Three days have passed.
In the hush of a lush green woodland, where sunlight filtered softly through the towering canopy, the gentle melody of morning birdsong danced on the breeze. The scent of damp earth and wildflowers lingered in the air, unbothered by the approaching hooves that thudded lightly against the worn, winding trail road that stretched ahead.
A black carriage, trimmed with silver and bearing the Reiss family crest, moved steadily along the path, flanked by a modest escort of armored riders. The horses were calm, their steps practiced, this was a journey often made, though not recently.
Inside the carriage, Count Ernest Reiss, a man of measured composure and aged wisdom, sat with his legs crossed and hands resting on a cane. Beside him, his son Lucien fidgeted impatiently, brushing imaginary dust from his boots.
"Father, how much longer until we arrive?" Lucien asked, already pressing his face to the carriage window.
Ernest gave a soft chuckle, eyes still closed.
"You ask as if we're not just guests, this is Lord Julius's home, not a battlefield. Behave like a noble, not a scout."
Lucien huffed and leaned back.
"I just want to see what kind of place 'Arthas' is. You always talk about Lord Julius as if he's a war hero."
"That's because he is," Ernest replied, now opening one eye. "And the child you're about to meet? His son… may surprise you."
As the carriage emerged from the forest's edge, the distant silhouette of House Arthas came into view, a grand estate nestled near the foot of a rolling hill, its banners flapping gently in the wind.
…
From his room on the second floor of the manor, Licht stood silently by the window, the translucent curtains swaying gently with the morning wind. He gazed into the distance, toward the forest line where the road curved like a ribbon across the land.
His crimson eyes reflected the soft light, but they were clouded with thoughts.
'A crimson mana core... ten veins... what is this power?
He reached up, fingers brushing the back of his neck where the faint warmth of the crimson crown symbol still lingered. It pulsed, ever so faintly, like a heartbeat that didn't belong to him.
'That dream... or vision... it wasn't just some illusion. It replaced my heart. That being, it was real.'
He exhaled slowly, uncertainty tightening in his chest.
'But why me? Is it because of thirst for revenge? Why…?'
A knock came at the door. It opened just enough for a familiar voice to call gently.
"Young master Licht, breakfast is ready," said Fred, the family's butler, his tone always proper but warm. "Your father is waiting."
Licht gave a slight nod without turning.
"...I'll be down shortly."
…
The dining hall smelled faintly of eggs, herbs, and fresh bread. Sunlight poured through the stained glass, painting the stone floor in soft colors. Julius Arthas sat at the head of the table, armored partially as usual even in the comfort of his home, his expression calm but observant.
Licht entered quietly, his tiny footsteps echoing softly across the stone. His mother, Antonette, offered him a warm smile and gently guided him into his seat with a brush of her hand over his hair.
"You look like your mind is still in bed," Julius remarked, watching him carefully. "Are you alright?"
Licht hesitated.
'What am I supposed to say…?'
"I… don't know," he said honestly, his young voice barely above a whisper.
That seemed to surprise Julius more than any excuse would have. He didn't press further, but the concern in his eyes deepened.
Just then, Fred, the family butler, stepped forward and leaned subtly toward Julius's side, whispering just loud enough for Licht to catch part of it.
"Count Ernest and his son are minutes away, my lord."
Julius's expression shifted. He straightened and set his goblet down with a soft clink.
"Then we'd best prepare for our guests," he said, rising from his chair. "Antonette, please see that the receiving hall is readied."
She nodded and moved with practiced grace.
Julius turned toward the butler again, his voice lowers this time.
"Make sure that what happened in that night is not spoken of by anyone. Understood?"
Fred gave a deep bow. "Understood, my lord."
Then Julius turned to Licht, a faint smile tugging at the corner of his lips. "And Licht…"
The boy looked up, confused.
"Try to befriend his son, alright?"
Licht blinked. 'Befriend… a kid? Heh.'
He gave a small nod, unsure whether it was a suggestion, a task, or a test.
Outside, the steady rhythm of hooves approached ever closer.
…
The heavy doors of House Arthas creaked open as the black carriage rolled into the stone courtyard, flanked by two standard-bearing guards. The crest of House Reiss shimmered faintly in the morning sun, a pair of silver wings beneath a sword wrapped in ivy.
