Chapter 1162
Perhaps Oliver wanted Barrett to see how impressive his presence was, surrounded by attentive people. After a sufficient display, he finally summoned Barrett.
In less than two years at the Southern Frontier, Oliver had gained considerable weight. While not obese, his double chin was prominent as he sat in his grand tiger-skin armchair. He looked down with condescending superiority.
“I’ve heard about what happened between you and Viola,” Oliver began slowly, his voice authoritative. “It’s just as well. A man as ordinary as you never deserved my sister.”
Barrett bowed his head, his expression neutral, murmuring a soft response. He said nothing further.
Oliver sneered, his voice sharp. “I never expected you to be so useless. You were made deputy commander of the Nightsteel Guard, yet dismissed. The entire Warren family is incompetent. Your grandfather, may he rest in peace, must be turning in his grave.”
A vein throbbed on Barrett’s forehead, betraying his anger, but he remained silent.
“Don’t even try to argue! Look at your family, then look at you—what has one woman done to you? Three women—and you couldn’t handle any of them. You’ve completely embarrassed us men.”
Oliver was clearly pleased with himself. He was surrounded by beautiful women, one carrying his child. He could have any woman he desired. Women always sought his favor. That's why he looked down on Barrett.
After his display of authority, he asked, “Is there anything major happening in the capital?”
“Nothing of great importance,” Barrett replied quietly.
Oliver ran his hand along the armrest, a cold smile playing on his lips. “Is that so? Then before you arrived, did you happen to see Zee?”
Barrett raised his head slightly. “Are you referring to Mrs. Prince?”
Oliver stared, instantly sensing his intent. He sneered. “What? Are you telling me how to address my women now?”
“I didn’t mean it like that,” Barrett responded quickly. “I haven’t heard anyone refer to her by that name, so I was confused. I wanted to clarify.”
“You’re such a coward,” Oliver sneered. “You say one thing, but can’t admit what you said.”
Despite his contempt, he pressed for information. “I’m asking about her. Has my family encountered any trouble? Any money shortage?”
Barrett recalled hearing that the Earl of Silverstone had stopped sending money, so he replied, “I don’t know about a money shortage, but Madam Prince has been ill, and your family has incurred significant medical expenses. As for other costs… you have many children, sir. Viola mentioned their yearly expenses are high—clothes, food, necessities, dowries, and betrothal gifts. Mrs. Prince is reportedly very organized, even considering the second branch's needs. Have you heard she might sell property?”
Barrett shook his head. “No, I haven’t.”
Oliver pondered this but didn’t press further. He shifted topics. “You’ve been around the king. Do you know when he plans to appoint the crown prince?”
Barrett shook his head. “I’ve never heard him mention it.”
Oliver frowned. “Then, what’s your guess?”
“How could I guess? I wouldn’t dare speculate on the king’s intentions,” Barrett replied earnestly.
Oliver scowled. “Pathetic. How can you have been around the king for so long and still not understand his mind?”
Barrett offered a wry smile. “I truly am slow-witted.”
Oliver, bored with his power play, waved dismissively. “Go back to the barracks. There’s nothing else to discuss. Go join the others.”
Barrett exhaled in relief. “Thank you, Marshal Prince.”
He gathered his things and left for the military camp.
Timothy, upon his return, simply instructed him to join the training session the next day. Barrett readily complied; he’d almost forgotten what it felt like to be a soldier.
Just as he was leaving, Timothy called out, “Have you seen the marshal’s concubine at Redstone Manor?”
“Do you mean Madam Spencer? Yes, though she always wears a veil,” Barrett answered.
Timothy spat. “Madam Spencer, my foot!”
Barrett watched Timothy walk away, sensing a clear lack of affection between him and Oliver.