Gentle sunlight filtered through the tall, arched windows of the Reinhardt estate, casting motes of shimmering dust into the air. Archduchess Liliana Reinhardt sat in a plush chair by the open balcony, draped in a soft, emerald-green gown that complemented her dark hair and keen violet eyes. She was now several months along in her pregnancy—just past the halfway point—and she carried twins: Eryon and his yet-unnamed sister. Though the demands on her body grew with each passing week, she handled them with the same poise and composure that characterized her every action.
Liliana inhaled the mild spring air, noting how it carried the scent of freshly trimmed hedges and blooming rosebushes from the courtyard below. Occasionally, she could detect the faint trace of magic in the atmosphere—an ambient hum that only seasoned mages like herself might notice. The estate thrummed with life: footmen tending to deliveries, knights sparring in the practice yard, and visiting nobles coming and going on political errands. All the while, she remained the calm center of it all, the archduchess who balanced her household with a measured grace.
Placing a hand lightly on her abdomen, she felt the soft stirring of the twins within. A faint, secret smile touched her lips. She could sense their presence—two small but potent sparks of magic, so very different and yet inextricably linked. Everyone in the kingdom expected these children to be special, considering the extraordinary might of both parents. But only Liliana knew how intense their auras already felt, occasionally causing gentle flutters of arcane energy that only a mother could perceive. In these quiet moments, she whispered silent hopes and wishes for their futures: that they might find joy and purpose, and above all, not succumb to the pressures that would inevitably weigh on them.
A delicate knock at the door caught her attention. Her maid, a slender woman named Elira, stepped into the room with a respectful curtsy. "My Lady, Archduke Alaric has returned from the palace. He's asked to see you in the main hall. Shall I help you there?"
Liliana nodded, setting aside the embroidery she'd been working on. "Yes, thank you. Let's not keep him waiting." Though her steps were slightly slower these days, she did not waver. Elira offered her arm, and together they left the sunlight of the balcony behind, heading into the estate's marble-floored corridors.
The Reinhardt estate was an architectural marvel: high vaulted ceilings, marble columns carved with runic symbols, and walls hung with tapestries depicting the founding of their duchy centuries ago. In alcoves spaced evenly along the corridors, glowing magic stones of modest rank provided gentle illumination. These stones—each roughly the size of an egg—emanated a soft radiance, powering the estate's lighting throughout the night. Here, everything was run on magic, from the simplest lamp to the advanced indoor heating system. This was a world where magic stones were as vital as breath itself.
Liliana and Elira descended a broad staircase to the main hall, where they found Archduke Alaric Reinhardt. Tall, broad-shouldered, with ash-gray hair and a quiet confidence, he radiated both noble dignity and the lethal grace of a swordsman who had few equals in the realm. He stood talking to Sir Rowan, his long-time friend and one of his most trusted knights—a compact man with intense eyes and an unwavering loyalty.
At Liliana's arrival, Alaric's expression softened. He dismissed Sir Rowan with a curt nod, then approached his wife. "Liliana," he said, dipping his head in a respectful greeting. Though they were husband and wife, formality still lingered around them in public, a habit forged by their station.
"I hear you've been at the palace again," Liliana said, resting a hand lightly on his arm. "Another of King Alden's councils?"
Alaric let out a measured sigh, guiding her toward a private seating area in the hall. "Yes. There's rising concern about the new anomalies reported in dungeons outside the southern border. Rumor has it some S-Rank beasts have been sighted near farmland. The King is requesting each Archduke increase their patrols."
A faint crease formed on Liliana's brow. "More monsters so soon? The realm has barely recovered from the last surge."
Alaric nodded grimly. "Indeed. The King believes it may be cyclical, but we've never seen it escalate this rapidly. He's called on all four Archducal houses—Reinhardt, Stormrider, Rosamund, and Blackthorn—to coordinate. As usual, Stormrider seems willing, while Rosamund and Blackthorn bristle at the notion of following my lead." A wry scoff escaped him. "They'd rather risk the kingdom than see me overshadow them."
Liliana squeezed his hand. "Politics," she murmured. They both knew the tensions that ran high among the Archdukes. Alaric's fame as the kingdom's strongest swordsman—and likely second in martial prowess only to King Alden—fueled no small amount of jealousy.
Elira discreetly offered tea to the couple and then withdrew, leaving them to speak privately. "Were you able to reason with them?" Liliana asked, taking a cup in her slender fingers.
Alaric grimaced. "To a degree. The King stands behind me, and so does Stormrider, but Rosamund and Blackthorn… well, they'll cooperate on paper but won't lend me any actual forces unless forced by the Crown. It's all right, though. I have enough knights and mages to maintain our own borders—and more, if needed. However…" He trailed off, glancing at Liliana's abdomen with tender concern. "I worry, with you carrying the twins. I don't want any crisis that forces me to be away for too long."
Liliana placed her teacup on the table. "I understand. But I'm not made of glass, Alaric. I can handle myself and this estate. You do what the kingdom needs."
