CHAPTER 121: THE BEGINNING OF NEW ERA

[Rynthall Estate—The Next Day]

The sun spilled through the curtains, painting the chamber in a soft golden glow. Birds chirped outside as though mocking the fact that inside, Lucien felt like a corpse reborn. His lashes fluttered, and he groaned softly, his voice rough with sleep.

"Why... do I feel tired the very moment I wake up...?" he mumbled, rubbing his temple.

Then something wriggled against his chest.

"Mmmh... Mama..." came a tiny, muffled voice.

Lucien peeked under the blanket, only for his heart to soften instantly. Elysia was curled against him, her little arms hugging his tunic, lips brushing his chest.

"...Mama..." she breathed again in her sleep, her face so sweetly at peace that Lucien almost forgot how to breathe himself.

A smile—helpless and utterly besotted—spread across his lips. He hugged her close, whispering like a prayer. "My god... I was blessed this morning before heaven even opened its gates."

Elysia’s lips twitched, unconsciously nuzzling lower—towards his chest. Lucien stiffened, then laughed quietly, shaking his head. "Sweetheart... there’s no milk here, no matter how hard you search..."

Her tiny hum of protest only made him chuckle harder.

Then—warmth pressed against his cheek, a kiss brushed against his skin.

"Good morning, my love."

Lucien turned his head to see Silas leaning over, dressed in his immaculate uniform, hair slicked back, radiating the calm steadiness of a man who was ready to command the world before breakfast.

Lucien sat up carefully, still holding Elysia in his arms. His brows furrowed. "You’re leaving already?"

Silas adjusted Elysia into the crook of his arm, his large hand supporting her tiny back with practiced ease. He nodded. "Yes. I need to interrogate Adrien’s uncle today. We have to know which kingdoms are tied to him."

Lucien’s lips pressed thin as he watched him. "If... if more kingdoms are involved... do you have to go to war again?"

The way his voice trembled just slightly—betraying that fear of being left behind—made Silas pause.

Silas lowered his head, pressing a kiss to Lucien’s forehead, lingering there as though to anchor him. "I hope... nothing like that happens, my love. Truly."

Lucien exhaled slowly and leaned into him, whispering, "Then come back to us quickly."

"I will." Silas kissed Elysia’s crown and then Lucien’s lips, soft but firm. "I’ll be right back, sweetheart," he murmured to his daughter.

Lucien adjusted Elysia in his arms again, nodding faintly, watching as Silas left with that composed stride that always made Lucien’s chest ache. The chamber felt emptier the moment the door shut.

He kissed Elysia’s soft cheek and whispered, "It’s just us for now, little one."

But then—his body swayed with a heaviness he couldn’t shake. He rubbed his eyes with the back of his hand. "...Why do I keep feeling so sleepy lately...?"

With a sigh, he flopped back down onto the bed, tucking Elysia snugly by his side. She immediately snuggled into him like a little kitten, her warmth soaking into his skin.

"Just ten more minutes," Lucien whispered, draping the blanket over them both, his voice softening to a lull. "Just ten minutes with you..."

And slowly, lulled by her steady breathing, Lucien drifted back into slumber.

***

[Later—Silas and Lucein’s Chamber]

Elysia’s lashes fluttered, and she peeked open her eyes, the sunlight spilling softly across the bed. What she saw made her giggle instantly.

Her mama was still fast asleep—arms wrapped around her like a dragon hoarding its most precious treasure.

She wriggled in his embrace and poked his cheek. "Mama... mama... wake up!"

Lucien groaned low, lips parting as he stirred. "...Mmm... what time is it..." His eyes opened slowly, still glazed with drowsiness, but softened the moment they landed on her. "...Did you wake up already, my star?"

"Yes!" Elysia chirped proudly.

Lucien gave her a gentle kiss on the forehead, voice muffled and fond. "Then... shall we take a bath together?"

Elysia gasped dramatically. "Bath? With bubbles?"

"Mm... with bubbles..." Lucien muttered, already sitting up, though his yawn nearly split his face. He scooped her into his arms, carrying her as he shuffled out of the bed like a half-sleeping ghost. "... Let’s go, my little duckling..."

—

But were they really taking a bath?Nope.

Because in the bathroom, Elysia was happily splashing, her wooden duck leading a grand naval battle across the tub.

And Mama?

..."Snoooore..."

Elysia whipped her head around, blinking wide-eyed. "Mama??"

There he was—Lucien, leaning against the side of the bath with his chin tucked down, fast asleep in the steam.

She gasped. "Mama! Maaaama!"

Lucien twitched awake with a bleary hum, rubbing his eyes. "...Y-yes...? Do you want something, darling?"

"Mama," Elysia scolded with the seriousness of a tiny empress, "you can’t sleep in the water! You’ll turn into soggy bread!"

Lucien blinked at her through the haze, then chuckled weakly. "Mm... you’re right, soggy bread isn’t very elegant..." He sat up straighter, but the weight in his limbs was undeniable. His body begged him to lie back down.

