Rachel sat on the soft sofa in the study, her hands tightly twisting the handkerchief in her hands.
Beside her, her husband, Viscount Ronald, stood straight, yet appeared extraordinarily uneasy.
Ronald's gaze dared not linger long on the view outside, yet he couldn't help but drift in that direction.
In the direction of the port, the outline of the steel fleet nearly obscured the horizon, the black hulls looming in the mist like rows of silent giants.
Ronald swallowed, his legs faintly tense, although he was an elite knight, he was inevitably somewhat fearful of such intimidating monsters.
Rachel's thoughts, however, were far from the outside view; her memories were tugging back and forth in her mind.
In her memory, her brother Louis was still a youth, always lowering his head, hesitating for ages before speaking.
At the family banquet, he sat in the farthest corner, yet still worked hard to maintain etiquette.
