DISCLAIMER: THIS STORY IS INSPIRED BY THE FANFIC "WHILE YOU WERE SLEEPING" BY MARK OF THE ASPHODEL

The war had been won. Light had triumphed over darkness. The reincarnation of Lopt had been slain under the sword of the Prince of Light.

("But then why did these cultists continue to fight?") Arthur asked himself as another wild-eyed man thrown himself before his Elwind. A blink latter, and it was impossible to distinguish him anymore – he was but more flesh and blood to be added to the already high pile.

Prince Seliph had specifically the magic-capable of his crusader host, including his brother-in-law (yes, brother-in-law, Arthur reminded himself), to make a sweep of the Belhalla castle so as see if the Lopt had hidden away any magical trap. But instead what the mages found were hundreds of men and women, ravaged by hunger and desperation, which jumped at them from every corner with swords, knives, or even bare fists.

The Lopt cultists must be eradicated, or so Arthur constantly said aloud in his mind. Those that not in compliance with their fate did not have the right to live in the country which one day his sister would be the queen, or even the right to live on the same world as her.

Even so, he hated himself for doing this.

"Please come out with your hands on the air! We will not hurt if you don't mean us harm!" Arthur yelled. With the fire spell, he could only illuminate a few footsteps ahead in the ink-black dungeon. And there were literary dozens of cultist laying low at every corner…

Down the spiral, and he reached the lowest level of Castle Belhalla. Here, even the stone grew sick and bleed black water. The moss was so thick that in some place, they grew as fast and hideous as cancer.

What scarce light from the palm of Arthur's hand reflected off the smooth surface of what seemed to be coffin. It was, he confirmed, after his eyes had adjusted to the darkness. Was this another secret of the Lopt cult, a terrible monster waiting to be unleashed?

At first, he thought about running up the stair to call for reinforcement. But curiosity overwhelmed prudent, and Arthur approached the coffin. He dusted it off and realized the said object was made in transparent crystal.

"Who could this be?" The intensity of the Fire spell was increased before Arthur could have a good look at the person within the coffin. The man was about as tall as him, though he might have been older, and once had a rounded chin but then had been edged unevenly, not unlike the pencil sharpened by a dull knife.

However, what drew Arthur the most was that nose. Something he had once seen, no, once he could just extend his fingers to grab with it. The person with that nose always had him sat on his knees, playing with him and smiling with him.

A word so alien to him came from the depth of Arthur's throat, a groan more than anything:

"…Father…"

"I can't fix it." The broken bouquet lying in front of him summed up the extent of his panic. Despite his best, Azel fumbled around with the knots which had then turned into a tangle impossible to be unraveled.

"I can't fix it."

"What can't you fix?" Hearing the voice of Tailto made his heart almost burst for panic. And there was also…

"THIEEEF"

"TAILTO!"

"Just what are you doing in Lady Aideen's room? Are your lingering affection for her seeping through…?"

"Y-You've got it all wrong! Look-Look!" He handled the bouquet to Tailto, who seemed to have the grasp of things almost in an instant.

"Ah, I see how it is. The ribbon on the bouquet, huh…?"

"Yeah… But I can't tie the ribbon correctly."

She chastised him while her hands (magically in Azel's eyes) unraveled the … and then re-tied it.

"You even bought the bouquet with you, clumsy…"

"I was panicked."

"It was still a stupid thing to do… Here! It's all done."

"You… Wow… It looks great! So you still have some girlish traits in you."

"Don't say another words!" Her face turned the shade of pale rose. Strangely enough, Azel could not tell whether she was truly angry or not. It was once of the few time he could not guess her mood.

"Hurry up and bring that back! I'm not going to the bouquet toss!"

"So you don't plan to attend?" And he had spent the last hours looking him. To think that yesterday, Tailto was still so enthusiastic about Lady Aideen's weeding, constantly talking about how she would be the one to catch the bouquet. She even got mad when teased by Lex.

"…"

"You can't! Everyone's waiting for you! They said they will be worried about you if you don't go!"

"That's… Because everyone is so kind, they just naturally try to consider my well-being." She tried to smile, but the result was anything but cheerful.

"Right, everyone likes you!... The bright and cheerful Tailto." His words triggered an anger, the kind that he had never thought could be seen from his best friend. Tailto's cheeks swelled, and she spoke vehemently with closed jaws:

"Bright and cheerful!... Don't act like an idiot and blurt out stupid things!" Her voice suddenly lowered by two notes.

