The Kane family of three spent the night at Viscount Edward's estate, a grand manor built with imposing gray stone and adorned with intricate carvings that spoke of both wealth and history. The high vaulted ceilings inside were lined with chandeliers that cast a warm, golden glow, while the soft murmur of servants and the faint scent of polished wood filled the air. Compared to the modest Kane family home, the Viscount's estate exuded an aura of power and refinement, leaving an impression of both awe and subtle unease.
Arthas stood by the window, his gaze fixed on the dark silhouette of a lone oak tree swaying gently in the cool night breeze. The moonlight filtered through its branches, casting intricate patterns of shadow and light on the dewy grass below. A faint rustle of leaves and the distant chirp of crickets added to the tranquil yet somber atmosphere, mirroring the weight of his thoughts. His furrowed brow betrayed the storm brewing behind his silence.
Eleanor, having just laid their tired son Aldrich to bed, approached her husband quietly. The room was dimly lit, with a single candle flickering on a nearby table. Shadows danced on the stone walls, where a tapestry depicting a serene pastoral scene hung slightly askew. The air was tinged with the faint scent of lavender from a bundle tucked near the headboard, and the remnants of the day—a discarded toy and a half-folded blanket—lay scattered on the floor, adding a touch of lived-in warmth to the space. Wrapping her arms around him from behind, she rested her cheek against his back.
"That's some serious thinking, Arthas," she teased gently. "Careful, or that tree might melt from embarrassment."
Arthas exhaled deeply, placing his hands over hers. "I was just thinking about our family." The truth lingered on his tongue, but he couldn't bring himself to burden her with the dire news Viscount Edward had shared earlier.
Eleanor tightened her embrace. "You know, ever since we got married, we promised to keep no secrets from each other." Her voice softened as she kissed his shoulder, the warmth of her lips a fragile tether pulling him back from the edge.
Caught in the storm of his own emotions, Arthas let out another sigh. At last, he spoke, though it pained him. "In a month's time, I'll be returning to the battlefield."
Eleanor stiffened, her trembling betraying the calm she tried to maintain. "When will you be back?" she asked, her voice faltering despite her effort to sound composed.
Arthas felt a pang of guilt at her reaction. He had wanted to spare her this grief, but now it was too late. He steeled himself and replied, "As soon as the war ends. I've been tasked with leading the troops against the beast tide." He omitted the more dangerous truth about the orc threat. Sorry, my love, he thought silently. I lied.
Eleanor took a moment to steady herself, her trembling subsiding. "I trust you'll be back before Aldrich's second birthday, okay?" she said, her voice tinged with fragile hope.
"Of course, my love. I promise." Turning to face her, Arthas embraced her tightly.
"Please come home safe," Eleanor whispered, her words carrying both a plea and a prayer.
The night passed quietly, and morning arrived with the crowing of a rooster. The first rays of sunlight filtered through the window, waking Arthas.
Aldrich, who was already stirring, stretched and instinctively checked his status panel. No changes. He glanced at his parents and tried to slip off the bed quietly. However, his small movements didn't escape his ever-alert father.
"Good morning, boy," Arthas said with a yawn.
"Good morning, Papa!" Aldrich replied cheerfully, quickly climbing down from the bed.
Arthas chuckled at his son's eagerness, then turned his attention to Eleanor, still fast asleep. His heart weighed heavily with guilt from the previous night's deception. Leaning over, he kissed her forehead before gently shaking her awake.
"Wake up, my love. We need to leave early if we want to make it home before lunch."
Eleanor groaned, turning away from him. Arthas chuckled softly and pulled the blanket over both of them, letting a moment of silence stretch between them before murmuring, "You always did say I had a way of waking you up."
Moments later, Eleanor shot up with a grimace, swatting at his chest. "You're such a meanie!" she exclaimed, her irritation quickly giving way to laughter.
Their playful antics reminded them of their younger days, and Aldrich, peeking through the doorway, watched the scene unfold with a small smile.
An hour later, the family was packed and ready to leave. Outside the manor, Viscount Edward and his steward awaited them.
Edward saluted Arthas solemnly. The early morning light cast long shadows across the cobblestone courtyard, where the crisp air carried a quiet stillness. The faint clinking of armor and the low murmur of servants in the distance underscored the weight of the moment. "A month's time," he said quietly, his voice heavy with unspoken concern.
Arthas returned the salute before turning to Eleanor. "Let's go."
The family's journey home was uneventful, though the landscape offered a serene backdrop. Rolling green fields stretched out on either side of the dirt road, dotted with grazing sheep and the occasional cluster of wildflowers swaying in the gentle breeze. As they neared their estate, the sight of their modest yet sturdy stone manor came into view, framed by a grove of oak trees that whispered softly in the wind. The soldiers training nearby added a sense of vigilance and activity, a stark contrast to the otherwise peaceful surroundings.
