Two days later

  Dawn greeted them among mist-laden hills. In the distance, the gray walls of Dunverne rose like a crown of stone over the valley.

  It was a small city, but well defended. Its polished stone blocks reflected the morning light like aged silver. Square towers flanked the main gate, and above the portcullis flew the Douglas banner—a silver dragon upon a field of black.

  The streets were narrow and cobbled; the air carried the scent of fresh bread and iron. Blacksmiths labored beside the walls, merchants opened their stalls, and children ran between soldiers with wide smiles.

  When the caravan passed through the main gate, the bustle swelled into a roar.

  Men, women, and elders knelt as the carriages rolled by. Some waved handkerchiefs; others scattered dried valley petals in their wake.

  It was ironic, Lusian thought.Beyond the duchy's borders, the name Douglas inspired fear and resentment.But here, within their lands, they were revered as protectors—almost as kings.

  Duke Laurence offered a measured salute from his carriage, while Martha inclined her head with a faint smile. Sofía, by contrast, barely lifted her gaze; she studied the faces of the crowd as if searching for something that was not there.

  At the entrance to the main square, Count Aurel Van Drast, the duchy's loyal administrator, awaited them. He was an older man with a gray beard and steady eyes, clad in a deep-blue cloak.

  "My lord duke," he said, bowing, "Dunverne is honored by your return. The castle has been prepared to receive you."

  Laurence nodded solemnly."Thank you, Aurel. It is good to be home."

  The count mounted his horse and guided the procession through the streets toward Castle Ardenthal, a fortress rising atop a hill, surrounded by stone gardens and ancient cypresses.

  The reception was worthy of royalty. Servants stood in orderly rows within the vestibule, torches bathing the hall in golden light.

  Duke Laurence and Martha took the master chamber of the north wing.Sofía, as was customary, settled into the guest quarters of the east wing, alongside Lusian.

  Gradually, silence returned to the castle, though echoes of the people's jubilation still lingered in its walls.

  In the guest chamber of the east wing, torchlight cast warm shadows against the stone.

  Sofía sat in an armchair by the window, while Lusian—caught in her embrace—struggled in vain to escape what felt like a velvet prison.

  "Mother… please," he protested between muffled laughs. "I'm not a child anymore."

  "That's what you say," Sofía replied, her smile faint but genuine as she stroked his hair with a tenderness that contrasted her usual firmness. "To me, you always will be."

  A soft knock sounded at the door.

  "Enter," Sofía said, without releasing her son.

  Captain Albert, her longtime confidant, stepped inside with disciplined reverence. He wore his campaign uniform, the steel at his shoulder polished to a mirror sheen.

  "My lady," he greeted with a slight bow. "The troops are quartered. The staff has been assigned to the castle's lodgings as ordered."

  "Well done, Albert," Sofía replied evenly, still toying with Lusian's hair. "We will rest for a day. Then we depart for the ducal capital. Ensure all are ready at dawn on the second day."

  "As you command, my lady."

  He bowed again, but before withdrawing, a voice stopped him.

  "Albert," Lusian said, peering out from his mother's arms. "It's been a while. Where have you been hiding, old man?"

  The veteran smiled—a soldier's smile shaped by too many battles.

  "Does my young lord miss his training sessions?" he asked with feigned innocence. "If you wish, I can make time to resume them."

  Lusian immediately frowned, recalling the brutal "sessions" that accompanied that offer.

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  "No, thank you. I'd simply like to take a walk. You'll accompany me, won't you?"

  Sofía arched a brow.

  "And since when do you leave without asking my permission, Lusian Douglas?"

  He turned toward her, somewhere between amused and exasperated.

  "Mother… I'm sixteen."

  She studied him silently before offering a soft smile—the kind that always preceded a subtle assertion of authority.

  "Of course you are," she murmured, gently pinching his cheek. "But you are still my son."

  Lusian sighed in defeat while Albert struggled to suppress a grin.

  "Go," Sofía conceded at last. "But return before dusk. We continue our journey tomorrow, and I will not have you wandering through taverns."

  "I promise," Lusian replied, finally slipping free.

  As he left, Sofía followed him with her gaze a moment longer—her expression softened by something between pride and concern.

  Lusian descended the castle steps as sunlight filtered between gray stone towers.

  The air smelled of fresh bread and tempered iron—the unmistakable scent of a living city.

  At his side walked Albert, posture rigid as ever.A few paces behind, Adele rode her white tiger, Rasha, whose pale blue eyes gleamed like shards of ice. Her combat uniform was immaculate, her hair tied in a high braid swaying with each step.

  And as if that were not enough, Isabelle walked beside him with quiet elegance, her light armor contrasting with her refined composure.

