32 - Midnight In The Manor

The manor of Baron Eldwin slept beneath the velvet cloak of midnight. The torches along its outer walls had long since been reduced to faint embers, glowing like tired watchmen fighting against the tide of night.

Inside, the grand hallways lay wrapped in silence, broken only by the occasional groan of old wood or the soft rush of wind against shuttered windows.

But not everyone was asleep.

In one of the guest chambers, Luna sat cross-legged atop her bed, wide awake. Her eyes glittered mischievously in the moonlight that slanted across the polished floor.

Any other guest might have been unsettled by the stillness, by the sheer size of the noble manor and the shadows it birthed.

But for Luna, remembering her time in Celestia where sneaking around the academy dorms had been her nightly sport, this was nothing more than an invitation.

“Too quiet to waste,” she whispered, her lips quirking into a grin.

She drew in a breath and released a thin cloud of silvery mist. It curled around her like a living veil, softening her outline until she was little more than a ghost drifting through the chamber.

The spell—Mist—was simple for her, almost instinctive now, and it wrapped her in its gentle shroud as she rose to her feet.

A glance back at the bed confirmed that her cloak and satchel were still resting there, deliberately left behind. Tonight was not a night for battle or travel. Tonight was a night for exploration.

Luna padded silently across the room, pushed the door open with care, and stepped into the hallway.

The corridor stretched long and straight, lined with the kind of restrained luxury that spoke of wealth tempered by humility.

The walls bore no golden sconces or jeweled panels, only neat oil lamps and a few well-framed paintings of the barony’s landscapes—rolling hills, wide rivers, and the mountain ridges that marked Eldwin’s borders. A noble house, yes, but one without pretense.

Her soft steps echoed faintly, though the mist that clung to her dulled even those. Luna tilted her head, listening. Nothing stirred.

“Perfect,” she murmured, and padded off into the quiet.

She passed through the manor like a breeze, never lingering long enough to disturb the stillness. The first place her wandering took her was the kitchen.

The heavy double doors creaked faintly as she slipped through, and Luna’s eyes went wide. The room was enormous compared to the humble hearths she was used to seeing in villages.

A long table dominated the center, its surface gleaming from constant scrubbing. Racks of pots and pans gleamed from the walls, polished to mirror brightness.

And stacked neatly along the shelves were rows of preserved goods, jars of pickled vegetables, sacks of flour, wheels of cheese wrapped in cloth.

Luna padded over to a basket on the counter and peeked inside. Apples. She plucked one, held it up to her mouth—then paused, giggling.

“No. That would be stealing.” She set it back gently. “Besides, I’ve got candy.”

She fished a wrapped sweet from her pocket, unwrapped it, and popped it into her mouth before skipping lightly out of the kitchen.

From there she found her way to a small library. It was nothing like the sprawling archives she had seen in Celestia, but it was warm, tidy, and filled with shelves of well-loved tomes.

Many bore titles on agriculture, administration, and histories of the Empire. One caught her eye, The Siege of Blackspire. She traced the spine with a fingertip, her lips pursed.

So Baron Eldwin read war chronicles in his spare time. That, she supposed, explained much about the man’s sharp, steady gaze.

But Luna did not linger long, for she knew well enough where her true goal lay.

The other rooms she peeked into—an unused study, a narrow side hall, a small armory—were merely diversions to keep her curiosity fed along the way. Her real destination was the heart of the manor, Baron Eldwin’s office.

On the other side of the door she now stood before, two men sat awake despite the late hour.

Baron Eldwin leaned forward at his desk, the soft scratch of a quill filling the otherwise hushed room. Documents lay spread across the polished wood, reports on grain yields, militia training records, requests from tenant farmers.

His candlelight haloed him in gold, throwing into relief the stern lines of his face, though there was a softness about his eyes tonight that spoke of something more than duty.

Across from him, on the couch, sat Cedric—the head butler. Most in the manor never saw him sit in this room, for before others he was discipline incarnate, the very image of formality.

