In the east wing of the Windsor Residence, a small sitting room filled with a warm, elegant atmosphere stood in stark contrast to the bustle outside, where preparations for the Coming-of-Age Ceremony were underway. A comforting fire burned in the hearth, and the air carried the faint scent of tea and fresh flowers. Unlike the study, where family affairs were handled, this was a private space 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 uniform that symbolized his family's military might. Instead, he wore a comfortable, dark brown velvet dressing gown. He sat in a broad armchair, his posture still straight. Though he was past forty, years of military service and knightly training had kept him in good shape. Only the deep lines at the corners of his eyes revealed the passage of time and the weight of his responsibilities. He held a report on the security of border trade routes, but his gaze kept drifting. Clearly, his mind was not entirely on the document.
His wife, Marjorie von Windsor, sat on the sofa opposite him. She came from the ancient Border Count Family and had inherited its characteristic resilience and grace. Time seemed to have been especially kind to her, leaving only a few gentle traces around her eyes. She wore a modest but finely made dark purple gown, and her silver-gray hair was pinned into a simple bun at the back of her head, with a few wisps falling softly against her cheeks. She was embroidering a handkerchief, her stitches fine and delicate. Its design wove together the Windsor Family crest and the floral vines of the Roland Family, symbolizing the bond between the two families. But she, too, was distracted. Her needle often paused, and her gaze wandered now and then to the window or to her husband's pensive face.
Tomorrow was their daughter Elisa's Coming-of-Age Ceremony.
"Charles," Marjorie finally said softly, setting down her embroidery and breaking the silence. "Do you think... Elisa is really ready?"
Charles looked up at the sound of her voice, drawing his gaze back from the distance and meeting his wife's eyes. He could see the worry she was trying to hide. He put down the report and sighed, a rare softness and helplessness settling over his resolute face. "Ready? Marjo, for a girl, how could anyone ever truly be 'ready' for her eighteenth birthday? Time simply carries her along until she reaches this point."
He paused, his voice growing lower. "Especially... especially for the marriage she'll have to face."
At the word "marriage," the atmosphere in the sitting room seemed to grow heavier. Marjorie's fingers unconsciously tightened around the handkerchief, and her lips pressed together. The name Leon von Hohenzollern weighed like a boulder on the heart of everyone in the Windsor Family, especially the two of them as her parents.
"I saw that boy once from a distance, when I visited Elisa at Count Strauss's Mansion," Marjorie said, her voice trembling almost imperceptibly. "He was still the same... vacant-eyed and flippant. I can't believe our Elisa, our little star, is going to... going to be entrusted to someone like him."
As a mother, her feelings about Leon were far more immediate and painful than those of her husband or her son Victor. It was not just a matter of family interests; it was the deep worry a mother felt for her daughter's future happiness. Whenever she thought of how her reserved daughter would have to deal with such an immature, irresponsible husband, her heart ached as if pierced by a needle.
Charles rose and sat beside his wife, reaching out to cover her trembling hand. His palm was broad and rough, calloused from years of gripping a sword, yet reassuringly warm.
"I know, Marjo." Charles's voice was full of weariness and understanding. "How could I not worry? Every time I hear about that brat's latest disgraceful behavior in the Imperial Capital, I want to rush over, drag him out, and give him a good thrashing! That boy Victor probably wants to do it even more than I do."
He tightened his grip on her hand, his voice heavy with helplessness. "But this marriage was arranged years ago by Father, Old Duke Windsor, and the Old Hohenzollern Marquis. It concerns not only the two families, but also the stability of the Northern Frontier, even the Empire's fiscal and military balance. We... can't change it."
Marjorie looked up, tears glimmering in her eyes. "Are we supposed to sacrifice Elisa's happiness for her whole life just for the sake of family interests? She's so talented. Her future should be among the stars and seas of magic, not trapped in a loveless marriage!"
"Who says she'll definitely be unhappy?" Charles tried to comfort his wife, though he seemed to be trying to convince himself as well. "Otto Hohenzollern is a reasonable man. He just... doesn't know how to discipline his youngest son. The Hohenzollern Family is, by and large, upright. Maybe... maybe Leon will settle down once he's married. And Count Margaret is watching over things in the Imperial Capital. He'll be able to look out for Elisa, at least."