He pulled her from the bath, wrapping her carefully in a fluffy towel, pressing his cheek against her damp hair. "...You’re warm, my star... I could fall asleep just holding you like this..."

Elysia wriggled in his arms. "Mama, nooo! No more sleeping! You slept all night... and in the morning... and again now!"

Lucien’s smile faltered faintly as he whispered, "...Did I...?"

He frowned, brushing his damp bangs from his forehead. "Why... why do I feel so unbearably tired lately...?" His words trailed into the air, his arms tightening protectively around Elysia as though she alone was his anchor.

But little Elysia wasn’t worried. She patted his cheek cheerfully. "It’s okay, Mama. You’re just lazy~!"

Lucien laughed softly, though a flicker of unease passed through his eyes. "...Lazy, hm? Maybe your papa would agree with you."

Still, as he cradled her closer, swaying slightly, the warmth in his chest overpowered the weariness.

"I’ll be fine," he murmured under his breath, pressing a lingering kiss against her damp curls. "I just... need a little more rest."

Unknowingly, his body was already carrying a secret—one that would soon explain every yawn, every wave of fatigue, and every helpless doze in the middle of the day.

***

[Imperial Dungeon – Later]

The air in the dungeon was damp, heavy with mildew and iron. Torches burned low in their sconces, the flames crackling faintly, casting shadows that twisted and danced along the stone walls. Shackled to a chair at the very center sat Adrien’s uncle, wrists raw from iron cuffs, sweat dripping down his temples.

Bootsteps echoed. Steady. Unhurried. Each one carried the weight of authority and menace.

Silas appeared from the shadows like a predator, his uniform immaculate despite the filth of the dungeon, his eyes gleaming coldly beneath the torchlight. Behind him, Callen and several knights stood like silent statues.

"Do you know why you’re alive, traitor?" Silas’s voice cut through the stillness like a blade, low and resonant.

Adrien’s uncle swallowed, his throat bobbing. "...Because I am blood. The Emperor’s own uncle. He would never—"

"Wrong." Silas slammed his hand on the table beside him, the sound reverberating in the stone chamber. The man flinched as Silas leaned closer, his shadow engulfing him. "You are alive because I

want you to talk before your tongue is cut out. That is the only reason your lungs still draw air."

The uncle trembled, trying to maintain some dignity. "...I-I only sought power... nothing more."

Silas’s lip curled. "Nothing more? You threw the North into flames for nothing more? Entire villages turned to ash, families torn apart, soldiers buried without names. And you dare call that nothing more?"

He grabbed the man by his collar, dragging him forward until their faces nearly touched. His voice dropped to a guttural growl.

"You sit here asking forgiveness while mothers wail over graves, while my own wife raised our child alone because I was dragged to war by your greed."

The uncle’s eyes widened. "I-I... I didn’t mean for the war to last... I only—"

"Only what?" Silas snarled, shoving him back against the chair so hard the wood creaked. "To sell this Empire piece by piece to foreign jackals? To crawl to our enemies and hand them on a silver platter?"

"I-I never—!"

"Do not lie to me." Silas’s voice cracked like thunder, his hand striking the table again with enough force to make the torches flicker. The knights behind him shifted, even Callen’s jaw tightening. "You had support. You could not have done this alone. Which noble families backed you? Which kingdoms whispered in your ear?"

The uncle’s lips quivered, but he kept silent, eyes darting desperately to the guards—as if hoping someone would intervene.

Silas leaned back slowly, his face twisting into a cruel smile that never touched his eyes. "You think silence will protect them? That your precious allies will come for you? Let me tell you the truth."

He crouched, his mouth level with the man’s ear, his tone almost a whisper—yet every word dripped venom.

"Even now, my knights are watching. Every letter, every messenger bird, every coin exchanged—we see it all. House Veynar is already trembling. House Durell’s coffers bleed gold to pay debts they cannot afford. One by one, they will crumble, and you will still be here. Rotting. Forgotten. A useless pawn."

The uncle gasped, eyes widening. "H-how... how do you know...?"

Silas chuckled darkly, straightening again, his gaze sharp as steel. "Because unlike you, I am not blind. This Empire does not tolerate snakes hiding in silk."

He motioned with his hand, and two knights stepped forward. The clank of their boots echoed ominously.

"Take him to the lower cells," Silas ordered coldly. "No light. No food but water and scraps. He will beg to speak soon enough."

As the knights dragged the trembling man away, Silas turned to Callen, his tone still iron-hard."Keep eyes on House Veynar, House Durell... and anyone they associate with. No one breathes without me knowing."

Callen bowed deeply. "Yes, my lord."

Silas, stood there, his shadow stretching long in the flickering torchlight, eyes fixed on the dungeon’s darkness where Adrien’s uncle had been dragged away. His jaw was set, his presence suffocating, his vow unspoken yet carved into the air itself.

And this... was the beginning of a new era.