But now, with only his lord and brother-in-arms for company, he was relaxed. His posture leaned, his voice carried ease, and his eyes twinkled faintly as Eldwin muttered over a poorly phrased petition.

“You’re still reading reports at this hour?” Cedric asked, voice carrying the gruff warmth of long familiarity.

Eldwin gave a short chuckle, finishing a line before setting his quill aside. “The crops won’t wait for the dawn, Cedric.”

“They won’t vanish either,” Cedric countered. “You’d think after all these years you’d have learned to let the ink dry before your eyes do.”

The baron smiled faintly but said nothing, instead reaching for a new page.

For a while they sat in silence, the sort only possible between men who had once fought back-to-back, who had lived through battles where words were scarce and trust was all.

Finally, Cedric broke the stillness again. “Your son.”

Eldwin paused. “What of him?”

“That declaration today,” Cedric said with a low laugh. “I thought poor Sarah might faint on the spot.”

Eldwin’s lips tugged into something between a sigh and a smile. “Yes. Darren never was one for caution where his heart is concerned.”

“You noticed it early, didn’t you? Him always finding excuses to linger near her.”

“Of course I did,” Eldwin replied softly. “I could hardly miss it. A boy may think himself discreet, but a father sees.”

“And you said nothing.”

“What was there to say? Let them grow. Let them choose.” His gaze softened, his voice quieter now. “And they have.”

Cedric leaned back, eyes thoughtful. “You trust her?”

“I do. More than that, I trust him. He would not stand before me if he was unsure. And as for Sarah…” Eldwin’s expression grew distant, touched with memory. “Her father was no ordinary farmer. He fought beside us. He bled beside us. He asked me once to take her under this roof, not as charity but as preparation. Perhaps even then, he foresaw something neither of us dared name aloud.”

Cedric nodded slowly, his brow furrowing. “Warriors’ instincts. They don’t fade.”

For a time, the two men let silence settle again. Yet that silence did not remain undisturbed.

A prickle ran along the back of Cedric’s neck. His gaze sharpened, tilting toward the office door.

Eldwin noticed at once. “What is it?”

“Someone’s there.”

Eldwin straightened, his eyes narrowing. He rose without hesitation, crossed to the wall, and pulled down two swords from the rack. He tossed one to Cedric, who caught it with the ease of long practice.

They stood there, old soldiers once more, the years falling away as instinct returned. The office filled with the quiet heat of readiness, steel gleaming faintly in the candlelight.

Neither spoke the thought aloud, but both wondered, who would dare approach the baron’s office at this hour?

Then came a sound, a soft, deliberate knock.

On the other side stood Luna, mist fading from her form, candy tucked into her cheek. She tapped her knuckles lightly against the wood and waited.

When the cautious voice of Cedric called out—“Who’s there?”—she answered simply, “It’s me. Luna.”

A pause followed, heavy, and then the scrape of steel being set aside. Cedric’s voice came again, steadier now. “Wait a moment.”

Inside, the two men returned the swords to their places. Suspicion had not vanished, but recognition tempered it. Whatever else she was, the little girl was Darren’s companion—and Darren’s judgment they trusted.

The door swung open, and Cedric stood framed in the gap once more in his butler’s poise. Behind him, Baron Eldwin sat again at his desk, though his eyes were fixed keenly on the child.

“Come in,” Cedric said.

Luna padded past him, her steps unhurried, her expression bright but tinged with purpose. She climbed onto the couch opposite Eldwin, her legs dangling above the floor, and looked up at him with all the calm of someone twice her years.

Eldwin raised a brow. “And what business brings you here, little one, at this hour?”

Luna popped another candy into her mouth, chewed thoughtfully, and smiled. “I wanted to talk to you.”

The room stilled. Cedric took his place beside the baron, his sharp gaze flicking between the child and his lord. Eldwin leaned back in his chair, steepling his fingers, curiosity sparking in his eyes.

