37 - Days In The Barony

Sarah had not expected the world to feel lighter overnight, but that was precisely what happened.

The air seemed gentler. The weight in her chest, that constant, gnawing doubt, had receded—if not gone entirely, then quieted, as though soothed by Luna’s certainty.

She had spent the first hours after their talk in disbelief, torn between fear and hope, but when she looked across her room and saw Luna—who had been sitting on the bed earlier but had since claimed a chair instead—sprawled carelessly with her cheeks bulging with sweets and her mischievous grin shining like a lantern in the dark, the truth struck her.

Luna hadn’t changed. Not a bit.

Even after the revelation of her lineage—even after learning she was the daughter of Duchess Valerie Terra, granddaughter of the duke-emeritus—she was still the same girl who teased and prodded her into courage.

Still the same little whirlwind who had barreled into her life and tugged her by the hand toward Darren.

Sarah smiled then, the stiffness in her shoulders unwinding. If Luna could remain Luna despite such a heavy title, then surely she, too, could choose not to let fear dictate her heart.

For hours, the two of them lingered in Sarah’s room, swapping stories like girls who had grown up together.

Sarah spoke of her time in the manor—days spent training as a maid-in-learning, when Cedric had been both mentor and unyielding drillmaster.

She told Luna of her clumsy mistakes, of the endless hours polishing floors and memorizing protocol, of Riona’s laughter as she tried to balance trays of wine goblets during her first banquet.

Luna soaked in every detail with glittering eyes, sometimes laughing so hard she nearly fell from her chair, other times cocking her head with catlike curiosity as though she were cataloguing each word for later teasing.

When Riona slipped into the room partway through, the energy doubled. With her sly remarks and easy humor, she balanced Luna’s mischief perfectly, and for a while Sarah found herself caught between their banter, laughing so hard her sides ached.

But eventually Riona excused herself with a bow and a wink, duty calling her back to the manor’s workings.

Evening fell, and with it came another dinner at Baron Eldwin’s table. This time, Sarah did not enter with trembling steps. She did not feel like a trespasser, nor like a servant who had stumbled somewhere she did not belong.

Her expression softened, and the baron noticed, though he said nothing. Darren noticed too, though he merely offered her his hand beneath the table, his thumb brushing over her knuckles.

Luna, of course, noticed everything—and teased them mercilessly until Darren nearly dropped his fork in exasperation.

The days that followed blurred together in their richness, a tapestry of small adventures and discoveries.

Luna, ever restless, could not remain confined to the manor walls. She was grateful for the warmth of Baron Eldwin’s hospitality, but a house, no matter how grand, was still a house. And houses, to her, were cages—softly padded, but cages nonetheless.

So she begged. She pestered. She leaned dramatically across tables and tugged at Darren’s sleeves until finally, with weary sighs and exchanged glances, he and Sarah agreed, they would show her the barony.

It began on the farmlands.

The first morning dawned crisp and golden, sunlight spilling across the wide fields like liquid warmth. Farmers bent over rows of wheat and barley, their rough hands steady and sure, their movements honed by years of repetition.

Luna breathed deeply, filling her lungs with the scent of earth and grass. The sight stirred something deep within her—an echo of her old world, of weekends spent at her grandparents’ countryside home.

“Whoa,” she whispered, her eyes widening as she took it all in. “This feels… familiar.”

Sarah glanced at her curiously. “Familiar?”

“Mm.” Luna’s lips curved into a wistful smile. “Back home, my grandparents had a farm. Smaller than this, of course, but they grew tomatoes. I used to pluck them straight from the vines and eat them on the spot.” She laughed softly, the memory tender. “They always tasted like summer.”

Darren and Sarah exchanged a brief glance at that. They both knew of Duke-Emeritus William Terra’s immense estate, but neither had ever heard of him keeping something so humble as a farm.

Then again, noble families often had distant branches managed rural lands through kin. They assumed Luna must be speaking of such relatives, tucked somewhere in the duchy’s vast holdings.

Darren, walking just ahead, slowed his steps at her tone. He had grown used to her endless chatter, but there was a quietness to her words now that pulled at him.

“Do you miss it?” he asked, surprising even himself with the question.

Luna tilted her head, considering. “Sometimes. But it’s different here. It’s new.” Her grin returned, sudden and bright. “And I bet the tomatoes don’t stand a chance against these giant cows!”

Before either Darren or Sarah could react, Luna had darted toward the nearest grazing animal, her tiny hands outstretched. The cow, bewildered but tolerant, let out a low moo as she patted its side with delighted vigor.

“Soft!” Luna declared. “And sturdy. I bet I could ride it!”

“You absolutely cannot,” Sarah yelped, rushing forward.

By the time she reached her, Luna had already scrambled halfway onto the cow’s back, giggling uncontrollably. Darren pinched the bridge of his nose, muttering something about chaos incarnate, while Sarah tugged Luna down with exasperated strength.

“No riding cows!” Sarah scolded, her cheeks pink with a mixture of alarm and embarrassment.

“Aww, but look at her,” Luna whined, pointing at the placid animal. “She totally likes me!”

