Meanwhile, on the opposite side of the capital, the Armett estate seethed with anxiety. Count Noah Armett had summoned the entire family. In the grand hall, faces were pale, voices trembling with fear.

  Benjamin turned to his younger sister, his voice breaking with desperation.

  "Isabella… tell me it isn't true. Tell me you didn't write that letter."

  The young woman, dressed in mourning black, lifted her gaze.Her hands were shaking.

  "It wasn't me, Ben. I didn't do it," she whispered faintly. "But the court mages say my seal and handwriting are authentic… someone forged them. Someone wants to destroy us."

  Benjamin ran his hands through his hair in anguish.

  "The Douglas won't listen to reason. If war begins, we won't survive."

  Isabella clenched her fists, holding back tears.

  "Then I'll find out who did this… I swear it on my name."

  The chandeliers flickered as, outside, royal messengers formally proclaimed the war between House Douglas and House Armett.

  Sunlight streamed through the tall windows of the main corridor, casting a golden glow over the tapestries bearing the Douglas crest.

  If you find this story on Amazon, be aware that it has been stolen. Please report the infringement.

  Outside, the metallic clash of swords and the heavy steps of magical beasts echoed through the air: the duchy had begun, discreetly, to prepare for war.

  Soldiers drilled in the courtyards. Mages practiced reinforcement spells. Blacksmiths worked tirelessly at the forge—all under Sofía's strict discretion.

  Meanwhile, in one of the chambers in the east wing, Lusian awoke late. His body still ached from the exhaustion of the forest, but his mind was more restless than ever. He sought peace—or at least a moment to clear his thoughts.

  Resolute, he took up his sword and headed for the training hall.

  When he opened the door, he was met with an unexpected sight.

  Someone lay sprawled on the floor, and beside her stood Albert, laughing loudly with a smile that was as amused as it was cruel.

  "Well, you're late, Lusian," Albert remarked, arms crossed."I had a guest for training, but it seems she… won't be able to continue."

  Lusian frowned, recognizing the person on the ground.

  "You don't even show mercy to your own niece, you damned demon," he said, barely restraining his anger.

  Albert let out a low chuckle, not a trace of guilt in his expression."That's my way of showing affection."

  The irony in his tone made the twisted nature of the being unmistakable.

  Lusian knelt beside the girl—Jean—and looked at her with concern.

  "How do you feel?"

  Jean met his gaze, her face drenched in sweat.

  "I can't feel my legs," she whispered, struggling to maintain her composure.

  "Don't worry. It's temporary. Your body is just reacting to the energy overload," Lusian assured her.

  Albert stepped forward, a malicious grin spreading across his face.

  "And you, boy? Did you come only to play the sympathetic hero, or are you planning to train as well?"

  Lusian clenched his fist. He knew facing Albert was inevitable.He drew a slow breath and unsheathed his sword.

  "Fine," he said with resolve."Let's see if you're as strong as you claim."