The Grand Manor of Duke Armand was less a home and more a statement carved in stone.
Tall white pillars flanked its entrance, and an endless stretch of marble stairs led up to a pair of golden doors engraved with vines and winged beasts. The air smelled faintly of lilacs, and somewhere, a fountain trickled lazily, its waters catching the afternoon light.
As Klein stepped out of the carriage behind Lucien, he could almost feel the weight of prestige in the air. Servants lined both sides of the entrance, bowing low, their movements precise and practiced. At the top of the steps, the Duke himself waited—broad-shouldered, sharp-eyed, dressed in deep crimson robes that shimmered faintly with mana threads.
"Commander Lucien of the Azure Crest," the Duke said, his voice deep and formal as he descended a few steps. "A rare honor to host the kingdom's greatest knight beneath my roof."
Lucien bowed slightly. "The honor is mine, Duke Armand. Your reputation for generosity precedes you."
The Duke smiled, thin but genuine. "Flattery from you, Commander, is as rare as it is appreciated. Please, come in. My home is yours."
Klein, following behind, tried to mimic Lucien's dignified stride but ended up looking more like someone pretending to know what to do with their hands. The servants bowed even to him, their eyes full of respect—not for him, but for the man walking beside him. Still, Klein couldn't help but soak in the attention. It felt good. It felt right.
The maid assigned to them was a soft-spoken woman named Fira, who led them down a long, candle-lit corridor. The manor was quiet except for the faint hum of mana lights pulsing in crystal sconces. The walls were covered in oil paintings—portraits of noblemen, fierce beasts, and landscapes that seemed almost alive.
"Your rooms, my lords," Fira said, bowing low as she opened two doors facing each other. "Dinner will be served in the main hall at sundown. The Duke has requested your presence."
Lucien thanked her with his usual calm grace. Klein just grinned and nodded, pretending he was used to such royal treatment. The moment she was gone, he shut his door and threw himself face-first onto the massive feather bed.
"Paros," he mumbled into the pillow, "if this isn't what heaven feels like, then I don't know what is."
'You seem very comfortable pretending to be nobility,' Paros teased.
"I'm not pretending," Klein said, rolling onto his back and staring at the chandelier above him. "This is the kind of life I deserve. A soft bed, fine meals, servants who bow. It's just... a preview."
'A preview?'
"Yeah," Klein said softly, a faint smile tugging at his lips. "A preview of the throne I'll build."
'Ambitious as always. I suppose it suits you.'
The hours drifted by in gentle silence, the kind that made one forget the world outside existed. From his window, Klein could see the gardens stretching out like a sea of green, dotted with silver-leafed trees and golden blooms that pulsed faintly with light. It was a kingdom that glittered—perfect and untouchable.
But later that evening, curiosity tugged at him.
He hadn't seen Lucien since they arrived. The man had been quiet on the road, distant even, and that same weight still lingered behind his calm eyes. Klein decided to check on him. After all, he was his master now—his commander. It was only right.
Without much thought, Klein crossed the hallway and pushed open Lucien's door.
He didn't knock.
The soft creak of the hinges broke the stillness inside. Lucien sat at a small desk near the window, shoulders slightly hunched, one gloved hand clutching something small and silver. The locket from before.
The light from a single candle flickered across his face, and Klein froze in the doorway.
Lucien wasn't wearing his usual calm expression. His jaw was tight, his eyes red-rimmed, and his fingers trembled slightly as he opened the locket. Inside was a small sketch—a boy with the same sharp features as Lucien, smiling, carefree.
Lucien's lips parted, and he whispered something too quiet to hear. For a long moment, he just stared at the drawing. His breath shook once.
Then a tear slipped down his cheek.
Klein had never seen him like that before. The man who faced monsters and armies without blinking looked—fragile. Human.
He didn't know whether to leave or speak, but his hesitation cost him. Lucien turned suddenly, startled. His hand snapped the locket shut, and for a moment his face was all confusion before he composed himself. He quickly wiped his eyes with his sleeve.