Even as he said it, the words sounded feeble to him. Leon's misbehavior was ingrained. How could he change so easily?
Marjorie shook her head, and at last her tears slipped down her cheeks. "Settle down? Charles, do you believe that? Just thinking about Elisa having to put up with his ignorance, his recklessness, and maybe... maybe even clean up his messes... I just..." Her voice caught, and she could not go on.
Charles gently drew his wife into his arms and patted her back. The tough man who handled business with confidence and kept his guards in line now had bloodshot eyes and a deep helplessness in his own. How could he not ache for his daughter? Elisa had always been different: quiet, precocious, and extraordinarily focused on magic. He remembered the first time she managed to kindle a tiny flame. Her face had shown little emotion, but the light in her violet eyes had filled him with pride for a long time. He had once imagined what an exceptional young man his daughter might marry—perhaps a gifted mage, perhaps a brave and upright knight like her elder brother Victor... but never Leon von Hohenzollern!
"All right, Marjo. Don't cry," Charles said softly. "Tomorrow is Elisa's big day, and we should be happy. At the very least, we have to show her that no matter what the future holds, the Windsor Family will always be her home, and we will always be her parents. We'll give her the grandest Coming-of-Age Ceremony and the most generous dowry, so the Hohenzollerns won't dare look down on her."
He paused, a sharp glint in his eyes. "As for that boy Leon... Hmph. If he behaves himself, fine. But if he dares mistreat Elisa, I won't let him get away with it, even if it means offending the Hohenzollern Family! These old bones can still swing a sword!"
Marjorie's sobs gradually subsided in her husband's arms. She knew this was the greatest protection they could secure for their daughter under the circumstances. She wiped away her tears, sat up straight, and tried to compose herself. "You're right. We can't let Elisa see how worried we are tomorrow. She should enjoy her Coming-of-Age Ceremony looking beautiful and radiant."
Just then, someone gently knocked on the sitting room door, and the head lady-in-waiting's voice came from outside. "My lord, my lady, Miss Elisa is here."
Charles and Marjorie exchanged a quick glance and immediately composed themselves, wiping away every trace of worry. Charles returned to his chair and picked up the report, pretending he had been reading it all along. Marjorie picked up her embroidery again and put on a gentle smile.
"Please show her in," Marjorie called.
The door opened, and Elisa walked in. She seemed to have just finished practicing at the Magic Tower and was still wearing a simple mage's robe. Her silver hair fell like a waterfall, and her violet eyes were calm. Seeing both her parents there, she gave a slight nod. "Father, Mother."
"Elisa, come sit down," Marjorie said warmly. She set aside her embroidery, rose, and took her daughter's hand, bringing her to sit beside her. "Your ceremony is tomorrow. Are you nervous?"
Elisa gave a slight shake of her head. "No. I'll just follow the schedule."
Charles put down the report and looked at his daughter, his expression complicated. He wanted to say something, like "You've grown up" or "Take good care of yourself from now on," but the words felt both maudlin and powerless. In the end, all he managed was, "Good. I'm glad everything's ready. If you need anything, just ask your mother or your brother."
"Yes, Father," Elisa replied.
A brief silence fell over the sitting room. Her parents looked at their daughter, who was about to come of age, with a thousand things on their minds, yet they did not know where to begin. Elisa seemed accustomed to such silences. She simply sat quietly, her gaze fixed on the dancing flames in the hearth, her thoughts unreadable.
At last, Marjorie broke the silence and began reminding Elisa at length about the details of the ceremony: which dress would be most suitable, what jewelry to wear, how to respond to the guests' congratulations, and so on. Elisa listened quietly, nodding now and then.
Charles watched his wife and daughter, his heart heavy with conflicting emotions. He knew that tomorrow his daughter's life would turn a new page. As her parents, all they could do was watch over her quietly from behind, support her, and pray that fate would show his little star a little more kindness.
Outside the window, the setting sun dyed the sky a warm gold, its light reflecting on the ornate windows of the Windsor Residence. Preparations for tomorrow's grand feast continued throughout the estate. In this cozy sitting room, tinged with a quiet sadness, the three of them spent Elisa's last evening as a girl in their own ways. The road ahead would not be smooth, but the bonds of family and their unspoken love would remain an unquenchable light behind Elisa.
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