Herzog Friederic was relieved that the child before him was more occupied with the scenery outside the carriage than the expression on his face. There was a reason he had to put so much preparation into spending time with Cacilie. And it had to do with a bitterness he had felt since his childhood. One that easily morphed into anger and violence. 

The Dae family was the only Grand Duchy in the Empire and were stalwart allies of the Imperial family. They shared several traits that cemented the connection between the Dae and Von Dauer such as the potency of their magic and the rich hue of carmine in their eyes. It was two of those renowned traits that Herzog Friederic lacked that made his rise to Herzog of Ibralaszadado difficult. 

He was the first of his father’s children and the only one from his first wife. By the time he was five his father remarried and shortly after his younger half-brother was born. This was the first time that Herzog Friederic would experience bitterness. The younger half-brother, Rolf, was blessed with the Mark of the Vudtar, God of Magic. A rare occurrence when a God gifts a newborn with a boon. The nail in the coffin was the brilliant shade of carmine that he possessed from the time he was born. Rolf was the perfect heir, but alas he was not the oldest. It was Dae family tradition that the oldest son, unless disgraced or dead, would always become heir. 

That was why his own father sent him off to war at the age of ten. There were the usual excuses that his step-mother plied with him, ones that allowed a boy to believe that his father still loved him. Herzog Friederic believed all of this until the day he returned. He expected to be treated to a feast, to be welcomed home as the heroic war hero the Emperor had proclaimed him to be. 

Instead, all that Herzog Friederic returned to was his father trying to drive a dagger through his heart. That was the second time he tasted bitterness. 

The third time would not come until years later. Years into his marriage and his family together, lovely and strong. The perfect balm for the turbulent years he spent on the battlefield as a youth. But, that was never designed to last. Like the gods themselves cared so little for him that his misery would be the source of a cosmic joke. 

It all clicked into place. His eldest son, his pride and joy. The eldest of his two daughters, the Jewel of Ibralaszadado. They weren’t his! 

They both stood besides his brother, all of them sharing a smile, shining carmine eyes (the kind he did not possess,) and brilliant magic binding them together. 

And then his wife. There she stood just out of reach of them with the most brilliant smile on her face. The last time she looked like that, looked like she was in love, was on their wedding day. 

He felt that bitterness. Felt it start in his heart, drop down to his stomach, and crawl its way back up to his mouth. How dare she? Hadn’t he given her a wonderful life as his Duchess? Or…Or maybe, she had never loved him. Their first child hadn’t been his. It had been his bastard brother's kid, hadn’t it?

That third taste of bitterness was so intense that he became melancholic, so the doctors informed said. The only one that was able to deduce the truth had been his eldest. The one who had been fooling him alongside his wife and brother. He could still remember that whoreson’s words.

“No matter what, I love you, and you’re my father.”

Love? How could he possibly love someone that wasn’t his?

He couldn’t. So that’s way on this very road when Carolus was to return home from war, he didn’t.

And, his sister will share his same fate. 

Then all that will be left are his precious children and his traitorous wife. 

He could handle that and finally be happy again.