✨ Lucien's POV ❄️

The gardens of my manor were bursting with greenery. Crocuses bloomed brightly, grass sprouted everywhere, and the trees stood tall majestically. Strangely, a variety of unfamiliar flowers dotted the soil, ones I was pretty sure I hadn't ordered to be planted.

I stood at the front of the garden, scanning the scene thoroughly.

"So, Clara did this?" I asked, keeping my voice calm.

I glanced at the gardener beside me, who looked as if he'd just seen a ghost.

"Yes, Your Grace. As the gardener, it should be my job to tend to the garden, not young Lady Clara's! I'm so sorry!" His voice trembled, with just a hint of panic.

Hm? Did I say something wrong?

"That's unnecessary," I said, waving him off. "Unlike Clara, you can't make a garden explode with greenery in such a short time. Besides, I didn't even order you to clean up yet"

The gardener seemed to relax slightly.

"Now, please, I'll leave the rest to you," I ordered.

He looked even more relieved. "Of course, Your Grace... I'll get right on it."

He quickly excused himself, practically heading toward the garden.

I sensed a presence behind me and turned to see the other gardeners standing there, looking at me nervously.

"Go ahead," I said, trying to sound less stern.

"Yes... Your Grace," they replied in unison, hurrying off in perfect sync.

Maybe I should work on softening my expression next time. Oh well, it doesn't matter.

I took a glance at the garden, taking in the vibrant scenery.

"It's beautiful," I mumbled to myself.

Is Clara trying to impress someone? The person arriving tomorrow is only Adeline, so maybe it's for her. The fact she is doing this means...

Does she really think we're a couple who loves each other? It's true our marriage is real, but it's all just for political reasons. Kids have such innocent minds. It might be good to explain it to her, but I'd rather not shatter her innocence with the harsh reality.

Standing alone in front of the garden, lost in my thoughts, I was suddenly jolted by a little green fox landing on my right shoulder.

"Hm? Ivy? What brings you here?" I asked, glancing at the small creature.

Ivy didn't respond with words, of course, a familiar doesn't speak.

She tilted her head toward me, gesturing for me to follow. With a graceful leap, she jumped off my shoulder and darted toward front path of the manor.

I sighed with a little smile. "Clara is there isn't she?" I mused, setting off after Ivy.

Following Ivy through the winding paths, I soon found Clara kneeling beside a vibrant bed of flowers. Her golden eyes sparkled as she tenderly tended to the plants, her hands moving with care and precision.

"Clara," I called softly.

She looked up, her face lighting up with a warm smile when she saw me. "Uncle Lucien! Did Ivy find you?"

"She did," I replied, crouching down beside her. "She's quite the messenger."

Clara giggled as Ivy nuzzled against her, the mossy fox clearly proud of her work.

"You've done an incredible job in the garden today," I said, admiring the blooms around us. "It's beautiful."

Clara's cheeks heated up a little, her eyes dropping shyly to the ground. 

"Thank you, uncle. I wanted it to look nice for when the duchess arrives tomorrow."

I figured. You don't even know her, yet you're doing all this for her. She'll probably be grateful... or else...

I shook my head, cutting off the thought.

No, I can't think like that. That's not who I am.

"You've clearly outdone yourself," I said, reaching out to gently pat her hair. "But remember, you don't have to work so hard to impress anyone. Your kindness is enough."

Clara smiled up at me, her golden eyes shining with appreciation. "I just wanted her to feel welcome, the way my uncle made me feel."

My eyes widen a little as it immediately turns into a soft gaze, and I pull her into a gentle hug. "You're doing wonderfully, Clara. I'm sure she'll love it." 

She has to appreciate the effort and care you've put into this, or I won't forgive her.

I look at her with a gentle smile. "And I'm proud of you, not just for the garden, but for the kind and thoughtful person you are."

Clara hugged me back; I could hear her soft giggle, and her small arms wrapped around me tightly. "Thank you, Uncle Lucien."

We stayed like that for a moment, surrounded by the lush greenery along the manor's front path. Ivy curled up beside us, serene and content.

For a while, everything felt perfect.

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🌸 Adeline's POV 🌸 

The spring finally arrived, and as the surroundings began to burst into greenery, I sat inside the carriage with a book in my hand—an old tome I had found in the library of the Duke's manor in the capital.

Rose had told me I should seek the Duke's permission, and he agreed in his response, which came in a letter delivered by a raven. So, I don't think I stole it.

As I read the incantation aloud, testing the unfamiliar words, I opened my right hand, palm up, and watched as a soft glow began to form. A delicate sigil started to take shape, lines and curves weaving together in a pattern of light. The sigil pulsed with energy, the warmth of Lumina magic radiating from it.

