"Lord Aurelion, Lady Leonora has arrived."
"Very well… I only hope she will listen to me," came the weary voice of her father.
[The massive doors creaked open, groaning under their weight, announcing her presence like a herald of judgment.]
"Good evening, Lady Leonora."
"Good evening, Simon," she replied, her voice clipped, calm — yet the faint tremor betrayed the storm within.
"This way, my lady. The lord is waiting for you in his study."
[They reached the door. Leonora's hand hovered for a moment over the polished wood, then knocked firmly.]
"You may come in," her father's voice rang, quiet but commanding.
"Good evening, Father."
"Good evening, Leonora. How have you been?"
"I've been… well. Thank you." Her eyes scanned the room, taking in the faint dust motes in the sunlight, the fading scent of aged wood and leather, memories she thought long buried stirring unbidden.
"It's been a while," he said, voice heavy.
"Yes."
"Do you know why I called you tonight?" His eyes, the color of autumn leaves, pierced hers.
"Have you found another husband for me?" she quipped, forcing humor over the tight coil of anxiety in her chest.
"Haha… I have a few candidates, but no. Not tonight."
"Then what is it?"
"I feel the weight of my days… the rope fraying beneath my hands," he said, his voice fragile, trembling slightly. "I wanted to speak about our estate… before it's too late."
She held her breath. "And Roland? You know he is your son too."
"Yes… but only you can succeed me. Roland's mother… she was a commoner. That was my mistake, a mistake that cost your mother dearly."
Her throat tightened. "It's not his fault, Father. But I cannot bear to see his face. It reminds me of… all the things I despise — the mistakes I cannot forgive."
"You cannot outrun your mistakes, Leonora. We each carry them."
He coughed violently, clutching his side.
"Father!" she exclaimed, rushing forward.
"I'm… fine. Just the medication… it catches me unawares. Sit. Breathe."
Leonora exhaled slowly, the tension coiling in her chest like steel cables being stretched to breaking.
"Look at you," he whispered, hand trembling as it ran through her hair. "All grown up… I remember you playing outside, the laughter of your mother, our happy days… fleeting, but alive."
She felt her composure crack, just a fraction. "Let's get you to bed, Father."
"Thank you, my lady… I wanted… to see you… one last time," he murmured.
"He dreamed of playing with your children," Simon, the steward, whispered.
"I know… he wants grandchildren. He is alone, he is old. But marriage… is not something I can do."
"You know, Lady Leonora… my wife could not stand me at first. But time, patience… understanding… it built a life. We celebrate forty-six years this year. Life… it surprises us, when we least expect it."
Leonora's lips pressed together, savoring the warmth of the tea, yet the ache inside her chest would not soften.
"Thank you for the tea, Simon."
"You are welcome, my lady."
[Outside, the night pressed in like a living thing, cold and expectant.]
"How did it go, my lady?" Anna's voice trembled.
"I… I think my father is dying," Leonora admitted softly, her hands clenching into fists at her sides.
"Oh… I'm sorry."
"Don't worry, Anna. You… take the night off. I need… air."
"Yes, my lady."
[Marta's Pub — thick smoke, the tang of spilled ale, rowdy voices echoing off the walls like distant cannon fire.]
"Look who's here — Leonora. Thought I'd never see you again. What's brought you here?"
"It's… nice to see you, Marta. Whiskey, please."
"Mysterious as always," the bartender said, a soft smile tugging at the corners of her lips.
"And you… had a run-in with our local drunk?"
"Nothing escapes this place, I see."
"Well, people talk — and where do they gather? At Marta's, of course."
"That's my girl. The whiskey's on the house. Oh, and if you bump into Youri again… cut him some slack. He's back from a mission. They say he obliterated an entire solar system this time. God knows what's happening in that head of his."
Leonora's eyes narrowed, a frown forming despite herself.
"I saw him. Strange… he's been absent all evening."
Her gaze sharpened as a commotion erupted outside — shouting, crashing, the unmistakable smell of alcohol and bloodlust.
"Look — it's Youri. He's in a fight again!"
Leonora's breath caught. "I'm sorry, brother — I didn't see you there."
"Where the fuck do you think you're going!" A fist smashed into Youri's face.
"Idiot! My uniform—who's paying for this?!"
"Back off! Who the hell—"
"Holy shit — that's General Leonora Kaelthorn!"
"The Gray Phantom!?"
"You there — can't you see this man is drunk?"
"Yes, but—"
"What 'but'? You assaulted a high officer. What do you say for yourself?"
"I'm… sorry, General!"
[Leonora's eyes blazed. She stormed forward, grabbing Youri by the collar with a strength that made onlookers flinch. Her voice cut through the din.]
"Get out of here, before I change my mind."
[She dragged him inside Marta's. The doors slammed behind them, muffling the chaos outside. Her chest heaved, anger and relief mingling in a dangerous cocktail.]
"General — it's closing time. He's yours now," Marta called over her shoulder, smirking.
Leonora's gaze lingered on Youri, her jaw tight. Inside, a storm of rage, concern, and something unspoken roared — she didn't trust the calm facade he wore, didn't forgive the recklessness that followed him like a shadow. Yet… a part of her heart, hidden even from herself, could not let him go unscathed.
Her fingers flexed into fists. "Let's get this over with."