He threaded his fingers through hers, expression softening. "Yes, but I also recall Kael's birth. I barely made it back in time. I missed so much. I don't want to repeat that."
Liliana's eyes shimmered with empathy. "We'll do our best to ensure you're here when these two arrive." She patted her stomach gently. "They'd want their father around."
Inside the womb, Eryon sensed only muffled voices but felt a wave of warmth and love emanating from his mother. Somewhere, in that enclosed darkness, he formed hazy impressions of the outside world: the father's low baritone, the mother's comforting aura, the faint presence of a friend or guard with steady footsteps. Eryon remained half-lost in a dreamlike state, but a flicker of budding consciousness registered that life around him was never dull.
By the next day, Liliana's routine resumed. Even pregnant with twins, her day was filled with responsibilities. She oversaw estate finances, inspected the training yard to watch potential mage recruits practice, and met with local officials from smaller fiefdoms within Reinhardt territory. Her magical prowess—while tempered due to her condition—was well-known, and her presence alone was enough to keep the more ambitious nobles in line.
Yet, the pregnancy demanded its toll. By mid-afternoon, she often found herself fatigued, occasionally experiencing gentle pulses of magic from the twins that left her breathless. Nothing alarming, merely a reminder that her unborn children bore enormous potential. Whether they would inherit swordsman skill, magical talent, or both, no one could be certain—but everyone had theories. Some whispered that these twins might grow to rival the King's own progeny in power. Others spread rumors that the Reinhardt line might become too dominant, igniting further jealousy among the aristocracy.
Elira, ever attentive, made sure Liliana rested adequately. She also liaised with the estate healers, ensuring they regularly examined the Archduchess's health. Considering the estate's resources, none doubted Liliana and the unborn twins would receive the best care possible. Still, childbirth was not without risk, even in a world of magic. The tension around the estate grew as the pregnancy advanced.
Early one evening, Liliana decided to walk the estate grounds for fresh air, accompanied by Elira. They strolled past rows of carefully tended hedges and statues depicting former Reinhardt ancestors. Along the path, ornate lampposts topped with F-Rank magic stones flickered to life as dusk approached, bathing the gardens in a soft glow. Even such low-ranked stones could be used like batteries to light the grounds. The stronger stones—E, D, C, and onward—were reserved for more demanding tasks.
Farther along, Liliana paused to regard one of the estate's key features: the Teleportation Arch, a large stone gate engraved with runic circles that flared with color when active. Beneath it lay slots for higher-tier magic stones—typically A-Rank or above. The gate connected the Reinhardt Duchy to other major outposts or the capital city itself, cutting travel from weeks to mere moments. It was an invaluable tool, but powering it required no small amount of resources. Even now, Liliana suspected the King would soon request its usage to dispatch reinforcements where the monster threat was worst.
"It never ceases to amaze me," Elira ventured softly, catching Liliana's contemplative gaze. "A single S-Rank stone could maintain that gate for days without recharging."
Liliana nodded. "They say only about one in a thousand dungeons yields S-Rank stones. The empire to the east is said to have entire mines of them, but I've never quite believed it."
They continued on, the arch receding behind them. Liliana's thoughts drifted to Eryon—though she knew him only as a nameless unborn son. His father, Alaric, was near the pinnacle of swordsmanship, but Liliana herself wielded powerful magic. In quiet moments, she daydreamed of them teaching their children together, one in sword arts and the other in arcane secrets. Perhaps that was a naive fantasy, but it warmed her heart.
To Eryon, time was fluid. Days or weeks meant little inside that cozy darkness. What he sensed were fleeting impressions: the rhythms of his mother's heartbeat, the subtle fluctuations in temperature, and periodic waves of external energy that prickled his budding magical sense. Occasionally, the System in his mind would flare with quiet acknowledgments—though it mostly remained dormant until he was truly born. Affinities Detected. Inventory Active (Locked). No living items could be stored, and he was not yet old enough to test or understand these features.
Yet, even in his limited awareness, Eryon occasionally dreamed—fragments of memories from his Earthly life, the final image of a terrified child in the rain, and the blazing headlights of a truck. He'd jolt from that phantom shock, only to calm under the lull of Liliana's heartbeat. He was simultaneously Eryon Evans, a convenience store clerk who died saving a little girl, and Eryon Reinhardt, an unborn noble scion with a world of possibilities ahead.
Whenever he drifted close to full consciousness, he felt a faint tether to another presence—his twin sister. She was different, quieter, but equally potent. They pressed together in the womb, the synergy of their nascent auras occasionally sparking small magical twitches in Liliana. He had no words for it, only a sense that he was not alone.
One late afternoon, Alaric convened a meeting in the estate's grand library, a place lined from floor to ceiling with tomes on magic theory, dungeon geography, and the history of Aedryn. Present were Liliana, Sir Rowan, Elira (taking notes), and a small gathering of the estate's highest-ranking knights and advisers.
Alaric cleared his throat, scanning the table. "We've received word from the King about the southern border crisis. The dungeon anomalies are confirmed to be A-Rank or possibly S-Rank creatures spilling out into farmland. This is the worst-case scenario, meaning many peasants and smaller towns are at risk."
