The grand hall of the Varnhart estate was filled with the elegant clinking of silverware and the soft murmur of noble conversations. The air was thick with the scent of roasted meats and the sweet aroma of fine wines, mingling with the delicate laughter of the Duke's guests. It was the eve of a grand banquet, a celebration to honor the Emperor's visit and the ongoing alliance between the Astrion Empire and the northern territories.
Duke Casimir Varnhart, resplendent in his military regalia, stood at the head of the long table, his ocean-blue eyes scanning the room with quiet authority. His presence commanded respect, not just as a noble but as the War Saint—one of the most powerful men in the Empire. His wife, Princess Isolde, stood beside him, radiating the elegance and poise befitting the sister of the Emperor. Their guests, a mix of military officials, ambassadors, and distant relatives, all waited with anticipation for the evening's festivities to begin.
Orion, however, was nowhere to be seen among the glittering nobles. As usual, he had been kept far from the opulent halls, relegated to the corners of the estate where his presence would not be noticed. He was not part of their world, not meant to be seen or heard.
In the midst of the banter and the formalities, Princess Diana, who had joined the Emperor's entourage for the visit, found herself seated across from the Duke. The young princess had a natural grace about her, her every movement measured and calm. Though only a child herself, Diana carried the air of someone far older, far wiser, her eyes sharp and observant as she took in the opulence of the Duke's household.
For much of the evening, she had remained silent, lost in her own thoughts as the adults around her conversed. But there was something on her mind—something that had been bothering her since their brief encounter in the garden earlier that day.
As the banquet continued, with laughter and the clinking of glasses filling the room, Diana finally spoke, her voice soft yet clear, cutting through the hum of conversation.
"My lord," she began, her eyes turning toward Duke Casimir, who sat at the head of the table, his usual stoic expression barely flickering. "I encountered your son today, in the gardens."
The Duke's expression darkened at once, though he did his best to hide it. He kept his voice composed, his tone polite, though there was an edge to it.
"My son?" he asked, his gaze steady and cold. "Which one?"
Diana paused, sensing the Duke's shift in demeanor. But she was not easily deterred. She had seen him earlier, his pale silver hair and blue eyes, an exact replica of the Duke's own features. She had wondered about him ever since, and her curiosity had only grown after their brief exchange in the garden.
"The young boy," she replied thoughtfully, her gaze unwavering as she met the Duke's eyes. "He was in the garden, admiring the flowers. He looked like you, though he seemed… different. Was he not one of your children?"
The question lingered in the air, and the room seemed to grow quiet for a brief moment. The Duke's face remained impassive, but his fingers tightened around the stem of his wine glass, a subtle but telling sign of his discomfort.
"He is not one of my legitimate children," the Duke replied curtly, his voice cold, though he attempted to keep it even. "He is the son of a… mistake."
Princess Diana frowned slightly, though she quickly masked her expression with a polite smile. She had not expected the Duke's response to be so dismissive. Still, she couldn't shake the curiosity that gnawed at her. She had seen something in the boy's eyes earlier—something that had made her pause, something more than just the ordinary child of a noble family.
She tilted her head slightly, her gaze shifting toward the Duke's wife, Princess Isolde, who had been silent up until that moment. Isolde met Diana's gaze with a faint smile, though there was no warmth in it, only a careful neutrality.
"The boy is… not part of our family," Isolde spoke, her tone cool and distant. "He is kept out of sight, far from the public eye. It is a matter that does not need further discussion."
Diana's brow furrowed slightly, but she did not press the issue further. The air around the table had thickened, and she could sense the tension in the Duke's voice. It was clear that her question had touched a nerve, and though she was naturally curious, Diana was also astute enough to understand when she had crossed a line.
She gave a small nod, signaling that she would not pursue the matter any further. But her thoughts remained fixed on the boy she had seen earlier. There was something about him, something that had intrigued her. He didn't seem like the other children she had met in her life, those born into the lap of luxury. There was a sadness in his eyes—a quiet pain—that had drawn her in.
As the conversation continued around her, Diana found her thoughts drifting back to Orion. The brief interaction in the garden had left a mark on her, and for reasons she couldn't explain, she felt as though their paths were destined to cross again.