PREVIOUSLY-
"I ACCEPT!" Theobald bowed, a nervous smile shaking his lips.
"Good. Now, let's go and train." Raphael ruffled Theobald's hair before moving towards the exit.
"Train?" Theobald only tilted his head in confusion.
Unbeknownst to the trials of bond that awaited him.
—X—
A FEW DAYS LATER-
"Now, we will begin our morning run."
Godfrey chimed with the enthusiasm of a child going to a circus.
With that, the children followed as the instructor ran through the well-built track.
After a few laps, he clapped his hands again, claiming the children's attention.
"I hope you are all ready for the next game! Because now, we shall be starting our movement games."
He pointed to a vast pasture which had been transformed into an obstacle course with ropes, low walls, logs, balance beams and much more.
The Tigranclaw would use this training disguised as play to foster the fundamentals of combat in its children.
While other kids struggled Raphael breezed through the course—scaling walls quickly, then moving to climb the rope and walk on the balance beams—he was followed closely by Theobald, who, with much less grace cleared the hurdles before him.
The fog in the area cleared a little as noon drew closer.
"Now," Godfrey smirked, resuming his initial energy,
"Let's learn to wield weapons now!"
Students picked wooden weapons from the shelves, practicing basic forms and occasionally sparring with the training dummies.
The sky turned orange as evening came. The students were now gathered in a garden, cool breeze swept the area, blanketing the surroundings with the scent of flowers.
Miss Morgana snapped her fingers as countless particles illuminated to life mid-air.
"These glowing particles are the mana globules scattered across your surroundings. Today, we will learn to feel mana. Nothing more, nothing less."
The students sat cross-legged, trying their hardest to feel what mana meant.
"Take calm and deep breaths, you will feel a refreshing feeling in your chest. This is the cold mana. There are other types of mana and each feels different."
And as night neared the students sat politely in a warm room. At the center sat Mrs. Matilda sat on a rocking chair.
"Tonight, my little kids," she glanced at the children around her, "We will listen to the story of 'The Founding Emperor'."
Many younglings fell asleep as the story progressed on—
"Long, long ago. Humans lived scattered around the continent—"
"—And so, the founding emperor raised his sword to slay beasts with the help of Glory Dragon Fafnir and the Primus Magus Zadkiel Eldrin—"
"—after that, the Fafnir Empire was made, to protect the world against the monsters of Wyrdclaw Mountain Range."
The fat book closed with a heavy 'thump' as Mrs. Matilda gazed at the sleeping faces around her. Except for one. Raphaeldor Tigranclaw.
He sat upright, with Theobald dozing off in his lap.
"Teacher," he raised his arm, "May I ask a question."
Matilda slipped up her glasses, a warm smile crept along her lips,
"Yes, you may, dear."
"Shouldn't the credit for fighting those monsters be given to us? It is us who guard both the mountain and the Velgorath river."
The boy's question was innocent yet Matilda's eyes softened a little,
"You are a smart cookie, aren't you?" her voice now held more warmth than before,
"It is true that we protect the empire from the mountains, but it was the founding emperor who led the charge against the monsters."
"Thank you," Raphael bowed politely as he nervously glanced at the old woman before him, "Umm, teacher?"
"Yes?"
"Can you tell me more about my grandparents?"
The question hit like a hammer. Matilda's eyes widened before regaining their usual softness, her voice broke before she replied in a hoarse tone,
"How about we keep it for another day?"
With that she exited the room as maids entered the room, gently carrying the students back to their assigned rooms.
Location – Drakengard City, the Royal Capital of the Fafnir Empire
"I greet the emperor!"
Edward dropped to one knee, his right fist above his heart.
"You may rise."
A cold voice echoed as the man before him stood up. Draped in flowing golden robes, Thaddeus Drakengard possessed long hair which flowed like molten gold. Purple eyes, like twin shards of amethyst peered from behind strands of gold.
His frame was slim, unlike a warrior. With a frame a little taller than average, he had a narrow chin with an unassuming jawline which possessed a gentle curve. His nose was thin and short as his thin lips moved to a small yet chilling smile.
"Duke Tigranclaw, speak."
Edward stood back up, he gestured to the chained man behind him.
"My Lord, I present to you Harold Ardellia, the traitor of the empire and a part of the North-East Alliance."
Thaddeus' eyes briefly travelled to the stout Harold before settling on Edward again.
"I wish to speak to you privately," Thaddeus spoke, "Edward."
Soon, a guard stepped forward taking the chained Harold out of the room, followed by the other servants.
"What is your command, My Liege?" Edward straightened his posture, a bead of sweat dropped down his cheek.
'Urgh… I just wish I could see Amy right now.'
Though his body was present with the emperor, his mind still raced for his family.
