Location: Capital-Shelb Highway
The newly laid stretch of road connecting the Shelb Estate to the Imperial Capital shimmered under the soft morning light, its polished surface a testament to Micheal's ingenuity. The horseless carriage glided smoothly, the hum of its engine blending with the distant sounds of birdsong.
Micheal leaned back against the cushioned seat, his sharp blue eyes flicking between the passing scenery and Magda, who sat across from him. She had her attention on the rolling hills outside the window, her crimson eyes soft with nostalgia.
"Feels different, doesn't it?" Micheal said, his voice cutting through the gentle hum.
Magda turned to him, her lips curving into a faint smile. "It does. I didn't think I'd miss the road to Shelb. It's... familiar."
Micheal chuckled, leaning forward slightly. "Well, I'm glad. At least now we can enjoy the journey without bruising every bone. This is only the first stretch, but it's proof of what we can build together."
Magda's expression softened further. "It's impressive, Micheal. Your designs are changing how we connect with the world."
"Save the compliments for later," Micheal quipped, grinning. "For now, I'm just happy to travel with you. At the palace, Royal Father makes sure I'm on the opposite side of the Imperial palace from you."
Magda's smile grew, and she shook her head. "He's... protective."
"Overprotective," Micheal corrected. "But let's not dwell on him. We're heading to the one place where I am considered normal."
The carriage rolled to a stop in the grand courtyard of the Shelb Estate. The sprawling gardens framed the main entrance, vibrant flowers swaying in the breeze.
Location: Shelb castle entrance
Duchess Eleanor stood at the top of the grand staircase, her hazel eyes glistening with emotion. Her chestnut-brown hair was elegantly pinned back, her demeanor radiating the poise of a matron who had seen the world and shaped her corner of it.
As Magda stepped out of the carriage, Eleanor's composure broke just enough to reveal her joy. She descended the steps quickly, her arms outstretched. Magda had been away from Shelb for almost half an year now, the Duchess had terribly missed her young daughter-in-law.
"Magda, my dear," Eleanor said, enveloping her in a warm embrace. "You're home."
Magda hesitated for a brief moment before leaning into the embrace, a rare sense of comfort washing over her. "Mother," she murmured softly, the word carrying years of familiarity and gratitude. Unlike her relationship with the Duke von Shelb, Magda always had a cordial relationship with her mother-in-law who saw a daughter in her daughter-in-law.
Eleanor stepped back, her hands still resting lightly on Magda's shoulders. "You've been through so much, my dear. Seeing you here, safe and well, is a blessing."
Micheal, watching from a step below, cleared his throat. "I'm here too, Mother."
Eleanor turned to him, her hazel eyes sparkling with amusement. "Yes, Micheal, I see you. Come here."
She pulled him into a brief but firm hug, her usual formality softening. "You've done well. Both of you."
Location: Duchess Eleanor's private parlor
Later, in her private parlor, Eleanor sipped her tea thoughtfully, her gaze fixed on the gardens beyond the window. Clara stood by her side, her sharp eyes assessing her mistress with practiced intuition.
"Magda and Micheal will only be here for a short time," Eleanor said, setting her cup down. "I want to make the most of it."
Clara nodded. "Perhaps we could adjust the morning tea lessons for your sons. Dame Vivian is visiting the region. You could extend an invitation for her to join, making it a more inclusive activity for the family."
Eleanor's hazel eyes brightened. "A splendid idea, Clara. Afternoon family workshops could include not just Vivian but Magda as well. It would give them all a chance to bond."
Clara hesitated. "Dame Vivian... isn't known for her eagerness in these matters."
Eleanor smiled knowingly. "That's why I'll write to Martha. If anyone can persuade Vivian, it's her mother."
Reaching for her com-tab, Eleanor composed a message to Marchioness Martha, outlining her plans and inviting Dame Vivian to join the workshops.
"Clara," Eleanor said as she pressed 'send,' her lips curving into a satisfied smile, "this will be a month to remember."
Location: Whitestone manor
Later that evening, Marchioness Martha Whitestone saw a message on her com-tab. The invitation from Duchess Eleanor von Shelb was both warm and strategic, inviting Dame Vivian to join an afternoon family workshop. Martha, seated in her parlor, set the device down and leaned back thoughtfully. Her emerald-green eyes gleamed with intrigue, and the light from the enchanted lamp glinted off her wavy golden hair.