“And what,” he asked at last, his voice slow, deliberate, “do you wish to talk about?”

Luna’s grin widened. “Sarah and Darren.”

For a long moment, silence reigned in the office. The single candle on Eldwin’s desk flickered, casting shifting shadows across the polished floor.

Cedric tilted his head slightly, his sharp eyes narrowing at Luna as though she were a puzzle piece that refused to fit. Baron Eldwin, however, leaned back in his chair, one brow arched, his expression one of curiosity tinged with amusement.

“You came here,” Eldwin said slowly, his voice measured, “in the middle of the night, to talk about my son and Sarah?”

Luna nodded, legs swinging above the floor, utterly unbothered by the gravity of the setting. “Of course. Isn’t that the most important thing?”

Cedric almost choked. He caught himself with a short cough, but his mouth twitched as though fighting against a laugh. Eldwin’s lips curved faintly as well, though he kept his tone stern.

“Important, yes,” he said. “But usually such matters are not raised in offices at midnight.”

“Usually,” Luna agreed, popping a candy into her mouth, “but usually people aren’t as slow as you two.”

Cedric’s brows shot up, but before he could bark at her, Eldwin let out a low chuckle. “Slow, are we?”

“Yes.” Luna’s eyes gleamed with that particular mischief reserved for children who know they have struck a nerve. “You didn’t say a word about Sarah’s birth. Not once did you tell Darren she was unfit. Not once did you say ‘a villager’s daughter can’t be with a noble’s son.’ You didn’t even hint at it. And you—” she jabbed a finger at Eldwin—“don’t strike me as the type to hold your tongue if you had a problem.”

Eldwin studied her, his expression unreadable. “Go on.”

“I will,” Luna said brightly, shifting to sit cross-legged on the couch. “Because the more I think about it, the more it’s obvious. You were testing them. Not for status, not for politics, but for love itself. You wanted to see if Darren had the courage to speak it, and if Sarah could stand steady when he did. You weren’t judging their station—you were watching their hearts.”

Cedric exhaled sharply, his arms folding across his chest. “You speak boldly for one so young.”

Luna only grinned. “I speak what I see. And I saw it the moment you looked at Sarah—you didn’t look at her like a maid, or a villager. You looked at her like someone who mattered. Like someone you already trusted.”

Eldwin’s gaze softened. His fingers tapped once against the desk, then stilled. “And why, pray, do you believe I would trust her so?”

“Because,” Luna said, her tone growing suddenly sharp with certainty, “her father wasn’t just some farmer. I saw his build. His stance. His eyes. That’s not the body of a man who’s never seen war. That’s a soldier’s body. And when he gave Sarah his sword, he said he’d used it in battle. If he fought in the war against the demon worshippers, then he wasn’t just anyone. He was your brother-in-arms. Your friend.”

At that, Eldwin and Cedric exchanged a glance. A knowing glance. The kind that spoke volumes without words.

Luna leaned forward, voice quieter now, but firm. “So when he asked you to let Sarah work here, it wasn’t charity. It was trust. It was one soldier placing his daughter in the hands of another. Maybe even preparing her for something bigger.”

The flicker of amusement returned to Cedric’s eyes despite himself. “Sharp little dragon, aren’t you?”

Luna puffed out her cheeks at the description but didn’t deny it. Instead, she pressed on.

“And that’s not all. Did you see how the manor staff treated Sarah when we walked in? No one looked at her like she was out of place. No one questioned why she was walking beside Darren instead of trailing behind. Even the head butler—” she flicked a glance at Cedric—“escorted her to this very room without hesitation. If she were just a villager’s daughter, would they really treat her like that? No. They already see her as someone who belongs here. Someone who might become more.”

Cedric cleared his throat, straightening with exaggerated stiffness. “I escorted Darren. The others were… incidental.”

Luna grinned, all teeth. “Sure. Keep telling yourself that.”