"I heard all about it, about me becoming a hostage… That's right… Because I didn't think about the consequences of tagging along with father's Claude, now everyone is…"

"You know… Right before I set off to the tower of Blaggi I happened to run into my father. Although that time Father Claude wasn't with me… "He was going to be furious", I though to myself. But that time he didn't say a single word with me. So… I was under the impression that he was telling me it was okay to go with Father Claude."

"He used his own daughter to satisfy his own ambition. And like the fool I am, I allowed myself to be used… And now, Lord Sigurd, Father Claude, and everyone else have been accused of treason. All because of me!"

"Thinking about it will not help you." Azel tried to reassure his best friend. "Instead, we should thinking of ways to clear us of those accusations. Take me for example. I wrote a letter to my brother."

"…What was his reply?"

"He still hasn't arrived."

There was still plenty of sarcasm in Tailto as she said:

"You're so stupid!" That same disdainful smile which had frustrated Azel for how many times appeared again on her lips. "All the letters that aren't hand-delivered by special envoys go directly to the prime minister first. Your letter is just going to be crumbled up and thrown away."

"ARGHHHH! All you do is nitpick!" No, he was beyond the point of patient. Forcefully, Azel grabbed Tailto by her arm. "Just come with me"

"Ah! No! I don't want to-"

"You're coming!" He pressed, all the while dragging her through the front yard.

"Geez, you haven't changed at all. You're acting the same way as that one time."

"…That one time…"

"Don't tell me you've forgotten already. That time when the grandmother you loved so much passed away."

"When that happened I remember you said: "Grandma isn't dead! Only when they have a funeral for her, then she will have died!", you insisted. Then with the keys already in your hand, you hid yourself in the church tower. So as to prevent anyone from getting inside, you locked the doors to the church where the coffin was resting."

"… Your remember that?..." Once again had blood rushed to Tailto's cheeks, and her voice had lost its bashfulness.

"Then I had found out where were you hiding. But no matter what I said, you wouldn't come out. So I had to bash the door open as hard as I could…"

"In order to prevent me from running away, you wouldn't let go of my hand. But… Somehow that was reassuring to me. And I was able to hold back my tears." Tailto finished his sentence, a smile then graced her lips. Had it not for the lingered sadness, it would had been brilliant.

It was a sharp turn which woke Azel up from his alcohol-induced sleep. He was tossed from his down and landed face-first on the floor. Cursing and swearing with profanity, he tried pulling himself up but to no avail, as his limbs shook like grass before the wind. In the end, he accepted the hand which his son offered.

Arthur, who sat on the other couch, was digging through the content of his couch. The hangover had worsened his cognitive ability, and it took a long while for him to find what he needed:

"Here, Father, please drink these." He handled Azel a bottle of water and pills, squared and smelt of lemon soda. "They'll make you feel better."

As his patched throat was soothed with cool water, clarity slowly returned to his mind. Slowly, Azel registered the traveller's cloak Arthur donned, the confining wooden box, the up-and-down of the axles, and the scenery of a forest passing beyond the windows.

"What in Naga's name?! Why are we on the ride?"

"To Velthomer. We're going to Velthomer." It took several blinks for Azel to register the meaning of the name, one that he hadn't heard for years and would rather it remained buried.

"Why are we going to that place?"

"Don't you remember? I must collect the Fire Emblem from the castle for the accession ceremony. And you agreed to journey with me last night."

"I don't remember doing so…"

"Yes you did. And don't you think about going back." Warned Azel, having seen the gleam in his father's eyes. "We've already been a morning away from Belhalla."

Now Azel recognized. They had come as far as one of Velthomer's many forests, where the centuries-old cedars lined up on the sides of the road like two mountain ranges, and space drastically went vertical to be stopped by the foliage. Sunlight made pinpricks on the ceiling formed by lustrous canopies. Under this shadow their horses were toiling; "clip-clop-clip-clop" their hooves made, a constant, repetitive, never-ending rhythm.

"It would be a good change of air, too. For the last month you spent all of your time within the castle."

One month… Four weeks… Thirty days… Had it been that long? The frigid sensation of waking up from the magical sleep to see the world no longer what he had remembered still sent shivers down Azel's spine. Since then he had mostly stayed in Belhalla castle. He was afraid.

"If this trip bores you, why don't you have another nap, then? It'd be a while before we arrive. And don't worry, I will wake you up."

"What kind of woman… is Siglurd's wife?"

It surprised and unsettled Azel at equal amount to see the pallid expression of his brother. Alvis's visage took a sudden change, becoming pale and rigid, the moment he heard about the spouse of the Chalphy Duke.