Her gaze shifted to Victor, who was sitting at a nearby table, thumbing through a tactical manual. His emerald-green eyes, a mirror of his mother's, flicked up to meet hers when she called his name.
"Victor," she began in a tone that was both sweet and calculated, "I've just received a rather interesting message from Duchess Eleanor."
Victor glanced up, already wary of the glint in his mother's eyes. "What is it this time?"
Martha folded her hands neatly in her lap. "The Duchess has invited your sister to participate in an afternoon workshop at the Shelb Estate. Embroidery, tea etiquette, and other bonding activities."
Victor snorted. "Vivian? Embroidery? That'll be the day."
Martha allowed herself a faint smile. "Precisely. That's why I told her you'd be attending as well."
Victor straightened, his expression darkening. "Me? Mother, tea and embroidery aren't exactly in my wheelhouse."
"Victor," Martha said gently, "you've spent months perfecting your tea connoisseurship, haven't you? Or was that just to avoid looking unprepared when Ethan asked questions you couldn't answer?"
Victor stiffened, his grip tightening on the edges of his book. "That's... different. I took those lessons to improve myself."
"Did you?" Martha asked, her emerald eyes gleaming with subtle amusement. "Or was it because Ethan has a way of making you feel... outmatched?"
Victor's jaw tightened, his thoughts drifting back to the numerous times Ethan's seemingly innocent tea questions had caught him off guard.
"Ethan isn't outmatching anyone," Victor muttered, but his tone lacked conviction.
Martha's smile widened imperceptibly. "Of course not, my dear. But imagine this: a chance to observe him up close, to understand his methods, and to ensure he doesn't overshadow you in any arena—tea or otherwise."
Victor's green eyes narrowed. "What are you suggesting?"
Martha leaned forward slightly, her voice softening. "Vivian will be spending time at the Shelb Estate. Ethan will be there. And if you're not there to balance things, who knows what kind of impression she might form?"
Victor blinked, his gaze sharpening. "Vivian? Ethan? Mother, that's absurd. She'd never—"
"Never what?" Martha interrupted smoothly. "Respect his discipline? Admire his stoic demeanor? Think of him as... dependable?"
Victor bristled, his pride flaring. "That's ridiculous. Vivian would never be drawn to someone like him."
Martha tilted her head, her expression unreadable. "Wouldn't she? His qualities—calm, disciplined, composed—could appeal to someone seeking stability. And if you're not there to remind her of who truly understands her..."
Victor slammed the book shut, rising from his chair. "Fine. I'll go. But not because of Ethan. I'm doing this for Vivian."
"Of course," Martha said with a serene smile. "You're always so thoughtful."
The next morning, Martha approached Vivian, who was seated at her vanity, braiding her long auburn hair.
"Vivian," Martha began, her tone brisk, "you'll be attending the Shelb Estate's afternoon workshop today."
Vivian's emerald-green eyes narrowed as she turned to face her mother. "Excuse me? Workshops? Why on earth would I agree to that?"
"Because Duchess Eleanor invited you personally," Martha replied with a faint smile. "It would be rude to refuse."
Vivian folded her arms, her brow furrowing. "Since when do you care about rudeness? I'm not going."
"Oh, I think you will," Martha said lightly. "Victor is attending as well."
Vivian blinked, caught off guard. "Victor? Why would he—"
"He insisted," Martha said smoothly. "He doesn't want you to feel out of place."
Victor, leaning against the doorway, sighed dramatically. "Apparently, I'm supposed to keep you from embarrassing the family."
Vivian rolled her eyes, her emerald-green gaze sharp. "Oh, really? Bold of you to assume you won't be the embarrassment."
Victor smirked. "You'll see, Vivian. I'm there to observe. And to make sure Ethan doesn't fill your head with nonsense."
Vivian tilted her head, her curiosity piqued. "Ethan? What does he have to do with this?"
Victor straightened, his expression darkening. "He'll be there. And someone needs to keep an eye on him."
Vivian let out a laugh. "You're not going to war, Victor. You're going to drink tea."
