The remainder of the journey home passed without much happening. The patriarch led the vanguard at the front of the convoy, while the girls and Aurelian whittled away the hours in the quiet luxury of the library inside the carriage. True to the Patriarch's stern command, the valley echoed with the relentless, daily clashing of steel as the knights sparred until their bones ached.
Then, cresting the final hill, the true majesty of Celestia-Belessier revealed itself.
The Silver City, a bastion that had stood proud for millennia, was now a bustling haven, home to all types of people, from merchants to adventurers and many more. From every far-reaching corner of the continent, travelers gathered within its walls to exchange rumors, maps, and information from their journeys.
It was a legendary crossroad, where dreams could be made or crushed all in the same place.
As the convoy reached the city's perimeter, they were greeted by the beautiful, ancient gates of white wood that had guarded the entrance for centuries. The guards parted for the royal crest, and the wagons rolled smoothly through the main thoroughfares, navigating the lively streets until they finally reached the grand palace just as evening began to fall.
The courtyard became a sea of organized chaos as the convoy slowly dismantled and the stable-hands, soldiers, and attendants returned to their respective quarters. Soon, all that remained in the center of the yard was the massive library carriage, still hitched to a contentedly resting Alexandr, with Allister standing loosely by the reins.
"Oh my! Allister, it truly has been a while."
From the grand palace doors, a woman of striking elegance hurried down the steps. This was Duchess Evelynn. Her golden hair caught the fading evening light like spun silk, framing a face dominated by sharp, expressive Emerald green eyes that missed absolutely nothing. She wore a flowing, silky green dress that shimmered with every hurried step, cascading around her ankles like water as she rushed into the chaotic courtyard. Her regal posture and radiant presence usually commanded the room, but the moment her eyes locked onto the library carriage, the poise of a Duchess instantly dissolved into the raw anxiety of a mother.
Knock. Knock. Knock. Knock.
"Everyone! We're home!" the Patriarch boomed, a massive grin on his face.
Evelynn blinked, her warm expression instantly twisting into a sharp, suspicious glare. She turned on her husband, her fingers executing a flawless, agonizing pinch directly into his side. "Dear? Are we having guests over? If you had actually sent a message ahead, I could have prepared a proper dinner for everyone!"
"Owowowow! Wait! Evelynn, stop!" Christoph wheezed, squirming under her grip as the surrounding knights suddenly found the cobblestone floor intensely interesting. He looked desperately over her shoulder. "Allister! Why don't you go call them out?"
"Sure," Allister replied lazily, throwing the Duchess a sharp, fox-like grin.
Evelynn's eyes narrowed at the expression. She turned back to her husband, her fingers twisting the pinch even harder. "Every time he grins like that, something massive happens. What did you two idiots do this time?!"
"Evelynn, wait! Owowowow! Close your eyes first, it's a surprise!"
Winced and breathless, Christoph quickly brought his large hands up to gently cover his wife's eyes, blindly signaling Allister over the top of her head to bring out the princess.
"Just so you know, Evelynn, I have quite the hankering for your beef tongue stew," Allister called out casually as he turned and stepped back into the library carriage, leaving his old friend to deal with his flaming wife.
Inside the quiet, cedar-scented carriage, Allister walked past the rows of bookshelves and looked toward the back office.
"Rosalyn, dear child," Allister said softly, his deep voice carrying a rare, gentle warmth. "Your mother is waiting for you."
Rosalyn perked up instantly. Her weary, book-strained eyes twinkled with a sudden, brilliant light at his words, and she rushed out from behind the heavy wooden desk, her robes billowing behind her. She moved so fast she nearly stumbled, but Allister caught her by the shoulders, stabilizing her with a low chuckle.
He leaned down, whispering to her with a conspiratorial wink. "Your father wants to surprise your mother. So... slowly, Rosalyn."
Rosalyn took a deep, steadying breath, her fingers clutching tightly at the fabric of her traveling robes as she forced her racing heart to calm down. She nodded softly to Allister, offering him a silent, breathless look of gratitude before smoothing out her gown and stepping toward the carriage doors.
Outside, the courtyard was a theater of domestic comedy.
"Christoph, I swear to the heavens, if this 'surprise' is another stray beast or a trunk full of rusted historical garbage, I am locking you out of the master chambers for a month!" Evelynn swatted blindly at her husband's large, calloused hands, though she remained perfectly still under his grip, her curiosity finally winning over her annoyance.
"I promise you, it's nothing like that! Just look," Christoph grinned, his deep voice carrying a sudden, thick tremor of raw emotion as he slowly pulled his hands away from her face.
Evelynn blinked, her eyes adjusting to the soft, amber glow of the palace lanterns.
Descending the wooden steps of the library carriage was not a hardened soldier or a monstrous threat. It was a young woman, her posture regal yet her expression fiercely vulnerable. As Rosalyn stepped into the courtyard light, the absolute silence of a long-overdue homecoming washed over the yard.
