Football singularity-Chapter 697 Aristocratic Blood Sport?
If you’re enjoying the story, consider voting to show your support. Feel free to join me on Discord to chat and share your thoughts: https://discord.gg/hTQJtj2K9U.
#More than 10 Chapters ahead on my Patreon: patreon.com/TrikoRexIf.
If you have a moment, leaving a review would mean a lot to me and helps me see who’s interested in the story’s future.
~~~
[26/01/2021 | Alderwick Heath Golf Club, Berkshire, England | 9 pm CET]
The course was technically closed to members outside a narrow exemption list. Alderwick Heath, however, had been "maintained for continuity purposes," which in practice meant the fairways were immaculate and the clubhouse discreetly unlocked.
Covid curfew was approaching, but to those playing, that didn’t seem to matter as five figures moved across the eighth tee. Arthur S. Ravenscroft led the group, jacket unzipped despite the cold, white polo crisp beneath it. He carried himself with an easy grin, shoulders loose as he walked with swagger, relishing his lead.
He was tall and athletic, standing around 6ft, with a mop of perfectly styled brown hair framing his sharp features, his green pupils accenting them. "Perhaps I should play with my left on the next hole, gives you chaps a chance at least." He commented on making eye contact with the group as he gently swung his putter, the crisp sound of contact resounding.
They collectively watched the ball roll four feet before sinking into the hole with a soft ting. "...or I could just keep doing this," Arthur added lightly, with a bright smile.
Edmund A. Ravenscroft, son of Alister Ravenscroft, Arthur’s old uncle, didn’t comment and simply motioned his caddy to hand him his putter. A scrawny kid dressed in the basic uniform given to lower-class students quickly handed him the club. Compared to him, Edmund wore an immaculate charcoal cashmere jumper and pressed trousers, with a watch worth a mortgage around his left wrist.
He adjusted his gold-rimmed glasses as he walked toward his ball on the green, taking only a moment to make his read. "Confidence," he said softly as he made his swing, making crisp contact.
"Or overcompensation in your case," he said with a smile as his ball sank into the hole. "I only say because your bastard brother had quite the performance against City. They called him a Giant beater in the BBC and a generational talent in The Guardian. I’m sure uncle must be proud of his son, right?"
Silence immediately descended as the temperature seemed to drop several levels, no one daring to breathe wrongly, lest they attract unintended agro. The smile on Arthur’s face vanished in an instant, causing the three scholarship students who’d been grateful for the invitation, even if they had to be caddies, to shift uncomfortably. They knew better than anyone that having a front-row seat to aristocratic blood sport meant a likelihood of ending up collateral damage in the fallout.
Theodore J., the youngest of the three Ravencrofts, didn’t seem bothered by the change in mood as he sported a wide grin as if the entertainment he’d been waiting on had finally commenced. He’d been leaning against his golf bag with boredom all game, occasionally putting in effort to remain competitive. But now he straightened, running a hand through his blonde hair in a gesture that had broken hearts at half the girls’ schools in Buckinghamshire.
At sixteen—nearly seventeen—Theodore possessed beauty that made people men uncomfortable and women wet. Delicate features that bordered on feminine, sharp cheekbones, and dangerous ice-blue eyes. He wore his Eton jacket carelessly open, shirt deliberately untucked, for whatever reason.
"Never mind that match your brother just won a Puskas I hear its an award for style on the field." Theodore drawled, pushing off from his bag and sauntering closer to Arthur. "Wait, is he the reason you dropped out of the football club, C’mon brother Arthur, just because he’s a genius doesn’t mean you lack talent."
"Well, it doesn’t mean you have any either, so it’s probably for the best to focus on sports where repeated training pays off." He brought a hand over his face, hiding a smirk as he appeared exhausted. "Hey, Max, since we’re done here, let’s go ahead. I’ll tell you about Miss Carlsten."
Maximilian von Hartenberg, or Max for his friends, didn’t need convincing and hopped onto the back seat of the golf cart, motioning for one of the caddies to drive. Being from an old Austrian aristocratic family, he knew his fair share of family disputes, so he wasn’t interested. "Toddles’ friends." Theodore waved as they drove off without a care for the mess he left behind.