"It seems you really are unaware of the current events." Thaddeus slumped back to his throne, his hands resting casually over the golden armrests that mirrored a dragon's claw.
"First, Duke Leonhart stormed my palace. He was of the opinion that I was trying to frame you as a traitor."
"W-What?!"
"He not only violated many protocols but even fought with Captain Arnold of the Royal Guard and Duke Marbrand. And as unruly as it is, even Archduke Drakmore jumped into the fray."
Edward's jaw dropped to the floor,
"I apologize in his stead, Your Highness."
"Haha," Thaddeus chuckled, waving a dismissing hand,
"No need, it was reassuring to see the dukes having such close bonds. Fortunately, Duke Raventhorn stopped them before things could escalate any further. Or else,"
His voice dropped an octave,
"Fafnir was preparing for an assault."
"Huh?!" The revelation stripped colour off Edward's face,
"What happened next? Your Majesty?"
Thaddeus ran a hand through his hair,
"My brother-in-law, Count Duskrane burst in dramatically. I heard that he threw Fafnir towards the royal chamber out of pure annoyance. Calling it an 'oversized lizard'."
"The chaos dissipated after that event. But a trial against the church soon followed."
'Right!'
Edward gave a faint smile as he glanced up the dais, at Thaddeus,
"The church's actions have been too autonomous these days, My Lord. It was a perfect opportunity for you to put some 'restrictions' on them, I presume."
"Correct," The emperor's expression loosened,
"As expected of Duke Tigranclaw. You are much better than those fools I keep as my ministers."
"However, My Lord, I assume you did not provide me such details for normal reasons have you."
Thaddeus' eyes narrowed,
"Edward, you know what steps need to be taken. We need to weed out both the Noble faction and the twelve churches."
Edward's jaw tightened as his brows furrowed,
"Please forgive me, My Lord. But I must state that, if my dear ones are to be dragged in your plans, I would choose them over the empire any day. And Duke Leonhart is included in it."
"Edward," Thaddeus' voice roared, "Are you saying, you dare to go against me, the emperor?!"
Edward calmly stepped forward,
"I think I have quite conveyed my point, Your Highness. Now, if you would excuse me."
He turned, stepping out, into the palace corridors. There, his eyes fell upon his nephew who stood in front of the prisoners of Ardellia—the queen, princess and the crown princess.
"Vincent?" Edward walked to the white-haired boy, "What are you doing here?"
"Uncle!" Vincent exclaimed, running towards Edward,
"I was just leaving with father when I spotted Uncle Kalem and ran here."
"Haha," Edward ruffled his hair, "Okay, now let's go back."
"Hm!" Vincent nodded as they continued towards the gardens. However, he exchanged a brief glance with the Ardellian crown prince before continuing his way.
And as they boarded their carriage near the palace, a small figure pointed towards them from the garden,
"Who is that boy?" the golden-haired girl innocently asked, her amethyst eyes reflecting Vincent.
"Oh my, Princess Aeloria, do you not know him? He is the Young Count of Duskrane, even a distant cousin of yours."
"Cousin?" the girl innocently mumbled as the carriage wheels rolled towards the city.
LOCATION- LEONHART MANSION, CAPITAL CITY OF DRAKENGARD
Nestled within one of the more tranquil quarters of the imperial capital, the Leonhart Mansion stood as a graceful contrast to the grandeur and pomp of noble estates that crowd the city. Unlike the gaudy excesses of other ducal homes, this mansion reflected the Leonhart family's values—refined, resilient, and quietly dignified.
Built of pale limestone and roofed with deep blue slate, the mansion's silhouette was elegant but unassuming. Ivy climbed along parts of the outer walls, encouraged to grow in gentle patterns that frame the tall windows and arched doorways. The front gardens were modest but well-tended, with soft gravel paths winding through groves of cypress and lavender, their scent greeting guests with calm familiarity.
Inside, the architecture emphasized open space and natural light. Sunlight filtered through tall windows dressed with light, gauzy curtains, filling the halls with warmth rather than shadows. Wooden beams—polished but not painted—span across the ceilings, while the floors were of smooth stone, softened by woven rugs from the duchy's heartlands. The furniture was tasteful, handcrafted by Leonhart artisans, with a focus on comfort and utility rather than opulence.
The mansion had no golden chandeliers or marbled columns, yet every room whispers of thoughtfulness: a reading nook beside the hearth, wide balconies that overlooked a private courtyard, and carved motifs of lions and windflowers—symbols of House Leonhart—subtly placed throughout. The estate served more as a sanctuary than a statement, a place for rest, reflection, and quiet dignity amid the capital's noise.
A carriage halted in front of the mansion.
STEP!
