earl Icevern awaits you in the grand hall."

I nodded, stepping out of the carriage and onto the cobblestone path leading to the mansion. The air was crisp, carrying the faint scent of pine and snow. As I walked, I couldn't help but feel the weight of expectation. This meeting was crucial, a step towards solidifying my position and securing alliances in a world fraught with danger.

Alfred walked beside me, his presence a silent reassurance. Despite the challenges we had faced on the journey, I felt a renewed determination. The attacks had only strengthened my resolve. I would not be cowed by the machinations of those who sought to undermine me.

As we entered the grand hall, the opulence of the Icevern Mansion was on full display. Chandeliers of crystal and ice hung from the ceiling, casting a shimmering light over the polished marble floors. Tapestries depicting scenes of wintery landscapes adorned the walls, each one a masterpiece of craftsmanship.

Earl Icevern stood at the far end of the hall, his expression inscrutable. He was a tall, imposing figure, his presence commanding attention. Beside him stood his daughter, Lady Icevern, Sophie, the woman to whom I was betrothed. Her gaze was steady, assessing me with a mixture of curiosity and calculation.

"Lord Draven," Earl Icevern greeted, his voice resonant and authoritative. "Welcome to my home. I trust your journey was... eventful?"

I met his gaze evenly, a slight smile playing at the corners of my mouth. "Eventful, indeed. But nothing I couldn't handle."

The Earl nodded, a flicker of amusement in his eyes. "Good. We have much to discuss."

As the doors of the grand hall closed behind us, I couldn't help but feel a sense of anticipation. The political dance was about to begin, and I was ready to play my part.