Alena looked up from the carriage window, gazing at the familiar landscape. Normally, this view soothed her. Home. But today, every stone, every tree she had known since childhood felt foreign. Like something she had already left behind but hadn't yet had the chance to bury.
On her lap, two of Albert's letters lay open. She had read them countless times during the journey—at inns, on horseback, even as the carriage rattled over rocky roads. Her fingers had memorized the curves of his handwriting, the black ink dried on brownish paper.
"The wedding must be postponed. I can't think about that right now. The newly granted territory still needs my full attention."
Alena read that sentence once more. Then she folded the letter and tucked it into the inner pocket of her dress. Beside her, Greta snored softly—the old lady-in-waiting had fallen asleep an hour ago, her head nodding with the carriage's sway.
She looked outside again. Mist was beginning to descend, shrouding the mountain slopes. Lanser Castle couldn't be far now.
The iron gate was still the same. Black, heavy, with the Lancaster rose emblem worn faint in places. Alena stared at it—for a long time, too long, until Greta cleared her throat softly behind her.
"My Lady?"
"Yes. Let's go in."
In the inner courtyard, servants scurried about, welcoming her return. Familiar faces—Lena, the thin girl with round eyes, ran up carrying a thick fur cloak. But Alena wasn't cold. Or perhaps she simply didn't feel it.
"My father?" she asked.
"The Earl is waiting in his study, My Lady. He ordered that you see him as soon as you arrived."
Alena nodded. She handed the cloak back to Lena without putting it on. "Take my things to my room. I'm going to the study."
Lena bowed and hurried toward the carriage. Alena walked along the cold stone corridor, her footsteps echoing in the silence. On the walls, portraits of her ancestors stared at her with the same cold, demanding eyes, as if asking what she had done for the family's honor.
She never answered. She never could.
***
Earl Richard's study was warmer than the corridor.
A fireplace blazed against the north wall, pinewood crackling, releasing a sharp, familiar scent. In his wheelchair, behind the black oak desk, Earl Richard was reading a document. The moment Alena entered, he set it down and looked at his daughter with cold eyes.
"You've arrived."
"I just got here and heard you summoned me, so I came."
"Close the door."
Alena closed the door. The heavy sound of wood sealing shut echoed in the silent room.
"Sit."
She sat in the chair across the desk. The wood was hard, unpadded. Deliberate, perhaps. So that no one would want to stay too long.
"I've received a letter from Baron Albert," Earl Richard said without preamble. "He says the wedding must be postponed."
Alena nodded. "I received the same letter."
"And you didn't object?"
Alena looked at her father. In those old eyes, she saw restrained anger. Not because Albert was postponing the wedding—but because she, Alena, had done nothing to prevent it.
"What was I supposed to object to?" Her voice was flat. "He's managing a territory ruined by war. I'm here. There's nothing I can do but accept."
Earl Richard tapped the desk with his index finger. Tap-tap-tap. "We've been waiting three years. Three years, Alena. Since that betrothal was made, we've arranged everything. Now he says 'postpone'—and you just stay silent?"
"I'm not silent. I read his letter, then I decided not to make an issue of it."
"A foolish decision."
Perhaps. But Alena wouldn't admit that here.
Behind Earl Richard, a side door opened. Lady Margot entered in her stiff black dress, her hair pinned tightly, her face expressionless. Behind her came Cedric—with that fake, sweet smile that made Alena want to throw something at his face.
"Ah, my dear cousin Alena. You've arrived." Cedric sat in a chair near the fireplace, crossing his legs. "We've heard interesting news about your betrothed."
Alena didn't turn. Her eyes remained on her father.
Lady Margot sat in the chair beside Alena. "So, the wedding is postponed. For how long?"
"Albert didn't specify."
"Didn't specify?" Cedric chuckled softly. "So it could be a year? Two years? Ten years? While you wait, your age keeps advancing."
Alena turned and looked at Cedric. "What do you mean?"
"I mean, at your current age, you're still desirable. But if this keeps dragging on..." Cedric shrugged. "You know how the world works."
Alena felt her blood rise, but she held it in check.
Earl Richard raised a hand. "Enough. We're not here to attack each other." He looked at Alena. "I want you to write to Albert. Tell him the wedding cannot be postponed. This is a long-standing agreement."
"And if he still refuses?"
"Then we'll break off the engagement."
The room fell silent. Lady Margot didn't move. Cedric smiled—a smile he tried to hide, but failed.
Alena stared at her father. "Father... are you serious?"
"I never joke about these matters, Alena. The Lancaster family has given enough to Götthain. Loans, troops, political support. Now it's time for them to pay."
"We didn't give those loans as an investment in a marriage? Father said back then it was to help—"
"I said whatever I needed to say at the time." Earl Richard cut her off. His voice was hard. "But the situation is different now. Albert has been promoted, given his own territory. He's no longer just a minor baron from Götthain. If we don't secure him soon, he could slip away."
Alena bit her lower lip. In her head, Albert's face appeared. Not the Albert who smiled in Götthain's garden, but the Albert who sat in the carriage with hollow eyes, who smoked his cigars every night, whose hands trembled when holding a sword.
"Albert won't slip away," she said quietly.
"Are you sure?" Cedric interjected. "I hear he's close with his personal guard. That woman, what's her name? Luise? They're always together."
Alena looked at Cedric. Her eyes—usually warm brown and gentle—were now cold. "What do you know about Luise?"
"I've only heard—"
"Heard from where?"
