The next morning, Roman was playing in the drawing room of his father’s quarters, eagerly waiting for him to appear. The boy was anxious to show off the new clothes he would be wearing for his visit to the academy.

"Roman, what is the reason for all this excitement?" Eilika asked, smoothing her skirt as she sat on the sofa. She had personally checked the tea service moments before to ensure everything was in order.

"Mama, we are visiting the academy today! I am super excited!" Roman called out, continuing to run around the center of the room in wide circles.

"Roman, do not hurt yourself running like that. Come and sit down," Eilika instructed, keeping her hands folded neatly in her lap as she watched him.

"Mama, I won’t fall," Roman insisted, just as his foot caught the edge of the heavy rug, sending him tumbling onto the floor.

"Ahh!"

"Roman!" Eilika stood up instantly, hurrying across the room toward him.

The boy scrambled back to his feet before she could reach him, a bright laugh breaking from his lips. "I am not hurt at all. Uncle Louis always says that falling is what makes a person strong," he explained, offering an infectious smile.

Eilika shook her head, dropping to her knees so she was level with him. "You and your uncle," she sighed softly, placing her hands securely on his shoulders. "You are truly eager to visit the academy today, aren’t you?"

"Yes, Mama. I am going to make many new friends, just as you promised," Roman stated, his grin widening as he imagined his first day.

"What is the cause of this commotion?" Damian asked, stepping through the double doors into the drawing room. His formal crimson cape brushed against the floor as both Eilika and Roman turned to face him.

Eilika felt her heart flutter slightly at the sight of him. Dressed in his official ducal attire, Damian looked exceptionally striking and commanding.

"Father, I am being admitted into the academy today!" Roman cried out, rushing across the room toward him. He wrapped his arms around Damian’s leg and looked up with admiration. "I will study diligently so that I can assist you with your work when I am older, Father."

Damian patted the boy’s head with a quiet hum of approval. Eilika walked over to join them, offering a respectful nod. "I shall pour the tea for Your Grace."

She approached the side table to pour the freshly prepared green tea into a porcelain cup, then carefully extended the saucer to Damian, who had already taken a seat and settled Roman onto his lap.

Both Damian and Eilika sipped their tea in quiet companionship until Roman suddenly wriggled free, slipping down from his father’s lap.

"Where do you think you are going? Return to your seat," Eilika commanded sternly, setting her saucer down.

"To see Grandmother! She is walking in the garden," Roman called back, already rushing toward the heavy oak doors of the chamber.

"Your Grace, My Lady, I shall follow the Young Master," Joanna interjected quickly. She offered a swift bow before hurrying out the door after the energetic boy.

Damian watched the doorway for a moment before turning back to his wife. "I have never seen him display this much excitement before."

"The prospect of entering the academy brings a unique thrill," Eilika replied, a gentle smile gracing her features. "It is entirely natural to feel this way when one is about to begin their formal schooling."

"Indeed," Damian replied simply.

"That is a remarkably plain response, Your Grace," Eilika remarked, a hint of amusement in her voice.

"I simply did not share his enthusiasm regarding my own formal education," Damian explained, setting his tea down. "That is the reason."

"And why is that? Do not tell me you were akin to those children who would weep inconsolably simply to remain at home," Eilika said playfully, attempting to coax a smile from him.

"No. My circumstances were quite different. My father was deployed to the battlefront during the initial years of my schooling," Damian replied evenly. "Consequently, my mind was occupied with worry."

The lightness in Eilika’s expression vanished, replaced by a sudden stillness.

"Forgive me, I did not mean to..."

"There is nothing to forgive," Damian interrupted softly, cutting off her apology before she could finish. "I am simply grateful that Roman will never have to endure such burdens. My only regret is that my own actions made the initial years of his childhood difficult," he murmured, taking another slow sip of his tea.

An intimate silence settled over the drawing room, broken only by the quiet clink of porcelain as Damian finally set his cup back onto the saucer.

"Are the borders secure at present?" Eilika asked suddenly, her voice cutting through the quiet.

"Yes, they are completely safe," Damian replied, looking across at her. A slight smirk touched his lips, and his brow quirked upward. "Are you frightened that if a conflict arises, I might be called away to the front lines?"

"Naturally," Eilika answered without hesitation, meeting his gaze evenly. "As your wife, it is only proper that I should worry. However, I would never permit you to face the fray alone. Should the need arise, I intend to accompany you to the battlefield to assist you and stand right by your side."

"And who would oversee the governance of Varos in our absence?" Damian inquired, a note of practical amusement in his voice. 𝒻𝓇𝑒𝘦𝘸𝑒𝒷𝓃ℴ𝑣𝘦𝑙.𝒸ℴ𝘮

"Uh..." Eilika paused, caught off guard by the logistical reality.

He chuckled softly at her hesitation, reaching over to place his hand gently against the crown of her head. The sudden warmth of his palm set her heart drumming against her ribs, and she lifted her gaze to meet his.

"Should the need ever arise, your place is here," Damian stated firmly. "As your husband, it is my duty to ensure the safety of both you and the estate."

"I pray to the heavens that such a crisis never comes to pass," she whispered.

"The borders remain secure, as I stated before. The treaties signed with the neighboring kingdom were established on the foundation of lasting peace, and they shall remain honored." Damian concluded, gently withdrawing his hand.