But as the light intensified, a sense of caution washed over me. I stopped, closing my hand quickly, destroying the glowing sigil. That skill was powerful—perhaps too powerful to be tested so casually. I might end up blowing the carriage if I continue, and I don't want that.

I looked out the window, noticing the surroundings were a blend of snow and greenery. The afternoon sun was nearing the horizon, about to set.

The carriage came to a halt, flanked by knights. One of them knocked on the window, and I slowly opened it. The man before me was middle-aged, his hair almost entirely silver, with brown eyes that reflected years of experience.

"Your Grace, we should stop our journey for now. If we proceed further at night, we might encounter trouble from the monsters in the forest. I've already assigned the others to set up camp here. We'll reach Wintermere tomorrow, please rest assured," he said with a slight smile.

I wasn't in a rush to reach Wintermere anyway.

"I understand, I should wait here until the camp is set" I said with a smile.

The man nodded politely. "Yes, your grace" 

And with that, he closed the window of the carriage. I just sighed a little as I continue reading quietly.

When the sun dips below the horizon and the night begins to engulf the surroundings, one of the maids slowly opens the carriage door, informing me that the camp is now set. As she guides me to a large tent where I will be staying for the night, I notice several other tents scattered around the camp, their shadows blending into the growing darkness. The knights remain vigilant, their eyes scanning the night as they stand guard. Nearby, others are still at work, ensuring the camp's defenses are secure, while some of the servants are busy piling wood for the fire that will soon be lit.

As I headed inside, the maid helped me change into a dark green gown made of soft wool, warm enough for the cool night air. Over it, she draped a fur lined cloak for extra warmth. My boots were sturdy leather, suitable for walking around the camp, yet still elegant. My hair was braided back simply, keeping it out of the way.

I thanked the maids politely, and they responded with respectful nods before excusing themselves. Left alone in the tent, I tried to immerse myself in the old tome I had brought along, but boredom soon set in. I had already grasped its concepts and regretted not bringing more books, one was hardly enough to keep my mind occupied.

Just as I was about to rise and stretch my legs, I caught the faint murmur of voices outside, the name of the duke standing out amidst the low conversation. My curiosity was piqued.

I stepped out of the tent. The night air was crisp, carrying the scent of burning wood. Ahead, five knights sat around a crackling bonfire, their faces flickering in the firelight. They were deep in conversation. 

As I approached, their chatter fell silent, and their postures straightened. Recognizing me, the knights quickly relaxed. 

"Your Grace," one of them greeted me, bowing slightly. It was the same knight I had spoken with earlier.

The others followed suit, their expressions a mix of respect and mild surprise at my sudden appearance.

"Would you like to join us, Duchess?" the young knight, perhaps a squire, asked, gesturing to the empty space by the fire. "We were just talking, nothing more. No alcohol involved, see?"

He gave a slightly nervous smile, clearly eager to make a good impression. The others nodded in approval, watching me expectantly.

I returned their smiles and nodded, taking a seat on the rough wooden log they had been using as a bench.

"We were discussing the Duke, Your Grace. But of course, if the topic makes you uncomfortable, we can change it," a dame said with a softening gaze.

"No, not at all," I replied, waving a hand for them to continue. "Please go on."

I couldn't quite explain it, but the more I heard about Lucien and his good deeds, the more my curiosity grew, I can't help myself to learn more about him. Perhaps it all began when Rose shared her story with me.

They start by introducing themselves. Alice is the dame, Sir Alan is the man I mentioned earlier, the young man is, of course, a squire named Oscar, and the other two are Sir Percival and Sir Leo.

The fire crackled softly, casting a warm glow. Their capes drifted softly as the gentle cold breeze blew through us, mugs of tea in hand. I can hear the soft sound of the trees swaying, dancing in the cold wind. The conversation started from battles when they fought together with the duke outside of the northern wall. And soon enough, the topic turned to his good deeds.

"Do you remember last winter?" Sir Alan began, his voice calm and resonant. "When the blight struck the Wintermere farms? A few lords revealed their true colors, consumed by greed and corruption. But Duke Lucien was different. He opened his granaries to the people, saving the commoners from starvation. And rather than stripping those lords of their titles outright, he held them accountable, ordering a public inquiry into their conduct and imposing heavy fines that funded relief for the suffering villages. He made sure they'll face the consequences."

"And he didn't stop there," added Sir Percival, leaning forward, his eyes gleaming with admiration. "When the unknown plague swept through the villages, it was the Duke who personally oversaw the quarantine efforts. He even sent his own physicians to tend to the sick, risking his own safety."