Keeping his thought to himself, Azel spent the next minute or so describing everything he remembered about Lady Diadora

"Hmm… Let's see… She's very beautiful, in a mystical kind of way. Like a spirit, I guess."

From her amethyst eyes , the gentleness which she shone, the devotion she reserved to her husband and her son, he talked all about them, his tongue slipped many times during the monologue. Such was not his fault, however, as it was the effect Lady Diadora had to the people – she acted so amiable to everyone, yet her otherworldly beauty and kindness put her above them all. Describing her was not unlike trying to grasp the air with your hands.

Azel was so engrossed that he failed to recognize with every word he said, the darker his brother's demeanor came to be.

"That reminded me. You've gotten married recently as well, right, Lord Brother? Just thinking about His Majesty's granddaughter is my sister-in-law is awe-inspiring!"

"What are you saying… You're related to the royal family too, you know?" The ghost of a smile passed through Alvis's face.

"And that means us needs to find you a suitable princess, too."

"Ah, er… Well… I already have someone in mind…"

"That letter you sent from Silesia. You mentioned Lady Tailto in it…"

As realization dawned upon Azel, his veins were drained of blood and the cold embrace of truth froze him.

"Hold on, Lord Brother, that means… Duke Reptor didn't keep you from receiving it?"

"Forget that girl."

…And this was the part when Azel's world broke into pieces:

"She is the daughter of a criminal. And there is only one future for the daughter of a criminal…"

The estate was the same as it was in his memory. On the hill that overlooked the city of Velthomer sat the Duke's castle. It stretched several hectares, built in the castle-within-a-castle style which was common in the time the Crusaders still walked on earth, a time when form follows function. Behind the wide moat, the outer wall was a perfectly equilateral octagon that only opened to the world by a drawbridge. Towers were built at every corner, so high that they seemed to touch the cloud.

If the visitor had passed the outer wall, however, he would have been pleasantly surprised. The manor had been rebuilt a few times, the last major renovation was done by Azel's grandfather. It was archetypical of a baroque architecture, with daring curves and a dynamic rhythm of columns, pilasters, and protrusion. Marble was extensively used, and the

Even in grandeur Castle Velthomer remained a mystery. Incipient playfulness and rigorous rules co-existed. Surrounded the mansion is an artificial forest whose seed were sown by its first occupiers, and could leave an intruder without direction and die.

Yet closer inspection revealed a different story. In Alvis's time, and before that their father's time, the gate never closed and a constants stream of men and carriages flowed on the draw-bridge. But now, there were no gate, and the castle opened wide like the gaping maw of a man without tooth. The façade had been defaced, the faux-columns showing deep cracks.

For the first time in his life, Azel tried to count every that stone that were peeling layers by layers away. Now he understood what was to be homesickened.

Stood waiting for them was a butler, whose visage was a reflection of the state of the castle. Benson, Azel recognized, had the look of someone who was recovering from a lethal disease.

"Master Azel. Young Master Arthur. Welcome to your home." Still, the steward of House Velthomer had not shown any lacking in courtesy. If there was any surprise to Azel's return, he hid it well behind a mask of professionalism

"It's good to, uh, see you again, Benson."

"The Gods had truly looked upon you, Master Azel… Livie, Anton! Take care of the masters' luggage!" Two servants rushed to the yard to be awkwardly handled the suitcases and portmanteaus. Together all five of them walked into the castle. Arthur actually spent a moment lingered at the entrance, admiring in awe the arch.

"I don't recognize them. Where is Hanel?" Asked Azel. Old Hanel was, well, the oldest servant in the household (despite that he was only 43 when Azel left.)

"Livie and Anton here were hired during your absence, Master Azel. As for Hanel…"

They passed through the hall of the castle, which looked even more desolated than the outside of the castle. Gone were the polished armors, each attached to a legend. Gone were the mosaics depicting scenes of battles and festivals. Gone were the tapestries that denoted the vast history and incomparable prestige of the Velthomer House.

"…He and many of the servants retired… Livie, Anton, and I were the only ones left." He added the last part with much embarrassment. Such was the pride of a man being injured for the failing of his duty.

"I see…"

"Master Azel, I wish to ask whether you'd like to stay in the guest room… or the room of Master Alvis."

"What about my room? Is anything wrong with it?"

"Ah… Please forgive me, master. I've been neglectful with your room, and now it was unsuitable for anyone to stay there."

