Grace was reviewing the duties that still awaited her. Chief among them was seeing the nobles safely on their journey home, ensuring each returned to their estate without incident.
{ In Elenor, law and order were enforced with unwavering discipline. Crime was rare, and the streets remained safe even after nightfall. The capital—home to the House of Elenhart—was regarded as the safest city in the empire. Even so, on grand occasions such as this, security within and around the Imperial Palace was doubled to guard against any unforeseen incident. }
"By the way, where's Uncle Dasmon?I haven't seen him since dinner," Grace asked.
"I'm afraid I couldn't say, Madam," Welfred replied.
Grace's gaze drifted to the side, her expression growing thoughtful.
(I never questioned where Uncle Dasmon went or what occupied his time, she mused. He'd always been like that, even when I was little. He had a kingdom of his own to rule.)
A faint sigh escaped her.
(Even so, he always found time for us. Back then, he'd visit two or three times a week, and he'd often help with palace affairs. No one understood the weight of a crown better than another king.)
Her brows knit almost imperceptibly.
(But things changed after Welfred became First Minister. I only wanted to ease Uncle's burden. Governing two kingdoms was never meant to fall on one man.)
(Still... I think he took it personally.)
(He never said as much. His pride wouldn't allow it. Yet his visits grew fewer with each passing month.)
Her eyes settled on the corridor ahead.
(He even left the banquet halfway through tonight.)
.
.
.
"You're finished already?" Grace asked.
"Mm," Dasmon replied.
"But you barely ate. Just a few side dishes and a couple of cups of stout tea."
{ Among the nobility, stout tea was the drink of choice—a potent black brew known for its bold flavor and for keeping the mind sharp through sleepless nights and exhausting journeys. }
"I don't have much of an appetite."
Grace frowned. "Are you certain? You traveled eight hours without a break just to reach the capital. You can't still not be hungry."
"It's fine," Dasmon said. "I'm used to it."
He rose from his chair.
(He isn't wrong,) she thought. (He's always skipped meals when work piled up. Even back then, he'd barely eat.)
A faint crease formed between her brows.
(But he never walked out in the middle of a family dinner. Not once.)
Her eyes fell to her plate. She absently nudged a piece of food with her fork, the utensil lingering in midair before she lowered it again.
"Fine," she said at last, her quiet voice edged with disappointment. "Suit yourself."
Dasmon paused.
For a fleeting moment, his expression was unreadable—distant, as though his thoughts had already drifted elsewhere. Then he offered a faint smile.
"Very well. I'll be off, then."
Rui and Ray exchanged a glance. The same unease settled over them, as though his departure carried more weight than he was willing to admit.
Across the table, Welfred sat in silence, so still he was almost easy to overlook. His head remained bowed, his grip on the fork tightening until his knuckles whitened.
.
.
.
Welfred paused. There was a familiar tension in Grace's gaze, one he had come to recognize over the years.
"Is something troubling you, Madam?" he asked.
"Oh, I was just thinking about the guests' safety," Grace replied evenly. "I only hope they reach their palaces without incident. Within Elenor's borders they'll be safe, but once they're beyond them... who knows?"
She offered him a practiced smile.
(That should be enough.)
Welfred inclined his head. "I understand, Madam. I shall see to the duty you entrusted to me."
(I'm sorry, Welfred), she thought. (But if I told you the truth, you'd only blame yourself... and I can't allow that.)
"Then I'll take my leave, Madam," Welfred said, bowing. "Rest well."
He turned to bid Ray and Rui good night, but the siblings were so consumed by their absurd whisper-argument that they never noticed him. Welfred lingered for a moment, then quietly accepted defeat and slipped away as though leaving a battlefield to its victors.
Grace watched Welfred disappear down the hallway, soon lost among the royal staff gathering around him. With a quiet sigh, she turned to Rui and Ray, who remained hopelessly engrossed in their utterly pointless sibling quarrel.
She caught them both before the next round could begin and ushered them through the doorway with practiced ease. Grace barely spared it a second thought. By now, their silent skirmishes were as ordinary as the changing weather—an everyday nuisance she had long since stopped trying to make sense of.
As Welfred walked with the others, he quietly and swiftly touched above his coat, cherishing something beneath.
As he walked on, Welfred's hand found the inside of his coat. His fingers lingered there for a moment before he lowered them again, the quiet composure he wore seeming just a little heavier.
.
.
.
Heavy clouds hung low overhead, remnants of the rain that had just passed. The air carried the earthy scent of damp soil, and droplets clung to leaves and stones throughout the sprawling gardens. Beyond them, the palace stretched into the distance, its grand silhouette softened by lingering mist.
At the heart of the estate stood Eleheart, the ancestral palace of House Elenhart. Renowned across the continent as the largest and most magnificent palace, it was surrounded by winding pathways and expansive gardens, the grandest avenue leading directly to its towering golden gates.
Welfred stood at the gates, fulfilling his duty of ensuring the departing nobles left safely. Beyond him, the rain-darkened outer walls enclosed the palace grounds, while farther within, the residences, halls, and guest quarters of the outer palace stood behind gleaming silver gates.
The estate was divided into two distinct grounds: the inner palace, sacred and heavily guarded, and the outer palace, where guests had gathered for the occasion. Vine-carriages lined the road, their lanterns casting a warm glow as one after another rolled into the night.
Beside Welfred stood the two royal commanders, their moonlit armor gleaming beneath the clearing sky. They watched in silence as the last of the carriages departed, while guards, attendants, and servants completed their final duties. Footsteps, quiet laughter, and courteous farewells filled the gardens, marking the end of the grand gathering.
Yet Welfred scarcely noticed the bustle.
His thoughts were elsewhere.
(Madam...) he sighed inwardly. (You've grown taller and wiser, yet you still cannot hide your heart from me. Something troubles you. I can see that much.)
His gaze lowered.
(Whatever stands between you and Sir Dasmon, may it be mended. Even if the price is the place I've been given.)
His thoughts were interrupted when a guard hurried to the commander on his right and whispered something in her ear.
Her expression changed at once. Her eyes widened ever so slightly before she dismissed the guard with a nod and strode toward Welfred.
Stopping beside him, she lowered her voice.
"Sir... there has been an intrusion."