Parents' Expectations and Silent Worries

In the east wing of the Windsor residence, within a small, warm, and elegant living room, a stark contrast was formed against the hustle and bustle of preparations for the Coming-of-Age Ceremony outside. A warm fire burned in the fireplace, and the air was filled with the faint scent of tea and fresh flowers. This was a private space, distinct from the study where family affairs were handled, a sanctuary belonging to Charles von Windsor and his wife.

Charles Windsor, Elisa's father and the second son of Duke Windsor, was not wearing the military attire symbolizing the family's martial prowess. Instead, he was dressed in a comfortable, deep brown velvet robe. He sat in a large armchair, his posture still upright. Though past forty, his years of military service and Knight training had kept him in good physical shape. Only the fine lines around his eyes, etched by time and responsibility, betrayed his age. He held a report on the security of border trade routes, but his gaze was distant, his mind clearly not fully on the document.

His wife, Marjorie von Windsor, sat on the sofa opposite him. She hailed from a Border Count Family with a long history, inheriting their characteristic resilience and elegance. Time seemed to have been particularly kind to her, leaving only gentle traces at the corners of her eyes and brows. She wore a discreet, high-quality deep purple gown, her silver-grey hair tied in a simple bun at the back of her head, with a few stray strands softly framing her cheeks. She was embroidering a silk handkerchief, her stitches fine and intricate, depicting the Windsor family crest intertwined with the Roland Family's floral vine pattern, symbolizing the union of the two families. However, her movements were also absentminded, her needlework pausing frequently as her gaze drifted to the window or settled on her husband's thoughtful face.

Tomorrow was their daughter Elisa's Coming-of-Age Ceremony.

"Charles," Marjorie finally put down her embroidery and spoke softly, breaking the silence in the room. "Do you think... Elisa is really ready?"

Charles looked up, his gaze returning from the void to his wife. He could see the undisguised worry in Marjorie's eyes. He put down the report and sighed, a rare softness and helplessness appearing on his stern face. "Ready? Marjorie, for a girl, an eighteenth birthday Coming-of-Age Ceremony, is it ever truly a time of being 'ready'? It's merely time pushing her to this point."

He paused, his voice deepening slightly. "Especially... especially the marriage she is about to face."

The mention of "marriage" seemed to make the atmosphere in the living room even more strained. Marjorie's fingers unconsciously tightened on the handkerchief, her lips pursing slightly. The name Leon von Hohenzollern weighed like a boulder on the hearts of everyone in the Windsor household, especially their parents.

"That child... the last time I visited Elisa at Count Strauss's Mansion, I saw him from afar." Marjorie's voice held a barely perceptible tremor. "Still the same... vacant eyes, frivolous behavior. I truly can't believe our Elisa, our little star, is going to... be entrusted to such a person."

As a mother, her impression of Leon was far more direct and painful than her husband's or her son Victor's. It wasn't just a consideration of family interests, but a deep concern for her daughter's future happiness. Every time she thought about how her daughter's cold disposition would face such an immature and irresponsible husband, her heart ached as if pricked by needles.

Charles stood up, walked to his wife's side, and sat down, reaching out to cover her slightly trembling hand. His hand was broad and rough, calloused from years of wielding a sword, yet it carried a comforting warmth.

"I know, Marjorie," Charles's voice was filled with fatigue and understanding. "Don't you think I worry too? Every time I hear about that brat's misdeeds from the Imperial Capital, I wish I could rush over and drag him out for a good thrashing! Victor, that boy, probably wants to do it even more than I do."

He tightened his grip on his wife's hand, his tone conveying a deep sense of helplessness. "But this marriage was decided by my father (Old Duke Windsor) and Old Hohenzollern Marquis many years ago. It concerns not just two families, but the stability of the Northern Territory, and even the Empire's financial and military balance. We... are powerless to change it."

Marjorie looked up, tears shimmering in her eyes. "Are we to sacrifice Elisa's lifelong happiness just for family interests? She's so talented, her future should be in the starry seas of magic, not trapped in a loveless marriage!"

"Who says it will be unhappy?" Charles tried to comfort his wife, as if trying to convince himself. "Otto Hohenzollern is a sensible man, he just... doesn't know how to discipline his younger son. The Hohenzollern family's principles are generally sound. Perhaps... perhaps after marriage, Leon will restrain himself? And with Count Margaret watching over them in the Imperial Capital, she can protect Elisa somewhat."

