That night, Eltz Castle transformed into a sea of light. Hundreds of candles hung from crystal chandeliers, casting shimmering reflections across white marble walls. Nobles strolled through wide corridors in silk robes and jewelry that sparkled under the lamps. Music drifted from the ballroom, a gentle melody deliberately designed not to interrupt conversation.
Albert stood before the mirror in his room, adjusting the collar of the new robe delivered by royal servants that afternoon. A dark shade of green, close to his family's colors. But with silver embroidery at the sleeves and collar—a gift from the King, the servant had said. The fabric was smooth, heavy, feeling foreign on his shoulders, which still ached faintly.
He'd smoked one feltwort cigar before putting on this robe. Its effects still lingered—his nerves slightly calmer, his hands less shaky, the voices in his head reduced to distant murmurs.
"Enough," he murmured to his reflection.
The reflection stared back. Pale face, hair combed neatly back, dark circles beneath his eyes that no candlelight could hide. But at least better than before.
A knock at the door. Alena entered, and for a moment Albert forgot he had just smoked.
Her gown was maroon—not fiery red like her hair, but a deep red like aged wine. The cut was simple, not excessive like most noblewomen at court. But around her neck, a silver necklace with a gemstone, and a small pendant shaped like a tree—the Götterbaum crest.
She smiled at the sight of him. "You look... different."
"So do you."
Alena approached, her eyes studying Albert's face carefully. "What did you do earlier?"
"What do you mean?"
"Your eyes... they're not like yesterday. Now they're exactly how I remember."
Albert didn't answer. He simply took Alena's hand. "We're late."
Alena let her hand be held, but her eyes still regarded Albert with undisguised curiosity. "Fine. But you'll have to tell me about it later."
They walked out, leaving the quiet room behind.
***
Eltz Castle's ballroom was even larger than the throne room. Its ceiling was higher, its pillars more numerous, and the candlelight here was brighter—deliberately designed so no corner remained dark, so no one could hide.
Albert entered with Alena at his side, and for a moment, the room grew slightly quieter.
Not completely silent—music still flowed, conversations still carried on. But there was a pause in the air, as if everyone drew breath simultaneously, then resumed their activities with the new awareness that the young man in the green robe with blond hair was now in the same room as them.
"Black Sword Demon," someone near the door whispered.
"The new Baron from the eastern border..."
"He's so young..."
Albert didn't catch it all. Or perhaps he did, but didn't process. He simply walked through the crowd, holding Alena's hand, staring straight ahead with an expression he hoped didn't look too empty.
In a corner of the room, a group of young nobles stood with wine glasses in hand. They watched Albert pass, then began whispering. Albert didn't care.
Near a marble pillar, a middle-aged woman in a dark purple gown was speaking with a bearded man. Her eyes followed Albert, then shifted to Alena, then back to Albert. Her eyebrow rose slightly.
Albert ignored her.
By the food table, a bald man in a green robe—the same shade as Albert's, but brighter—was selecting small pastries. He saw Albert, smiled, and raised his glass. Albert nodded back. Polite, but nothing more.
Alena pinched his hand gently. "You're too stiff."
"I'm not used to this."
"At least try to smile."
Albert attempted a smile. Alena looked at him for a moment, then laughed softly. "Oh dear... better not."
They walked toward the center of the room, and there Albert saw the King.
King Wilhelm sat in a high chair at the far end, not a throne, but a chair nearly as magnificent. Beside him, a middle-aged woman with a small crown in her silver hair—the Queen. And on the other side, a young woman with long silver hair cascading over her shoulders, a simple white gown, and pale blue eyes that immediately found Albert in the crowd.
Princess Seraphina. The King's daughter, one of the heirs to the throne.
She smiled at the sight of Albert. Not a friendly smile, nor a flirtatious one. It was the smile of someone who knew something others didn't.
Albert returned the smile with a small nod, then looked away.
From a distance, near the entrance, he saw Luise.
The woman stood among the other castle guards, wearing her regiment uniform. Her hair was tied back, sword at her hip. Her cold eyes surveyed the crowd with the vigilance that had become habit.
Albert looked at her briefly. Luise looked back. Then she gave a small nod—a signal that everything was safe, that she was ready if any trouble arose.
Albert nodded in return. Then he turned away.
Alena, who had witnessed the exchange, said nothing. She just held Albert's hand tighter.
***
The first hour was torture.
Albert couldn't recall how many people had approached him. They all had the same face—smiling, friendly, with eyes that moved quickly, assessing him from head to toe. They all said the same things. "Congratulations, extraordinary, an honor."
Albert answered with the same phrases. "Thank you, Your Grace, the honor is mine, may the Goddess's blessings be upon you."