Olivia stepped out of the carriage, followed by Amelia, Sophie and the kids. Sophie gazed at the mansion; a quiet smile crept on her face.
Inside the mansion Alexander lay on a canopy bed, Henry beside him was trying to cut his third apple.
"Aah, come on!" he cried as the apple exploded in his grip.
Alexander chuckled,
"Brother-in-law, just give me a whole apple."
"Yeah." Henry tossed an apple without looking at him.
CREAK!
The doors creaked open as familiar figures stepped into the room, their presence brushing away the stillness like a passing breeze.
"Henry, what are you doing?"
Olivia asked, raising a brow as she caught sight of the young count kneeling on the floor, scrubbing with a cloth in hand.
"Cleaning the floor," Henry replied without looking up, his tone entirely unbothered.
A flustered maid rushed forward, bowing her head apologetically.
"I'm terribly sorry, Madam. Count Henry insisted on cleaning everything himself. He wouldn't listen."
Olivia's expression softened. She reached out and gently brushed the maid's hair back, offering her a kind smile.
"It's alright, dear. You've done enough. Go and rest."
Her gaze then shifted, sharp as ever, to the culprit in question.
"Henry, the windowpanes are still stained. I can see smudges from here. Clean them properly."
Henry let out a dramatic sigh as he stood, stretching his back with exaggerated weariness.
"Aye aye, madam," he muttered, trudging off toward the windows with mock solemnity.
Just then, the room brightened with the arrival of more familiar faces—Orianne, Amelia, and the children: Raphael, Evangeline, and Delphine.
"Uncle Alexander, are you alright?" Raphael asked, his voice tinged with worry as he looked at the man seated on the bed, a bandage peeking beneath his loose tunic.
"Do you know how shocked I was?! I left training at once and rushed to see you."
Alexander rose slowly with a wry smile and pinched the boy's cheek.
"Uncle is perfectly fine," he said reassuringly, then turned his attention to the twins.
"My little darlings, will you not greet your Uncle Alex?"
Evangeline and Delphine exchanged glances, then broke into wide grins and rushed to him.
"Uncle, are you rweally fine?" Evangeline asked, her finger hesitantly pointing at the stained bandage wrapped around his torso.
Alexander picked her up, brushing a strand of hair behind her ear.
"Yes, sweetheart. I'll take these off tomorrow if it'll make you feel better."
Delphine, unconvinced, squinted at the wrappings. She poked one finger into a red spot that had begun to seep through.
"Ow!" Alexander flinched, more surprised than hurt.
"Uncle, why are you lying?" Delphine asked, leaning back with her tiny arms crossed, her expression dead serious.
Alexander gave a defeated chuckle.
"You caught me. I'm only a little hurt."
"That's not funny," Delphine huffed.
"She's been very protective lately," Amelia said with a gentle laugh, "Ever since the twins heard you were injured, they've been asking us about you without rest."
Alexander's eyes softened. "Then I should recover in no time."
Behind them, Henry bumped into the window frame with a loud thud.
"Alexander, your windows are attacking me. This house is haunted, I swear it."
"Haunted by incompetence, maybe," Olivia said, barely glancing at him.
"I'm doing my best!" Henry protested, holding up the still-dirty cloth like a white flag.
"Your best terrifies me," she replied dryly.
The room, once still and heavy, now brimmed with warmth—chaotic, familiar, and healing in its own way.
"Where is Sophie?" Alexander asked, his voice quieter now, hesitant—like the question had been sitting in his chest for too long.
Orianne cast a quick glance toward the hallway. "She's in the kitchen."
"The kitchen?" Alexander echoed, puzzled. His brows knit together. "Why would she—?"
"She's been worried about you the whole time," Olivia interrupted gently, smoothing down Raphael's tousled hair. "Didn't sleep properly either."
Alexander's gaze dropped for a moment, a flicker of guilt passing through his eyes.
Meanwhile, Henry suddenly straightened as if he'd just won a war. Standing beside the freshly wiped window, he posed with all the self-importance of a soldier returning from battle.
"I, Count Henry of House Duskrane, have vanquished the stains of doom!" he declared theatrically.
Orianne didn't even blink. She pointed downward.
"Henry, there's a piece of apple stuck to your shoe."
Henry looked down sharply, only to see a small wedge clinging stubbornly to his boot.
"Where?" he asked, flicking his foot into the air with exaggerated flair. The apple chunk soared in a perfect arc—then vanished behind a curtain.
"Gone," he said triumphantly, dusting off his hands. "Disintegrated. Proof of a job well done."
"Proof of war crimes," Orianne muttered under her breath.
"You're just jealous,"
Henry shot back, grinning as he leaned on the windowsill like he belonged in a portrait.
Alexander smiled faintly at the antics, but his thoughts lingered on the kitchen.