Even as he said it, the words felt hollow. Leon's wildness was ingrained, not easily changed.

Marjorie shook her head, tears finally falling. "Restrain himself? Charles, do you believe that? Whenever I think of Elisa having to endure his ignorance, his absurdity, and perhaps even... having to clean up his messes, I... I..." She choked, unable to continue.

Charles gently pulled his wife into his embrace, patting her back. This tough man, who commanded respect in the business world and enforced discipline in the guard, now had bloodshot eyes and a deep sense of helplessness. Did he not cherish his daughter? Elisa had always seemed different since childhood, quiet, precocious, with an extraordinary focus on magic. He remembered the first time she successfully conjured a small flame; though her expression was unchanged, the sparkle in her purple eyes, a father's pride, lasted for a long time. He had once imagined what kind of outstanding young man his daughter would marry, perhaps a talented mage, or a Knight as upright and brave as his brother Victor... but never Leon Hohenzollern!

"Alright, Marjorie, don't cry," Charles said softly, comforting her. "Tomorrow is Elisa's big day, we must be happy. At least, we must let her see that no matter what the future holds, the Windsor family will always be her home, and we will always be her parents. We will give her the grandest Coming-of-Age Ceremony, the most generous dowry, so the Hohenzollern family won't dare to underestimate her."

He paused, a sharp glint in his eyes. "As for that brat Leon... Hmph. If he behaves himself, fine. If he dares to bully Elisa, even if it means offending the Hohenzollern family, I won't let him off easily! This old body of mine can still swing a sword!"

Marjorie gradually stopped crying in her husband's arms. She knew this was the greatest assurance they could secure for their daughter under the current circumstances. She wiped away her tears, sat up straight, and made an effort to compose herself. "You're right, we can't let Elisa see our worries tomorrow. She must have a beautiful and glorious Coming-of-Age Ceremony."

Just then, there was a gentle knock on the living room door, and the voice of the head lady-in-waiting came through, "Master, Madam, Miss Elisa is here."

Charles and Marjorie exchanged a quick glance, immediately adjusting their expressions and erasing all traces of worry. Charles sat back in his chair, picked up the report, and pretended he had been reading it all along. Marjorie resumed her embroidery, a gentle smile on her face.

"Please let Miss in," Marjorie called out.

The door opened, and Elisa walked in. She seemed to have just finished her practice at the Magic Tower, still wearing a simple mage's robe. Her silver hair cascaded down like a waterfall, and her purple eyes were calm. Seeing her parents, she nodded slightly. "Father, Mother."

"Elisa, come sit down," Marjorie beckoned warmly, putting down her embroidery and getting up to pull her daughter to sit beside her. "The ceremony is tomorrow, are you nervous?"

Elisa gently shook her head, her tone flat. "Not nervous. It will proceed according to the schedule."

Charles put down the report and looked at his daughter, his gaze complex. He wanted to say something, like "You've grown up," or "Take care of yourself from now on," but the words felt sentimental and inadequate, so he simply said dryly, "Mm, it's good that everything is prepared. If you need anything, just tell your mother or brother."

"Yes, Father," Elisa replied.

A brief silence fell in the living room. The parents looked at their soon-to-be-adult daughter, their hearts filled with a thousand unspoken words, unsure where to begin. Elisa, seemingly accustomed to this silence, simply sat quietly, her gaze fixed on the flickering flames in the fireplace, lost in thought.

It was Marjorie who finally broke the silence, beginning to chatter about the details of tomorrow's ceremony, such as which gown would be more suitable, which jewelry to wear, and how to respond to guests' blessings. Elisa listened quietly, nodding occasionally.

Charles watched his wife and daughter, his heart a mix of emotions. He knew that from tomorrow onwards, his daughter's life would turn a new page. And as parents, all they could do was watch from behind, support her, and pray that fate would be a little kinder to his little star.

Outside the window, the afterglow of the setting sun painted the sky a warm gold, reflecting on the ornate window frames of the Windsor residence. The final preparations for tomorrow's grand feast continued within the mansion. And in this warm, yet subtly melancholic living room, the family of three, in their own ways, spent Elisa's last twilight as a maiden. The road ahead was destined to be uneven, but the bonds of blood and unspoken love would be an unquenchable light behind Elisa.