The meeting resumed the following morning in the Minor Hall. With steel tested and tempers cooled, both houses were formally seated once more–this time beneath banners instead of eager blades.
"My name is Luther Von Fenwick," the boy announced, straightening his embroidered coat.
"Heir of the Fenwick Household."
His eyes flicked nervously towards Liliana.
"Perhaps…," he hesitated, swallowing, " …the one I'm betrothed to is seated before me?"
"Careful, little Fenwick," Liliana replied coldly, arching a brow. "Remember this, some things are not for the likes of you."
Luther stiffened, shrinking back into his chair. "I–I… I only meant to ask– "
"Miss Liliana," Alistair sighed mildly, "a touch of restraint."
"How could I… ," she continued, "...when he looks exactly like the geezer?"
The baron grinned awkwardly, clearly accustomed to her barbs.
"So," he said lightly, "I suppose it will not be Miss Liliana that takes my son's hand in marriage?"
"No," Melrick replied evenly, eyes never leaving Fenwick. "It will not be Liliana. My other daughter, Celestia shall be wedded to your heir."
A murmur passed through the hall as diplomats inclined their heads and scribes set quills to parchment, ink catching every word, recording the declaration without commentary.
"So this is the daughter intended for my son," Fenwick studied Celestia closely, brushing his facial hair in thought.
Luther straightened at his father's attention, confidence returning like a switch had been flipped. His earlier fear of Liliana vanished the moment his gaze settled on Celestia. He stepped closer than was proper.
"She's quiet," Luther said, circling her half a step, eyes lingering on her hair and her posture. "That's good. I don't like noisy things."
Celestia did not move. Did not bow nor retreat. She simply watched him.
"She is trained," Melrick said calmly. "In etiquette, letters, and household management. Her presence will not embarrass your house."
"As expected," Luther replied, still staring at her as though inspecting a possession.
A servant of Fenwick stepped forward at his gesture, presenting an opened case neatly stacked with seals and documents.
"Upon marriage," Fenwick declared, "House Fenwick offers two thousand gold coins, priority through Fenwick–controlled trade routes, and the permanent stationing of a Fenwick knight detachment along Melrick's eastern border. Diplomatic envoys will be assigned to ensure continued cooperation."
The room went still, calculations moving behind noble eyes.
"In return," Melrick answered, "House Melrick will recognize Luther Fenwick as a future ally to our domain. Celestia shall retain lineage and standing, and her offspring will hold succession rights recognized by both houses. Furthermore, trade priorities and a standing pledge of military aid should Fenwick territory come under siege."
Celestia realized she had been standing the entire time and not once did anyone ask if she could speak. She stood still as terms were spoken over her head, blurring together until they sounded less like marriage. Her eyes became dull as she sunk back into her cold expressionless demeanor.
"This marriage shall take place the year my daughter turns sixteen," Melrick added.
At that, a senior court scribe stepped forward–robes plain but immaculate, a silver seal hanging from his collar. He unrolled a long parchment marked with both houses' crests.
"By the authority granted to this court," he began, voice steady and formal, "the following terms are entered into the provisional record between House Melrick and House Fenwick."
Quills lifted in unison around the chamber.
"First," he continued, "a formal betrothal is to be recognized between Lady Celestia Lancaster of House Melrick, aged ten, and Lord Luther Fenwick, aged fourteen, heir to House Fenwick."
Luther's chin lifted proudly.
"Second," the scribe read, "upon Lady Celestia's sixteenth year, and the following two ceremonial seasons, the final vows shall be exchanged and the union enacted with all stated dowries, lands, and obligations."
A Fenwick diplomat nodded. Melrick advisors murmured their approval.
"Third: the agreement shall be reviewed and formally ratified on the date of the Silver Accord Gathering, at which time witnesses from both territories shall confirm the union before the noble registry."
The scribe looked between the barons.
"Do both parties acknowledge the provisional terms and the intended marriage to be confirmed at a later date?"
Baron Melrick spoke first. "House Melrick acknowledges."
Baron Fenwick followed with an approving nod. "House Fenwick accepts."
The scribe pressed his seal gently into the warm wax at the base of the parchment.
"Then let it be entered into record," he declared. "The betrothal stands, pending final confirmation."
The scratching of quills resumed–history being written line by line. And beside the table, Celestia stood silent… while Luther smiled as though something had just been purchased.
Melrick rose from his seat. "With that concluded, will you remain for lunch?"
"Of course," Fenwick replied pleasantly. "Though we must depart shortly after."
