Location: Shelb Estate - Departure
Duchess Eleanor stood by the grand carriage, its polished surface gleaming in the sunlight, a proud symbol of Shelb authority. Ethan and Dame Vivian stood nearby, locked in an increasingly awkward exchange.
"Duchess," Vivian began, her tone firm but polite, "I truly appreciate the gesture, but I came in my own carriage. There's no need—"
"Nonsense," Eleanor interrupted with a wave of her hand. "It would be unbecoming for a Shelb lady to leave in anything less than our signature carriage. Your own will be sent back promptly."
"Dame Vivian is not—" Ethan started, his voice flustered, but his mother cut him off with a serene smile.
"Ethan, do not embarrass the family. You will take Lady Vivian home, as any gentleman should."
Vivian opened her mouth to protest but closed it again, sighing. "Very well," she said, resigned. "If this is how noble customs must be upheld…"
Ethan, now visibly uncomfortable, gestured toward the carriage. "After you."
As they climbed into the grand vehicle, Adrian leaned casually against a nearby pillar, his com-tab in hand. His mischievous grin widened as he started typing furiously into a group chat with his academy classmates.
Com-Tab Conversation - Guys' Group Chat
Adrian: You won't believe this, boys. Ethan is finally settling down.
Philip: What? No way. Who's the lucky girl?
Adrian: You're not ready for this. It's Vivian Whitestone.
Julian: THE Dame Vivian? Rough-and-tumble Vivian?
Cedric: Ethan and Vivian? You're kidding.
Adrian: I'm dead serious. Look. [Adrian uploads a photo of Ethan and Vivian stepping into the Shelb carriage]
Harold: HOLY. IT'S TRUE.
Cedric: Ethan has hardcore tastes. Respect.
Julian: How long have they been dating?
Adrian: One of the soldiers at camp said it's been a while. Apparently, Vivian is mad Ethan missed a ball or something. Total lover's spat.
Harold: You're making this up.
Adrian: Am I? [uploads another photo from a different angle]
Com-Tab Conversation - Class Group Chat
Greta: Since when did Ethan and Vivian become a couple? Look what I just saw. [Greta uploads a photo of the Shelb carriage stuck in traffic, with Ethan and Vivian visible inside.]
Amelia: What?! This is amazing.
Lucia: Finally! Someone who can handle Ethan's stiff personality.
Frederick: And it's Vivian! What a power couple.
Cedric: We all knew this would happen eventually. She's the only one who could break through his icy exterior.
Back to Guys' Group Chat
Julian: Greta just confirmed it in the main class chat. Sorry for doubting you, Adrian.
Adrian: Told you. Now bow before my superior gossip skills.
Philip: So, how do you think it happened? My bet is on a dramatic sparring match. Swords clashing, sparks flying, until one of them dramatically admitted their feelings.
Classmate 2: Nah, I bet they got stuck on a mission together. You know, forced proximity, slow-burn romance vibes.
Classmate 3: What if she rescued him? Like, she saved his life, and he looked up at her and thought, "That's the one."
Classmate 1: Or maybe he saved her, but she was too stubborn to admit she fell for him right then and there.
Adrian: You're all wrong. They probably argued their way into love. Ethan's stiff, she's fiery—it's a classic opposites-attract story.
Inside the Carriage
As the Shelb carriage rolled through the bustling market square, Vivian sat with her arms crossed, gazing out the window. "Is this really necessary?" she muttered.
Ethan, still mortified, rubbed the back of his neck. "Believe me, I'd rather walk."
Vivian's sharp laugh filled the cabin. "That's comforting."
Ethan glanced at her, exasperated. "You could've said no to my mother."
Vivian raised an eyebrow. "Have you met your mother? She's more formidable than half the generals I've faced."
Ethan groaned, leaning back against the plush seat. "This is a nightmare."
Outside, Greta snapped another photo as she passed by the carriage, her com-tab buzzing with notifications from the class group chat. Meanwhile, Adrian, lounging in the estate's garden, grinned as he watched the chaos unfold in real-time on his com-tab.
Location: Whitestone Estate
The Shelb carriage rolled smoothly up the cobbled driveway of Whitestone Manor, its imposing presence marked by the family crest emblazoned on its side. As it came to a halt, Ethan von Shelb stepped out, his military posture reflexive. He was struck by the sight of Marquess Leon Whitestone and his son, Victor, standing at attention before the grand entrance. Their identical emerald-green eyes, so much like Vivian's, were locked on him with the unyielding intensity of battle-hardened soldiers.
