Ophelia's meeting with the Duke ended in a similar fashion as it began.
Unprecedented and dumbfounding.
The princess stood by one of the many crenels in the castles winding wall walk. The skirt of her elegant gown flowed about in the wind and her azule eyes settled on the dimming sun that swam down the distant horizon, casting a warm, golden hue across the endless northern lands.
The duke had a warmth about him, the likes she hadn't felt in years.
Despite how she had been raised to always question the kindness and sincerety of others, he was different.
There was an air of genuity that hung about him, one that regardless of how hard she tried and how sceptical she felt, Ophelia just couldn't deny.
He was real, and with everything they'd discussed he seemed to really care about her.
Duke Adlad reminded the princess of her own father, a sincere and kind man. Although to be honest, he was much more boorish and jovial than her papa had ever been---or wasn't he? She couldn't quite remember.
It'd been ages since her parents passed afterall.
Glancing down at the bustling lower towns in a distance, Ophelia wondered if the people could see her from the height she stood, it seemed impossible and the princess smiled at the thought.
Another gentle breeze swept across the castle's wall walk, caressing the princess who spreads her arms to welcome the soft wind, her action startling an already worried Vilda even further.
She gingerly pulled off the band that secured her thick raven hair, allowing the length of it to cascade and flow behind her, dancing along with the wind.
"Princess please be careful."
Vilda pleaded, her eyes weary as she watched her mistress behave in a strange way she'd never done before.
What could have transpired between her and her father-in-law, that made her so enlivened. The maidservant pondered.
Ophelia on the other hand, had never felt so free.
She had not only been successful in escaping the royal family, but also the damnation that fate seemed to have in store for her.
That thought alone was exhilarating, and now having the dukes complete support, an actual supporter for the first time in decades, left her happy beyond words.
Despite the doubts and warnings that flared repeatedly in her head, Ophelia chose to listen to her heart, and her heart was telling her to trust in her late father's friend---her only supporter.
Their conversation had been a long one, the duke took his time to explain many things to her, starting with his inability to aid her while she resided in the palace.
He revealed how he lost his dear wife just two months after her father's death. At the same time his young son, Claude dissapeared without a trace.
His only child was declared dead after a fruitless year of searching for him. It was during this time her own mother, Rheyna the deposed queen passed away.
Her mother's name and the memory of her sudden death continued to haunt Ophelia, whose keen expression slowly morphed into one of sadness.
The duke noticing the change in her mood diverted from the topic of death. Duke Adlad who had been the sole supporter of the young, abandoned princess was forced to return to his territory after suffering a near fatal wound.
The newly enthroned king, Jonas made to solidify his reign and secure the loyalty from all the great houses. He cared very little for his late brothers child and was set on marrying her off to the monarchs of Roatia.
Ophelia was shocked when she heard this, her calm demeanor not betraying the confusion that stormed inside her.
It was the first time in her life she'd heard of such an arrangement, and she boldly stated that despite his good intentions, the dukes words were unbelievable.
At this he presented the decree written in her uncle's own hand. It stated that the north would pay three times the dowry that had initially been paid for her hand, and the duke himself would not interfere in the matters pertaining to the crown, or his niece, until she reached the age of 21.
It was an act that practically banished duke Adlad to the north, all for her sake.
At the bottom of the decree was the imperial seal, with her uncle's signature on the right below it, and the duke's more rugged penmanship was scribbled on the left.
Ophelia thought back to her discussion with her father-in-law and could only smile sadly. Her uncle had intended to abandon her years ago, it was the sacrifice of a man halfway across the country that'd kept her safe all along.
Suffice to say, she was tired of struggling alone and unashamedly took the hand the duke offered.
She would make the most of it, his aid, her life and everything else.
"Oh! Look princess, there--the young duke must be back."
Vilda stated, pointing out the crenel towards the riders that approached the castles gate. Ophelia couldn't tell exactly, but the man leading the knights seemed to be Claude.
As the riders neared the broad porticulis, a piercing sound of a horn resounded, startling Ophelia and an already surprised Vilda.
"What is that sound? Is something wrong?"
She questioned, calmly turning to Agatha the much older lady's maid who'd been tasked by Sitric with showing the new mistress around.
The lady in waiting quietly stood by all this time.
Her chestnut hair which held several streaks of silver was neatly coiffed, preventing the endless winds from tousling it, and her face remained one of gentle authority.
She was one of the chief maids that served the Vladimir household, a woman who took great pride in her duties and would now serve as the senior maid to the future duchess.
Agatha's brows pulled slightly when a second horn blare pierced through the many sounds within the castle, followed by the thudding of horse hooves against cobblestones as the riders vanished behind the inner gates, dissapearing from sight.
"Not at all, young madam,"
Said Agatha, her voice soothing.
"The knights have only returned from their hunt, and they must have been successful this time as well."
"And the horns?"
Ophelia asked. A strange and familiar knot settling in her stomach.
Although sheltered within the palace, she knew that such horns were used for particular reasons, hardly were it ever good ones.
Something had happened.
"Its nothing to bother yourself with my lady,"
Agatha stated, stepping aside in a bid to usher Ophelia back towards the castle.
"You must be famished, shall we head back to your chambers,"
The lady in waiting didn't want to trouble the young mistress with the truth. She was a child that the duke himself was particularly fond of, one which had probably never seen a wounded man before in her life.
Having served as a lady's maid for over twenty five years, the woman knew just how unnecessary it was to divulge such information to her new lady.
"Lady Agatha, please answer my question."
Now that the princess was all but insisting, the woman had no choice other than to obey.
"Of course my lady, many pardons."
She said, bowing in apology.
"The horns are common instruments used by Chamlan Knights, one blare announces their return, and when it is sounded twice,"
Agatha sighed.
"It means that a person has been gravelly injured, or someone has died."