The cow mooed again, louder this time, and flicked its tail against Luna’s leg.

“See? Affection!”

Sarah groaned. Darren laughed despite himself.

The second day took them into the markets.

If the farmland had reminded Luna of home, the marketplace was pure wonder.

Stalls overflowed with bright cloth, polished trinkets, fresh produce, and the mouthwatering scent of baked goods. Merchants called out cheerfully, their voices rising above the hum of bargaining and laughter. Children darted between the legs of shoppers, chasing after hoops and each other.

Luna’s eyes darted everywhere at once, wide as saucers. “This place is huge! And noisy! And it smells like—wait, is that candy?”

Before Sarah could warn her not to wander, Luna had already disappeared into the throng.

“Luna!” Sarah’s voice cracked with alarm.

Darren placed a calming hand on her shoulder. “Relax. She’ll be fine.”

Sarah’s brows furrowed. “But—she’s still just—”

“She’s stronger than most men I train with,” Darren interrupted gently. “What worries me is not her safety, but what chaos she might cause.”

Sarah fell silent, though unease lingered in her gaze.

When they finally found her, Luna was happily clutching a paper bag stuffed with sweets, cheeks puffed like a squirrel.

“Found the best stall ever,” she mumbled around a mouthful of caramel. “Restocked for the road!”

Sarah sighed. Darren chuckled.

By the third day, they had settled into a rhythm. This time, they simply walked—through streets both narrow and wide, admiring the architecture, pausing at fountains, letting the gentle pulse of daily life wash over them.

Their wandering eventually led them to the church.

Sarah’s steps slowed, reverence softening her face. She dipped her head as they entered, her hands folding neatly together in prayer. Darren followed suit with quiet respect.

Luna, though not religious, lowered her gaze as well. She did not kneel, nor whisper words she did not know, but she bowed her head with sincerity. Respect, she figured, cost nothing—and the silence of the place touched her in a way she hadn’t expected.

Afterward, as they left the church and strolled into the open fields beyond, the sun dipped low on the horizon.

The sky bled orange and gold, streaks of crimson painting the clouds. A cool breeze swept over the grass, rippling it like waves across the earth.

Luna stopped in her tracks, her breath catching.

“It’s beautiful,” she whispered.

Sarah smiled faintly. Darren only hummed, though his gaze lingered not on the horizon but on the girl at his side.

The three of them stood there in silence until the last sliver of sun sank below the earth.

On the fourth day, they remained at the manor.

Sarah had thrown herself into study with fierce determination, asking Cedric for guidance on what she needed to learn to stand properly at Darren’s side.

The butler, with his usual gravitas, had compiled a lengthy memo that covered everything from etiquette to administration.

Luna sprawled across the library’s couch as Sarah pored over her notes at a nearby desk, her brow furrowed in concentration.

“You’re really serious about this, huh?” Luna asked, idly flipping through a book she’d plucked from the shelves.

Sarah didn’t look up. “Of course I am. Darren deserves someone who can stand beside him without shame.”

Luna tilted her head, watching her for a moment. Then, softly, she said, “You already are.”

Sarah’s hand trembled, just slightly, on the page. She didn’t reply.

Luna turned her attention back to her own book. It was a history tome, heavy and dry, but the words within caught her curiosity.

She read of wars from five centuries past, of kingdoms clashing and near ruin. The thought lingered in her mind, chilling even as she admired the manor’s safety.

So much had been lost once before. Could it happen again?

By the time the fourth day faded into night, Luna had begun to realize something.

Her time here was not endless.

The manor had been kind. The barony had shown her warmth. But she was not meant to remain behind walls. Her path was still out there, waiting.

And soon, she would have to tell them.

The fifth morning dawned with the clang of steel echoing across the yard.

From her perch on the fence, Luna nibbled idly on a piece of hard candy, her small boots swinging above the packed dirt. The knights moved below like pieces on a board, their blades flashing, their bodies slick with sweat.

They were tired. That much was clear. But when their gazes lifted and found her watching, their fatigue stiffened into something else—uneasy alertness, like deer catching sight of a predator.

Luna tilted her head, bemused. “Why’re they acting like I’m scarier than swords?” she murmured to herself.

To pass the time, she lifted her palm. Frost shimmered at her fingertips, coalescing into an icy blade. It wasn’t perfect, but the form held true, translucent edges catching the morning light.

The knights gasped, whispers spreading in low currents. The daughter of Duchess Terra—no, the granddaughter of William Terra himself—was sitting on their fence conjuring weapons as though it were child’s play.

Darren, mid-spar, noticed the commotion. His eyes found Luna, the small sword of ice in her hand. For a moment, he only smiled. Of course she could do that. Of course she would casually flaunt magic like it was nothing.

By the time training ended, the knights bowed stiffly in her direction before filing off to wash. Luna simply waved, cheeks full of candy, entirely unbothered by the awe she had left in her wake.

On the sixth day, Luna could no longer ignore the tug in her chest.

She waited until after breakfast, when the manor was bright with morning activity, and gathered Darren, Sarah, and Baron Eldwin together. Cedric lingered in the corner, silent but attentive, as he always was.