Azel could see through his lie. The word "neglectful" had never been in Benson's dictionary. His best guess was that the same people who had put the castle in a state of derelict were responsible for this matter.

"…Then I will stay in brother's room, and please leave Arthur the guest's room. Is it okay?"

"Yes, Master. Everything has been prepared for your arrival. May I take you to your rooms?"

"Of course. Thank you."

Though it had always had an air of foreboding in Azel's memory, the dining room as it was now made his skin crawled. The dark wood furniture suckled up more light than what the candles could produce, while the flame burned wearily inside the sooth-stained fireplace. One could barely saw the faintest outline of his feet, and might occasionally think he was submerged to the ankles in a puddle of oil.

That lack of light, the eerie atmosphere, and the blandness of the food made this occasion not unlike a torture session to Azel. He almost choked on the tasteless cut of beef that to him was no different than leather to be chewed.

"How was your afternoon, Arthur?"

"Benson showed me the paperwork that needed to be read, and I've been going through them ever since."

The faithful butler, who was standing on the corner of the room and patiently waiting for any order of them, gave a cursory bow when Azel turned to him and smile in appreciation.

"Remember to listen to Benson. He knew this estate better than anyone alive. You'll definitely need his advices."

"I'll keep that in mind, Father." Arthur turned his attention back to the Ragout, and Azel found himself in the uncomfortable silence again. Oh, if only he had gin-and-tonic, just a shot, to lubricate whatever was coming down his throat.

"How is your life with Fee?" To distract himself, Azel asked about his daughter-in-law. To think about it, this was the first time he had done so.

He had only met the girl for once. A cute girl, he thought, but the shock was too much. If his daughter's engagement to Lord Siglurd's son was not enough, then Azel was definitely hammered hard to find out his little Arthur had already married. To the daughter of Levin, no less.

"We've our… differences." Arthur confessed after a moment of hesitation. "But we'll manage it just fine…"

"No."

"No what?"

"You're lying…. Now, don't give me that look. You're the same as with your mother. Her left eyes always twitched when she lied... Now, please tell me the truth. Did anything serious happen between you two?"

"Fee… She wanted to join the expedition army, and I've no way to talk her out of it."

"Expedition army?"

"I remember that Levin had told you about it? He and Finn intended to lead an army of volunteer to venture into the Yield Desert, so as to wipe out the last pockets of the Lopt. And my friends… I mean the children of the crusaders. They wish to find any lead of their parents. Lady Lachesis, Lady Ayra, everyone who had "vanished" between the years."

"Father… Your revival gave them hope." Azel detected the aftertaste of bitterness in his son's words. "Everyone now think that the Lopt have been imprisoned their parents somewhere."

"Do you hate me for that?"

"No. Not really. I suppose that even if you hadn't woken up, Fee would had found another reason to follow King Levin and tried to bring him back to Silesia... I've tried many times to talk her out of it, but she can't get over her obsession. And the last time… Just yesterday's morning… We've a huge fight."

The young man was to be incapable of expressing his frustration beyond a much-restrained sigh, before returning to the soup bowl with a grim concentration. It seemed to Azel that his son preferred to keep this matter private between him and his wife. Still…

"…Arthur, I know that I'm not really fit to give marriage advice, but… will you hear me out?"

His son nodded while shoving a mouthful of hot soup down his throat. The image of Tailto doing the same thing flashed through Azel's mind. He had so much of his mother and little of him.

"Just… Just let everything go easy. You don't have to try really hard to solve everything between you. Sometimes..."

"It's too dangerous for her! I can't let her heading straight into danger!" Arthur finally let his emotion ran the better part of him.

"I'm not saying that you should allow Fee to go with the Expedition Army. Just… Why don't you stop talking to her about it for a while. Let her have some quiet times to think about it. And let her know that whether her decision is, you always have her back covered."

"Is this what mother did when you decided to leave her and Teeny?"

"…Yes. And forever I curse myself for being too selfish to understand her gesture at the time."

…The rest of dinner was once again spent in silence.

Once the city of Velthomer was second only to Belhalla in its wealth. Now, it was but a shadow of its former glory. After the flood of soldiers had departed, came the second wave of human: refugees, vagabonds, farmers, merchants, and everyone looking to make a good fortune from the ruins. When all that could be sold had been looted, began the vandalism and arson for apparently no reason at all.

And even though the situation had some what calmed down, it was still unsafe to walk on the streets of Velthomer. Only armed men, or drunkard wandered between the derelicts now.