The sight of soldiers training near the small manor brought a sigh from Arthas. It reminded him of his own days as a young recruit—the grueling drills, the relentless pursuit of strength. Now, as a commander, the burden of responsibility weighed heavily on his shoulders. Each of these men was a life he was sworn to protect, yet he knew not all would return. He shook his head and guided his family inside.
At the entrance, their youngest daughter, fifteen-year-old Marion, greeted them eagerly. She bore a striking resemblance to her mother, though her youthful features were still blossoming.
"I'm the only one here. First and second brothers are back at the War Academy," she explained, an apologetic smile on her face.
"That's okay, my daughter," Eleanor said warmly, kissing her forehead. "Did anything happen while we were away?"
Marion frowned, wiping away the kiss with a napkin. "Mother, please! I'm not a child anymore," she huffed. "And no, nothing unusual happened."
Arthas laughed, leaning in to kiss her forehead as well, earning a glare from his daughter.
Marion turned her attention to Aldrich, her face lighting up mischievously. "Aldrich! I missed you so much! Come to big sister!" She lunged toward him dramatically, wiggling her fingers as if she were about to tickle him into submission.
Aldrich inwardly rolled his eyes at her, but externally, he squealed, dodging at first before launching himself into her arms. "Big sis! You'll never catch me!" he declared before wriggling free and darting across the room.
Marion gave chase, laughing as she scooped Aldrich up and spun him around. "Gotcha! You can't escape the tickle monster!" Aldrich shrieked with laughter, kicking his legs as he tried to escape. Their parents exchanged amused glances before finally ushering the giggling siblings inside the manor.
After hours of playing with his energetic sister, Aldrich lay sprawled on the floor of his room, exhausted. She's so lively, he thought, wiping sweat from his brow. He glanced toward the door, wondering when his maid would come to help him clean up.
Moments later, the door creaked open, and Bea, his personal maid, stepped in. "It's time for your bath, little Aldrich," she said with a smile.
Aldrich grinned. Finally.
As cold water poured over him, he began thinking about his future plans. Gaining a class and innate talent isn't enough to become a master blacksmith. I need to study metallurgy, learn about different metals, and apprentice under an experienced smith. The sheer amount of work ahead made his head ache.
We do have a library. Hopefully, it has books on forging—though our family has always been warriors, not blacksmiths, understanding the craft of weapon-making could still be invaluable. Then the realization hit him: he couldn't read yet.
Well, he thought with a sigh, I can't rush things. Might as well enjoy growing up again. With that, he let the cool water wash away his worries—for now.
After the bath.
"You're all squeaky clean now, Young Aldrich." Bea smiled at the clean young baby.
Aldrich smiled at Bea with his incomplete teeth. "Thanks, Aunt Bea! I will now go play with big sis Marion," he said, hurriedly running towards his big sister's room.
"Alright, young sir. But please don't make a mess now." Bea wiped some imaginary sweat from her forehead as she smiled at the running Aldrich.
As Bea finished folding the last of Aldrich's small clothes, she gathered the toys strewn across the rug and placed them neatly in the carved wooden chest near the corner of the room. The scent of lavender soap still lingered faintly from the boy's recent bath, and she smiled to herself at the memory of his giggles when she'd rinsed his hair.
She was halfway to the door when it creaked open, and she nearly dropped the bundle of linens in her arms.
"Oh! Sir Edmond," she said quickly, stepping aside. "Forgive me, I didn't see you there."
Edmond leaned against the frame with an easy, practiced smile. "No need for apologies, Bea. I was just passing by." His eyes flicked downward, and lingered—too long.
Bea's smile faltered. Something in his gaze made her stomach twist. She hugged the linens a little closer to her chest and took a cautious step back.
"Is there something you need, sir?" she asked, voice polite but firmer than before.
Edmond's smile widened, and he stepped into the room without invitation. "I was just wondering how the little lord enjoyed his trip to Viscount Edward's manor. I imagine it must have been quite the adventure."
"Oh—um—he didn't say much, really," Bea replied, voice quick, trying to steer the conversation back to neutral ground. "He only talked about the carriage ride and how bumpy it was. Said he saw a hawk fly overhead."
"Hawk, huh?" Edmond chuckled. "Sharp eyes, that one."
His gaze dropped again, and he took another step forward. The air between them shifted—became heavier. Claustrophobic.
"You know," he said slowly, "I've always admired the work you do. So quiet, so neat. Very... dedicated."
