Thanks to Ayumu's efforts in resolving the beaver dam issue, the lake had receded to a manageable level. The river now flowed freely once more, carving a fresh path through the forest and breathing new life into the surrounding lands. Villages downstream had already begun planning farms along the riverbanks, their hopes restored alongside the water.
The beavers had been relocated to a new site—one carefully chosen by Levain, who had used his magical pot to carry a substantial amount of water to their new home. Drobar had arranged for freshly chopped wood to be delivered, ensuring the beaver family would have everything they needed to build their new lodge and sustain their growing numbers, as Ayumu had promised them.
Since then, there had been no more floods despite the rain.
Thanks to Rhea's medicines, the tireless care of nurses, and the dedication of brown magis healers, the sickness that had plagued the villages is no more and the death toll had dropped significantly.
Sitting in his office, Emperor Visil read through the latest reports on this matter and sighed.
It was remarkable, really. Every time his sister caused trouble, she somehow ended up solving problems that would have taken the empire years to fix. This latest crisis—the floods and the sickness—had both been resolved in a single night.
All of that, while she was supposed to be under house arrest.
He set down the report and rubbed his temples.
In the same office, Ayumu moved quietly among the shelves and desks, rearranging documents and stacking completed tasks. Her face was calm—serene, even—her movements graceful and unhurried.
But on the inside?
She was about to burst.
Today marked the end of her two-week probation. Tonight, she planned to take her new horse—the one her brother had gifted her after the expedition—for a ride through the woods. She could already feel the wind in her hair, the thunder of hooves beneath her, the freedom of open space.
Her excitement was palpable, even if she kept it hidden behind her gentle mask.
Then her brother spoke.
"Ayumu. I want to take you somewhere tonight. Dress comfortably. I will meet you at the carriage in an hour."
Ayumu blinked, slightly surprised. But she simply nodded and adhered to his directive.
An hour later, she had changed into light, beige silk robes—simple but elegant, with only minor accessories arranged by the maids. She climbed into the carriage beside her brother, and they set off toward an unknown destination.
The carriage rumbled through the streets of Rodh, past the palace gates, into districts Ayumu rarely visited. She sat quietly, her hands folded in her lap, her golden eyes occasionally flicking to the window.
Visil studied her deflated figure.
"I see you are unhappy to spend time with your brother," he said, his voice dry.
Ayumu straightened, startled. "N-no, it is not like that, Brother!" She paused, then asked softly, "Where are we going?"
Visil's expression softened. "Do you remember in the past, when Father used to stay in the capital? All these years, do you know where he has been staying?"
Ayumu shook her head. "No. But Mother used to say that Father had his own house."
Visil giggled—a rare, boyish sound. "It is a mansion. Not just a house." He gestured toward the window. "We are here."
The carriage rolled through a grand silver gate, its intricate bars gleaming in the fading sunlight. Beyond it lay a garden—a sprawling, well-tended paradise of flowers, roses, lemon trees, small ponds, and fountains that sparkled like scattered diamonds.
Ayumu pressed her face against the window, her breath fogging the glass.
It was beautiful.
She had no idea this place existed.
The carriage rolled to a stop before the mansion itself.
The house was white—brilliant white, like a pearl gleaming under the afternoon sun. Its roof is a deep blue colour. The architecture was graceful, with arched windows and delicate balconies, surrounded by the lush garden they had just passed through. It was extravagant, yes—but not gaudy. Not overwhelming. It felt like a home, not a monument.
Ayumu stared in awe as the attendants opened the carriage door. Visil stepped out first, then extended his hand to help her down.
He ushered her inside.
The interior was even more beautiful.
Soft cream walls. White and barley coloured furniture with delicate flower motifs. Fresh flowers in every room—roses, lilies, lavender—their fragrance drifting through the air like a gentle embrace. The theme was consistent: light, airy, feminine. A house designed for a lady. Pristine and carefully decorated.
Ayumu walked through the rooms slowly, her fingers brushing against the fabric of a couch, the petals of a vase, the smooth wood of a table. Her golden eyes took in every detail.
It was more to her liking than the palace.
