“You really are remarkable, commander,” Thurwin remarked, observing Roy with a mix of admiration and envy.

Roy’s long black hair was neatly tied in a ponytail, accentuating the striking contrast between his piercing blue eyes and pale skin. His uncommon handsomeness was well-known; rumors abounded that numerous ladies in the capital were smitten with him, often sending love letters filled with fervent admiration.

Yet, Roy routinely burned these letters, preferring not to mix personal emotions with his professional duties.

“Commander Roy,” a voice called out, and several of his loyal soldiers entered. They were men who had pledged allegiance to him, inspired by his strength and leadership.

“What’s the matter?” Roy inquired, a flicker of concern crossing his face, fearing a new crisis.

However, to his surprise, the soldiers simply presented him with a flower-scented letter.

“A letter for you, sir.”

“Really?” Roy blinked, intrigued. It had been some time since he received personal correspondence.

“Who’s it from?” Thurwin asked curiously.

Hesitating briefly, the soldiers responded, “It’s from Lady Aris Horissen.”

Letters from nobles were rare. Intrigued, Roy quickly opened the letter. It was a simple yet thoughtful note, congratulating him on his achievements, commenting on the weather, and urging him to look after his health. It also mentioned that a response was not necessary.

“Is this from the Marquis Horissen’s estate?” Thurwin inquired, scanning the letter. “Commander!” His eyes widened in realization. “This must be from the marquis’ daughter.”

“So what?” Roy queried, unimpressed.

“You should reply!” Thurwin insisted, visibly excited. The Horissens were influential, and a connection with them, especially with their only daughter, could significantly elevate Roy’s status.

“Good God, man,” Roy sighed. He had intended to burn the letter, as usual, not keen on emotional entanglements. But something about the letter, its genuine tone and lack of expectation, made him pause.

How intriguing, he mused, his interest piqued by the letter's thoughtful simplicity.

“You can’t just burn a letter like this,” Thurwin protested, seeing a strategic opportunity. “Imagine the prospects if things go well with Lady Horissen.”

“I’ve risen high enough,” Roy replied dismissively.

“Not high enough! You could be commander-in-chief,” Thurwin exclaimed, envisioning the military's highest rank within Roy's reach, especially with Lady Horissen’s influence.

Roy, unswayed by Thurwin’s excitement, placed the letter in his desk cabinet, a spot usually reserved for correspondence from friends. It was unusual for him to preserve a lady’s letter in this manner.

"A few letters won't change anything," he remarked.

“Yes, they will,” Thurwin countered.

Roy had low expectations. Most who wrote to him did so out of fleeting curiosity, and their interest waned without a reply. He preferred this outcome, yet couldn’t deny a sense of disappointment when the letters ceased. Deep down, he was still human.

He assumed the letter was a mere whim of a bored young lady.

“How old is Lady Aris Horissen?”

“She’s 16,” Thurwin answered promptly.

“You seem well-informed about her,” Roy commented, raising an eyebrow.

“Shouldn’t I be? She’s rumored to be exceptionally beautiful. It's basic knowledge for any man,” Thurwin quipped.

So, she was still quite young. Roy surmised that Lady Aris might have sent the letter out of youthful curiosity, lacking the opportunity to interact with boys her age. He decided to keep her scented letters for now, planning to burn them in one go once her interest waned. Deep down, he doubted she would send another. Regardless of a woman's nobility or beauty, he was determined not to be swayed.

I don't like this, he thought, his mood souring.

The idea of becoming a temporary amusement for a beautiful young lady was unappealing to him.

Yet, he couldn't deny the ease he felt each time he read Lady Horissen’s letter. There was something comforting about its lack of expectations. A smile would unknowingly grace his lips as he read it, and he found himself unable to burn such a heartfelt missive. Perhaps, in the midst of the war's horrors, he was subconsciously seeking a sliver of solace.

* * *

Aris’s life underwent a dramatic shift after being chosen as the crown prince’s dance partner. Her daily routine now included prolonged, rigorous dance lessons, and her other studies were curtailed to make time for fittings for her ball gown. She had hired a renowned dressmaker promptly, knowing the intricate process of designing and tailoring a gown would be time-consuming.

As she sifted through a dress catalog, enjoying tea and snacks, Aris consulted with Violet, who had come to visit. “How about this one?” she asked, pointing to a dress adorned with jewels and a high neckline.

Violet assessed the dress and shook her head. “Lucine would disapprove.”

