At the border side :
The soldiers, their armor heavy with the weight of impending battle, pressed on through the rugged terrain in pursuit of the elusive kraken. The villages had suffered greatly, their existence overshadowed by the destructive force of the monstrous sea creature. The captain, a resilient leader, bore the scars of a fierce encounter, his wounds a testament to their struggle.
After three arduous days of tracking, they reached the mountain, its imposing silhouette framing the scene of their final confrontation. The mountain encircled a dark reservoir, its waters reflecting the ominous sky above. Following the grim traces of sour blood, the soldiers discovered a pair of matching prints leading into the thick forest.
As they ventured deeper into the woods, the air grew heavy with anticipation. The soldiers, their senses heightened, stumbled upon a surreal sight—a colossal kraken lay lifeless on the forest floor, its tentacles sprawled in defeat. The ground around it was stained with its own ichor, forming grotesque patterns in the dirt.
The soldiers stood in awe, disbelief etched across their faces. The once formidable foe, now reduced to a motionless mass, seemed inconceivable. The kraken's lifeless eyes stared blankly into the heavens, a mysterious hole between them revealing the source of its demise. The forest echoed with the soldier's hushed murmurs as they grappled with the surreal reality before them. The journey to defeat the kraken had reached an unexpected conclusion in the heart of the silent, blood-stained forest.
"Send the coordinates to the camp," a soldier yelled commanding the other one.
At the village campsite :
The young duke, adorned in regal attire, surveyed the desolation that sprawled behind him—a once-thriving village now reduced to ruins by the relentless fury of the kraken. The air was thick with the acrid scent of charred wood and remnants of shattered homes. As he prepared to depart for the duchy, a mixture of determination and sorrow played across his features. His gaze lingered on the remnants of the villagers' lives, his fists clenched in frustration.
In the midst of the snow-covered paths, the carriage surged forward, propelled by the galloping horse. Ivan's mind, however, was a labyrinth of contemplation. Memories of a time when he lay unconscious from severe wounds haunted him. Amidst the fog of his thoughts, a phantom echo of Arya's voice lingered—a voice that had called him by the familiar, yet annoying, silly name she always used. The soldier's confirmation of her absence clashed with the persistent beat of denial in Ivan's heart. Was it a mere wish, a yearning for her presence, or an unspoken desire to hear her voice? The answer eluded him as he became ensnared in the intricate web of thoughts, lost in the enigma of his emotions.
At the Dukedom :
"Madam, this has to be completed before sunset. And this requires your signature for Baron Quill. Also over here, please review everything before signing, and..." Stefan continued his barrage of tasks, oblivious to Arya's exhaustion. After days confined in her office, barely sleeping or eating, her pupils trembled at the overwhelming workload. Frustration tightened her fist around the pen, inadvertently breaking it. With a lifeless gaze, she stared at Stefan and dryly uttered, "Alfred left you here to torment me, didn't he?"
Flattening his glasses, Stefan replied, "Not at all. I am loyal to my duties, madam," accompanied by a beaming smile. "Cruse you," Arya's voice was low but loud enough for Stefan to hear. Even though he heard her cursing him, but in response Stefan, grin as wide as a Cheshire cat.
Arya's days of torment persisted until the looming arrival of Ivan. With a heavy sigh, she shut off a file after signing it, casting a wary glare at Stefan. "This was the last one for the day, right Stefan?"
Smiling, he adjusted his glasses, perched on his nasal bridge. "Well done, madam."
A glimmer of hope lit up Arya's eyes as excitement dripped from her words. "So I can leave, right?"
Maintaining his smile, Stefan's response sent a shiver of disappointment down Arya's spine. "Unfortunately, madam, tomorrow's matters are still left to be discussed." Arya gritted her teeth, squinting her eyes and furrowing her brow in frustration.
"Why? Why are you so persistent? Can't I have some time to catch my breath?" Annoyed and tried she remark. As the evening shadows grew longer, she sighed, acknowledging the passing of time. Putting her plumps on table, leaning forward a bit, she added, "it's already evening. We can do it after supper. Can't you just give me a break?" Her gaze held a pityful plea as she asks him.
Stefan, peering through the glass window, remarked, "It has indeed... Very well then." Arya exhaled deeply in relief.
