Dear Victor,
It has been far too long since I last heard from you, and with each passing day, my worry grows deeper. I find myself staring out at slowly approaching spring, contrasting the unease in my heart. I miss you more than words can say, and the silence between us is becoming unbearable.
Last week marked my seventeenth birthday—a day I had once envisioned as joyful. Sofia and Lora did their best to make it special, but without my mother here, it felt empty. It hurts to celebrate alone. And knowing you were far away, enduring who knows what made me feel even more heartbroken.
How are you holding up? Are you finding any moments of peace amid the chaos? I can't shake the fear for your safety. I worry, replaying our last conversations in my mind and wishing I could somehow reach you. Your absence is a weight I carry daily, and it grows heavier with each unanswered day.
Please, if you can, write to me. I need to know you're okay. Your letters have always been a source of light for me, and now they feel like my only connection to you. I fear that the longer I wait, the more desperate my heart will become.
Take care of yourself, Victor. I hold on to the hope that we will see brighter days together again soon.
With all my heart,
Verina
Verina set her quill down, her thoughts lingering on the unsent words she had poured onto the page. A light knock at the door pulled her attention away from the letter, breaking the spell of solitude that had wrapped around her like a winter cloak.
"Verina, are you in there?" Sofia's familiar voice called out, full of warmth and energy that brightened the room. Verina hurried to the door and opened it, the chill from outside sweeping in, mingling with the warmth of her friend's presence.
"What's all this about?" Verina asked, her curiosity piqued by the glint of excitement in Sofia's bronze eyes.
"You won't believe it!" Sofia exclaimed, stepping inside with a flourish. "Archduke Aleris has come to town! The commoners are buzzing with excitement. They say he's here to assess the situation in the region and—"
"Archduke Aleris?" Verina interrupted, feeling a mix of scepticism. "What does that mean for us? A war is on the borders, and he's walking around giving help to commoners?"
"Exactly! But that's just it!" Sofia replied, undeterred. "They say he's known for his kindness and generosity. He's here to offer support to the people. This could be a turning point, something to lift our spirits!"
Verina's heart raced at the thought, but doubt lingered in her mind. "Help? While our soldiers are fighting and families are suffering? It feels... disingenuous."
Sofia's expression softened, sensing her friend's unease. "I know it sounds strange, but maybe it's a chance for the people to feel some hope. We could use a bit of light in these dark times, don't you think?"
"Perhaps," Verina conceded, glancing back at her letter to Victor. The shadows of war still loomed over her thoughts. "Are you going to see him?"
"Of course! Are you coming with me?" Sofia's voice brimmed with enthusiasm. "We can see what all the fuss is about!"
Verina hesitated, torn between her scepticism and the desire to experience something beyond her worries. "I suppose I could use a little distraction," she finally replied, a small smile creeping onto her face.
As Verina and Sofia stepped out into the cold air, she tucked the unfinished letter to Victor deeper into her cloak, her thoughts still lingering on the words she'd written. The square was more crowded than usual, with murmurs and curious glances as people gathered to catch a glimpse of Archduke Aleris—a man whom the region spoke of with admiration and respect.
Verina glanced around, catching glimpses of townsfolk she knew by name—the baker's wife, her cheeks red from the cold as she held her children close; the blacksmith's apprentice, a burly young man who crossed his arms with a mixture of scepticism and interest. Even the elderly priest had left the warmth of his small chapel to observe, his furrowed brow hinting at both wariness and gratitude. Every face, weathered and marked by hardship, bore a look of curiosity, tinged with the faintest sliver of hope—a hope that Verina herself could not easily embrace.
The crowd was thickening as they reached the square, and Sofia had to nudge Verina to keep moving, her eyes bright with excitement. "Isn't it wonderful?" Sofia whispered, her voice brimming with a rare delight. "People have been suffering for so long… It's nice to think that maybe things are changing."
Verina only managed a small, polite nod in response. She saw Sofia's eagerness, the brightness in her friend's eyes that hadn't been there for so long, and for Sofia's sake, she wanted to believe in the archduke's promises. But as they found a spot at the edge of the crowd, Verina's eyes drifted toward the front, where Archduke Aleris stood atop a raised platform, surveying his audience with a practised gaze. His cloak was a rich, dark velvet, lined with silver fur that caught the waning sunlight, giving him an almost regal glow against the stark white backdrop of snow-dusted trees.
