Chapter 5
Morning light filtered through the high, arched windows of House Velebrandt. Golden rays danced upon the polished marble floors, revealing faint patterns etched by artisans long dead—each swirl a testament to the wealth and legacy of the Archduke family.
Lucien Caelum Valebrandt stood silently at the manor's highest balcony, watching the fading silhouette of his father's convoy disappear into the misty western horizon. Carriages, banners, and knights had vanished beyond the treeline. All that remained now was the haunting silence—and the weight of expectation.
"The frontline..." he muttered under his breath.
The Abyssian King had returned. War was brewing again in the west.
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The First Day
Lucien's daily routine now began with simplicity but purpose.
He rose with the sun. His room was always warm from the early fire lit by the maids, and Marie was often standing silently at the door, waiting with a small bow and a polite smile.
"Good morning, young master."
Breakfasts were lavish affairs, even without the Archduke. House Velebrandt took pride in its hospitality. Silver platters unveiled roasted venison, thick bread, butter laced with honey from the western hills, and fruits not native to the region—likely imported from elven trade routes.
Lucien sat alone at the long dining table, slowly growing used to the etiquette and precision expected of nobility. The forks. The tiny blade for cheeses. The correct spoon for soups. He didn't care for such things in his old life, but here—he had no choice but to learn.