The Kane family of three spent the night at Viscount Edward's estate, a grand manor built with imposing gray stone and adorned with intricate carvings that spoke of both wealth and history. The high vaulted ceilings inside were lined with chandeliers that cast a warm, golden glow, while the soft murmur of servants and the faint scent of polished wood filled the air. Compared to the modest Kane family home, the Viscount's estate exuded an aura of power and refinement, leaving an impression of both awe and subtle unease.
Arthas stood by the window, his gaze fixed on the dark silhouette of a lone oak tree swaying gently in the cool night breeze. The moonlight filtered through its branches, casting intricate patterns of shadow and light on the dewy grass below. A faint rustle of leaves and the distant chirp of crickets added to the tranquil yet somber atmosphere, mirroring the weight of his thoughts. His furrowed brow betrayed the weight of his thoughts.
Eleanor, having just laid their tired son Aldrich to bed, approached her husband quietly. The room was dimly lit, with a single candle flickering on a nearby table. Shadows danced on the stone walls, where a tapestry depicting a serene pastoral scene hung slightly askew. The air was tinged with the faint scent of lavender from a bundle tucked near the headboard, and the remnants of the day—a discarded toy and a half-folded blanket—lay scattered on the floor, adding a touch of lived-in warmth to the space. Wrapping her arms around him from behind, she rested her cheek against his back.
"That's some serious thinking, Arthas," she teased gently. "Careful, or that tree might melt from embarrassment."
Arthas exhaled deeply, placing his hands over hers. "I was just thinking about our family." The truth lingered on his tongue, but he couldn't bring himself to burden her with the dire news Viscount Edward had shared earlier.
Eleanor tightened her embrace. "You know, ever since we got married, we promised to keep no secrets from each other." Her voice softened as she kissed his shoulder.
Caught in the storm of his own emotions, Arthas let out another sigh. At last, he spoke, though it pained him. "In a month's time, I'll be returning to the battlefield."
Eleanor stiffened, her trembling betraying the calm she tried to maintain. "When will you be back?" she asked, her voice faltering despite her effort to sound composed.
Arthas felt a pang of guilt at her reaction. He had wanted to spare her this grief, but now it was too late. He steeled himself and replied, "As soon as the war ends. I've been tasked with leading the troops against the beast tide." He omitted the more dangerous truth about the orc threat. Sorry, my love, he thought silently. I lied.
Eleanor took a moment to steady herself, her trembling subsiding. "I trust you'll be back before Aldrich's second birthday, okay?" she said, her voice tinged with fragile hope.
"Of course, my love. I promise." Turning to face her, Arthas embraced her tightly.
"Please come home safe," Eleanor whispered, her words carrying both a plea and a prayer.
The night passed quietly, and morning arrived with the crowing of a rooster. The first rays of sunlight filtered through the window, waking Arthas.
Aldrich, who was already stirring, stretched and instinctively checked his status panel. No changes. He glanced at his parents and tried to slip off the bed quietly. However, his small movements didn't escape his ever-alert father.
"Good morning, boy," Arthas said with a yawn.
"Good morning, Papa!" Aldrich replied cheerfully, quickly climbing down from the bed.
Arthas chuckled at his son's eagerness, then turned his attention to Eleanor, still fast asleep. His heart weighed heavy with guilt from the previous night's deception. Leaning over, he kissed her forehead before gently shaking her awake.
"Wake up, my love. We need to leave early if we want to make it home before lunch."
Eleanor groaned, turning away from him. Arthas chuckled softly and pulled the blanket over both of them, letting a moment of silence stretch between them before murmuring, "You always did say I had a way of waking you up."
Moments later, Eleanor shot up with a grimace, swatting at his chest. "You're such a meanie!" she exclaimed, her irritation quickly giving way to laughter.
Their playful antics reminded them of their younger days, and Aldrich, peeking through the doorway, watched the scene unfold with a small smile.
An hour later, the family was packed and ready to leave. Outside the manor, Viscount Edward and his steward awaited them.
Edward saluted Arthas solemnly. The early morning light cast long shadows across the cobblestone courtyard, where the crisp air carried a quiet stillness. The faint clinking of armor and the low murmur of servants in the distance underscored the weight of the moment. "A month's time," he said quietly, his voice heavy with unspoken concern.
Arthas returned the salute before turning to Eleanor. "Let's go."
The family's journey home was uneventful, though the landscape offered a serene backdrop. Rolling green fields stretched out on either side of the dirt road, dotted with grazing sheep and the occasional cluster of wildflowers swaying in the gentle breeze. As they neared their estate, the sight of their modest yet sturdy stone manor came into view, framed by a grove of oak trees that whispered softly in the wind. The soldiers training nearby added a sense of vigilance and activity, a stark contrast to the otherwise peaceful surroundings. The sight of soldiers training near the small manor brought a sigh from Arthas. It reminded him of his own days as a young recruit, the grueling drills, the relentless pursuit of strength. Now, as a commander, the burden of responsibility weighed heavily on his shoulders—each of these men was a life he was sworn to protect, yet he knew not all would return. He shook his head and guided his family inside.
At the entrance, their youngest daughter, 15-year-old Marion, greeted them eagerly. She bore a striking resemblance to her mother, though her youthful features were still blossoming.
"I'm the only one here. First and second brothers are back at the War Academy," she explained, an apologetic smile on her face.
"That's okay, my daughter," Eleanor said warmly, kissing her forehead. "Did anything happen while we were away?"
Marion frowned, wiping away the kiss with a napkin. "Mother, please! I'm not a child anymore," she huffed. "And no, nothing unusual happened."
Arthas laughed, leaning in to kiss her forehead as well, earning a glare from his daughter.
Marion turned her attention to Aldrich, her face lighting up mischievously. "Aldrich! I missed you so much! Come to big sister!" She lunged toward him dramatically, wiggling her fingers as if she were about to tickle him into submission.
Aldrich inwardly rolled her eyes at her but externally he squealed, dodging at first before launching himself into her arms. "Big sis! You'll never catch me!" he declared before wriggling free and darting across the room.
Marion gave chase, laughing as she scooped Aldrich up and spun him around. "Gotcha! You can't escape the tickle monster!" Aldrich shrieked with laughter, kicking his legs as he tried to escape. Their parents exchanged amused glances before finally ushering the giggling siblings inside the manor.
After hours of playing with his energetic sister, Aldrich lay sprawled on the floor of his room, exhausted. She's so lively, he thought, wiping sweat from his brow. He glanced toward the door, wondering when his maid would come to help him clean up.
Moments later, the door creaked open, and Bea, his personal maid, stepped in. "It's time for your bath, little Aldrich," she said with a smile.
Aldrich grinned. Finally.
As cold water poured over him, he began thinking about his future plans. Gaining a class and innate talent isn't enough to become a master blacksmith. I need to study metallurgy, learn about different metals, and apprentice under an experienced smith. The sheer amount of work ahead made his head ache.
We do have a library. Hopefully, it has books on forging—though our family has always been warriors, not blacksmiths, understanding the craft of weapon-making could still be invaluable. Then the realization hit him: he couldn't read yet.
Well, he thought with a sigh, I can't rush things. Might as well enjoy growing up again. With that, he let the cool water wash away his worries—for now.