His voice rolled over the crowd like a low, comforting hum when he spoke, warming the frigid air with each carefully chosen word. "Good people of Caelora," he began, bowing his head slightly in a gesture of humility that made several townsfolk nod approvingly. "I stand before you not as a distant ruler, but as a man who understands the burdens you carry. The trials you've faced—through bitter winter and darker days—are not forgotten. Today, I bring not just aid, but a promise: Caelora will endure, and together, we will rise." The crowd murmured with hope, some even cheering softly. He continued. "I bring supplies, firewood, and provisions for those in need. No one here should suffer through cold without warmth or food, not when we can offer it."
The crowd shifted, and scattered voices began to offer hesitant applause. Yet Verina could feel the tension in the air, an undercurrent of doubt and unease that matched her own. Even as some around her clapped, others crossed their arms, eyes narrowed, their expressions hard. They had endured much and grown used to empty promises.
Sofia's eyes shone with gratitude, but Verina's jaw tightened, her scepticism hardening. If he truly cared, why hadn't he come sooner, before the war began gnawing at their lives? She doubted that his sudden generosity was as selfless as it appeared.
As if reading her thoughts, the Archduke's gaze drifted to her, and she felt his eyes linger, searching her face. "And you, young lady," he addressed her directly. "You seem doubtful of my intentions. Is there something you would like to ask?"
The crowd turned toward her, and Verina swallowed, gathering her thoughts. "Forgive me, Archduke," she said, her tone respectful but cool. "It's rare for someone of your standing to show concern for those beyond the palace walls. Why now, when so many have already suffered?"
The Archduke's expression remained unreadable, though a faint smile curved his lips. "A fair question," he replied smoothly. "Sometimes it takes hardship to remind us of our duties to each other, does it not?" The response alleviated some, but Verina felt an odd sense of unease. She studied his face, the subtle lines around his mouth, the weariness in his eyes. His eyes softened as he studied her.
"What is your name?"
"Verina."
He nodded, his gaze narrowing slightly, as if testing her with his next words. "You are wise, Verina, to question the intentions of those in power. It's a quality many overlook."
The crowd murmured, some nodding in agreement with his words, but Verina felt an unspoken tension hanging between them. She didn't trust him. Whether his generosity was genuine or part of a larger scheme, she couldn't say, but something about him felt too familiar, too deliberate.
As he turned back to address the crowd, she whispered to Sofia, "This feels like a show."
Sofia glanced at her, disappointed. "Sometimes, even a show of kindness is better than none at all."
As Verina's gaze drifted back to Archduke Aleris, she noticed one of his guards—a tall, formidable man with sharp features and a thick scar along his jaw—standing rigid at attention. His hand rested on the hilt of his sword, but it wasn't his stance that caught her attention. It was his eyes. Unlike the others, who were focused on the crowd or watching for any threats to the archduke, this guard maintained his gaze fixed on her.
His eyes followed her every movement with an unsettling intensity, barely blinking as she shifted uncomfortably under his scrutiny. She tried to look away, but her curiosity pulled her back, her mind racing with questions. Why was he watching her so closely? Was it something she'd said, or perhaps how she had stood her ground in front of the archduke? Her earlier scepticism flared anew, her wariness now doubling as she felt the weight of his watchful gaze on her.
Sofia, oblivious to Verina's discomfort, was still chattering with bright-eyed enthusiasm. "Did you see the way he spoke to you, Verina? It was like he saw something special in you! And his words—they truly were comforting, weren't they? Maybe this is the start of something good."
Verina barely heard her friend's words, her mind too caught up in the unsettling realisation of the guard's attention. She forced a smile, trying to mask her unease, but Sofia seemed not to notice her excitement carrying her along. The snowy streets felt quieter now as they made their way home, each step bringing with it a growing sense of tension in Verina's chest.
Turning back one last time, Verina saw the guard's figure silhouetted against the bright, wintry light. He was still watching her, his figure a dark, unyielding presence among the milling townsfolk. A shiver of foreboding slid down her spine as she met his gaze, feeling, perhaps for the first time, the cold reality of her distrust.
"Are you all right, Verina?" Sofia asked, catching the slight pallor in her friend's cheeks. "You seem… distracted."
Verina forced herself to smile, nodding quickly.
"Ah…Yes, I'm fine. Just… thinking, I suppose."