Self-Made Scoundrel Read Online Free PDF

the window, crouching down so he wouldn’t be seen by the revelers in the large hall. His step-mother was back and leading a dance, graceful as always. His father watched her dance with something like pleasure on his face, flanked by two men Dershik knew to be important magistrates.
    It took him a while to find Ceric but eventually he did. He sat in a corner of the room with a girl, Jerila. They both looked flushed. Right when Dershik was about to duck and leave he saw Ceric lean in and kiss Jerila on the mouth, quickly. Dershik stood up and ran, ran away from the party. He passed the first tower and came to the second, flinging open the door and ignoring the guard yet again, racing up the stairs. Everyone was at the party so he didn’t bother trying to sneak to his room. The door creaked open and closed as he slipped in. In a few short moments he pulled both the box and key from their respective hiding places, opening the lid and pulling the dagger out of his belt.
    Dershik stared at the dagger. The full moon shone through the window, lighting the room like lamplight. The blade glinted in the white glow and he caught his reflection in its shine once more. Maybe he could run away. Take the dagger, his grubbier clothes, steal a horse from the stable. It wouldn’t be too hard. He could try to sell some of his nicer clothes since all his jewelry was stamped with the Cartaskin seal. But he’d take his good boots. The party would last till well into the evening. No one would notice he was gone. All the guard shifts were running light as the extra help was needed in the kitchen and the hall itself, as well as allowing the guards a chance to join in the festivities.
    Footsteps approached and Dershik slammed the dagger into the box and locked it, sliding it under his bed. The key he dropped in his pocket. He’d put it on a chain later and keep it close from now on. He gulped as the door was pushed open and the shape of his father filled the frame.
    “What’re you doing in here?” his father asked. He sounded tired and Dershik wondered if he’d been looking for him.
    “I…I was tired and thought I’d go to bed,” Dershik lied.
    His father stepped into the room, his boots loud against the floor. “A boy of fourteen years, too tired to attend a party.” His father walked up to his bed and sat on the edge of his bed, his back toward him. “Very curious.”
    “I don’t like the parties,” Dershik said. “They’re boring and everyone is just pretending to like us. They just want things from us.”
    “Good,” his father said, turning to him. “If they want things, we can provide them. Keep them in our service. Make them support our house in our endeavors.” His father sighed and turned to him. “Dershik, I know you’re too young to remember, but it was our house who organized and provided for the people when we were dealing with Freemen attacks. Your grandfather trained his soldiers himself, and trained me.”
    “But the Freeman haven’t attacked since I was a baby,” Dershik interrupted. “So there’s no need for an army anymore.” Dershik knew the number of soldiers had been reduced drastically in the last ten years, most of the trained soldiers relegated to guards in the cities and towns. The magistrates hadn’t requested more than their quotas, content with the numbers his father provided.
    “Peace is the time for progress, not passivity,” his father said, quoting one of the journals of Dershik’s great-grandfather, who had built the keep as it stood today. “I have spent time trying to make you into the leader the people will need and leave you with a legacy people will talk about for generations to come. I know you don’t see it in yourself, but I see a young man who can stay calm under trying circumstances. Who is well-liked by those around him, even if they don’t know him. Who thinks about things differently. A natural leader. You will make a great Baron, Dershik.”
    “I don’t want to be