Eldwin laughed. It was a quiet, low sound, but it rolled through the room like distant thunder, warming the chill of the midnight air. His eyes gleamed as he leaned forward, elbows braced on the desk, hands clasped.

“You are either remarkably observant,” he said, “or remarkably reckless.”

“Both,” Luna replied without hesitation.

Eldwin studied her for a long moment, then inclined his head. “Very well. You have peeled back the layers, so I shall not insult you with pretense.”

Luna’s smile faded into something more earnest. She sat straighter, listening with an attentiveness that belied her playful exterior.

“You are correct,” Eldwin said at last. “I never cared for the question of Sarah’s status. I fought beside her father. He was no ordinary man. When he placed her in my care, I knew she would grow into someone worth far more than titles or wealth could define. If Darren loves her, then I welcome it. If he chooses her, then so do I. I would rather my son marry a woman of strength and heart than any daughter of politics.”

The weight of his words settled like a stone dropped in still water, rippling outward.

Luna’s face lit up with delight. “So you do support them!”

“Of course I do.” Eldwin’s lips curved faintly. “Though I will admit, testing them was… amusing.”

Cedric shook his head, though there was the ghost of a smile on his face. “Amusing, he says. You nearly gave Sarah a heart attack.”

Eldwin ignored him, his eyes fixed on Luna once more. “You have a clever tongue, little one. And a sharp mind. I see why Darren tolerates your constant teasing.”

At that, Luna actually flushed, ducking her head as she mumbled around her candy. “I just… wanted to be sure. Sarah worries so much. She thinks her place doesn’t fit. I thought if I asked you directly, then maybe I could tell her not to worry anymore.”

Eldwin’s gaze softened, the weight of years easing from his features. “Then you have done her a kindness. More than you know.”

Luna beamed, pride swelling in her small frame. Outwardly she looked like a girl delighting in candy, but the knowing gleam in her eyes belonged to someone far older, quietly savoring the satisfaction of being right.

Eldwin leaned back once more, folding his hands across his chest. “So. Was that all you wished to know?”

Luna nodded cheerfully. “Yup. That’s it!”

Both men blinked.

“That’s it?” Cedric asked flatly. “You snuck into the baron’s office at midnight just to confirm that he approves of Sarah?”

“Mm-hm.”

Cedric pinched the bridge of his nose. Eldwin, however, laughed again, shaking his head. “Truly, you are a curious one.”

“Better curious than boring,” Luna said brightly.

Eldwin’s smile lingered, but as he looked at her, another thought stirred in his mind. His instincts—the same instincts that had carried him through battles, that had whispered truths in the chaos of war—were speaking again.

This girl was no ordinary child.

“Luna,” he said softly, his voice shifting, weightier now. “You have asked me many questions. May I ask you one in return?”

She tilted her head, curious. “Sure.”

“Who are you?”

The room stilled. Cedric turned his gaze on her, sharp as a blade. The candle guttered once in its holder, as though straining against the sudden heaviness of the air.

For a moment, Luna only blinked, her smile faltering. She had known this question would come eventually. Still, the directness of it made her chest tighten.

She could lie. She could deflect. She could laugh and wave it off. But something in Eldwin’s gaze—steady, honest, unflinching—made her pause.

Instead, she reached inside her cloak.

From a hidden pocket she drew a small, weathered card. It was plain at first glance, but when she held it up to the candlelight, the emblem etched upon it glimmered into view, a mountain crowned by a shield, lines etched so finely they seemed alive.

She placed it on the desk between them.

Eldwin’s eyes fell upon the emblem. His breath caught. The world seemed to still.

Then, without a word, the baron pushed back his chair, rose to his feet, and dropped to one knee.

“By the heavens…” he murmured, voice thick. “Forgive me, my lady.”

Cedric’s eyes went wide, his face frozen in shock. And Luna—candy half-forgotten in her cheek—stared, utterly dumbfounded, as the noble bowed before her.