Return of the General's Daughter

Savadra, The Castle of the Grand Duke of Arches.

"You summoned us, Grandfather?" asked Connor Arces, as he dipped into a respectful bow before the regal figure seated on the high-backed couch. The old man, now in his eightieth year, bore the weight of time—his back slightly bent, his once-broad shoulders diminished—but his presence still crackled with the quiet authority of a noble who had once commanded armies and nations. His hair, now a crown of pure white, lent him the dignity of a weathered wolf.

Beside Connor, Linnea and young Sandoz followed suit with deep, reverent bows.

"A good day to you, Grandfather," Linnea said gently.

"Good day, Great-Grandfather!" Sandoz beamed, his voice ringing with childlike brightness. Though his tone still held the innocence of childhood, he has grown taller. He radiated health and energy, like a flame just catching strength.

Dakota, the old Grand Duke, glanced around the grand drawing room with sharp eyes. "Where is your Duchess, Connor?" he asked, though the question carried a weight far heavier than casual inquiry.

Connor shifted slightly. "I’m afraid Eloisa couldn’t join us today. She’s overseeing preparations for a tea gathering this afternoon. The noble ladies of her circle will be visiting."

Dakota’s face darkened, and his cane struck the marble floor with a resonant crack.

"Huh, a tea party," he growled. "She thinks that her tea party is more important than family?" Dakota slammed his cane on the floor.