But Azel was neither. He was only melancholic. Letting his foot to bring him wherever it could, he hoped to break this sense of ennui.

It was the late of the afternoon, late enough for the shops (what little was left of them) to lit up their lights, but still early enough to see the face of people clearly. As said above, the streets were empty save for Azel. He had been walking for almost an hour now without coming in contact directly with a human being.

Just as he was about to turn back, the smell of frying oil caught Azel's noses.

("There is nothing better to do.") He thought, and allowed himself to be lured by the thick scent. The closer he came, the thicker the aroma became – a delicious (and might be convulsing at the same time) mix of batter, beer, eggs, and thrice-used peanut oil.

Right around the corner he saw a lone cart, with its contents hanged on the wire a telltale sign of what it sold. Its seller was busily dropping what seemed to be rectangular into the cast-iron pan, filled to the brim with the sizzling oil.

Either a painter, or a writer of horror story, would have been inspired by this scene, of a woman and her stall standing alone among the ruins. What was left of the vanity story but its dregs?

Shoving his hand into the pocket to make sure that he carries with himself a coin or two, Azel approached the cart. He spoke:

"Hmm… Can I call something?"

The woman slowly turned to face him, and the hollow look in her eyes disturbed Azel. Even though she was likely to be around the 40 year-old mark, years had been added to her age in just a moment.

"Lord Azel!" He tried his best to repress his astonishment. How could anyone realize him with just a look? Immediately, hundreds scenarios appeared in Azel's head, from an old acquaintance, a servant, a tutor, to maybe thieves and charlatans and Lopt cultist.

In any cases, he'd rather remain anonymous.

"No, no, you must have been mistaken me for someone else. My name is not Azel. I've been to this city today."

After a long moment scrutinizing his face, the woman finally accepted who he was. Her shoulders slumped.

"Yes… You can't be him. You haven't reached 30, and the young lord must have passed that age long ago."

"I'm sorry, but did I do anything wrong?" Azel asked, having noticed the disappointment in her look.

"No, no, good sir! It's just you aren't him… Ah, I'm sorry! What do you wish to have?"

Soon his order was presented: black bread soaked in a mixture of beaten eggs, milk, sugar, cinnamon, then fried to golden brown. It was the same thing that Azel had once enjoyed as a child; still, he had lost all of his appetite and was now more interested in the woman than her food.

"It's my treat! For mistaken you for someone else."

The memory had begun to return to Azel; however, it had yet been fully in his grasp. He could recognize that face, once younger with the cheeks more plump and pink. Her temple, he remembered, didn't have that much grey hair, and so as well her hands with the green veins running along on the back.

"The Azel that you mentioned… Isn't Emperor Alvis has a brother with that name?"

"Yes… But how do you know about him?" Her question was laced with suspicion and spoke in a hushed voice. Azel could see the woman had moved so that the cart stood between her and him.

"This 'Azel', brother of the late Emperor, you know him?... You don't have to worry about me! I'm only a servant." He lied.

"A servant? You don't look like a servant to me?"

True enough. Anyone could tell so by looking at his white and elegant hands, with fingers almost never subjected to hardship.

"Yes, I am. I once served in the Imperial Palace. I-I… overheard the Emperor speaking about lord Azel. He… He was crying."

For once, Azel was surprised in the sincerity of his voice, even though what he spoke was nothing but a lie. Might it be he wished to believe of his own fabrication?

"Crying…" Her lips suddenly curved into a sad smile, more pity than anything. "That does sound like lord Alvis. He loved the young lord more than anyone else."

"You know the Emperor well?"

"Oh, yes. I'd served the Velthomer house for twenty years before I ended up on the street. The lord…" She suddenly stopped and began turning her head left and right, eyeing for a sign of danger.

"The young lord was nothing less than an apple in his brother's eyes. Sometimes I thought of them not as brothers, but as father and son. There is this time…"

The next few minutes was spent to tell of an episode about Alvis practically worshipped (at least in the old woman's eyes) a doodle made by his brother. He even put the drawing in a glass box and hang it at the most visible place on his bedroom, disposing the portrait of the late Duke and his father as a consequences. It was something Azel remembered very well. He wondered whether Alvis kept it in some dusty corner of the house, or had thrown it away to get rid of any memento attached to his wayward little brother.

Also, now he recognized her. She was once of the older maids at the house when he was little. The plump woman, young Azel had always associated with candy for that was what she always sneaked to him when Azel visited the kitchen.

"So why were you dismissed, Ms. Ethel?" Already known the answer, yet he still asked.