"It's not just tea," Victor replied firmly. "It's strategy."
Vivian shook her head, amused. "Fine. If you're going, I'll go. But don't drag me into your ridiculous games."
Victor smirked, crossing his arms. "Deal."
Later, as the Whitestone siblings settled into their rooms, Martha composed her reply to Duchess Eleanor's invitation.
"My dear Duchess,
Vivian is thrilled to join the workshop, and I believe her younger brother Victor will add a touch of liveliness to the group as well. His participation will surely enhance the experience for all.
Warm regards,
Marchioness Martha Whitestone"
With a satisfied smile, Martha sent the message and leaned back, confident that her plan would set the stage to remember.
Location: Shelb Castle entrance
The sun hung high in the sky as the siblings' carriage rolled into the Shelb Estate's grand courtyard. The estate's gardens were vibrant with blooming flowers, and servants bustled about, ensuring everything was in perfect order.
Duchess Eleanor stood at the entrance, her hazel eyes warm as she greeted her guests.
"Dame Vivian, Lord Victor," Eleanor said with a gracious smile. "Welcome. I'm so pleased you could join us."
Victor bowed slightly, his tone polite but measured. "Thank you for having us, Duchess Eleanor."
Vivian offered a quick curtsy, her emerald eyes sparkling with barely concealed mischief. "This should be... entertaining."
Eleanor's smile widened knowingly. "I think you'll find it more engaging than you expect."
As they entered the estate, Victor glanced around, his gaze sharp and calculating. For him, this wasn't just an afternoon workshop—it was reconnaissance.
Location: Shelb Estate Grand Hall
The Shelb Estate's Grand Hall had been transformed into an elegant classroom, with long tables draped in fine linen and set with embroidery hoops, silken threads, and carefully selected tea sets. The warm sunlight streaming through the tall windows gave the room an inviting glow, though the expressions on some participants were far less enthusiastic.
Duchess Eleanor surveyed the room with her usual poise, her hazel eyes sharp as she watched her sons and guests settle into their seats.
Micheal sat at his assigned spot, his sharp blue eyes scanning the array of tools before him. The embroidery hoop in his hands seemed straightforward enough, and he picked up the needle with confidence.
"This should be easy," he declared, flashing a grin at Magda. "I'm a natural builder. Embroidery can't be that different from engineering."
Magda, seated beside him, gave him a skeptical look but said nothing, her crimson eyes gleaming with amusement.
His first attempt at stitching, however, was anything but promising. The thread snagged almost immediately, and the needle slipped from his fingers, narrowly missing the delicate fabric.
"Smooth start," Adrian drawled from across the table, leaning back in his chair with an air of exaggerated nonchalance. "At this rate, you'll revolutionize embroidery by the next millennium."
Micheal shot him a withering look. "At least I'm trying, Adrian."
Adrian picked up his own embroidery hoop with exaggerated disdain. "This is hardly the sort of battlefield I'm accustomed to," he muttered, threading his needle with all the enthusiasm of someone walking to the gallows.
His first stitch went wildly off course, creating a lopsided line that bore no resemblance to the intended pattern. Instead of fixing it, Adrian leaned back in his chair and sighed dramatically.
"Hopeless," he declared. "Clearly, I'm destined for greater things."
Duchess Eleanor's sharp gaze fixed on him, and she approached with the precision of a general inspecting her troops.
"Adrian," she said firmly, placing a hand on his shoulder. "If Victor, at twenty-four, can approach this with diligence, so can you. I will not tolerate laziness."
Adrian groaned as she sat beside him, guiding his hand with pointed instructions. "Mother, this feels like punishment."
"It's instruction," Eleanor corrected, her tone brooking no argument. "And as my only son without marriage prospects at the ripe age of twenty-eight, you should take this seriously. You're practically an old bachelor for an aristocrat."
Adrian winced, his usual humor faltering under her stern gaze. "Mother, do you have to bring that up every time?"
"If it motivates you to put some effort into this, then yes," Eleanor replied sharply, nudging his hand to correct his stitching.
Adrian sighed but complied, muttering under his breath. "I preferred it when Victor was the target of your perfectionism."
"Victor is diligent," Eleanor said coolly. "Perhaps you could learn from him."