Sir Rowan shifted. "Shall we dispatch a portion of our forces to assist, my lord?"
"Yes," Alaric said. "I intend to lead them personally—"
He stopped when Liliana placed a gentle hand on his forearm. Her eyes carried a weight of concern. "Again?"
"Forgive me," Alaric said softly, "but if we don't strike quickly, the situation could escalate. Besides, the King specifically requested I handle the most dangerous threats. I'm… the best suited."
Liliana inhaled. She knew his words were true. None could match Alaric's swordsmanship, aside from the King himself—and the King had his own duties to oversee. "Very well. But please, be cautious. We can't lose the father of these children to a dungeon spawn."
A faint smile crossed Alaric's face. "I promise I'll return as soon as the threat is neutralized."
She nodded. "Then we'll coordinate the estate's defense while you're gone. Rowan, you'll accompany him, I assume?"
Sir Rowan bowed. "Naturally. I wouldn't dream of letting him charge into an S-Rank beast alone."
Alaric looked to the rest of his knights. "We'll depart in two days. Prepare supplies, mount the warhorses or gather magic stones for the Teleportation Arch if needed. Meanwhile, Liliana, you must focus on your rest. I'll do my best to be back before… the time comes."
Though no one said it aloud, they all felt a pang at the notion of Liliana nearing the late stages of her pregnancy without her husband present. Nonetheless, duty to the kingdom often trumped personal concern. They concluded the meeting with the promise to finalize preparations within forty-eight hours.
The following morning, Liliana woke earlier than usual, feeling faint cramps in her abdomen. Nothing serious, just a reminder that she carried two vigorous lives. Rather than worry, she took it as a sign to slow down and indulge in the calm moments she had left. Slipping on a comfortable dressing gown, she found her way to the estate's small side garden, a quieter space shielded by high hedges.
She wasn't alone. Alaric stood by a rosebush, wearing a simple linen shirt rather than his usual armor, gazing at the blossoms with an introspective stare. It struck Liliana how rarely they shared private time since their responsibilities overshadowed romantic moments.
He turned, noticing her approach. A wry, gentle smile touched his lips. "Couldn't sleep?"
"I could say the same about you," she replied, stepping closer. She placed her hand on her belly. "They're active this morning."
A faint glow lit Alaric's eyes. He put a hand beside hers, feeling the slightest shift of movement from within. "I wonder… will our son be a swordsman like me, or a mage like you? Or perhaps your daughter might be the warrior?"
Liliana chuckled. "Who knows? Magic or swordsmanship, they'll have a choice. In any case, they'll face a world filled with monsters and political intrigue, so we must ensure they're ready."
He nodded gravely, turning his gaze to the brightening sky. "I'll handle the dangers outside, if you handle the home front. Just keep them safe until I return."
She let her head rest lightly on his shoulder. "I will."
They stood like that for a few minutes, letting the hush of dawn cradle them. No grand speeches were needed—both understood the unspoken vow in the air.
By midday, the courtyard bustled with activity. Several knights in polished breastplates gathered near the stables, while mages in dark robes packed scrolls and potions into traveling chests. Sir Rowan oversaw final checks of gear. The clink of bridles, the stomp of horses' hooves, and the distant ring of steel created a tapestry of martial readiness.
Alaric appeared in full regalia: a tailored gambeson under reinforced leather, a masterfully forged longsword belted at his hip. Even unactivated, a faint aura of power radiated from him, hinting at the Sword Aura he could wield at will. He exchanged parting words with Liliana, who stood at the estate's entrance, flanked by Elira and a few loyal attendants.
"Don't overextend," she said, holding her composure in front of the crowd. "We'll manage here."He nodded. "I'll be back soon. Remember what the healers said—rest. No overexertion."Liliana gave him a look that was both fond and exasperated. "I won't go dueling anyone in my condition, if that's what you mean."
A flicker of amusement crossed Alaric's serious features. "Good. Rowan, ensure my wife and estate remain informed if anything changes."
Sir Rowan bowed deeply. "With my life, my lord."
And with that, the small battalion set out. Hooves clattered against cobblestones, the estate gates swung open, and a procession wound its way down the main road. The banners of House Reinhardt fluttered in the afternoon breeze, silver and green. Servants and lesser knights watched from windows and balconies, bidding them quiet farewells as they vanished into the horizon.
Liliana stood there a moment longer, the swirl of dust and distant thunder of hooves lingering in the air. She touched her abdomen once more. In that passing instant, she felt a strong kick—either from Eryon or his sister—followed by a subtle wave of magic. A mother's intuition told her these unborn children were more unusual than even she had anticipated. She exhaled a soft laugh.
"All right, you two," she murmured. "Let's keep your father's estate in one piece until he's back."
Inside the womb, Eryon's slumber stirred at the sudden pulse of energy. The outside world was changing; he could sense it in the tension that passed through Liliana's aura. It was as though destiny itself was on the move, and he was riding the crest of its wave—even before drawing his first breath.