The Duke's Reluctant Bride

Chapter 5: Sylva's Embrace

The crisp air of Wintermere clung to the last vestiges of winter, and the chill was a familiar companion as I strolled through the countryside. Quentin walked beside me, his presence a comforting constant. I wear a black waistcoat, neatly buttoned over a white long-sleeve shirt. The sapphire brooch at the black tie near my throat, nestled within silver filigree, its cold brilliance echoing the authority I wielded. My black cloak, draped across my shoulders, was an extension of that authority, the silver embroidery glinting in the faint light of early spring.

As we wandered through the snow-speckled fields, the thawing earth whispered of the season's inevitable change. The silence between us was comfortable, broken only by the soft crunch of our footsteps. But then, another sound, a lighter, hesitant step. Caught my attention.

A young girl approached, her small form stark against the vast, pale landscape. She clutched a pocket in her hands, her knuckles white with either fear or resolve, perhaps both. She halted a few paces from us, eyes wide and uncertain.

"Duke..." she began, her voice trembling like the last leaves of autumn. "I... wish to present this rock to you. I seek your permission to welcome it into Wintermere."

I remained silent, my expression impassive as I studied her. It was a practiced calm, one that often served me well in negotiations, but here, it seemed to unsettle the girl further. Her nervousness was almost palpable, her grip on the pocket tightening as if it were her only anchor.

"Your Grace, you're making the poor girl even more nervous." Quentin's voice cut through my thoughts, his tone laced with amusement.

I sighed softly, a habit born from dealing with Quentin's occasional quips. "I understand," I replied, my voice even.

I crouched down, bringing myself to the girl's level, meeting her wide-eyed gaze with one I hoped was reassuring rather than intimidating.

Extending my right hand slowly in a gentle gesture, I said, "Very well, then. Please, give it to me."

She hesitated, just for a moment, before placing the pocket in my gloved hand. I opened it to reveal a small, seemingly ordinary rock. To the untrained eye, it was nothing special, but I could feel the subtle warmth emanating from it, the faint pulse of life within the stone.

I understand now. Yes, it all makes sense.

"I, Lucien Valenhart, Duke of Wintermere, grant this rock permission to reside in this realm," I declared, the formality of my words contrasting with the smile that tugged at the corner of my mouth.

The transformation in the girl was immediate. Her fear melted away, replaced by a radiant smile that lit up her entire face.

"Thank you, Duke!" she exclaimed, bowing deeply before grabbing the rock and pocket in my hand and turning to dash off, her earlier trepidation forgotten in her joy.

That went well, I suppose.

I watched her go. Quentin stepped closer, raising an eyebrow at me. "So, it's really just a rock, Your Grace?"

"Not just a rock," I corrected.

"A golem. The girl wields elemental magic, Terra (Earth). She can create golems, and this was her way of asking for permission to let it roam freely in Wintermere."

Though even a girl like her, capable of creating at least a small golem, is truly admirable. Not even an average child who wields terra can create a golem properly.

Quentin chuckled, shaking his head in disbelief. "So, you're the gatekeeper of rocks now?"

I stood, brushing a few stray snowflakes from my cloak. "Apparently so," I replied, though I couldn't keep the dry amusement from my voice. "There's no need to worry about these creatures, they're intelligent and only attack when provoked."