Now that I think about it, there was really a plague in Wintermere last winter. The fear that it would spread made Wintermere a place to be avoided at all costs. Many people in Veridonia became strict, refusing to let anyone travel to Wintermere or allowing outsiders from Wintermere to enter Veridonia.

Although things have returned to normal after six months and Wintermere is once again a typical realm, there are still people who dread it.

A murmur of agreement rippled through the group. The knight's faces, usually stern and battle-hardened, softened as they spoke of him.

I found myself leaning closer, almost forgetting the cup of tea in my hands. Every story, every testament to Lucien's character, drew me in deeper.

"You know," Sir Leo said slowly, "Duke Lucien could have been the emperor's heir. Though he is just a nephew of the emperor, a few people did like him to be one and even the emperor himself. But unfortunately, he refused. Said he wanted no part in it."

"He could've been a great emperor" Sir Percival said with a nod. "Veridonia could use a man like him on the throne, but instead, he chose to stay in Wintermere and serve his people directly. That's the kind of leader we need. One who values the people more than the crown."

"Half the noblewomen at court would give anything for his favor. But he's always been aloof, never one to be swayed by pretty faces or empty flattery." Sir Percival added with a wry smile. 

I listen intently. I totally understand why those noblewomen are drawn to him. I don't blame them at all.

Realizing where my thoughts were going, I gently slap my right cheek, relieved that no one noticed me. Everyone is too absorbed in their own conversations.

As the knights continued, I could hear the respect in their voices, the genuine admiration they held for their duke. Each tale they told only deepened the image of him.

"He's a rare man," Sir Alan said, raising his mug. "And we're lucky to serve him."

A ripple of agreement and pride swept through them, and I could see the expression on their faces. Gratefulness and unending loyalty.

I took a sip of my tea, feeling the warmth spread through me—not from the drink, but from the image of him that was forming in my mind. A duke admired by knights and coveted by noblewomen.

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❄️ 3rd Person POV: Lucien ❄️

Lucien sat in his study, the crackling fire doing little to warm the icy tension that hung in the air. His mind was a whirlwind of thoughts.

A knock at the door broke his reverie. He straightened in his chair, steeling himself for the conversation to come. "Enter," he called, his voice betraying nothing of the storm inside him.

The door opened, and the man Lucien had saved days earlier stepped into the room. His arm in a sling and a slight limp in his gait, but his eyes were sharp and focused.

"Your Grace," the man began, bowing stiffly before taking the chair Lucien gestured to. "I owe you my life. But I also owe you the truth of what happened."

Lucien nodded, his gaze intense. "Speak freely."

The man swallowed, his voice trembling slightly as he recounted the events. "The attack was not random. It was orchestrated by forces seeking to undermine Wintermere. I saw... symbols, sigils carved into the trees where we were ambushed. They were ancient, belonging to a cult long thought extinct—the same cult responsible for the massacre of your family years ago."

Lucien's grip tightened on the armrest. "The same dark magic," he muttered under his breath, his mind racing. The memory of that terrible past flashed before him, unbidden.

The man continued, his tone more urgent now. "Your Grace, this is not just a resurgence of old enemies. It is a coordinated effort. There were whispers among the attackers—about a 'reclamation,' a return to power. They are gathering strength and mean to challenge your rule directly."

Lucien's expression remained unreadable, but his mind was already working through the implications. If these forces were indeed rising again, Wintermere was facing a threat far greater than mere marauders or ancient monsters. It was a threat that could tear apart the fragile stability he had fought so hard to maintain.

"What else did you hear?" Lucien asked, his voice low.

The man hesitated, a flicker of fear crossing his face. "There was mention of a weapon—something hidden deep within Wintermere, capable of turning the tide in their favor. They spoke of it as if it were a legend, but there was a certainty in their voices... They believe it exists and they are searching for it."

A weapon? Hidden within Wintermere? If such a weapon existed, and if it fell into the wrong hands...

He stood, his mind made up. "This threat cannot be ignored. Alert the other knights, double the patrols. And discreetly gather any information on this supposed weapon. We must find it before they do."

The man nodded, rising to his feet with difficulty. "Yes, Your Grace. I will do as you command."

As the man turned to leave, Lucien's gaze fell on the map of Wintermere that hung on the wall. His eyes narrowed as he traced the contours of his land, his thoughts churning. Another problem was brewing—one that could not be solved with swords and strategy alone. The shadows of the past were rising, and they were coming for him.

The fire crackled softly, but its warmth felt distant, almost mocking.

Lucien stared into the flames. It was a sign, an omen of the storm to come. He had faced many challenges, but this one felt different, more personal. The shadows were closing in, and this time, there might be no escape.