*"An Unexpected Companion"*
The white car bearing the crest of House Lionheart—an ivory lion cradling a silver sword—rolled to a smooth stop before the ancient iron gates of Amberhart Manor. The guards, in dark uniforms with crimson-lined cloaks, bowed as the gates opened with mechanical grace. Moonlight spilled across the courtyard, catching the glint of polished marble and rose-tinted windows.
Rina stood at the threshold of the manor, her fiery red hair catching the light like flickering flame. She wore a simple black dress tonight, elegant yet restrained, and a velvet crimson cloak that fluttered in the night breeze. Her golden eyes, so often radiant, were dimmed—still hollow from the news.
Leona Lionheart stepped out of the vehicle with the confident stride of a trained swordswoman. The soft click of her black leather boots echoed with every step. She wore a tailored white shirt tucked into fitted leather pants, her silver lion pendant gleaming at her collarbone. A sword rested against her back, discreet yet ever-present—a reminder of her heritage, her discipline, and her oath.
When she reached the steps, Rina gave a small smile. "You didn't need to come so fast."
Leona placed a hand on her hip, her eyes unwavering. "Yes, I did."
The two shared a brief look, one of silent understanding. Then together, they crossed the foyer of the Amberhart estate—a grand hall with high ceilings, dark oak beams, and floors of polished obsidian. Paintings of former Amberhart heads lined the walls, all of them with the same golden gaze as Rina's.
They walked in silence toward the western wing, where Lady Amelia Amberhart's study lay.
When they reached the heavy double doors, Rina paused and knocked. A cold voice from within called, "Enter."
The doors opened with a low creak.
Inside, the office was bathed in amber light from enchanted sconces. The walls were lined with books and ancient relics, maps of noble territories, and scrolls bound in dark red ribbon. Behind a wide mahogany desk sat Amelia Amberhart—the Crimson Widow. Her golden eyes lifted from a stack of letters, her expression unreadable.
She was as regal as ever: long red hair pulled back into an elegant twist, golden earrings shaped like phoenix feathers, and a dark violet robe lined with scarlet embroidery. The matriarch radiated power without needing to raise her voice.
Rina stepped forward first, gathering a breath. "Mother… Leona wishes to accompany us tomorrow. To the Roche estate."
Amelia's eyes moved to Leona, who bowed her head slightly in respect, saying nothing.
For a long moment, Amelia said nothing. Then, with a soft exhale, she leaned back in her chair and closed her eyes briefly—as if calculating unseen variables. Finally, she nodded, curt and dismissive.
"So be it," she said simply. "It might even be useful."
Rina blinked. "Thank you."
"No need for gratitude," Amelia replied. "You will leave at dawn. Be prepared."
With that, she returned her gaze to her parchment, as if her daughter and her guest had already left.
Rina turned without another word, and Leona followed. The doors closed behind them with a soft click.
As they moved through the corridors again, the tension began to lift from Rina's shoulders.
"She's as intense as always," Leona said, glancing sideways.
"She's thinking about alliances, politics... outcomes," Rina replied.
When they reached Rina's room, she pushed the door open. The atmosphere inside was starkly different from the rest of the manor. It was warm. Lived-in. Drapes of ruby silk fell gracefully from the windows, and her bed was strewn with books, clothes, and open journals. In the corner, a harp sat untouched beside an armchair draped in an old blue blanket. The faint scent of sandalwood lingered in the air.
Rina motioned to the velvet sofa and sat down heavily.
Leona joined her, sitting cross-legged and resting her sword against the armrest. "So. You really going to marry that guy?"
Rina didn't answer at first. She leaned back and stared at the ceiling.
"I don't know what's worse," she said finally. "The fact that I'm being handed off like a strategic pawn... or that it's to *him*."
Leona tilted her head. "Roche, huh. What's his name again? Jyn?"
"Jyn Roche," Rina confirmed. "Naoko Roche's only son. I've never even met him. But everyone says he's... strange. Cold. Maybe worse."
Leona leaned forward, frowning. "And your mother thinks this is a *good idea*?"
"It's a political move. Mother believes if we tie ourselves to the Roches, our influence will skyrocket. She thinks it'll give us an edge over House Frost."
Leona scoffed. "Of course it's about House Frost."
Rina hugged a velvet pillow to her chest. "Leona… I don't want this."
"I know."
They sat together in silence for a while, the weight of impending duty settling over them like a second skin.
Leona finally broke the stillness. "Well… if I have to fight a goddess for you, I will."
Rina smiled faintly. "Don't tempt Naoko."
They both laughed—softly, not with joy, but with the desperate kind of humor shared by those who have little else left.
Outside, the wind stirred the trees in the courtyard. Somewhere in the manor, a clock chimed midnight.
Tomorrow would come. And with it, destiny.