As the convoy of Grand Duke Aldric disappeared beyond the horizon, a heavy silence lingered over the Velebrandt estate. Though the sun shone brightly over the stone walkways and marble towers, the absence of the estate's powerful patriarch left behind an unspoken weight—a quiet but undeniable shift.
Lucien, however, spent the remainder of the day nestled in the luxury of rest. With Aldric gone and his intense training yet to begin, he did what any reasonable soul would do before facing the abyss: he pampered himself. After a long soak in the ornate golden bathtub filled with scented oils, Lucien brushed his teeth, changed into his finest lounge robe, and devoured a hearty breakfast of freshly baked croissants, fire-seared sausages from the drakari highlands, creamy scrambled wyvern eggs, and chilled elderberry juice from the elven groves. The servants moved about discreetly, careful not to disturb his tranquility.
But peace never lasts.