“Ah.”

“She’d prefer something more revealing,” Violet observed.

“You're right,” Aris conceded, her mood turning sour. The thought of having to dress up for the crown prince irked her. Who cared about a ball anyway?

“It’s not just his first adult dance, but also your high society debut, Big Sister,” Violet reminded her.

“You're right.”

“Choose your dress wisely.”

Despite her growing disdain for dress shopping, Aris couldn’t shake the desire to confront the crown prince about his choice.

“By the way, Violet, I sent that letter,” Aris mentioned casually.

“Oh, really?” Violet's eyes widened.

“Yes, it should reach him in a month, thanks to a magical horse.”

“Expecting a reply?”

Aris grimaced. “I doubt he’ll respond.”

“Why not?”

“I just have that feeling,” she admitted, suspecting that Roy, being a popular figure, likely received numerous letters and ignored them.

Unbeknownst to her, Roy had never responded to any such letters. Yet, Aris felt compelled to send another, hoping to convey the sincerity of her feelings.

“I just want this whole crown prince's birthday ordeal to be over,” Aris lamented.

“You really dislike him, don’t you?”

“He's not my type at all!”

“Same here,” Violet agreed, and they shared a grin, bonding over their mutual disdain for the crown prince.

“My father wants me to inherit his title,” Violet shared.

“That's impressive!”

“I accepted,” Violet said with determination. She enjoyed taking on responsibilities and was already contemplating her future partner—someone who was content with his current status.

Violet, though young, understood her influence and had no desire to be crown princess. Aris agreed that Violet was better suited as a duchess.

“The crown prince invited me for tea,” Violet mentioned, a hint of annoyance in her voice. Unlike Aris, she hadn't been extended such an invitation. “He seems to have different criteria for women he socializes with and those he dances with.”

Aris nodded in agreement with Violet's reasoning. "It's the only logical explanation for his choice."

She found solace in the thought that the crown prince hadn't chosen someone he was genuinely interested in, as that would have sparked far more rumors than selecting a random lady. Nonetheless, being considered 'just any young lady' was not a notion Aris was fond of.

"I'm already thinking about my next letter," she sighed.

“How long do you plan to keep writing to him?” Violet inquired.

Aris reflected briefly, then raised two fingers. “Two and a half years.”

"Ah."

"That should be sufficient," she affirmed, convinced that this timeframe would lead to their marriage.

* * *

As spring gave way to the warmth of summer, Ian found himself grappling with the swift passage of time. He retrieved a jewelry box, one he had reserved for Aris since her birth. The realization that the moment to present it had arrived left him feeling nostalgic.

"You called, Father?" Aris entered, her glossy brown hair shimmering with each step. Lucine's meticulous care had rendered Aris's hair more radiant than ever. Recently, Aris had lost weight to align with current fashion trends, which favored a slender figure.

Observing the transformation his daughter had undergone, Ian felt a twinge of unfamiliarity. "Come here," he beckoned, extending the jewelry box to her.

"This is..." Aris began, curiosity piqued.

"Open it."

Inside lay a magnificent blue diamond, its size and beauty breathtaking. Aris gently touched the gem.

"It's the necklace your mother wore. A Horissen heirloom," Ian explained.

"It's mine now?"

"Regardless of whether you become the marquise, you're my rightful heir. It belongs to you."

Ian's eyes brimmed with emotion, prompting a smile from Aris. "Don't cry."

"There's dust in my eyes," he protested.

"It's not like I'm getting married yet," she laughed, admiring the necklace. "I’ll wear it to the ball."

"Very well."

"I just wish it were over. Lucine's been so strict with my diet.” Aris had adhered to a strict diet for the past month, under Lucine's watchful eye. She lightly touched her face. "Look how much slimmer my face is now!"

"You were already slender," Ian noted.

"That's what I said, but Lucine insisted," Aris complained inwardly, blaming the crown prince for this ordeal.

She planned to subtly step on his foot during their dance, disguising it as an accident. She had even practiced the maneuver during her dance lessons. After the ball, she looked forward to indulging in her favorite foods, having already planned a cake outing with Violet.

Violet, she thought, recalling how Violet had evaded the crown prince's tea invitation by feigning illness. He had believed her and sent an abundance of herbs and medicines, which Violet later confessed she had discarded, earning a scolding at home.

Despite being the crown prince's chosen dance partner, Aris had received no such invitations herself. She would have declined them anyway, using illness as an excuse.