"I'm so sorry for your loss, my lord," she said, her tone sincere.
He studied her for a moment, as though gauging the depth of her sympathy. Then, with a sigh, he replied, "Thank you. It's been… difficult."
Salviana nodded, allowing a comfortable silence to settle between them before speaking again. "Rose is a lovely child," she said gently. "She has your strength, I think."
Warren's lips twitched in the faintest hint of a smile. "She's stronger than she knows," he admitted. "I only wish I could… be more for her."
Salviana regarded him thoughtfully. Rumors had painted him as a neglectful father, but now, sitting beside him, she saw a man burdened by grief and regret.
His absence from Rose's life wasn't born of apathy, but of a deep, unshakable sorrow.
"My lord," she said after a moment, "it's never too late to be what she needs. I'm certain she would want nothing more than to have her father by her side."
Warren's expression softened, though his gaze remained distant. "You're kind to say so," he murmured.
"It's the truth," Salviana insisted, her tone firm but encouraging. "And until you're ready, I'll do my best to care for her in my own way. But don't wait too long, my lord. She's a child for only so long."
Warren nodded slowly, the weight of her words sinking in. "I'll think on it," he promised, though his voice carried the uncertainty of a man still wrestling with his demons.
Salviana rose, smoothing her skirts as the first drops of rain began to fall. "Thank you for speaking with me, Lord Warren," she said with a polite bow.
"Thank you, Lady Salviana," he replied, standing as well. His voice was sincere, and for the first time, there was a flicker of hope in his eyes.
As Salviana walked away, her thoughts lingered on Warren and his daughter.
She resolved to keep caring for Rose, not just for the child's sake, but to give her father the time and encouragement he needed to heal.
The rain began to pick up, drenching the garden in its gentle rhythm, and Salviana smiled once more.
Sometimes, she thought, the rain washed away more than just the dust of the earth—it softened hearts as well.
~~~{────────
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Alaric stood in his office, dressed in his usual imposing black attire, a stark contrast to the warm glow of the sunlight streaming through the tall windows.
He was poring over a stack of scrolls when the door creaked open. Richard, his personal knight and confidant, stepped inside.
Alaric looked up, his sharp gaze softening slightly.
Richard appeared healthier now—his battle wounds, which had left him bedridden for weeks, were fully healed. Alaric leaned back in his chair, a faint smile touching his lips.
"It's good to see you back on your feet, Richard," Alaric said, his tone genuine. "I didn't realize wizards healed this quickly."
Richard smirked faintly. "We have our ways, my lord."
Alaric's smile faded as he leaned forward, resting his elbows on the desk. "Tell me, Richard, about the missing girls. What progress have we made?"
For the briefest moment, Richard's eye twitched, and he blinked rapidly.
It was so subtle that Alaric almost missed it—but not quite.
Richard cleared his throat. "I… didn't realize it was a pressing matter, my lord. I only recently—"
"You didn't realize?" Alaric's voice rose, booming with barely restrained fury. He slammed his hands onto the desk, causing a nearby inkpot to rattle. "Girls have been vanishing for a month, and you didn't think it was important enough to tell me?"
Richard stepped back slightly but quickly composed himself, bowing his head in contrition. "Forgive me, my lord. I was unaware of the gravity of the situation. Now that I understand, I'll focus all efforts on uncovering the truth. We'll find out who's behind this."
Alaric's dark eyes narrowed, scrutinizing Richard with the intensity of a predator sizing up its prey.
He clenched his jaw, his patience fraying. "Bring me everything you have—reports, witnesses, anything. I want to know why this is happening and who's responsible."
"Yes, my lord," Richard said, bowing deeply before leaving the room.
As the door closed, Alaric leaned back in his chair, exhaling a sharp breath. Something about Richard's response unsettled him.
The head councilman had visited him earlier that morning, asking about his progress on the case, and Alaric had been forced to admit he knew nothing.
The councilman's probing questions had made him feel blindsided, and now the realization that Richard had kept him in the dark left a bitter taste in his mouth.
He drummed his fingers against the desk, his mind racing.
Was Richard's hesitation mere oversight, or was there something more sinister at play? Alaric's jaw tightened.
It had better not be because Richard thought his recent marriage had softened him.
Richard couldn't have been Alaric's friend had he not been courageous the first day he had been looking for a partner to duel. Richard had fought him like he would fight his enemy not scared of him and Alaric had decided that is who he needed next to him.
He believed that hasn't changed, the man was formidable maybe he needs to start teasing him about marriage because the knight doesn't seem interested which cannot be allowed.
He should get a life too, be happy.
With a sigh, he pushed the thought aside. He glanced at the window, where the pale afternoon light glinted off the edges of the fortress walls.
He had left Salviana sleeping peacefully in their chambers early this morning. Her serene face had been the last thing he saw before stepping into the chaos of the day.
For a fleeting moment, he allowed himself to think of her—her smile, her laughter, the way her presence made even his darkest days brighter.
He hoped she was having a pleasant day, free of the burdens that weighed so heavily on him.
But the respite was brief. Alaric straightened, his expression hardening once more. There was work to be done, and he would see it through.
Whatever shadows were creeping into his domain, he would uncover them—and extinguish them.