"Very well," Melrick continued, "Let us adjourn. The children may use this time to become acquainted with their… future responsibilities."
…
Keita wandered through the alleyways, searching for some form of entertainment. Barking echoed from deeper within the narrow passage, sharp and aggressive. He slowed his steps and moved quietly towards the sound.
"A cat," he whispered.
A small cat was backed into a corner, three dogs snapping and lunging at it.
"I've got to think of something fast," he thought, scanning the alley for anything he could use.
"Ah… that's it."
He grabbed the metal lid of a nearby dumpster and snatched up a rusted rod.
BANG.
BANG.
The harsh clang split through the alley. The dogs' heads jerked back as instinct took over. Keita slammed the metal again and again, each strike echoing like cannon fire against the walls. Startled, the dogs retreated and finally bolted away.
The alley fell quiet.
The cat lay still, breathing weakly
"Ooh… A black cat," he murmured, kneeling beside it.
"Wait… I've never seen a cat with three eyes before."
He examined its leg. "It's leg looks bruised… What should I do."
"The best thing I could do is move it somewhere safer," he decided, reaching out.
"Ouch!" He yanked his hand back as the cat lashed out.
"Easy… easy," he said softly, trying again. This time he moved slower, gently brushing its fur until it relaxed.
"Yes that's it," he smiled.
Keita carefully picked up the cat and turned to leave the alley.
Then he noticed silver hair fluttering in the wind.
A distressed Celestia ran past the alley's mouth, fleeing from the direction of the castle. Keita hesitated for only a moment before following. Not far ahead, she stopped abruptly, bent over and struggling to catch her breath.
Keita approached from behind.
"Hey… are you okay?" he asked carefully.
Celestia flinched at the sounds of his voice and turned quickly, her silver hair clinging to her face and the tears drowning out the color of her eyes.
She froze when she noticed him holding something.
"... You," she quietly said. "A cat?"
"Stray," Keita replied. "Found it getting bullied by three dogs."
Celestia stepped closer, curiosity breaking through her tension as the color in her eyes returned. The small black creature blinked slowly, revealing the third eye resting between the others.
She paused.
"A black cat," she murmured. "Those are said to bring bad luck."
Her eyes narrowed slightly as she studied it.
"... And this one has three eyes. That's unusual… an omen, maybe."
The cat let out a tiny, tired meow.
Celestia's cold expression softened almost instantly.
"But it's cute," she admitted.
Keita gave a small grin. "Right? That's what I said."
She reached out slowly. The cat watched her but didn't lash out.
"May I?" she asked.
Keita carefully shifted the cat into her arms. She held it gently, almost instinctively protective. For a moment, neither of them spoke.
Then Keita tilted his head. "You were running from the castle."
Celestia's expression darkened again.
"My supposed fiancé," she said carefully. "I was in the garden taking care of the flowers and watching them bloom."
"Then he showed up. Forcefully taking my hands and stomping on the flowers I took so long caring for."
Her grip on the cat tightened slightly.
"He kept saying that his presence takes precedence over my actions."
She turned her head away from Keita.
"So I slapped him and ran off."
Silence settled between them before she spoke again–more hesitant this time.
"Hey… could I ask for a favor?" she said quietly.
Keita blinked. "A favor… sure."
"Could you help me find my mother?"
He paused. "Your mother?"
"I overheard," she continued, "the maids saying that she was locked away in the lower quarters… in one of the brothels." Her voice carried bitterness rather than sadness.
She adjusted the cat gently. It shifted in her arms and rubbed against her sleeve. Celestia looked down at it, her expression softening again.
"... If we find her," she said slowly, "maybe she could take care of this little one too."
Keita crossed his arms, pretending to think deeply.
"Hm. So now I'm on a rescue mission for two people and a three-eyed cat?"
Celestia almost smiled.
"... Will you help me?" she asked.
Keita looked at her for a moment–the tired eyes, the forced composure, the way she held the fragile creature like it was the only gentle thing she had touched all day.
"...Yeah," he responded. "I'll help."
She gave a small nod.
"Father planned to have lunch with Mr. Fenwick, so we should have enough time to find her."
"But we need a plan." she said quietly.
Keita turned, leading her away from the back alleys as the sun continued its path. Beside him, Celestia carried the strange black cat carefully as though it were the first decision she had been granted to make for herself that day.
The two, and their strange companion, set out on a quiet journey in search of the forgotten woman hidden behind locked doors and guarded secrets.