As they entered the study, Lareth turned to Aurean with a knowing look.
"You can't wait here for him," he said, his tone gentle. "Rythe is still at the western border. But I'll make sure he knows you're back."
Aurean gave a small, understanding nod. "Thank you. I'll need to speak with him soon. The estate I inherited… I can only imagine the disarray it's in. I'll need the coming days to put it in order."
Lareth gave a sharp bark of laughter and clapped Aurean on the shoulder. "Disarray? You should go see it first before assuming. You might find yourself surprised."
With that cryptic grin, Lareth gave a slight bow, and with a final glance, disappeared into the corridors.
The journey to the estate wasn't long, but Aurean found himself tense, fingers lightly gripping the side of the carriage. The last time he had been on the land was through the haze of childhood memory. Quiet walks with his grandmother. Wind-chimes. Lavender by the window. A place that had felt like the only safe corner of the world.
He wasn't sure what to expect now.
Certainly not what he saw as he stepped out of the carriage.
The gates had been restored—arched and carved with elegant vines, detailed with the exact floral motifs his grandmother once painted on the walls. White stone paths wound through rows of blooming shrubs, and tall trees flanked the long drive to the manor. Soft wind stirred wind-chimes hanging under the porch.
It was still his home.
But now it was... magnificent.
Every element he had loved as a child—the soothing palettes, the warm woods, the little antique carvings—had not only been preserved, but elevated. As though someone had carefully walked through the memories in Aurean's heart and brought them to life with gentle, reverent hands.
Aurean stepped slowly into the grand entrance hall, where sunlight spilled through stained-glass windows, casting soft colors across the marble floors.
A butler, stately and composed in black and silver, approached with a deep bow.
"My lord Aurean," he said. "Welcome home. I am Tholan, the head steward of your estate. We've awaited your return."
Still reeling from the beauty of what he was seeing, Aurean nodded, his voice barely audible. "Thank you, Tholan…"
Two attendants had already begun carrying in his belongings, and Tholan gestured for them to proceed. "Your quarters are fully prepared, and your wardrobe restored. A warm meal awaits you in the solarium should you wish it. But I imagine you'd first like to see these—" he handed over a thick bundle of estate ledgers bound in rich leather.
Aurean took them with a blink. "These are current?"
Tholan inclined his head. "Updated weekly. You currently employ fifty full-time staff, excluding farmers and tenant families. The estate's income has doubled in the last two years due to improved land use, a new irrigation system, and fair tenant contracts. All overseen on your behalf."
Aurean opened the ledgers and scanned through the neat handwriting and meticulous notes.
"This is… far beyond anything I imagined," he murmured.
Then, hesitating, he looked up. "Who... who's behind this? Who managed it?"
Tholan didn't speak immediately. But his eyes softened, and he offered a respectful nod.
"Prince Rythe instructed all of it," he said. "He personally oversaw the restoration and commissioned the artisans based on documents recovered from your grandparents' estate and some decorations from Virelia."
Aurean's breath caught.
He didn't need to hear more.
He felt it.
This wasn't duty.
This was devotion.
From the very carvings on the walls to the scent of dried herbs in the kitchen, every decision had been made not for grandeur—but for him.
And it struck him not as a memory—but as a wound reopened. A warm, golden ache that spread through his chest and left him motionless for a long moment, staring into the heart of the home Rythe had built for him.
For the first time in a long while, Aurean felt truly seen.