Each time he answered, his eyes moved across the room. Searching for an exit. Calculating the distance to the door. Assessing who stood nearby, whether they posed a threat.
The voices in his head began stirring, whispering. "You see them? They smile at you now. Tomorrow they'll slander your name."
Albert inhaled, tasting the lingering feltwort on his tongue.
He exhaled slowly, letting the smoke that was no longer there calm his nerves.
Alena, standing beside him, felt the change. Albert's tense shoulders began to drop. His eyes, which had been darting rapidly, began to steady. His smile—stiff as a mask moments ago—now seemed more... natural.
"What's wrong?" Alena whispered.
"I just... remembered something."
"Something good?"
Albert looked at her. In those warm brown eyes, he saw concern hidden behind a smile.
"Yes," he said. "Something good."
For the first time that night, he smiled properly. Not a diplomatic smile, not an empty one. But a smile that reminded Alena of the moment in Götthain's garden, years ago in winter, when Albert had offered her a way out of an engagement she hadn't wanted.
Alena looked at him, eyes slightly wet. "You... you look like before again."
"Like what?"
"Like in the garden, the first time you said we had a choice."
Albert didn't answer. But he held Alena's hand tighter.
Across the room, Princess Seraphina saw it all. She saw Albert's shoulders relax. She saw his smile lose its stiffness. She saw their clasped hands.
And she wondered, what had happened to that young man in the last few minutes? What had changed him from a weary soldier into someone... almost normal?
She didn't know. But she was curious.
***
As the night grew late, Albert saw his opportunity.
King Wilhelm had left his high chair, now sitting in a small side chamber adjacent to the ballroom with several senior nobles. Music still flowed, but the atmosphere had shifted—from formal celebration to casual conversation in the corners.
Albert gently released Alena's hand. "I need to speak with the King."
Alena blinked. "What? Now?"
"Now."
"Are you sure? He's with the senior nobles, they're—"
"I'm sure. Don't worry."
Alena looked at him for a moment. Then she nodded. "Alright. I'll wait here."
Albert walked toward the small side chamber.
Two guards stood at the door. They recognized Albert—the young man in the green robe who had been the center of attention today. They opened the door without asking.
Inside, King Wilhelm sat in a simple wooden chair, different from the grand seat in the ballroom. Around him, three elderly nobles sat with wine glasses in hand. They were laughing about something.
The King saw Albert enter, his eyebrow rising. "Baron Albert. Bored out there?"
"No, Your Majesty." Albert bowed. "But I've brought something that might interest you."
The elderly nobles exchanged glances. King Wilhelm raised an eyebrow, smiling. "Bring it here."
Albert produced a wooden box from within his robe.
This was no ordinary box. He'd commissioned it from a woodworker in the city yesterday, after Luise had given him the idea. Dark mahogany, polished to a shine. On its lid, a carving of the Götterbaum tree with roots spreading across the entire surface. Inside, lined with dark green velvet, and in the center, twelve feltwort cigars arranged neatly.
But not ordinary cigars. Their wrappers were dried palm leaf dyed with rose extract, giving a subtle aroma before the cigar was even lit.
King Wilhelm took the box, opening its lid. His eyes narrowed at its contents.
"What... is this?"
"Your Majesty, this is feltwort. A plant that grows in Götthain. Its leaves are processed in a special way."
The King took one cigar, bringing it to his nose. "What's this smell?"
"It comes from various ingredients blended together."
The elderly nobles drew closer, curious. King Wilhelm turned the cigar in his hand, examining the neat palm leaf wrapper.
"This is... for what?"
"For smoking, Your Majesty. The smoke is drawn into the mouth, then exhaled. Not intoxicating like wine. But... calming."
The King laughed. "inhale smoke? I've never heard of such a strange thing before."
"Because no one has made it before, Your Majesty."
King Wilhelm looked at him for a long moment. In those old eyes, something stirred—not skepticism, but curiosity, rarely seen on the face of a king who had witnessed so much.
"Show me," he said.
Albert took one cigar from the box. His movements were slow, deliberately slowed, like a ritual he had performed thousands of times.
He cut the cigar's tip with a small knife—not an ordinary knife, but a Götterbaum Black Steel blade, engraved with frozen wave patterns on its surface.
Then he took a match—not an ordinary match, but a cedarwood match tipped with sulfur, housed in a small box with a rough striking surface.
He struck the match. Flame ignited.
The elderly nobles drew back slightly. King Wilhelm remained seated, his eyes following Albert's every movement.
Albert rotated the cigar over the flame, letting its tip burn evenly. When the end glowed red, he put the cigar to his lips, inhaling slowly.