Ethan frowned slightly, glancing toward Vivian as she stepped out of the carriage. "Do they always greet you like this?" he asked, his tone edged with curiosity.
Vivian shook her head, her brow furrowing. "No. Something's definitely wrong."
Ethan extended his hand toward Victor, whose auburn hair caught the sunlight in an almost identical way to Vivian's. Victor grasped it firmly, his grip more an evaluation than a welcome.
"Commander Ethan," Victor said coolly, his tone clipped. "Welcome to Whitestone Manor."
"Victor," Ethan replied evenly, matching the handshake without hesitation. The tension was palpable as Victor's gaze scrutinized him, sharp and calculating. Ethan released the handshake, his hand tingling slightly, and turned to acknowledge the Marquess.
"Marquess Whitestone," Ethan said formally, inclining his head. "It's an honor to be received here."
Leon nodded once, his expression unreadable, though his sharp eyes lingered on Ethan's stance as though evaluating an adversary.
Vivian stepped down from the carriage and, noticing the atmosphere, raised an eyebrow. "What's with the inspection? Are we about to be deployed somewhere?"
Before either man could respond, Martha Whitestone's warm voice broke the tension. "Oh, don't just stand there looking like statues! Come in, all of you. We've prepared tea."
Inside Whitestone Manor – Tea Room
The tea room exuded understated elegance, its high-backed chairs and porcelain tea set speaking to the Whitestone family's noble heritage. Ethan sat across from Marquess Whitestone, Victor beside him, while Martha flitted about, pouring tea with practiced ease.
"Commander Ethan," Leon began, his voice measured, "what are your plans for the future? Your career? What are you working on currently?"
Ethan straightened instinctively. "Marquess, I oversee operations for the southern region, focusing on troop readiness and strategic improvements. My future plans involve refining defensive strategies to maintain stability in key regions."
Leon nodded slowly, his gaze unwavering. "And your thoughts on Vivian?"
Ethan blinked, momentarily caught off guard. "Lady Vivian is a skilled fighter and a determined individual. I hold her abilities in high regard."
Vivian, sipping her tea, looked up with a raised brow. "Well, that's glowing praise," she muttered dryly, though her tone lacked bite.
Ethan hesitated, then remembered his mother's advice about navigating noble niceties. Channeling her teachings, he added, "She clearly takes after her mother's charm."
The room stilled for a moment as Victor audibly choked on his tea. His sputtering cough broke the silence, prompting Leon to move quickly, clapping him firmly on the back to assist. Victor, red-faced, waved a hand as he struggled to recover.
"I'm fine!" Victor croaked, though his narrowed eyes darted to Ethan as though he'd just revealed a hidden arsenal. Leon, meanwhile, froze mid-motion, his hand still braced against Victor's shoulder as he turned to study Ethan with the sharp alertness of a seasoned general.
"You flatter me, Commander Ethan," Martha said brightly, oblivious to her husband and son's turmoil. Her cheeks flushed, and her smile widened. "But you're absolutely right—Vivian does take after me."
Vivian frowned, her confusion deepening. "What are you talking about? I don't have charm."
"Nonsense, dear," Martha replied, patting her daughter's hand. "You're just modest."
Ethan, recalling his mother's advice to always agree with the hostess when no harm could come of it, added, "Lady Martha is absolutely right. Modesty is simply another form of charm."
Victor, already recovering from his earlier coughing fit, nearly lost control again, choking audibly. Leon leaned forward instinctively, clapping him on the back with the precision of a seasoned soldier, but his eyes darted back to Ethan with a look of stunned apprehension, as though evaluating an opponent of unspoken prowess. Martha, meanwhile, beamed at Ethan, her approval practically radiating from her.
Leon's grip on his teacup tightened almost imperceptibly. "Commander Ethan," he said, his voice measured but now carrying an edge of caution, "you seem remarkably composed under scrutiny."
Ethan inclined his head. "I try to conduct myself with clarity and respect, Marquess."
Victor, still recovering, muttered, "Too composed. Commander Ethan, I bet those red-sky beasts fled the moment they saw you."
Ethan, oblivious to Victor's sarcasm, considered the comment seriously. "That did happen once," he admitted, his tone matter-of-fact. "I took down multiple orange-level beasts, and the remaining ones—intelligent creatures—began avoiding me altogether."
Victor froze mid-sip, nearly choking again, while Leon, his composure slipping, gripped the table as though bracing for impact. With a deep breath, Leon turned to his son, his tone sharp yet oddly resigned. "Victor," he said firmly, "stop drinking tea in Commander Ethan's presence. It's clearly hazardous." His words carried the weight of a seasoned soldier acknowledging a superior officer's unintentional dominance.