Bea stiffened. "Thank you, sir. I try to serve the family well."
Then he reached out and, without warning, rubbed his hand over the curve of her hip.
"It's even more impressive up close," he murmured.
Bea went pale. Her breath hitched. The linens slipped from her fingers, falling soundlessly to the floor.
"Please, don't do that," she whispered, every nerve in her body tightening.
Edmond chuckled softly, like it was all some harmless joke. "Come now. Don't be so stiff. You're a smart girl—you know how things work in noble households. A little attention now and then never hurt anyone."
Bea took another step back, her spine hitting the wall. Her voice trembled, but she held his gaze. "Sir Edmond, I'm here to care for the young master. That's all. Please let me pass."
His eyes narrowed slightly—not in anger, but in amusement. "What's the harm in being friendly?" he said, reaching toward her again. "It's not like I'm asking for much."
"I said stop," she snapped—more loudly than she meant to, surprising even herself.
There was a pause. Edmond's hand froze mid-reach.
Then—"Tch." He clicked his tongue and took a step closer again. "And what if I don't? What will you do, Bea? You're new. No family. No titles. Just a maid." His voice turned low, almost sing-song. "You think anyone would believe your word over mine?"
Bea's throat tightened, and her nails bit into her palms. For a moment, she said nothing. Her lips trembled, and her eyes darted to the door, silently willing someone—anyone—to appear.
Then—
"Leave Aunt Bea alone!"
A clear, defiant voice rang out from the hallway.
Both of them turned in shock as little Aldrich stood there, fists clenched, cheeks flushed, his expression stormy with righteous fury.
He took a few quick steps in and—with a determined little cry—jumped and kicked Edmond's ankle. It didn't do much more than jolt the man, but the action itself was enough to make Edmond recoil.
Edmond stared down at the child, expression stunned.
"Aldrich!" Bea gasped, hand flying to her mouth.
Edmond bent down slowly, a forced chuckle escaping his lips. "Now, now... young lord," he said, crouching to meet the boy's eyes. "We were just playing, weren't we, maid?"
He glanced back at Bea, his tone soft but laced with warning.
Bea hesitated, frozen in fear.
"Aren't we?"
The threat was clear. Her lips trembled as she forced herself to nod. "Y-yes. Of course, just... playing."
Aldrich narrowed his eyes and took Bea's hand. "You're lying," he muttered, voice flat with growing understanding. "I saw you. You were scared."
Edmond straightened, brushing imaginary dust off his trousers. "You're imagining things, boy," he said dismissively. "Let the grown-ups handle grown-up matters."
He turned toward the door, then hesitated—his voice dropping to a murmur just loud enough for Bea to hear. "Be smart next time."
And then he was gone.
The door clicked shut behind him.
Bea sank to her knees, shoulders shaking. Aldrich immediately wrapped his arms around her, his little fingers clinging tightly to her sleeve.
"Are you okay, Aunt Bea?" he whispered. "That man's a bad man."
Bea nodded stiffly, brushing back tears before they could fall. "I'm alright, little one. Thank you. Thank you for stepping in."
"I'll tell Papa. He'll stop him," Aldrich said firmly, his face set with the kind of seriousness only children could carry.
"No!" Bea clutched his hands, voice urgent. "Please don't tell your father. If you do... it might not go well for me. He's trusted. Powerful. If I speak out now—" she shook her head, "—they'll just say I misunderstood. Or worse."
Aldrich frowned. His mind, far older than it appeared, worked through the implications. He was still learning the laws and customs of this world, but one thing was becoming very clear: status protected cruelty.
"Are you sure, Aunt Bea?" he asked, voice quiet. "I can help you. Really. I will."
Bea looked at him with a trembling smile and tucked a stray curl of hair behind his ear.
"You've already helped more than you know," she said softly. "You reminded me I'm not alone."
She stood slowly and lifted him into her arms. "Come on now. Let's get you to bed, alright?"
Aldrich didn't resist, but his brows remained furrowed.
"I thought you were going to play with your sister?" Bea asked as she tucked him beneath the covers.
"She's busy with some nobility classes," Aldrich mumbled. "I tried reading one of her books. It looked like chicken scratches."
Bea chuckled despite herself, brushing his hair back. "Well, maybe tomorrow she'll have more time."
Aldrich didn't answer. He stared up at the ceiling, thoughtful and quiet.
Bea leaned down and kissed his forehead. "Good night, young master."
As she turned to leave, Aldrich whispered under his breath: "I'll protect you. Even if I'm small."
She paused at the door, a lump rising in her throat. She didn't answer—just smiled sadly, then quietly closed the door behind her.