The palace, with all its gold and crimson and heavy grandeur, had always felt slightly blinding to her non-vain eyes. But this place—this was different.
Visil watched his sister explore, his heart swelling with a quiet, warm fullness. She seemed to like it.
"This is where Father used to stay, Ayumu," he said softly.
Ayumu turned to look at him, her eyes wide. She was looking aroud the room she was in and said "Father certainly had very feminine taste."
Visil sputtered—then burst into laughter. "No, no! This place was recently decorated. Just for you." He looked around at the cream walls and flower motifs. "The condition of this house was not… good, to say the least. I only had money to restore the cottage but not this mansion. Only after we were blessed with the gold you found, I was able to refurbish this place properly." He looked back at her. "For you."
Ayumu blinked. "For me?"
Visil smiled—a rare, genuine smile that softened his imperial features. "This is your home now, in the capital. Though I do wish for you to stay at the palace, I thought you might like a place of your own."
Ayumu's heart felt complicated.
She didn't need a mansion like this. She didn't need luxury. She didn't need a grand house to live in alone. The thought of living here, surrounded by empty rooms and quiet spaces, made her chest ache in a way she couldn't name.
Visil saw the worried expression flicker across her face. He waved his hand, signaling for someone to enter.
"I want to introduce you to the attendants."
Three people entered.
An old man, stooped but dignified, his brown skin weathered by age. An old woman, with kind eyes and silver-streaked hair. And a young lady—perhaps in her twenties—with a gentle face and warm brown eyes.
They were all brown magis.
And they looked familiar.
The old man bowed slightly. "Lady Ayumu, a pleasure. I was your father's attendant before. My name is Lomi." He gestured to the woman beside him. "This is my wife… whom you may know."
The old woman stepped forward, her eyes soft and glistening.
She bore a slight resemblance to Ayumu's mother, Miriam.
"Lady Ayumu, my child." Her voice trembled with emotion. "I am your mother's great aunt. How you have grown, little one."
Ayumu stared at her.
The words hung in the air. The resemblance. The tone. The way the old woman said little one—exactly the way her mother used to.
A flood of emotions surged through her—so many, so fast, she could not process them all. Her throat tightened. Her eyes burned. But she held the tears back, forcing herself to remain composed.
She curtsied—graceful, practiced, noble.
"I am Ayumu Velmiar," she said, her voice steady despite the storm within. "I will be in your care."
The old woman's eyes filled with tears. Lomi placed a hand on his wife's shoulder, his own eyes glistening.
What a noble, gentle white magis. The kind they saw her father in. Stoic but gentle. Disciplined but kindhearted.
Visil watched from the doorway, a quiet smile on his face.
They attendants then excused themselves with a bow, leaving Ayumu and Visil alone. They both then walked to the garden.
Ayumu sat on a stone bench beneath a blooming wisteria, her hands folded in her lap, her gaze fixed somewhere distant. Her face was blank, as if her mind had drifted far away.
Visil watched her closely. The silence stretched between them, and a knot of worry tightened in his chest.
"You do not have to stay here if you do not want to, Ayumu," he said gently.
Ayumu blinked, snapping her attention back to him.
Visil continued, his voice soft. "You can stay with me at the palace. I would get lonely if you were not there, you know." He offered a small smile. "And this place is not far. You can come here anytime you wish."
Ayumu stared at him silently.
The garden around them was peaceful—birds chirping, a fountain trickling softly, the scent of roses heavy in the warm air. But Ayumu seemed untouched by any of it.
After a long moment, she spoke.
"I would like to go back to the palace, Brother."
Her voice was quiet. Steady. But there was something in it that made Visil's heart ache.
He simply nodded.
"Then we will go back."
He rose and offered her his hand. She took it, and together they walked back through the mansion, past the cream walls and flower motifs, past the attendants who bowed as they passed.
The carriage ride back to the palace was quiet.
But Visil did not push.
He simply sat beside his sister, letting her have her silence, letting her process whatever storm was brewing beneath her calm exterior.
When they arrived at the palace, Ayumu thanked him softly and retreated to her chambers.
Visil watched her go.
And he wondered, not for the first time, what was truly going on in that gentle heart of hers.