The days at Vaelthorn mansion had grown brighter, busier — yet somehow, lighter.
Kael's recovery and growth were visible to everyone who saw him. The once-pale young man who could barely stand for long now sparred against guards with steady footing, studied without fainting, and even smiled, however faintly, when praised.
Every day followed a rhythm of quiet purpose.
At dawn, the sharp ring of steel echoed across the courtyard as Kael trained under Elric's watchful gaze. His movements, once stiff and uncertain, now carried precision. Each swing, each parry — smooth, confident, efficient. The guards who once hesitated to spar with him now respected him deeply.
Elric observed, her arms crossed, the hint of pride warming her stern expression. "You're truly amazing," she said as Kael wiped his sweat, his breathing calm. "As expected of the man who once saved the world."
Her words carried a softness she didn't bother to hide anymore.
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When morning turned to afternoon, Kael traded the sword for scrolls and books.
In the study, the air was filled with the scent of parchment and candle wax. Robert's voice guided him patiently through lessons on politics, diplomacy, and speech. Kael listened quietly, absorbing every word. He had become frighteningly fast at learning — something even Robert, a man of sharp intellect, found astounding.
"Perfectly said, young master," Robert praised after Kael recited a court introduction without a single mistake. "If you speak like this in front of the nobles, even the most arrogant of them will hold their tongue."
Kael lowered his gaze modestly, not answering, but his eyes flickered with faint gratitude.
Magic lessons, however, remained his greatest challenge. His mana, still fractured from years of depletion, refused to obey him completely. His barrier spells flickered weakly — shimmering for only moments before fading away.
Robert remained patient, never scolding. "It's not failure, young master," he reassured softly, touching Kael's trembling wrist. "Your body still remembers pain, not flow. Mana will return in its own time. For now, we learn control, not power."
And so, Kael practiced simple spells: barriers, light chants, and today, a healing spell. Even though his magic lasted only a few seconds before dissipating, Robert's eyes shone with pride.
"You'll surpass even archmages one day," he said gently. "I believe it."
Kael only looked at his hand, the faint glow still fading from his fingertips — uncertain whether to believe those words or not.
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Later that day, a new appointment awaited him — one arranged by Elric herself.
A tailor from Delcra's city had come to design Kael's new formal attire, the one he would wear when he finally returned to the imperial court. The tailor was a cheerful man in his forties, polite and trembling slightly from nervous excitement.
"Your grace," the man said with a deep bow, "it is my honor. You saved my family from the undead dragon. Because of you, we still live. Please allow me to craft the best attire you will ever wear."
Kael blinked in mild surprise but didn't respond, his expression neutral. He merely nodded once.
Robert smiled faintly from the corner. It wasn't so long ago that Kael would avoid strangers, shrinking from even the gentlest touch. Yet now, he sat still and calm, letting the tailor measure his shoulders, his chest, his arms.
Even when servants entered the room to tidy up, he didn't flinch.
The tailor circled Kael, measuring the length of his sleeves. "Now, what color shall we choose for his grace?" he asked brightly. "Black would be traditional — the color of strength and nobility."
Robert chuckled. "Indeed. Young master always wore black in his prime. It suited his hair then."
The tailor nodded eagerly. "Then perhaps we add a touch of crimson? To symbolize valor?"
Kael lifted his gaze from the floor, his voice breaking the air for the first time since the fitting began.
"…Light blue."
The tailor froze. Robert blinked.
Then, slowly, a small smile spread on Robert's face — proud, gentle, and a little emotional.
"Yes," Robert said warmly. "Light blue… It suits him perfectly. Make it black with light blue accents, just as he suggested."
The tailor scribbled in his notebook, nodding. "Of course. Black and light blue it shall be."
Robert walked to the corner of the room, discussing fabric texture and embroidery with the tailor. Meanwhile, Kael sat quietly, his fingers curling around the warm coffee cup Robert had left for him.
He took a sip, his eyes drifting toward the window. Outside, the sky was pale with the coming evening. The faint shimmer of sunlight reflected on the lake in the distance — a soft, silvery blue.
Light blue.
The same color as Elric's eyes.
His gaze lowered to the steam rising from the cup. He remembered that night — the warmth of her hands as they danced, the soft press of her lips against his cheek, and the promise in her voice.
"Smile, so you can remember this happiness."
Kael's fingers tightened around the cup. A faint, unspoken thought crossed his mind.
He wondered what kind of gift she was preparing for him — the "reward" she promised that night.
Was it something small? A gesture? Or maybe… something more?
That quiet thought made the corner of his lips soften — not quite a smile, but close enough that Robert, glancing over from the desk, caught it.
"Ah, I see," Robert teased softly, chuckling to himself. "Perhaps the young master has something to look forward to, hm?"
Kael didn't reply, but the faint blush on his cheeks said enough.
The tailor smiled kindly, unaware of the story behind the chosen color.
"To think, the hero who once wore the color of night now chooses the hue of dawn," he said thoughtfully. "A fitting sign of rebirth, I must say."
Robert nodded quietly. "Yes… a new light for him."
Kael looked down at the fabric samples on the table — soft black silk and gentle blue satin. His hand brushed over the light blue one, pausing as the faint reflection of moonlight shimmered over it.
For the first time, he felt something like peace — fragile, uncertain, but real.
And somewhere deep in his heart, where the shadows of pain still lingered, Elric's voice echoed again:
"I'll be with you… always."
