New World, New Life: I Became A Bigshot In The Ancient World
Chapter 51: OATHS AND VIALS

Chapter 51: OATHS AND VIALS

In the main parlor of the Grand Duke’s mansion, the family of four sat comfortably on the sofa.

Owen just stared nervously from his seat on the sofa opposite them. Now that he was sitting alone, he wished the maid was beside him, but she was standing behind the sofa the princess and her family were seated on.

The parlour was silent until Aristia cleared her throat and said, "I met Owen when I wanted to take a walk around the square."

Owen stiffened and glanced at her, hoping she wouldn’t say he was being chased for stealing.

To his relief, Aristia didn’t do that. Instead, she said,

"I want Owen to be my assi—aide." She changed her words.

"You want him to be your aide?" Wilson asked, eying the small, scrawny boy.

"Yes Papa. I need help to manage my business," Aristia nodded.

"I can get you an aide if that’s what you need," Wilson said.

His five year old daughter was about to run a business, and wanted to hire a boy who looked no more than seven years old as an aide. He could almost see the business crash before it even began.

He wondered how his daughter had gone out and picked someone she just met from the streets to be her aide.

’Was it because of his handsome face?’ Wilson thought. That was bad. Handsome faces were to deceive naive little girls like his daughter.

"Papa," Aristia sighed inwardly and put on a pleading look.

[God help me with what I’m about to do.] She grumbled.

She turned to face Wilson beside her, took a deep breath and...

"Papa~" she whined, almost grabbing his hands as she hugged his arm. "I only want him as my aide. You promised to let me handle things on my own. You’re not planning to go back on your promise, are you?" She blinked and pouted, drawing out her lower lip.

Owen gaped at her. Aristia no doubt looked adorable doing that, but he had just seen a different side of her a few hours ago and found it hard to associate this cute angel pouting with that little devil at the restaurant. He shuddered.

"... I’m not." Wilson glanced at her and her cuteness tugged at his heart.

Catherine nudged him. It had been a long time since they had seen their daughter act so sweetly.

Sighing, Wilson agreed. "You can have him as your aide."

"Thanks, papa." Aristia released his arms immediately, a large smile spreading on her face, leaving Wilson with the feeling that something was wrong.

"He will have to take an oath of loyalty." Wilson said, eying the boy.

"Of course," Aristia agreed. She had forgotten about it.

She turned to Owen, about to ask him to swear to be loyal to her, when Wilson turned to the Butler standing readily at the door. "Prepare the items, Henry."

[Huh? What items?]

"Yes, Master." Henry bowed and left the room.

"How old are you, boy?" Wilson asked the boy named Owen.

"I am eight years old, Your Highness." Owen replied.

Just at that moment, the Butler returned with a tray. There were two knives and a transparent vial containing a clear liquid. There was also a little bowl.

"Please give me your hand, Princess." Butler Henry picked up a knife and stretched out his hand for Aristia.

[Is this part of the process involved in taking an oath of loyalty?] Aristia thought, feeling skeptical.

However, since Wilson and Catherine didn’t object to it, then it should be alright?

So, she brought her hand forward and placed it in the butler’s open palm.

Wilson interjected, "Are you sure of your decision?" The question was directed at Owen.

The Butler stopped and turned to look at Owen.

Owen, on the other hand, turned to Wilson who had asked the question, and then at Aristia. He took in a deep breath and nodded. He had already made his decision. He couldn’t turn back now.

"Yes, your highness... I am sure." He nodded.

"Once it is done, there is no turning back." Wilson warned again.

After a few seconds of silence and the boy had not said any words to show he had changed his mind, Wilson waved at the Butler to continue.

"Very well," he said, turning to the Butler. "You may continue."

With a quick and precise movement, the butler brought the knife forward and with one swift slash, the knife cut Aristia’s hand before she could react, drawing out blood that dripped into the bowl.

She hissed at the contact of the knife on her soft, unblemished skin. The butler gave her a small clean cloth to prevent the blood from dropping. Catherine and Alaric watched on with worry.

The butler moved to Owen who hesitantly stretched out his hand. He picked up the other knife and cut Owen’s palm, letting his blood drip into the bowl containing Aristia’s blood, the blood mixing together.

