Location: Shelb Estate, Tea parlor
The Shelb estate's tea parlor had recently become an unexpected hub of activity. Duchess Eleanor von Shelb, ever poised and elegant, stood at the head of the table, surveying her sons with a mix of curiosity and quiet amusement. Micheal and Ethan sat with an intensity that felt more fitting for a war council than a tea lesson, while Adrian lounged in a nearby armchair, glaring at them with increasing disbelief.
"You're unusually enthusiastic today," Eleanor remarked, her hazel eyes darting between her eldest and youngest sons. "I'm curious—what has sparked this sudden devotion to tea?"
Micheal carefully set down his teacup, straightening his posture as if preparing for a formal declaration. "Mother, I've come to realize that tea lessons are important for a noble. I want to be someone you can admire." His tone was sincere, but a faint blush crept up his cheeks.
Eleanor blinked, her practiced composure faltering for a moment. Admire? Her mind flashed briefly to her youth. Surely he doesn't mean—no, that can't be.
She pushed away the thought as soon as it appeared. She was an honorable Duchess in a very happy relationship with her husband now. She turned to Ethan.
"And you, Ethan?" she asked, turning her attention to her eldest son. "You've never shown interest in tea before."
Ethan cleared his throat, his expression calm and collected. "I've realized that understanding tea is important for Shelb estate's reputation. It also allows me to engage better with the Whitestones. They're tea enthusiasts, after all."
At this, Adrian nearly choked on his own laughter. "The Whitestones? You mean Vivian, right?" He smirked, leaning forward with an accusatory glint in his eye. "Because let's be real, you're not doing this for Victor."
Ethan frowned, genuinely confused. "Why would I do it for Vivian? She's a capable soldier and an excellent sparring partner, but this is about maintaining good relations with the family."
Adrian groaned, throwing up his hands. "You're impossible. How do you not see it? Everyone knows Mother and Lady Whitestone are practically conspiring to pair you with Vivian."
Ethan shook his head, dismissing the idea. "Ridiculous. Vivian's a friend, nothing more."
Eleanor, however, wasn't so quick to dismiss Adrian's observation. She had long hoped that Ethan's stoic demeanor might soften under the influence of someone like Vivian Whitestone, and she had indeed been quietly encouraging their interactions.
But now her attention drifted back to Micheal.
Why does Micheal want to become someone I admire? she thought again, her mind turning over his words, Adrian's words added a new standpoint to Micheal's answer.
She knew Magda worshipped her father, Emperor Raphael, and suddenly it clicked. Does Micheal… want to match Raphael's image in Magda's eyes?
A faint smile tugged at her lips, though she kept her tone neutral. "Well, Micheal, if you truly wish to impress, mastering tea etiquette is a fine place to start."
Meanwhile, Ethan took a sip of his tea, his tone turning conversational. "Victor seems to enjoy our discussions about tea. He's quite knowledgeable, though he rarely elaborates."
Adrian snorted. "Victor doesn't like tea, Ethan. He only drinks it because his mother forces him to. He's probably being polite because he doesn't want to insult you."
Ethan raised an eyebrow. "Polite? He always answers my questions respectfully and offers thoughtful insights. If anything, he's more passionate about tea than I am."
Adrian buried his face in his hands. "You're unbelievable. Victor's four years younger than you, Ethan. He's probably too intimidated to tell you to stop asking about tea."
Ethan frowned, clearly unconvinced. "I don't see it that way. He even shared his thoughts on incorporating jasmine into a winter blend."
"Because he wants to survive the conversation," Adrian muttered, shaking his head.
Location: Whitestone Estate, Tea parlor
Back at the Whitestone estate, Victor sat rigidly in the parlor, a cup of steaming tea in front of him that he very much didn't want to drink.
Across from him, the renowned tea connoisseur his mother had invited was patiently explaining the nuances of steeping temperatures.
Victor, however, wasn't listening. His mind was consumed by one thought: I can't let Ethan von Shelb outdo me at tea.
His mother, Marchioness Martha Whitestone, observed her son's brooding expression with a bemused smile. "Victor, darling, you don't need to take this so seriously. I'm sure Ethan isn't trying to compete with you."
Victor shot her a look of pure determination. "He's becoming a tea expert, Mother. A tea expert. Do you think I'll just let my sister's potential partner outshine me without a fight?"
The Marchioness chuckled, exchanging a knowing glance with her husband.
"If this keeps him occupied," she said lightly, "I see no harm in it."
Location: Shelb Estate, Tea parlor
Back in the Shelb estate, Adrian was losing patience. "You two are insufferable," he declared, glaring at his brothers. "You're acting like tea is the key to life."
Micheal shrugged, a mischievous smile tugging at his lips. "It's the key to Mother's approval, at least."
"And possibly Vivian's heart," Adrian added pointedly, earning a glare from Ethan.
Eleanor, though puzzled by her sons' newfound dedication, couldn't deny the quiet satisfaction she felt. She had always hoped they would take her lessons seriously, and now that they were, she wasn't about to complain.