Cedric fell silent. Lady Margot tapped the table softly. "Where it comes from isn't important. What matters is reputation. If people start gossiping, our family name could be tarnished."
Alena stood. The wooden chair scraped against the stone floor, the sound harsh.
"I don't care about gossip," she said. "I don't care about reputation. And I will not write that letter."
"What did you say?" Earl Richard gripped the arms of his chair, his knuckles white.
"I said I will not write that letter." Alena looked at her father. "Albert needs time. His new territory is in ruins, his people are starving, bandits may be roaming. If I force the wedding now, he won't be able to focus. And in the end, I'll be the one who loses—because my husband will fail to build his territory."
"Then break off the engagement."
"Father can break it off." Alena's voice didn't rise. Didn't tremble. "But I will still wait."
Lady Margot opened her mouth, but Alena spoke again.
"And one more thing." She looked at Cedric. "Albert has disbanded the joint regiment of our two families."
Cedric blinked. "What?!"
"Our joint regiment has been disbanded. From now on, there are no more Lancaster family troops under his command."
Lady Margot leaned forward. "He dares?"
"He doesn't need anyone's permission. That regiment was established by royal decree, and it was disbanded by royal decree." Alena walked to the map on the wall—a large map depicting the entire eastern territory. "He's building an Independent Regiment under his own control. Half the cost is borne by the Crown."
Earl Richard frowned. "I haven't heard about this."
"Because it's only on paper so far. No soldiers yet, no barracks, nothing. But the King's approval has already come down."
"So he's cutting ties with Lancaster?"
Alena turned and looked at her father. "He's not cutting ties. He's just... reorganizing. Creating a more efficient structure." She paused. "At least, that's what his letter said."
"And you believe him?"
"Not entirely. But I have no reason not to."
The room fell silent. The fire crackled, pinewood popping, sending out sparks.
Cedric leaned back in his chair. "So, what do you get out of all this?"
Alena looked at him. "What do you mean?"
"From your relationship with Albert. You don't get a quick wedding. Our troops are no longer under his command. Your father is angry, the rest of the family is surely angry too. So what's the point?"
Alena stood before the map, caught between shadows and firelight. She didn't answer immediately. Her eyes traced the red lines on the map—territorial borders, trade routes, rivers, mountains. Everything looked complicated, like the veins in the palm of a hand.
"Because he once offered me a way out," she finally said. Her voice was soft. "In Götthain's garden, when we were still children. He said that if I didn't want this betrothal, he would find a way to break it off."
Cedric snorted. "Nonsense."
"Maybe. But he genuinely made the offer. No one had ever offered me that before. Father, uncle, cousins—you all only talked about duty, about family honor, about what I had to do for Lancaster." She turned, looking at each of them in turn. "He was the only one who asked what I wanted!"
Lady Margot crossed her arms. "So what do you want?"
Alena smiled. A small, bitter smile. "I want him to succeed. I want his territory stable, his people not starving, his borders secure. I want him to sleep without nightmares. I want him to..." She stopped. "I want him to live. That's all."
No one spoke.
Earl Richard looked at his daughter for a long time. In those old eyes, something stirred—perhaps anger, perhaps disappointment, perhaps something else. But he didn't voice it.
"You've grown up," he finally said, his voice lower than before. "You can make your own decisions. But remember, every decision has consequences."
"I know, Father."
"Then you may leave."
Alena bowed. Then she walked to the door, leaving the warm room behind, leaving her father in his study, leaving Lady Margot frozen in silence, leaving Cedric with a smile that was no longer sweet.
***
In the corridor, Alena stopped.
Her knees felt weak. She pressed her forehead against the cold castle wall, letting the chill seep into her bones. Her hands—which had spoken so firmly, which hadn't trembled—now shook.
She bit her lip.
"Don't cry! Don't..." she thought, over and over.
Behind her closed eyelids, Albert's face appeared. Not the hollow Albert in the carriage. But the Albert who sat on a garden bench, offering her a way out. Albert who said, "We have a choice."
And she had chosen. Chosen to wait. Even though everyone around her said it was foolish.
Alena took a long breath. Cold air filled her lungs, stinging. She opened her eyes and walked to her room.
The room was still the same. A wooden bed with red velvet curtains, a vanity table with a tarnished mirror, a window facing the inner courtyard. On the table, a dried flower in a vase—a flower she had picked before leaving for Götthain, three months ago.
She sat on the bed and took a cloth doll from beneath her pillow.
An ugly doll. Head too big, body too small, stitching uneven in several places. But in its hand, a small wooden sword painted black.
She held the doll tightly, feeling the rough fabric against her palm.
"Idiot," she whispered. "You're such an idiot."
But she smiled. A small smile amidst the exhaustion, amidst the chaos she had just endured.
Outside, the moon was beginning to rise. Its light was pale, cold, streaming through the window and falling into her lap.
Alena lay down on the bed, the doll beside her pillow.
Tomorrow she would write a letter to Albert. Not a long letter—just a few lines. About her decision, about her family's anger, about the independent regiment that existed only on paper.
And at the end of the letter, she would write: "I'm waiting for you. Don't die."
That was all. No need for beautiful words. No need for sweet promises. Just the simple fact that she was still here, waiting.
Alena closed her eyes. Outside, the mountain wind howled, carrying news from the valleys, from the cities below, from places she had never visited.
But among all those sounds, she heard one voice. Faint, distant, yet clear. Albert's voice. Not words—just his presence.
She gripped the doll tighter. Then she fell asleep.