Chapter 7

The sky blushed a soft reddish hue as the sun timidly peeked over the horizon. In the courtyard, grand carriages drawn by four horses stood in orderly rows. The imperial pennants atop them fluttered gently in the breeze.

Regardless of the early hours, the courtyard was bustling with activity. Maids and butlers scurried about under Sanchez's command, packing provisions. Nearby, the knights inspected their weapons, and some tended to their horses.

Lucien took a deep breath, letting the crisp morning dew fill his lungs. Exhaling slowly, his warm breath condensed into a faint mist before dissipating into the cool air. Today was the Imperial family's departure, excluding him. He still had three months of training left before returning to the capital for his coming-of-age.

As the cadence of footsteps echoed across the courtyard, Lucien and Kyle turned to see Roseanne approaching, escorted by Cyrus, with Tristan at her side. Several ladies-in-waiting and a group of escort knights followed closely behind.

Upon their arrival, Lucien and Kyle bowed reverently and greeted in unison, "Good morning, Your Majesties, Your Highness."

Before Lucien could fully straighten from his bow, soft arms pulled him in a tight embrace. The powdery floral scent clinging to his nostrils was all too familiar—it was the Empress.

"I will miss you," she whispered, her voice tinged with melancholy as she gently stroked his hair.

He hesitated before finally returning the embrace. "I will miss you, too."

Despite the crushing guilt he felt toward her kindness, she was the only one he could trust without question in this unfamiliar world. Because of her, he'd remembered what it felt like to be cared for by a mother, something he longed for all his life.

Releasing him from her grasp, Roseanne cupped his face, her cerulean eyes shimmering with concern. "Promise me you'll take care of yourself. Take your medication, eat properly, don't overexert yourself, get enough rest, and please, don't—"

Lucien blinked, dumbfounded by the torrent of reminders. He knew she was worried, perhaps excessively so, but it was beginning to weigh on him.

"And if you ever need anything, call for Sanchez immediately. Do you understand?"

Snapping out of his reverie, he nodded quickly, "I understand, Your Majesty. Please, don't worry. I'll be fine."

However, she shook her head firmly. "No. Call me Mother."

Her words caught him off guard, "I… How could I—"

"Mother." She interrupted, her unwavering gaze leaving no room for refusal.

Exhaling softly, he eventually relented. "Mother…"

His voice was barely audible, yet the single word lit her face with pride.

"That's my son," she spoke proudly and pressed a kiss to his forehead. With a final look of brimming affection, she stepped aside, allowing Cyrus to take her place.

Placing a hand on his shoulder, Cyrus offered him a warm smile. "Take care of your health, and always keep Kyle by your side, no matter where you go."

Lucien inclined his head, "I will keep that in mind. Thank you, Your—"

"Father." Cyrus corrected him.

He paused, his gaze flicking to Cyrus's expectant expression before reluctantly giving in. "…Father."

The word felt foreign on his tongue.

Even so, Cyrus chuckled, clearly pleased. "That's more like it." With a satisfying nod, he ruffled Lucien's hair, his warmth lingering even as he stepped aside.

Tristan bounded forward, his grin stretching wide and his eyes gleaming with unrestrained glee. He could almost see an imaginary field of flowers blooming around him. Dare he say it, Tristan currently looked like an overexcited dog.

Of course, it would be a lie if he didn't know why Tristan was so animated.

"Go on, say it, little brother." Tristan urged, his voice laced with untamed excitement.

As he was too tired to deal with his antics, Lucien followed along. "Brother."

However, the ungrateful creature before him shook his head, "Wrong. It's BIG BROTHER."

Lucien stared at him, unamused. "Does it really matter?"

Tristan gasped, clutching his chest theatrically. "Of course, it matters! Now, try again."

"...Big brother," Lucien mumbled begrudgingly, tone flat. His audacity truly knew no bounds.

Tristan's grin widened impossibly. "See? That wasn't so hard, was it?"

"Now, now, Tris, don't tease your brother too much," Cyrus interceded, his hand resting on Tristan's head.

With a huff, Tristan complied. "Fine." Returning his eyes to him, he gave him a rare, benign smile; his mischievousness was replaced with an uncommon seriousness as he clasped his shoulder. "Take care of yourself, and don't forget to write to me."

Lucien stared at the two men before him before nodding. "I will."

There was something strange about the situation. In the novel, it was implied that Tristan and Cyrus's relationship was strained, yet the way they interacted now seemed surprisingly cordial to him.

Tristan reached out and gently patted his head. With the growing discrepancies between the story and his reality, Lucien found himself increasingly reluctant to rely on the story.

"Pardon me, Your Majesty."

Their attention shifted toward Sanchez, who was bowing respectfully and reported, "The preparations are complete."

The Emperor nodded in acknowledgment. "I understand."

Cyrus's crimson eyes flickered between Roseanne and Tristan. Their gazes met briefly, and in silent agreement, they shifted their focus to Lucien.

"It seems it's time for us to part ways," Cyrus said.

Lucien offered them a final bow. "I wish you safe travels."

Roseanne gave him one last warm hug before turning her attention to Kyle, who stood behind him. "I entrust my son to you."

Kyle bowed deeply. "I will ensure His Highness's safety with my life."

She smiled in relief. "Thank you. It brings me great comfort knowing he's in such capable hands."

Without further ado, the group proceeded to their respective carriages. As Roseanne took Cyrus's hand to step inside, she paused, glancing back at him. A tender smile graced her lips as she waved.

Lucien held her gaze and returned the gesture, a faint smile tugging at his own.

It was painfully clear how much she adored her son.

Once the imperial family boarded the carriages, the knights and coachmen prompted their horses forward. The rhythmic clatter of hooves echoed through the courtyard as the procession, flanked by cavalry, moved steadily toward the palace gates.

Lucien stood in silence, watching until the last carriage vanished behind the castle's portcullis.

"Family, huh?" he mumbled, his thoughts straying to his past life.

The image of himself standing alone in the rain, facing a grave, flickered in his mind.

"Your Highness, your class will begin shortly." Sanchez's voice pulled him to the present.

Lucien spun around to find the elderly butler bowing slightly. "Lead the way."

The elderly man dipped his head. "As you wish."