At the capital :
Renard's countenance was veiled by the parchment, creating an air of mystery that heightened the guild members' curiosity. Only his lips were exposed, curled into a sly smile that hinted at concealed intentions. As he delved into the contents of the letter, a mischievous glint gleamed in his eyes, sending a shiver down Xiver's spine. Observing their guildmaster's enigmatic smile, Xiver couldn't help but shake his head while exhaling.Renard delicately placed the letter on the table, tapping his fingers with a rhythmic precision reminiscent of a pianist playing a captivating tune. The anticipation in the air thickened as the guildmaster finally spoke, his smile seemingly etched onto his face, "Xiver, prepare for departure. We're heading to the North."
Xiver, always quick with a quip, chuckled in response, "Renard, a single woman, and your composed demeanor crumbles like a deck of cards. She must be quite the enchantress, weaving spells beyond magic, eh?"
At the envelope's bottom, a wee stone gleams, captivating Xiver's keen eyes. Renard, humming a playful tune, watches as Xiver, wearing a cheeky grin, examines the stone. Shocking him, the pure enargy effusing from it was beyond ones limit. Astonished, he inquires, "This? What enchantment is this?" "Oh, this… this my friend", Renard, with a playful air, cradles it in his hand, saying, "this is the essence of the duchess's intriguing deal."
Curiosity glimmered in Renard's eyes as he kept tossing the stone in the air, catching it seamlessly. Inquisitively, he spoke, "Our dear customer, she truly is so elusive." Pushing back his glasses frame, Xiver sinnerly smiled while joining Renard, "Undeniably." The air around them seemed to heavy with interest, and the elusive customer's mysterious nature only added to the intrigue.
At the duchy :
The beautiful morning was highlighted by warm sunshine, adding harmony to the delicious food on the table. However, Arya's mind was agonizing over last night's dream. Though not a nightmare, it gave her quite a headache. Concerned, Miya came forward and asked, "Does the food taste bad, madam?"
"Huh?" Looking at the food, she shook her head slightly and added, "No, not at all. The food is absolutely delicious."
After finishing breakfast her daily torture begun. Like a strict teacher lecturing his students, Stefan stand tall beside Arya as she does her paperwork's. She can not even refute to this since she herself has gotten engaged into this.
In the daily struggle of her, she faced a relentless battle within the confines of her office. The menacing figure of Stefan, Stefan's formidable personality, a formidable opponent, leads against him. However, a glimmer of hope illuminated her thoughts as she anticipated the arrival of her savior, Ivan, later in the day.
The prospect of Ivan's presence filled her mind with joy, signaling the imminent end to the taxing warfare. The burden of her workload would soon lift, granting her respite from the constant challenges. The mere thought of reclaiming her leisure time, freely roaming the city without the weight of responsibilities, elevated her spirits to cloud nine.
As the sun journeyed across the sky, casting a gentle warmth upon the estate, the afternoon unfurled with a sense of anticipation and as the gate opened, the servants stood outside the door, eagerly anticipating his arrival. As he gracefully emerged from his opulent carriage, he was warmly welcomed by his people.
But this time along with his servants and butler another person was also impatiently waited for him, waited to welcome him home. His duchess, his wife, Arya, was also there, along with everyone, with a smiling face she welcomed him home.
Ivan's heart quickened with each step as he walked forward. Arya, his duchess stood there with a radiant smile that could rival the stars. In that timeless moment, their eyes met, and the world around them seemed to stand still, leaving only the profound connection between them.
In that tender moment, their closeness spoke volumes. As he stood before her, he gazed into her eyes and uttered, "I have returned, my dear." Arya's face lit up with joy, and she warmly welcomed him, "Welcome home."
Inside Ivan's office, Stefan eagerly awaits him. As the door opens, a broad smile lights up Stefan's face, and he warmly welcomes Ivan. "I see, you're alive," Stefan teases playfully. Ivan, matching the tone, replies, "That mouth of yours still spouts nonsense, I see." They share a friendly hug, and as Stefan pats Ivan's back, he adds, "You had me scared back there. It's a relief to see your sarcastic self." Letting Ivan go, Stefan, with a smile, gestures towards the table and says, "Well, hopefully, these tasks will be done before I suffer too much," playfully pointing at the workload. Ivan's smile turns into a playful grin as he gives Stefan a mock glare.
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