Luna swung her legs beneath her chair, cheeks puffed as she steeled herself. “So… I’ve been thinking,” she began, her tone deliberately casual.

Sarah froze mid-sip of tea. Darren’s brow furrowed. Eldwin merely folded his hands, giving her the quiet space to speak.

“I’ve had a lot of fun here,” Luna continued, flashing them her wide grin. “Like—really a lot. Farms, markets, sunsets, even boring old books in the library. But…” Her grin softened. “I didn’t come here to stay in one place forever. I’m supposed to keep moving. That’s what I decided.”

In truth, the decision had come easily once she realized it. She had done what she came here to do—help Sarah and Darren find their way to each other.

Their future no longer teetered on hesitation or doubt, it was set, steady, belonging to them now. Luna had nudged the pieces into place, and with that, she felt satisfied. It was time to step back and let them live their story.

Sarah’s fingers tightened on her cup. “You’re leaving,” she whispered, voice trembling.

Luna nodded. “Soon. Tomorrow, maybe.”

Silence fell.

Darren’s first instinct was to argue. To tell her to stay just a little longer. To admit that she had become important, not just for Sarah, but for him. That her presence was a steady light, a reminder of laughter when the world pressed too heavy.

But when he looked at her—at her easy smile, her restless energy—he knew he couldn’t. Luna was not meant to be caged.

So he swallowed his protest. “Where will you go?” he asked instead, voice even.

“To Tierra,” Luna answered promptly, eyes glittering. “Sarah told me about it. A kingdom built right into the mountain. I want to see it myself.”

Sarah’s throat tightened. The thought of saying goodbye ached more than she had expected, yet when she saw the sparkle in Luna’s gaze, she understood. Stopping her would be crueler than letting her go.

Baron Eldwin leaned back, his expression unreadable for a moment. Then, with a slow nod, he said, “A traveler’s path belongs to the horizon, not to walls. I will not hold you here.”

Luna blinked at him, surprised. Then her smile grew. “Thanks, Uncle.”

Eldwin’s lips curved faintly. “But if you must go, you will not go quietly. We will give you a proper farewell.”

The seventh day arrived with music.

From the moment the sun climbed above the horizon, the manor bustled with preparations.

Tables were set in the courtyard, laden with food and drink. Servants carried baskets of bread and roasted meats, pitchers of wine and jugs of juice. Knights exchanged their training gear for cleaner attire, brushing dust from their boots.

By evening, the baron’s manor no longer looked like a place of discipline and duty—it looked like a place of celebration.

Everyone was invited. Servants, knights—all gathered beneath lanterns strung high, their light flickering warmly as dusk fell.

At the center of it all was Luna, dressed no differently than usual, a stick of candy poking from her mouth as she beamed at the spectacle.

“This is for me?” she asked, eyes wide.

“Of course,” Baron Eldwin said. His tone was dignified, but the fondness in his gaze betrayed him. “It would be unthinkable to let you leave without honor.”

The music struck up, lively and bright. Knights and servants alike danced in the courtyard, laughter carrying through the air.

Riona appeared at Luna’s side like a shadow slipping free of the dark, her sly grin firmly in place. “Shall we stir trouble?” she whispered.

Luna’s eyes glinted mischievously. “Absolutely.”

The two became a storm together. They teased Sarah until her cheeks burned, nudging her toward Darren with every opportunity. They conspired to shove the pair onto the dance floor, where Sarah sputtered in protest and Darren sighed but complied, his hands steady on hers.

“They look cute,” Luna said, her grin wicked.

“They look flustered,” Riona corrected.

“Same thing.”

Sarah’s laughter, reluctant at first, soon bubbled into something freer. The tension that had haunted her since arriving seemed to slip away, burned off by the warmth of the evening.

Luna stuffed herself shamelessly, piling plates high with roasted chicken, sweet rolls, and enough pastries to make even Cedric raise an eyebrow. When Darren passed by, she wagged a pastry at him. “See? I can eat as much as you train. Balance!”

He only shook his head, but his smile betrayed his amusement.

As night deepened, lanterns glowed like stars above them. The air buzzed with joy, the clink of glasses, the rhythm of stomping feet.

And at the heart of it all, Luna laughed until her sides hurt.

Later, when the crowd thinned and the music softened, she slipped away.

Her steps carried her to her chamber, where she collapsed onto the bed with a sigh, her stomach full and her heart fuller still.

She stared at the ceiling, the muffled hum of the party drifting faintly through the walls.

Her mind replayed everything—the farm fields, the bustling markets, the quiet sunset, the library’s musty air, the clang of steel, the laughter of the knights, Sarah’s shy smile, Darren’s steady presence, Riona’s sly grin, Baron Eldwin’s soft pride.

She had been happy here.

But the road called. Tierra waited.

Luna smiled to herself, pulling the blanket up to her chin. “Tomorrow,” she whispered into the quiet. “Tomorrow, the journey starts again.”

And with that, she drifted into dreams sweet with memory, already carrying her toward the horizon.