Smoke rose. Not thick smoke like burning wood, but thin, white smoke with an unusual sweet aroma.
He held the smoke for a moment, then exhaled slowly. It spiraled toward the ceiling.
King Wilhelm watched the smoke. "That looks intriguing. Let me try it."
Albert handed over the cigar. The King held it awkwardly, unsure how to proceed.
"Inhale slowly, just into your mouth."
The King put the cigar to his lips. Inhaled.
Smoke filled his mouth. He held it for a moment—perhaps too long—then exhaled. Smoke emerged in a thick puff.
He coughed. Not a hard cough, but a small one that made the elderly nobles smile with amusement.
"You didn't say not too deep," the King said, his voice hoarse.
"My apologies, Your Majesty. I forgot to mention it."
The King tried again. More carefully this time. Smoke entered slowly, not too deep. He held it briefly, then exhaled. A small cough, but not as bad as before.
After a few puffs, the King's shoulders began to relax. His eyes, always sharp, always watchful—softened slightly.
"This is... strange," he said. "But pleasant."
"Feltwort was created to provide a sense of calm. Just enough to let the mind rest for a moment."
King Wilhelm looked at the cigar in his hand. Smoke rose thinly between his wrinkled fingers.
"You brought this for me?"
"For you to try. If you like it, I'll send more."
The King laughed—a short, rasping laugh, like a man who hadn't truly laughed in a long while. "You're selling this to me, Baron?"
"Not selling, Your Majesty. Offering."
The elderly nobles exchanged glances. King Wilhelm raised an eyebrow, smiling. "Offering what?"
"A partnership, Your Majesty. I'll grow feltwort in Götthain, process it, make cigars like this one. And Your Majesty... you'll be the only one at court with the special version."
King Wilhelm studied the cigar in his hand. Its tip glowed red, a thin ash hanging, ready to fall.
"You're cunning, Baron," he said. "You know I can't refuse something I've never seen before. Especially something as interesting as this."
Albert didn't answer. He just stood there, waiting.
King Wilhelm took another puff. Longer this time, deeper. Smoke emerged from his nose in two thin streams.
"This is good," he said. "Very good..."
He looked at Albert. "I agree. Send more. But you need to make it better, more elegant. Something befitting a King."
Albert nodded. "It already is, Your Majesty. You just smoked the finest version."
The King laughed again. "You really are cunning."
Albert smiled. A smile no longer stiff, no longer forced. A genuine smile.
King Wilhelm looked at him for a long moment. "You're different from what I imagined, Baron."
"How did you imagine me, Your Majesty?"
"Like they said. A Demon. A war machine. Something terrifying." He raised the cigar in his hand. "But you... now you're just a young man trying to sell me something."
"The war is over, Your Majesty. Now I need to think of other things."
King Wilhelm nodded. "Good. I like that."
Albert bowed, then turned, walking out of the small chamber with unhurried steps.
Outside, Alena waited with curious eyes. "What happened?"
"I sold feltwort to the King."
Alena blinked. "You... what?"
"The cigars, the things I smoke. The King liked them."
Alena looked at him with an expression between shock and amusement. "You... you came to a royal celebration and sold that strange thing to the King?"
"Yes."
"And he bought it?"
"We'll see. But he seemed to like it."
Alena laughed—a laugh that came from her belly, a laugh that made several nearby nobles turn their heads.
"Albert vin Götterbaum, my dear betrothed... you're absolutely insane."
Albert almost laughed. But his laugh turned into something else—something lighter, freer, like a weight lifting from his shoulders, if only for a while.
Across the room, Luise saw it all.
She saw Albert emerge from the small chamber with unhurried steps. She saw Alena laugh, and Albert almost laugh with her. She saw them standing in the crowd of nobles, hands clasped, smiles on their faces.
She gripped her sword hilt tighter. Not because there was a threat. But because something in her chest ached.
Not a sharp pain. But a dull ache that pressed continuously, reminding, insisting: this is your place, here, at the edge, watching.
She took a long breath. The cold night air stung her lungs.
In her hand, she still felt the lingering taste of feltwort from the morning. The calming sensation of that smoke.
She closed her eyes for a moment. Then opened them.
Albert was still there, still with Alena, still smiling in a way she'd never seen. Luise watched him, and for a moment, she saw the old Albert. Not the Demon. Not the war machine. But the quiet, intelligent young noble.
She almost smiled. But held back.
Inside the ballroom, music continued to flow. Nobles continued gossiping. Alena laughed at something Albert said.
The moon shone brighter. Albert and Alena walked back toward the center of the room, joining the crowd, smiling at people they didn't know.