Kael exhaled softly.
The light blue thread of destiny had begun to weave again — quiet, tender, and unspoken.
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The afternoon sun filtered gently through the tall glass windows of Vaelthorn mansion, scattering warm gold across Elric's office floor. The rhythmic rustle of fabric and the clicking of measuring tapes filled the room as the tailor and his assistant made their way in — their hands full of rolls of fabric and boxes of embroidery threads.
"Your Grace," the tailor greeted with a respectful bow, "it is an honor to design your attire again. His Grace, Archduke Kael, has already completed his fitting."
Elric, who had been standing near her desk reviewing military reports, lifted her gaze and nodded. "I see. Then let's not waste time." She placed the papers aside and stood with practiced ease, allowing the tailor's assistant to begin her measurements.
As the assistant circled her with a tape, Elric's curiosity broke through her calm demeanor. "What color did Kael choose for his outfit?" she asked casually, though her tone carried subtle interest.
The young assistant flipped open her small leather-bound notebook and scanned the scribbles. "Let's see… His Grace chose black for the coat and light blue for the decoration and tie."
Elric blinked. "Light blue?" Her brow tilted slightly in surprise. "Wouldn't crimson suit him better? It reflects his eyes, his history. Who made the choice?"
The assistant hesitated, then smiled shyly. "It was His Grace himself, Your Grace. He requested it."
Elric fell silent. For a heartbeat, her hand froze midair before she gently rested it against her waist again. Light blue? Why that color? It wasn't like Kael to choose something bright or soft — not the Kael she once knew.
A faint, inexplicable warmth spread through her chest before she quickly looked away, forcing her expression to stay composed. Perhaps… he simply wanted a change. She would not read too much into it.
"I see," she murmured. Then, after a short pause, she added with quiet confidence, "Then make mine white and light blue. I want the decorations to match his."
The assistant blinked in surprise. "Match him?"
"Yes," Elric replied simply, her voice calm but certain. "If we are to stand beside each other at the court, we should look united."
The assistant bowed respectfully. "Understood, Your Grace."
The tailor smiled with approval. "Ah, how splendid it will be — both of you standing side by side. The hero and the commander — matching colors like the sky and the moon."
Elric allowed herself a faint smile at that. "Make sure the embroidery is done by your best. I want the details to be flawless."
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When the assistant finished recording the final measurements, the tailor stepped forward again, carrying a small, velvet-lined box in his hands. "Your Grace," he said, his voice lowering respectfully, "this is the other item you requested. Forgive the delay; we've just completed it this morning."
Elric turned to him, eyes brightening slightly. "Ah. That would be the ring?"
"Yes." He opened the box and presented it to her. "Forged exactly as you described — black steel, polished with dark silver sheen, and set with small crimson diamonds. One set, for a couple."
Elric reached for the box, her fingers brushing over the cool metal. Inside lay two rings, simple yet elegant, their dark beauty glinting under the afternoon light. The crimson stones glowed faintly like fire trapped in metal.
"It's perfect," she whispered, her voice almost tender. She closed the box gently and looked at the tailor. "You've done an excellent job. Thank you."
The tailor and his assistant both bowed deeply. "It is an honor, Your Grace."
"You may go now," she said, a small, satisfied smile playing on her lips.
As they left, the room fell silent again, save for the soft flutter of curtains. Elric walked to her chair, the box still in her hands. She sat and carefully opened it once more, gazing at the rings.
Black steel with red diamonds, she thought to herself. The same shade as his eyes.
Her fingers traced the delicate engraving along the band — initials carved in quiet secrecy: E & M.
It wasn't just a gift. It was a promise.
A symbol not of politics, nor duty, but of her.
She thought of Reinhardt's engagement ring — the one given to both her and Kael as a political symbol, forged in the name of alliance rather than emotion. It was beautiful, yes, but impersonal. Cold.
This one… this was different. This was hers.
"I'll give it to him after the ceremony," she murmured to herself, a small smile curling her lips. "When he finally reclaims his name in the court."
For a brief moment, she imagined his face — the quiet surprise in his red eyes, the way he would look at her in disbelief, maybe even the way his lips might curve when he realized what it meant.
Her heart warmed at the thought.
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Her eyes drifted to the other side of the desk where a sealed letter lay waiting — Reinhardt's familiar handwriting pressed into the wax. She picked it up, breaking the seal with practiced ease.
The contents were short, direct — his usual tone as Emperor.
"The court is ready. The ministers await the Hero's return.
The noble council will convene in a week's time.
Prepare him.
— Reinhardt
Elric sighed quietly as she folded the letter back. Reinhardt's words, though formal, carried the weight of expectation. The world was waiting for Kael — the hero they thought dead.
She turned to the window, her reflection faint against the glass. "So soon…" she whispered.
The garden outside shimmered under the sunset's golden hue, and for a moment, she saw the faint reflection of Kael's silhouette in her mind — calm, reserved, unaware of how much he had changed her world simply by breathing within it again.
A quiet, affectionate smile touched her lips. "You're ready, Kael," she murmured softly. "And when you stand before the court, I'll be right beside you. This time, not as your commander — but as the one who will never let you fall again."
Her eyes lowered to the box of rings once more, her thumb brushing the smooth velvet surface.
I'll give this to you when you smile for me again.
The thought lingered as the daylight faded, and the silver moon slowly rose — watching silently as two hearts prepared for the moment when past and present would finally meet again.