Chapter 73: Ch:73 A Father’s Grief, A Daughter’s Challenge
In the heart of the castle’s lobby, morning light cascaded softly through tall crystal-paned windows. The sunlight didn’t glare—it shimmered, like gentle gold dust floating in the air, filling every corner of the wide chamber.
The walls were painted in delicate layers of pastel pink and soft blue, blending gracefully like morning skies at dawn. Subtle, intricate patterns of elven vines ran along the borders, their silver threads glimmering faintly where sunlight kissed them.
Near the center of the room, a small circular table of white polished wood sat elegantly on a velvet rug. Around it, soft cushioned chairs—upholstered in pale sky blue and trimmed with lace—invited quiet conversation or rest. The chairs were shaped delicately, designed not just for sitting but for sinking into, like they could ease both body and soul.
Upon the table, a porcelain tea set gleamed softly. Wisps of steam curled from the delicate cups, the scent of freshly brewed herbal tea faint in the air. A silver plate held neatly arranged cookies and small, square-cut chocolates, their surfaces glossy under the morning light.
In every corner, warmth lingered.
It was a room not just for royalty, but for peace itself.
King Albedo leaned back slightly in his ornate, high-backed chair—the polished whitewood carved with ancient elven runes that glimmered faintly in the sunlight. His long, snow-white hair cascaded down his shoulders in soft layers, untouched by time, while his sharp like, youthful face bore the calm yet cold grace of a ruler who had seen centuries pass. His skin was pale like moonstone, but his blue eyes—clear and piercing—held a warmth now rare in his gaze, softening as Fran spoke.
The morning sunlight filtered gently through the stained glass windows behind him, painting faint colors across his elegant silver robes. A subtle breeze stirred the end of his cloak, but he barely moved, save for the slight shift of his fingers resting on the armrest.
Suddenly in the middle of their banter we just hear the half of the talks and continued this one.
"You love her... as a sister?" he asked, his voice no longer carrying the iron weight of command, but rather quiet surprise. It wasn’t harsh—just... honest.
Fran, seated across from him with her tail swaying lazily behind, gave a bright, unguarded smile. Her blue eyes sparkled as she spoke. "Yes. I was just curious about her at first. But when I looked at her closer... I liked sticking close to her. And now, I really love her—a lot. Like a real sister."
For a moment, the King of Eldor said nothing. His gaze lowered slightly as if retreating inward. Then, slowly, he released a soft, nearly inaudible chuckle. Not bitter. Not cold. Almost... relieved.