"Klein," he said softly, voice rougher than usual. "How long have you been standing there?"
Klein swallowed. "I… just came in. Sorry, I didn't mean to—"
Lucien exhaled slowly, setting the locket down on the desk. "No, it's alright. You just startled me, that's all."
An uneasy silence filled the room. Klein wanted to ask—wanted to understand. Finally, he said, "Who was that? The boy in the locket?"
Lucien's gaze lingered on the silver trinket, and for a moment, he looked older than he ever had. "My brother," he said quietly. "My younger brother."
Klein said nothing. He could feel the weight in those words.
Lucien continued, voice softer now. "His name was Lior. He was… foolishly brave. Always wanted to follow in my footsteps. Said he'd be a knight, even better than me someday."
A small, hollow laugh escaped him, and he shook his head. "I used to train him in the fields behind our house. He'd swing a wooden sword until his hands bled, and even then, he'd still keep swinging. He had that same spark you do."
Klein felt something twist in his chest. He'd seen Lucien command soldiers, kill monsters, and lecture him with calm authority—but never like this. Never this human.
"What happened to him?" Klein asked quietly.
Lucien's eyes darkened. "A curse," he said after a long pause. "A demon's curse."
He leaned back, gaze unfocused, as if the memory replayed behind his eyes. "We were sent on a mission—just a border patrol, routine. We didn't know there were demons in the area until it was too late. They were… different. Intelligent. One of them got to Lior. A mark burned into his skin—black as ash, pulsing with cursed energy."
Lucien's hands clenched into fists. "We brought him back. Every healer in Avalor tried. Every priest, every sage. Nothing worked. The curse ate at him slowly. His mana turned against him, burning him from within. He smiled to the end, though. Said he wasn't afraid."
He paused, his voice low and trembling. "He was sixteen."
The silence that followed was suffocating. Klein looked down, unsure what to say. Anything he could have said felt wrong.
Lucien let out a long breath, leaning forward, elbows resting on his knees. "You remind me of him," he said finally. "The way you talk. The way you look at the world like it's still something worth believing in."
Klein didn't move for a long time. He could feel the weight of those words sitting in his chest like a stone.
Finally, he said softly, "I'm sorry, Lucien."
Lucien smiled faintly, though there was no joy in it. "Don't be. He wouldn't have wanted pity. He'd have wanted me to keep living. To teach. To protect."
He turned toward Klein then, eyes steady again. "Which is why I'm glad you're here. Maybe… this time, I can do things right."
Klein met his gaze and nodded. For the first time, he didn't see Lucien as an untouchable hero or mentor—but as a man, burdened and trying his best to stay upright.
"Lucien," he said after a moment, "I've decided something."
Lucien tilted his head. "Oh?"
"I'm going to become a knight," Klein said, his tone firm. "After my mana awakening, I'll serve under you. At Azure Crest."
Lucien blinked in surprise. "That's… quite a declaration. Why?"
Klein grinned faintly. "Because every great king starts by swinging a sword."
Lucien blinked, and then—slowly—he laughed. A real laugh this time, quiet but warm. "You really are impossible, you know that?"
"Yeah," Klein said, smirking. "I get that a lot."
Lucien shook his head but didn't argue. Instead, he reached for the locket again, holding it close for a brief moment before slipping it into his pocket.
"Then I'll hold you to that promise," he said. "Train hard, learn fast. When the time comes, I expect you to stand tall."
Klein nodded once. "I will."
As he turned to leave, Paros's voice murmured softly in his mind.
'You didn't have to say that, you know.'
'I wanted to,' Klein thought. 'He needed to hear it.'
'And you? Do you mean it?'
Klein smiled faintly as he stepped into the dimly lit hallway. 'Of course. Every king starts somewhere, right?'
'Then let's make sure you don't die before your coronation.'
Klein chuckled under his breath, the sound echoing softly through the corridor, as everything just felt lighter.