Julius, now standing at the top of the steps, stepped forward with a measured smile. Antonette stood just behind him, poised with gentle grace, and Licht stood silently at his father's side, expression unreadable.
The carriage door opened, and Count Ernest Reiss stepped out, his cane touching the ground with a soft click. His silver-threaded cloak caught the breeze as he adjusted his collar and offered a courteous nod.
"Julius Arthas," Ernest said, his tone warm. "It has been far too long."
"Indeed, it has," Julius replied, clasping his old friend's forearm in greeting. "Welcome to House Arthas."
Then Julius's gaze dropped slightly as another figure climbed down from the carriage, a blond-haired boy with bright green eyes, his posture full of energy and curiosity.
"This must be your son," Julius said with an approving smile. "Sharp eyes. He takes after you."
Ernest placed a gentle hand on Lucien's back. "This is Lucien, my pride and occasional headache."
Lucien gave a wide, confident smile.
"And this," Julius gestured to the quiet boy beside him, "is my son, Licht."
Licht gave a small bow and offered Lucien a polite nod.
'Just a kid…' Licht mused inwardly, expression unchanged. 'I'm not here to playhouse with children.'
Behind his calm eyes, Licht felt the weight of decades. The man who once led armies, bled beside comrades, and was betrayed by those he trusted most now stood, reborn, in the body of a one-year-old. The irony wasn't lost on him.
"I hope our children can become good friends," Ernest said, glancing at Lucien with fatherly pride.
Julius chuckled. "If they don't destroy the manor first, I'll consider it a success."
As the two men turned toward the entrance, Ernest's eyes drifted upward, to the eastern wing of the second floor, where part of the outer wall was clearly under construction. Scaffolding clung to the stonework like vines, and a small group of workers bustled quietly, and pulling materials.
Ernest raised a brow. "What happened here? Are you renovating or something?" He smirked. "It seems you've struck gold again, Julius."
Julius offered a soft chuckle, but leaned slightly toward his old friend and whispered just loud enough for him to hear:
"It's nothing serious, but there is something.. we'll discuss it inside."
Ernest glanced sideways at him, surprised but intrigued, he gave a slow nod. Julius turned back to the doors, a faint, knowing smile on his lips.
"Come. I've a bottle of Pendian wine that's been waiting six years for your return."
The two noblemen began walking toward the entrance. Antonette followed with quiet grace, her gown trailing like silk across the stone. Fred, the butler, slipped ahead silently, disappearing into the manor.
Julius paused just before entering and looked back at the boys.
"Licht. Lucien. Why don't you two go play in the meantime? There's space in the courtyard or the gardens."
Licht suppressed a sigh and gave a quiet, obedient nod.
'Play, huh…? Sure. Let's pretend.'
As the adults disappeared into the manor, an awkward silence settled between the boys.
Lucien was the first to speak. "So, uh... Licht, right? Do you want to-?"
"No," Licht interrupted flatly, already turning toward the eastern edge of the manor grounds.
Lucien blinked. "What? You don't even know what I was going to ask."
"I'm going to the forest," Licht said over his shoulder. "Alone."
Lucien hesitated. "The forest? Wait, are you even allowed to-?"
"Don't follow me."
And with that, Licht walked away without another word, his tiny frame swallowed by the path that led between the hedge wall and the grove beyond.
The forest behind House Arthas was peaceful, deceptively so. Morning dew clung to the leaves, and the cool air hummed with the faint chirping of insects. Sunlight pierced through the canopy in narrow shafts, dancing across the moss-covered ground.
Licht knelt beside a patch of disturbed earth, eyes narrowing. Small paw prints, it's likely rabbits, scattered toward the forest.
He pressed his hand into the soil and released a bit of mana. It flared into a crimson fire for the briefest moment before vanishing into the earth.
'What? The fire is crimson too.. And it still stable. The core's holding…'
'But I need to know how far I can push it.'
He stood and continued deeper, weaving between trees with a practiced gait that betrayed his youthful appearance.
Then.. something rustled.
A bush nearby trembled.
Licht halted instantly, crouching low. His mana pulsed again, reflexively preparing for a strike.
Another rustle, but this time it's closer. He narrowed his eyes.
'Is that a beast? No… the movement's too clumsy.'
He parted the bush with a swift hand.
And there, tangled in a low branch and trying to duck behind a shrub, was Lucien, his green eyes wide.
"…Why are you here?!"