"Well," she said with a graceful smile, "I'm glad to see such enthusiasm. Perhaps, Adrian, you'll join us next time?"
Adrian snorted. "Not a chance. If this is what tea does to people, I'm staying far away."
Micheal chuckled. "Careful, Adrian. You might be missing out on Shelb's next great tradition: tea duels."
Ethan raised his teacup, his tone deadpan. "First to brew the perfect blend wins."
Adrian groaned, collapsing back into his chair. "I need a drink. And I don't mean tea."
"You know," Adrian said, leaning back dramatically in his chair, "all this fussing over tea is pointless. During the Flower Festival, it's the dancing that matters, not which hand you use to stir your tea."
Micheal carefully set his teacup down, a faint smirk tugging at the corners of his mouth. "I'm not sure dancing will help me... navigate my circumstances."
Ethan, without glancing up, added, "Or facilitate meaningful connections with nobility."
He swirled his tea leaves with the precision of a general examining troop formations.
Adrian stared at them, incredulous. "Do you two even hear yourselves? Dancing leaves impressions! Flailing around like drunken ducks will disgrace the estate."
Micheal and Ethan exchanged a glance, a rare moment of silent agreement. Neither voiced it, but both knew that dancing wasn't the solution to their respective goals.
Adrian groaned. "You're hopeless," he muttered. "Both of you."
Before he could continue, the doors to the parlor opened, and in strode Duke Louis von Shelb. His commanding presence filled the room, and his sharp blue eyes gleamed with curiosity.
"Well, well," Louis drawled, surveying the table laden with teacups and leaves. "Tea lessons, is it? What's all the excitement about?"
Eleanor's surprise quickly gave way to delight. "Louis! Joining us for tea lessons? What a pleasant surprise."
The Duke grinned. "Figured I'd see what the fuss is about. Can't let my sons have all the fun, can I?"
Adrian's smirk widened. "This should be good."
As the lesson resumed, it quickly became clear that Louis's approach to tea etiquette was... unique.
He gripped his teacup like a tankard, ignored Eleanor's gentle corrections, and slurped his tea loudly, earning amused glances from Adrian and barely concealed winces from Micheal and Ethan.
Micheal, despite his better judgment, couldn't help but compare Louis's casual habits to Emperor Raphael's impeccable ones. The difference was stark—Raphael's every movement radiated precision and grace, while Louis's approach was decidedly practical. Micheal bit the inside of his cheek to suppress a sigh.
At least I'm better than him, Micheal thought, though he didn't dare voice it. Years of being at home had left him with far better aristocratic manners than his father, a fact that was both amusing and mildly frustrating.
Ethan, however, wasn't as restrained.
"You know," he said, his tone casual but cutting, "Marquess Whitestone strikes me as a man who balances both cultural refinement and military strategy exceptionally well."
The room fell silent.
Louis set his teacup down with a little more force than necessary, his jaw tightening.
"Is that so?" he asked, his voice deceptively light. "And here I thought I'd done just fine balancing warfare and politics without worrying about which hand to hold a teacup with."
Ethan straightened in his seat, realizing too late the implication of his words. "That's not what I meant, Father. I only meant—"
"Enough," Louis interrupted, his tone clipped but not harsh.
Adrian, ever the reliable peacekeeper, jumped in to diffuse the tension. "Father, tea isn't everyone's strength, and that's fine. But you know what's just as important? Dancing. And guess what? Micheal and Ethan are both terrible at it."
Micheal groaned, covering his face with his hand. "I'm not that bad!"
Adrian raised an eyebrow. "You stepped on the same woman's foot three times in one dance, Micheal. That's not just bad—it's tragic."
Micheal muttered something incomprehensible, earning a chuckle from Adrian.
"And Ethan," Adrian continued, his grin widening, "you make dancing look like a military drill. I've seen more grace in your sword fights."
Ethan's expression remained stoic, but a faint crease in his brow betrayed his annoyance. "At least I don't step on anyone's feet."
"No, you just intimidate them into leaving the floor," Adrian shot back.
Eleanor cleared her throat, drawing the room's attention. "Adrian, enough teasing. If you're so skilled, perhaps you'd like to lead the next dancing lesson?"
Adrian raised his hands in mock surrender. "I'll leave that to these two. They need it more than I do."
As the conversation shifted back to tea, Eleanor glanced at her husband and sons, a mixture of fondness and exasperation filling her chest.
Louis, despite his lack of refinement, seemed to be enjoying himself, and his presence brought an unexpected liveliness to the lessons.
Micheal's quiet determination to improve—whether for her or for Magda—warmed her heart.
Ethan's oblivious yet sincere efforts to bond with the Whitestones, while amusing, showed a side of him she rarely saw.
And Adrian, ever the observer, somehow managed to keep them all grounded while stirring the pot just enough to keep things interesting.
She took a sip of her tea, a small smile gracing her lips. Perhaps one day they'll figure it all out. Until then, I'll savor the chaos.