  Behind them, ten knights formed a small escort, silver dragon emblems rippling in the breeze.

  Lusian sighed."It was meant to be a simple walk," he muttered. "Not a military expedition."

  Albert answered calmly, without looking at him."My lord, your safety reflects the honor of the duchy."

  "Then the duchy must be terribly bored," Lusian replied, folding his arms.

  Adele chuckled softly."Don't complain. It could be worse. My lady could be following you as well."

  "That would be the end of my freedom," he said with mock resignation.

  They passed through the fortress gate and entered Dunverne—the heart of Douglas territory.

  The streets were clean and lively; merchants called out their wares, blacksmiths worked tirelessly, and children ran waving small banners bearing the silver dragon.

  As they passed, townsfolk paused and bowed respectfully.

  There was no fear in their eyes.Only pride.

  Strange, Lusian thought.Beyond these walls, our name inspires terror…But here, we are almost gods.

  In a small plaza, apprentices experimented with minor energy runes. One flared in a burst of blue light, sending them stumbling back with nervous laughter.

  Albert frowned."They shouldn't be playing with unstable artifacts. Mana crystals have been reacting irregularly of late."

  Lusian stopped, studying the lingering glow in the air.

  "A reaction to ambient mana?"

  "Perhaps," Albert replied. "The priests say the magical currents are shifting northward. Something large approaches."

  Lusian nodded quietly. The suspended shimmer reminded him of the forest—the oppressive pulse beneath the soil.

  They continued toward the central market, where stalls overflowed with gleaming fruit and steaming cuts of game. Musicians played lute and flute, filling the air with a light melody.

  Adele paused at a weapons stall, lifting a dagger forged of dark steel.

  "Well balanced," she murmured. "Douglas-made, no doubt."

  The blacksmith beamed."With my own hands, my lady. In service to the duchy."

  Isabelle, meanwhile, lingered at a flower vendor's stall. She lifted a small sprig of white lavender and brought it to her face.

  For a moment, Lusian watched her in silence. There was something deeply human in that gesture—something that did not fit the image of the oathbound attendant who followed him everywhere.

  Albert cleared his throat, breaking the moment."My lord, we should return before sunset."

  Lusian nodded, though part of him wished to keep exploring.

  The city pulsed differently. Beneath its calm, the air trembled with excess energy, almost imperceptible—like the stones themselves were breathing mana.

  As they made their way back, a gust of wind lifted shimmering dust from the cobblestones.

  Adele noticed first."Albert… was that—?"

  The veteran frowned."Yes. Suspended mana crystals. I've never seen such a thing within the city."

  Lusian turned, watching the luminous particles drift like enchanted mist.

  A chill crept down his spine.

  "The phenomenon is advancing," he whispered to himself."And no one seems to realize it yet."

  At dawn, the caravan departed once more.

  Carriage wheels echoed over damp stone roads as the silver wolf standard streamed in the wind. Three hundred knights marched in perfect formation behind them, their armor gleaming in the early light.

  The air was cold, scented with pine. In the distance, mountains rose crowned in snow.

  Their destination: Eldras, the capital of the Douglas duchy—a fortified city built at the confluence of three rivers, where the duchy's political and military power converged.

  Inside the carriage, Lusian watched the landscape pass.

  His usually carefree gaze was fixed on the horizon.

  There is much to be done… he thought.A census. Yes—that would work. A perfect excuse to gather the population in urban centers. If I can concentrate them within the main cities, I can protect them from the mana phenomenon before it spirals out of control.

  His mind moved with sharp precision—almost like his mother's.

  The anomaly in Dunverne had not been coincidence. The land was reacting. Mana stirred, growing stronger with each passing day.

  The duchy must remain strong. If the duchy weakens, I weaken.If the duchy grows stronger… so do I.

  Beside him, Sofía watched in silence, a faint smile curving her lips.

  She knew exactly what he was thinking. She had seen him grow from an impulsive child into a young man beginning to bear the weight of the Douglas name.

  "You are planning something," she said at last.

  Lusian turned toward her."I'm thinking of the duchy. If the mana phenomenon spreads, the outlying villages will fall first."

  Sofía nodded calmly."A census… interesting. We can present it as an administrative measure. No one will suspect your true intentions."

  "I'll have your support, won't I?" he asked with a half-smile.

  "Always," she replied without hesitation. "As long as I breathe, I will stand at your side."

  Silence filled the carriage once more, broken only by the steady rhythm of hooves and wind through trees.

  Lusian lowered his gaze to his hands, slowly curling them into fists.

  He did not yet realize it, but that thought—the duchy must remain strong—would be the purpose guiding him, at least for now.