Victor set his cup down slowly, his gaze now locked on Ethan with newfound respect that bordered on reverence. "Commander," he began, his voice steady but low, "I underestimated you. Truly, your reputation does you no justice." His intense expression unnerved Ethan, who shifted slightly in his seat.
"Um, thank you?" Ethan replied cautiously, unsure if this was meant as a compliment or a warning.
Leon leaned forward, his earlier wariness replaced with an almost deferential tone. "Commander Ethan," he said, addressing him with more formality than the situation seemed to require, "your military talent exceeds your age by leaps and bounds. It's rare to encounter someone who possesses such natural command."
Ethan blinked, slightly taken aback. "You flatter me, Marquess. I only strive to fulfill my duties."
Martha, watching the exchange, clasped her hands together, her smile widening. "Oh, Ethan, you're far too modest. Leon, isn't it wonderful to see such humility in someone so accomplished?"
Leon nodded gravely, as though Ethan's humility were a matter of great importance. "Indeed, Martha. It's a rare quality."
Ethan, now thoroughly unsettled by the unexpected praise, shifted his attention to his tea, trying to collect himself. "You're all very kind," he said awkwardly. "I didn't expect such a warm reception."
Martha beamed. "The Whitestones always treat their guests with the utmost respect, especially someone as impressive as you, Ethan."
Victor, clearly still processing Ethan's earlier statements, added with a dry chuckle, "You've redefined my understanding of what it means to lead, Commander. I feel like I'm in the presence of a legend."
Ethan glanced at Victor, his brow furrowing slightly. "I assure you, I'm not a legend. Just a soldier doing his job."
Leon, however, shook his head. "You underestimate your impact, Commander. It's men like you who shape the tides of battle."
As the conversation continued, Ethan couldn't help but feel both flattered and unnerved. The Whitestones seemed so overwhelmingly positive that he began to wonder if he'd accidentally walked into a recruitment pitch.
Outside Whitestone Manor – Departure
As Ethan prepared to leave, the Whitestones gathered at the entrance to see him off. Victor extended a firm handshake, his earlier scrutiny replaced by genuine respect. "Commander, it's been an honor," he said solemnly, his grip steady but no longer testing.
Leon gave a respectful nod, his earlier formality still intact. "We hope to see you again, Commander Ethan. Your presence has been… enlightening."
Martha waved enthusiastically, her warmth undiminished. "Do visit us again, Ethan! You're always welcome here."
Climbing into the carriage, Ethan exhaled and glanced back at the group. "You have a wonderful family, Lady Vivian," he said earnestly, giving her a brief but genuine smile. "Truly exceptional."
Vivian, who had been watching the exchange with increasing confusion, tilted her head. "Exceptional? Are we talking about the same family?" she muttered under her breath, too quiet for Ethan to hear.
Inside the Carriage – Departure
As the Shelb carriage rolled away from Whitestone Manor, Ethan leaned back in his seat, exhaling heavily. He tapped open his com-tab, intending to check for any urgent military messages. Instead, he was greeted by an onslaught of notifications from his typically quiet class group chat.
Greta: Look what I saw today! [Greta uploads a picture of Ethan and Vivian stepping into the Shelb carriage.]
Amelia: Ethan and Vivian? When did this happen?!
Lucia: Finally, someone who can keep Ethan in check!
Ethan groaned, swiping through the endless stream of messages. The group chat was practically a paparazzi hotspot, with photos of him and Vivian from multiple locations throughout the day.
"Do these people moonlight as photographers?" Ethan muttered to himself, scrolling further. Each post seemed to stir more reactions, and the conversation had spiraled into wild speculation about his and Vivian's "relationship."
His frown deepened as he spotted another post from Greta in a different group chat.
Greta: Didn't expect this pairing, but honestly? I ship it. [Another picture of the Shelb carriage stuck in traffic, Vivian visible in the window.]
Ethan sighed, shutting his com-tab. "This is all Greta's fault," he muttered, glaring at the device as though it could transmit his annoyance directly to her.
Settling back against the plush seat, he closed his eyes briefly, letting the hum of the carriage soothe his frustration. "Warm, respectful, and polite," he mused, thinking back to his visit. "A genuinely welcoming family. I should visit them again if time permits."
The irony of his earlier thoughts collided with the chaos brewing in the class chats, leaving him with a strange mix of exasperation and reluctant amusement.