Evelynn froze. Her hand dropped from Christoph's side, her breath hitching so sharply it audibly cracked in the quiet evening air. She took a shaky step forward, her eyes scanning the familiar lines of her daughter's face, searching the features she had spent years weeping over, fearing they were lost to history forever.
"Rosalyn...?" Evelynn whispered, her voice barely louder than the cool night breeze rustling through the palace gardens.
"Mother," Rosalyn managed, the poised princess completely melting away as a solitary tear tracked through the dust on her cheek.
Breaking the slow, tense silence, Rosalyn abandoned all royal decorum and sprinted across the cobblestones, throwing herself completely into her mother's arms. Evelynn caught her with a choked sob, burying her face into her daughter's hair, her hands clutching at Rosalyn's back as if she were terrified the girl might dissolve back into a phantom ledger if she let go.
Christoph stood just a step behind them, his massive shoulders slumping as a heavy, profound wave of relief washed over him. A quiet, watery smile touched his face as he reached out, wrapping his large arms around both of them, shielding his family from the rest of the world.
Leaning against the side of the carriage wagon, Allister watched the embrace from the shadows, a slow, gentle crinkle appearing around his eyes. He reached into his coat, pulled out his whittling knife and a fresh block of cedar, and quietly began to shave away the rough edges, the soft scrape, scrape a rhythmic anchor to the reunion.
Sylvania stepped up beside him, rubbing her sleepy eyes as she watched the royal family weep together. She smiled softly, leaning her shoulder against Allister's arm. "You did good, Dad," she murmured quietly.
"Nah," Allister shrugged lazily, blowing a thin ribbon of cedar dust away into the wind, his eyes never leaving the family he had rewritten time itself to protect. "They did the hard part. I just drove the wagon."
Evelynn patted all over Rosalyn, looking for any lingering bruises or anything off. "Hehehe~ I'm fine mom!" Rosalyn replied, catching her mother's weary hands.
Evelynn looked to Allister, now with a cigar, puffing away with a smile on his face, "I'll let you guys catch up" he said, heading back into the carriage. Soon after, he sits back down on his chair, leaning back and closing his eyes.
Outside, Evelynn kept a firm grip on Rosalyn's hands, refusing to let her go for even a second. Tears streamed freely down the Duchess's cheeks, mirroring the quiet, emotional weeping of the Patriarch who stood right beside them. Seeing the two most powerful rulers of the Silver City completely losing their royal composure in the middle of the courtyard was a sight the surrounding guards would never speak of, but would never forget.
"Inside," Evelynn finally choked out, wiping her eyes with a silky green sleeve. "We are going inside right now. I don't care how late it is, I am waking up the entire kitchen staff."
The palace kitchen, usually dead silent by this hour of the evening, erupted into frantic activity. True to her word, Evelynn took total command, her sharp green eyes practically throwing sparks as she ordered pots to be filled and fires to be stoked. But despite her strict demeanor with the chefs, her arm remained firmly linked with Rosalyn's, keeping her long-lost daughter glued to her side.
It didn't take long for the mouth-watering scent of rich broth, savory herbs, and tender meat to fill the grand dining hall. Evelynn's legendary beef tongue stew—cooked to absolute perfection—was brought out in massive, steaming porcelain bowls, accompanied by stacks of thick, crusty bread to soak up the juices.
While the royal family began to settle around the long wooden table, the heavy oak doors of the dining hall creaked open. Christoph looked up, a massive grin splitting his face as Allister moseyed in, smelling faintly of cedar and tobacco, with Sylvania trailing sleepily behind him. Aurelian was right on their heels, carrying a chaotic armful of small gears, springs, and wooden contraptions he had spent the last eight days fixing. Anastasia followed along holding the record books she's been reading.
"Ah! The chef of the hour!" Allister chuckled, taking a seat without an ounce of royal protocol. He rubbed his hands together as a massive bowl of stew was set down in front of him. "Evelynn, I swear the scent of this stew alone could cure terminal illnesses."
"Flattery won't get you a second helping if you keep smoking those dreadful cigars in my courtyard, Allister," Evelynn replied, though the sharp edge of her voice was completely betrayed by the fond, soft smile on her face. She pushed a basket of fresh bread toward him. "Eat up, you old vagabond. You brought my daughter home. You can have whatever you want."
The dinner quickly turned into a chaotic, joyous affair. Christoph and Allister immediately fell into their old habits, bickering like thick-headed children over who got the largest piece of marrow bone, while Sylvania giggled, expertly using her fork to steal a piece of meat right off Allister's plate when he wasn't looking. Nearby, Anastasia laughed as Aurelian eagerly began lining up his repaired toys across the table, proudly explaining to a fascinated Rosalyn exactly how he had fixed the internal gears of a broken brass clockwork bird.
For a few hours, the looming weight of the world completely vanished. There was only a family, found and reunited, laughing under the warm glow of the palace chandeliers.
Late into the night, the laughter finally quieted down. Evelynn had practically forced an exhausted but deeply happy Rosalyn off to her old bedchambers, refusing to leave her side for the night. The kids had turned in, leaving only Allister and Christoph sitting by the dying embers of the grand fireplace in the palace lounge.