"You know you just poured gasoline on a fresh fire, right?" He asked after a moment of silent driving, fishing for his bottle of scotch and glass from the cart’s compartments. "Nevermind, knowing you’re just bored and want to see some chaos."
"Hey, I’m not that bad. I was genuinely enjoying our relaxed game of golf." Theodore retorted, looking genuinely offended, but Max didn’t buy it for a minute. "Ok, maybe I was a little bored, but I didn’t start it, that should count for something, right?"
His question was met with silence. "Right, Jake?" He asked again, patting the student behind the wheel, almost scaring him to death. "Lighting up was her way to have fun."
"R’right," Jame stammered out.
"Leave him alone, right now, he’d agree that the red is blue if you asked," Max said with exasperation, pouring himself a glass. "More importantly, tell me about Miss Carlsten."
"A man who has his priorities straight, my kind of guy." He responded with a bright smile, directly grabbing the bottle and taking a swig. "Alright, hold your horses, it was two weeks ago when I snuck over into the Abbey..." 𝐟𝗿𝐞𝚎𝚠𝐞𝚋𝕟𝐨𝚟𝐞𝕝.𝕔𝕠𝚖
~~~
[Back with Aurthur]
"You, I also heard something funny," Arthur said, breaking the awkward tension that his younger cousin had left.
"Oh yeah, would like to enlighten us then?" Edmund asked, not at all bothered as they watched Crown Prince Khalid bin Rashid al-Najim make his put.
"It’s something rather amusing if you ask me, but you might vomit blood if I say it here." He commended with a nonchalant smile, seemingly letting Edmund decide, but both knew he couldn’t back down, especially with Crown Prince Khalid as a witness, someone who couldn’t be silenced.
"Don’t beat around the bush and spit it out, Arthur," Edmund commanded, now getting slightly annoyed.
"Oh, I’m sure it’s not such a big blow to you since you have time to worry about my family. But a little birdy told me you lost 40 million in the stock market over the last few months and are still bleeding money by the second." He said, turning to face his cousin with an icy stare, not at all appearing to be enjoying the moment. "For the son of a banker controlling one of the financial arms of the Ravenscroft financials to make such a mistake makes one wonder..."
Edmund’s jaw tightened, his fist clenched, barely able to remain composed and keep a lid on his base nature. "Forty million," he repeated softly, as if tasting the words. He pulled a handkerchief from his pocket and cleaned his glasses with measured strokes. "Interesting figure. Oddly specific for casual gossip."
Crown Prince Khalid bin Rashid al-Najim straightened from his putting stance, handing off his club as he rejoined the two. "Gentlemen," Khalid said, his English accented but impeccable, "perhaps we should—"
"No, no," Edmund interrupted, replacing his glasses with surgical precision. "Arthur’s raised an excellent point. Though I do wonder..." He turned to face his cousin fully, his smile thin and sharp as a paper cut. "...how he came by such detailed information about private investments. Father’s office keeps those files rather secure. Almost as if someone’s been paying for intelligence."
"It’s just like uncle to hide his mistakes from the rest of the family, looks like he hasn’t learnt from his loss over the family head position if he is covering for you." Arthur Casully commented not at all, feeling pressured by his cousin, who was seconds away from crashingout. "You should know just how impressive the data gathering ability of the family office is, so don’t look surprised."
"The apple doesn’t fall far from the tree, it seems," Edmund stated, fiddling with his watch in anger. "Just as coniving as your old man."
"Prince Khalid, in your country, if one of your brothers or a cousin reaches for something that’s not theirs, what do you do with them?" He asked the Arabian prince, rather than responding to his cousin, treating him as if he were air. "I’m sure being part of a monarchy, succession can be just as murky and bloody as our business families, right?"
Khalid, who had given up on ending this conflict peacefully, faced the two Ravencrofts with a glint in his eyes much sharper than his laid-back self from moments ago. "In my culture, we cut off a thief’s hand so he shall not try again," he answered, not even trying to sound English in his speech. "If that doesn’t work, you can always cut off their heads. But I’m sure the West is much more civilised in their disciplinary measures."
.
.
.
.
To Be Continued...
