Half a week has passed since our audience with the king and the nightly trip Nia and I made to the common district.

I was now in the Douglas main castle, with Jeff and Rebecca standing beside me on a veranda overlooking the castle's front yard, a yard on which an army of thousands of knights carrying the sigil and color of the Douglas family, led by Joffery, stood at attention, heads proudly raised, gazing upon us, and were harmoniously stomping the ground, making the earth tremble to their stomps.

Joffery, who had been away for weeks since Uncle Paul's arrival, was finally home, along with the Douglas family's knights, the army of aina-users who had made the Douglas family what it is today.

It was then, in the midst of this, that we were approached by Uncle Paul who, just like his son, was dressed in knightly outfits upon which was engraved the Douglas sigil.

It was only at the sight of Uncle and at the motion of Joffery that the army stopped their stomps, as though awaiting a word from Uncle.

"My brothers, my sisters, my very loyal hounds, I have heard a man claim that we live between the dawn and the dusk of a very curious and turbulent time. "Over the course of these few years, some of you lost everything, some more than others, some did not, but that doesn't matter; for as different as you are from one another, each of you still had one thing that has not yet been robbed off you when you abandoned your cloak as a legionary to join this knighthood, and that thing is your very life and the choices that spawn from it."

"You chose to dedicate your life—the most precious thing you may ever hold—to that which we represent: hounds. Men with no magic whatsoever, just the flesh etched atop our bones, blood, and guts. We are not special, not god-beloved, yet if there is something that no one can deny us after having made the choice of joining us and being still standing before me on this day after all you went through, it is your courage, determination, and loyalty"

"You're no longer legionary, your name may be forgotten by the living, and your death meaningless, but remember this: when the time comes, you will fight under my banner for what you still have: your life and the life of the one beside you, to protect yourself, your brothers and comrades, and those you cherish, for their fates are in your hands."

"So tell me, brothers, when the time comes, when will you rest?"

"WHEN THE LAST DROP OF OUR BLOOD SHED!"

"When will you stop marching on?"

"WHEN THE LAST BONE OF OUR BODY SHATTERED!"

"When will you cower in fear in the face of the ones standing in our way?"

"NEVERRRRR!!!"

"Good, you’ll need that unshakable determination in the face of death, but as of now, gentlemen, welcome home."

***

After Uncle's speech to his troop, a few hours passed. Rebecca, Jeff, and I were in the living room, welcoming back to the castle Jefferey, who has been on mission to the Duchy of Felicité for the past two weeks.

"So, father, how was Felicity?" Asked Rebecca.

"As caillous as ever. That place’s weather is no doubt not made for people like I," Jofferey revealed beneath his gloves, revealing frostbite cicatrixes.

"With the sudden and disparate weather between the two duchies, I, for a moment, seriously thought I’d die of frostbite, but at least the houses there were thermoresistant, so this won’t happen to you unless you travel during a snowstorm," Jofferey added to reassure the horrified Rebecca.

It was at that moment that his gaze went to me, his iconic smile on his face. "Hi, Ronandt. How are you doing?"

"I’m doing good, Uncle."

"I can see that. So how are things you take care of with Father going?"

I could not tell if he knew everything when he asked that question, but as if having guessed from my expression, he went on, "I see,... I’m sure Father will find a way for it to work out just fine, eventually. We’ve seen and gone through worse; all you need is a bit of patience."

"Understood."

"Though I was prohibited from interfering in what the two of you are up to, if you need my help for anything, you know where to find me now that I’m finally back."

"Thanks, I’ll remember this."

It was there, amidst our reunion, that I was approached by Bernard, the butler who had been initially tasked with attending me, who informed me of the arrival in Douglas's castle of a guest who sought to see me.

***

I entered the waiting room, where I found the famous guest staring at a large statue in the middle of the room before she noticed my entrance.

"Sir Ronandt."

"Good evening, Princess. I apologize for the delayed greeting. I wasn't expecting you to make an appearance. Had I known, I would've arranged a warmer and more proper welcome than this one. "

"There is no need for apologies, Sir Ronandt. If someone ought to apologize here for this impromptu and unannounced visit, it would be me."

It was still early afternoon, and her presence here implied that she had left, assuming she had arrived from there, the Royal Palace, very early in the morning.

"No, no, this is nothing." Not knowing what else to add, I went directly to ask, "So Princess, what does the Douglas’ castle owe this visit?" only then realized that I didn’t even offer her proper commodities: "I apologize, I forgot to propose, may I offer you a chair to take you to a proper room for us to talk."

"No, actually, this room and this place are hospitable enough for that which I wish to discuss with Sir Ronandt?"

"With me?"

Looking at me straight in the eyes with a distinct anxiety, she confirmed, "Yes, with you."

What is this again? A Message from the Royal Family? Yet another invitation to yet another party? Or is it a word from the crown announcing their change of mind in regard to their decision a week ago?

Aside from the latter, it could be either of the former. Curious about what it might be, I asked, "Please, do tell me, Princess, what might it be?"

For some mysterious reason, the princess seemed distressed about bringing up the subject, as she seemingly mustered the courage to bring it up while avoiding looking in my direction.

"Is there a problem, Princess?"

"No, there isn’t… It's just that... Does Sir Ronandt still remember our talk before your first audience with the crown?"

"The one about the painting?"

"Yes, that one. Do you remember that I promised to provide you with an answer as to why these paintings were put out in that hall instead of any other place? "

"I do remember that. What of it?"

"I'm sure Sir Ronandt feels like it might sound obstinate of me to come just to say this, but I think I’ve found my answer,"

"No, I'm actually curious to find out what it is. After all, it was I who came up with this question in the first place."

The princess continued, seemingly reassured by my words. "I have dwelt on the matter, and the only reason I could think of for these magnificent paintings to be displayed in that waiting room and nowhere else is to instill, upon the one who will soon enter the throne room, the watchful eyes of forefathers and beyond."

"That makes sense,… I admit, I didn’t even think of it that thoroughly. Princess' vision of it gives it much more sense than what I could’ve ever thought of myself."

"To ill-intending eyes, these paintings are both a threat and a warning. A display of power. A foretaste of the might carried, for thousands of years, in their veins by the royal blood. It is Sir Ronandt, a glimpse of history. A history that you can be part of."

"Huh? What exactly does the princess mean by that?"

"In truth, I had not simply come today to talk about these paintings alone; I have come here to propose to you an offer, the one to join the royal family as one, to claim the title Lord Ronandt rightfully deserves."

Despite guessing and dreading what I felt would come next, I nonetheless asked, "How exactly is that supposed to happen?"

"You and I. Your power and my name, along with the claims I have over the royal family and the crown. The two of us—bound to each other through the bond of marriage. You'll be King, with the right to claim whatever you wish over the kingdom, free to claim, be it the apostle's remnants or any other remnants in our possession."

Though slightly hesitant, she stepped out toward me, reached her hands out to me, and said, "All it would take for that to happen, Lord Ronandt, is that you take my hands. And from our blood, a dynasty outlasting the very oldest one will be born."