"What’s your name?" Henry asked.

"Owen Hale," Owen replied.

Butler Henry nodded, then told Owen to repeat his words, to which the latter obediently did.

"I, Owen Hale, swear to serve her highness, Aristia Amberale, with undivided and unwavering loyalty, and utmost obedience for as long as I shall live."

"I, Aristia Amberale, accept your loyalty, Owen Hale." Aristia also complied, repeating the Butler’s words.

Butler Henry opened the vial and added a drop of the transparent liquid into the bowl of blood. Aristia watched on in wonderment as a wisp of white smoke arose.

Then, the butler picked up a lit candle and tilted the bowl, making the blood in the bowl drip into the fire. The blood, when it had made contact with the fire dissipated, leaving behind only a fading trail of black smoke.

Owen suddenly gasped, staring at his palm. A slightly jagged line of letters appeared on his palm that had been cut as the blood miraculously dried.

"Aristia," he read out the word.

Suddenly, the word faded from his palm and he could no longer see it, as if it had been hidden.

Before Aristia could wonder at the fact that he could read, something unexpected happened.

Owen suddenly fainted, his body sagging in the sofa he sat on.

"That was unexpected... Was that supposed to happen? Is he alright?" Aristia asked worriedly as she gazed at the passed out Owen.

"He is," Wilson explained. "The oath ties him to you, and though it may look simple, it is actually quite complex. He fell unconscious because his body was not be able to withstand the process. He will be fine in a few days." Wilson waved nonchalantly.

"...But, why did I not fall unconscious?" Aristia asked curiously, amazed at the mystical method that just took place in front of her.

[Something that only happens in movies and books.]

"You will only feel weakness. That is because you are not the one to take the oath, so the impact will be lesser. Just a little fatigue for a while." Wilson explained further.

"Oh," was all she said. She did feel a little tired.

"Henry, arrange for the boy to be cleaned and given new clothes." Catherine ordered.

"Yes, Madam." Henry bowed, leaving to call some male servants and make the arrangements.

Catherine then turned to Aristia who sat beside Wilson on the other side of the chair.

"Tia, your hand." She said with worry in her eyes as she put Alaric into the arms of Wilson and went to Aristia.

It was only then that Aristia noticed that Alaric had fallen asleep.

Catherine took away the cloth the butler had given Aristia and instead used her handkerchief to wrap round her daughter’s hand that had been cut. The blood had dried up too, but the wound was still open.

"I am fine, mama." Aristia said and stood up. She was hit by a wave of dizziness and almost fell but Catherine caught her in time.

"Tia!"

"Tia!"

"Princess!"

"Oops. Just a little dizzy."

Four voices rang out at the same time. The first three worried voices belonged to Catherine, Wilson and Adeline, and the last was Aristia.

"Adeline, take the princess to her room. Treat her wounds and make sure she is properly rested." Catherine commanded Adeline sternly.

"Yes, Madam." Adeline bowed obediently, bending over to carry Aristia. Aristia couldn’t even protest, not that she wanted to. She just wanted to lie sprawled out on her bed and sleep.

[I actually appreciate being carried now.]

Just as they reached the door, it was pushed open from the outside. It was the Butler with a young male servant, probably the one ordered to pick up Owen.

He bowed to Aristia who couldn’t even nod, as Adeline took her out of the parlour. She really couldn’t move; she really felt sapped of strength.

As soon as they left the parlour, Adeline asked Aristia with a voice laced with worry, "Does it still hurt, Princess?"

"No, it doesn’t. Well, just a little. It’s just a small wound, nothing big." Aristia replied as they turned the corner.

"There should be no wounds or scars on princess’s body. How could it be nothing big?" Adeline refused. She climbed the stairs steadily.

To Aristia’s surprise, none of the servants they passed by showed unnecessary curiosity.

"I’m alright, Linny. Don’t worry," she assured as she relaxed in Adeline’s arms.

After a few turns, they arrived in front of her room.

Adeline opened the door, placed her on the bed, and walked to the bedside drawer. She pulled open the lower drawer and took out a small chest.

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