"I should… probably go see her," he murmured.
Amelia nodded encouragingly. "She'll be glad you did."
Just then, Delphine tugged at his sleeve. "Uncle, can we help too?"
Alexander looked down at her eager face, then glanced toward the door again.
"Maybe not this time," he said gently.
"But next time I'm wounded, you'll be my healers, alright?"
The twins nodded in unison.
And with that, he turned and made his way quietly down the hall—toward the kitchen, toward Sophie, and toward the words that had waited too long to be spoken.
Sophie stood in the kitchen, her sleeves rolled up, the scent of simmering broth and freshly chopped herbs filling the air. Leon and Elise were at her side, watching her intently.
"Let's go see Father, Mother," Leon said, gently tugging at the hem of her dress.
"Even Sig was worried about him."
Sophie smiled softly, brushing a strand of hair behind her ear. "You can go ahead, sweetheart."
Leon frowned and climbed back onto the wooden stool, swinging his legs. "But why aren't you going?"
Sophie didn't answer right away. She turned instead to the chef beside her, lowering her voice just slightly.
"Make sure to add the herbs a few minutes before you take it off the flame," she said.
The chef gave a respectful nod. "Of course, Duchess."
Only then did Sophie turn back to her children. "Alright," she said, giving them a gentle smile. "Let's go."
Just as she pushed open the kitchen doors, she took a single step forward—and bumped right into someone.
Strong arms caught her before she could stumble back. She blinked in surprise, looking up.
"Alexander—" she breathed, her voice caught between surprise and something deeper.
Alexander held her just a moment longer than necessary before gently letting her go.
"You should take care, now that you are pregnant…Sorry… I was just about to—" he paused, studying her face, the softness in her expression, the weariness behind her eyes.
"You should rest," she said quickly, stepping back.
"You're not—"
"I'm fine," he interrupted, though the bruising under his bandages told a different story.
They stood there, silent for a breath, the children watching curiously as if sensing something unspoken between the two.
"I was coming to find you," Alexander said finally.
"And I was… just on my way," Sophie replied, her voice quieter now.
Leon looked between them and grinned.
"You both were looking for each other!"
Sophie gave a small laugh, brushing Leon's hair gently. "It seems so."
Alexander offered her a faint smile. "Shall we?"
She nodded, and together—with Leon and Elise between them—they walked down the corridor, the warmth of the kitchen lingering behind them and something tender beginning to stir ahead.
As they walked in silence, the sound of Leon's footsteps echoed lightly in the corridor, occasionally broken by Elise humming a tune to herself. Sophie walked beside Alexander, close but not touching, her expression unreadable.
She finally spoke, not looking at him.
"You went alone. Do you know how shocked I was to find you missing suddenly?"
Alexander didn't respond right away.
"I had to," he said, his voice low, steady. "There wasn't time."
Sophie stopped. Leon and Elise took a few more steps before pausing and glancing back, confused.
"Take Elise ahead," Sophie said gently. "We'll catch up."
Leon hesitated but obeyed, taking Elise's hand as they wandered toward the sitting room.
Alexander remained where he was, the air between them taut.
"You didn't even say anything," Sophie said after a pause. Her voice wasn't angry—it was quiet, almost fragile.
"I didn't want you to worry," he replied, finally turning to face her. "And I knew you'd try to stop me."
She drew in a trembling breath, her voice soft but edged with fury.
"You're absolutely right—I would have," she murmured, her lashes fluttering in quick succession.
"You disappeared without a word, when our child and I were most desperate for you. You dared defy the emperor himself, and now you stand before me—broken, bleeding, pretending as though all is well. As though this were but another ordinary day."
"I'm alive, Sophie."
"But that's not the point." Her voice cracked.
"You keep doing this—shouldering everything alone. I am not someone you have to protect from the truth. I am your wife, Alexander."
He looked away, jaw tightening. "If I failed, I didn't want your last memory of me to be—"
"To be what?" she interrupted. "To be you, doing what you always do? Running off without letting anyone hold you back?"
His silence was answer enough.
Sophie stepped forward, placing a hand over the blood-stained edge of his bandage.
"I don't care about your heroics, Alexander. I care that you come back. Whole. Alive. Not just for me, but for them too." Her eyes flicked toward where the children had gone, then too her stomach.
"I'm sorry," he whispered. It was barely audible.
She leaned her head against his chest, careful not to press against the wound. "Don't do it again, if you do, I will skewer you with a thousand thorns"
His arms wrapped around her slowly, like he didn't feel he deserved to. "I won't," he promised, whether it was a vow or a hope, neither of them knew.
But in that quiet hallway, for a moment, they let the weight of fear and love settle between them, unspoken but understood.