Allister sat slouched low in a plush armchair, swirling the last amber drop of whiskey in his glass.
Christoph let out a long, heavy sigh, stretching his legs out toward the hearth. But as he did, his breathing hitched. He frowned, raising his hands into the firelight. The deep, radiant ache beneath his skin was back, pulsing with a fierce, unnatural heat that made his palms throb all the way down to the bone.
Allister's lazy demeanor vanished in an instant. His eyes narrowed, focusing directly on Christoph's trembling hands.
"It's getting stronger, isn't it?" Allister asked softly, his voice dropping into that deep, ancient tone, not a weary traveler.
"Yeah," Christoph murmured, squeezing his fists tight to dull the throbbing warmth. He looked up at his old friend, his eyes filled with a sudden, profound exhaustion. "Ever since we crossed the perimeter of the Silver City... it feels like the blood in my hands is boiling. What is this, Allister?"
Allister didn't answer right away. He reached into his pocket, his calloused fingers brushing against the small, freshly whittled cedar bird he had finished in the carriage. He looked out the tall glass windows, staring at the peaceful, silent spires of Celestia-Belessier resting beneath the starlight.
"It's the weight of the script, old friend," Allister whispered, a faint, deeply sorrowful smile touching his lips as he took a final sip of his drink. "The closer we get to the end of the road, the heavier the armor becomes. Just get some rest, Christoph. Tomorrow, the real work begins."
The next morning, the grand council chambers of Celestia-Belessier were filled with the bright, forgiving light of a summer dawn. Towering pillars of polished white wood and silver filigree lined the room, making the space feel more like an open garden than a room where the fate of nations was decided.
At the center of the room sat a massive stone table. Christoph sat at the head, looking slightly worse for wear as he nursed a large mug of heavily caffeinated tea. Evelynn sat gracefully to his right, looking radiant in a fresh cream-colored gown, though her sharp green eyes were narrowed at the sheer volume of paperwork piled in front of her.
Opposite them, Anastasia had already spread out a map of the surrounding territories, while Rosalyn stood nearby, looking vastly more rested than she had in years.
The heavy oak doors creaked open, and Allister strolled in, completely back to his usual lazy self. He had a half-smoked cigar dangling from his lips and a fresh block of wood in his hand. Sylvania sauntered in right behind him, carrying a plate piled high with leftover pastries from breakfast, her twilight-and-burgundy eyes scanning the maps with mild curiosity.
"Morning, your Excellencies," Allister chuckled, tossing his whittling knife onto the stone table with a soft clack. "I see the paperwork gremlins attacked early today."
"Don't start, Allister," Christoph groaned, rubbing his temples. "My head is pounding, my hands feel like they've been holding hot coals all night, and my wife has already informed me that I am responsible for reviewing the trade tariffs with the western border lords by noon."
"Because you neglected them for six months while you were playing vanguard captain, dear," Evelynn chimed in smoothly, not even looking up as she stamped a document with a royal wax seal. "And speaking of the border lords, we have a political headache developing."
Anastasia tapped a specific point on the map, a dense mountainous region to the west. "While we were tracking down historical anomalies, the Archduke's remnants didn't just scatter. They've been funneling money and specialized blueprints into the western noble houses. Word from our scouts is that the Border Lords are getting restless. They think the crown is growing soft because we've been spending so much time digging through old archives instead of reinforcing the outposts."
"Hah! Soft?" Christoph snorted, his competitive streak flaring up. "I just ordered our modern knights into a daily, bone-breaking sparring gauntlet with the historical vanguard. If those border lords think we're soft, I'll gladly invite them to the training grounds for a friendly chat."
"As much as I'd love to watch you terrify the nobility, Christoph, we need a diplomatic touch," Evelynn sighed, tapping her chin. "The lords are demanding an inspection of our military readiness. They want to see if the rumors of our 'new strength' are real, or if the crown is just hiding behind Allister's carriage."
Allister took a slow puff of his cigar, a lazy, mischievous grin spreading across his face. "An inspection, huh? Well, if they want a show, we can give them a show. Sylvania's been itching to test out some of those new magic arrays she refined with the seer family."
"Oh, absolutely," Sylvania purred around a mouthful of pastry, her eyes flashing with a sudden, wicked delight. "I've been stuck doing paperwork for weeks. Letting me demonstrate 'military readiness' to a bunch of stuffy western nobles sounds like a fantastic vacation."
Rosalyn stepped forward, a determined look on her face. "I'll go with them. The border records I found mention a series of old fortresses in that sector. If the Archduke's faction was smuggling artifacts through the west, those ruins are the perfect place to start looking for answers."
Christoph exchanged a look with Allister, the heavy tension from the previous night completely masked by their usual tactical camaraderie.
"Alright," Christoph declared, slamming his mug down with a grin. "We play their political game. Allister, pack up the carriage. We're going to pay a little visit to the western front and show these lords exactly what happens when you question the Shield of Belessier."