"After the Crusaders came, they threw everyone in the house out except old Benson. The lot of them. Not one gentleman, only thugs and vagabonds. Why people hail them as hero mystify me."

"…"

"Now, I try to scraping by, as you see."

"I'm sure that things will get better."

"Why are you saying that?"

"I-I just know that. I mean, after the ascension of the Prince of Light, everything will return to normal, right? And maybe you will even have your old job back."

She made disbelief, if not sarcastic, grin at him, which made him felt extremely uncomfortable.

"Uh. Sorry. It's time I must leave. How much do I own you?"

"No, no, please keep it! It's my treat!"

"But surely I can't…"

"It's nice to be able speak to someone about the old times, you know… If you free times in the future, please remember to come to my stall. Just remember to come before 6 p.m., okay?" Old Esther forcefully pushed into his hand more freshly-fried French breads, wrapped in a piece of white cloth and still hot to the touch.

"I will."

While walking alongside his father on the streets of Velthomer, Arthur asked:

"Father. Why did you bring me here?"

While he was glad that his father had slowly coming of his reclusive shell, Arthur was also greatly puzzled by his actions: Azel now spent more time outside, wandering every streets and alleys of Velthomer, and only conversed with his son during dinner.

And yesterday, Azel had come to him with a sudden request: "Please come with me tomorrow afternoon." Arthur agreed immediately, as his curiosity had been getting higher by the day.

But then, nothing surprising happened. They spent their time loitering around, eating snacks, and exchanging gossips.

"What? Didn't you have fun?"

"No, I did have. It is just that…"

"We've never go out together like this before, so you think that it's strange, right?"

"Yes, but not entirely. You're in a high spirit today."

They had just left the Ms. Esther's stall, whom Arthur was whispered to be his father's former servant. Azel had attempted to make the old lady recalling as many stories about her time in the Duke's household as she could, sometimes adding a witty remark or two of his own, and smiling when he was required to.

"I want to talk to you about something. But not here. Let's us find somewhere private."

They walked to the west of the city, where the park was located. It was erected in the time of Alvis for the commoners, and was also one of the reasons for his moniker "Duke of children."

Already had they torn down the old statue of his brother, and a new one was being sculptured right . A slab of marble sat on the broken pedestal, unfinished. The artist, if the word could be applied to him, had done a terrible job capturing the essence of Seliph. Azel was pretty sure the Prince of Light didn't have squinted eyes, paper-thin lips, and a face which anyone could label as a charlatan's.

The father and son took their seat under a … tree, letting the shadow of the giant to hide them away from the eyes of the outsiders.

"Father, what do you want to talk to me about."

"I was just thinking, Arthur, about… what to do after the wedding. I want to ask you something first, however?"

"Please do, father."

"Hmm… Why do you choose to be the Duke of Velthomer?"

"To serve the people." Arthur had once answered the same question to Prince Seliph, and now he repeated it. "It's my duty."

"Duty… Does it has anything to do with your uncle, or else?"

"Yes, it's one of the reasons, but not all of it."

Their eyes caught the moment a flying wedge passed above them. The … had returned home in a tight V-formation. Winter was about to end.

"Teeny wishes for a world where everyone can live happily, and her dream is mine."

"…Thank you… For being a good brother, I mean…"

"Is there anything else you want to ask me?"

"Ah, yes. Let's just say that you were not a Duke. What would you do then?"

"I'm not really sure myself. I probably would let Fee dragging me to the corner of the world, until she gets tired of it and settling down."

"Then… Arthur, what do you think if I take over the Dukedom?"

"Why the sudden request, father? I remember that you never show any liking to that position before?"

"I just think that… If I become the Duke of Velthomer, then you'll be free to go wherever you want with Fee."

Arthur's eyes turned darker and harder as he spent his time contemplating. And when he had an answer, it was as heavy as a boulder.

"No."

"No?... But why?"

"You won't become the Duke of Velthomer, and Fee won't go leave me to go with the expedition army. That is certain."

"But Arthur!"

"Father. If this is because what I said in the last few day, then I apology. You don't have to feel guilty toward me."

"Wha-What? You must have been mistaken! I'm not…"

"What is done, let it bygone. Father, now is the time for our family to stay together."

"Arthur, I… You don't understand it. I just want to do something…"

"You don't have to do anything. Please let me taking care of you." Arthur raised his voice, showing that he would allow no more argument.

"It has been a good day, father, but it is time for us to return to the mansion."

Once again, his son stood up and left without him, leaving a baffled and melancholic Azel.