The morning sun bathed the garden in a golden glow, casting soft shadows across the vibrant flowers swaying gently in the breeze.
The scent of fresh blooms mixed with the subtle aroma of the steaming tea that Keiran held in his hands.
The white patio, pristine and elegant, contrasted with the lush greenery surrounding it, creating a serene atmosphere.
Keiran brought the porcelain cup to his lips and took a slow sip. The warmth of the liquid spread through him, and though his face remained expressionless, the slight nod of his head acknowledged his approval of the tea's refined taste.
The delicate blend was smooth, with a hint of floral sweetness.
Behind him, Greon and Agwil stood in silent vigilance. Their postures were firm, their eyes scanning the surroundings with quiet attentiveness.
Opposite Keiran, Lord Segrand sat with his usual composed demeanor. His presence exuded authority, but there was a certain ease in the way he held his cup, as if this quiet morning moment was a rare reprieve from the weight of his responsibilities.
Behind him, Cecily stood with delicate poise. Her pink dress, adorned with subtle frills, complemented her youthful elegance.
Her long black hair was neatly tied into a ponytail, allowing her sharp black eyes to remain fixed on Keiran.
There was curiosity in her gaze, an unspoken question lingering as she observed him. Her small fingers curled slightly, gripping the fabric of her dress, though whether in nervousness or anticipation was unclear.
Segrand took a slow sip of tea, savoring its warmth before setting the cup down on the intricately carved wooden table. The faint aroma of herbs lingered in the air. His eyes, calm yet observant, flickered toward Keiran as he spoke.
"Felicia and Ismael are currently helping the people repair the damage from yesterday's battle," he said in a measured tone, his voice carrying the weight of responsibility.
Keiran sat with his arms resting on the chair's armrests, his expression neutral. He simply responded, "Okay."
Segrand leaned forward slightly, his fingers tapping against the table. "Now, about the alliance you proposed," he continued. "I have no doubt that your terms will be beneficial. However, would you like to hear my own conditions first? You might find them to your liking."
Keiran's sharp gaze met his. "Go on."
Segrand studied the young man before asking, "Before that, may I inquire about your age, Lord Keiran?"
Keiran replied without hesitation, "I am 19 years old."
Segrand's lips curled into a smile, and he clapped his hands together once, his tone suddenly lighter. "Just the right age," he mused. "You see, Lord Keiran, my beautiful daughter Cecily is also 19. I have been searching for a suitable husband for her, but she has been incredibly difficult—rejecting every suitor I have brought before her. I must admit, I have nearly exhausted my options."
Keiran listened without a change in expression. "I see."
Segrand chuckled. "But strangely enough, when I mentioned your name on a whim, she immediately agreed. It seems my second daughter has taken a liking to you."
Keiran's gaze shifted to Cecily, who had been standing quietly nearby. The moment their eyes met, she quickly turned away, her cheeks tinged with a soft shade of pink.
Segrand's smile widened as he leaned back in his chair. "So, I was thinking—why not solidify our alliance through marriage? A strong bond between our families, sealed by a union between you and Cecily."
Without hesitation, Keiran responded in a flat tone, "Not interested."
A moment of silence.
Segrand's jaw dropped, his expression a mix of disbelief and confusion. His mind struggled to grasp what he had just heard.
Cecily, standing beside him, widened her eyes, her breath caught in her throat.
Even Greon and Agwil found themselves stunned by the sheer bluntness of their ruler's decision.
Segrand leaned forward, his voice filled with incredulity. "What—what is the reason? Do you not find the most beautiful girl in our tribe beautiful enough?" His voice wavered slightly, his pride as a tribal chief evident in his tone. "She's a diamond of the Harheim tribe, a woman sought after by many. How can you refuse her so easily?"
Keiran remained unfazed. His sharp eyes held no hesitation, no wavering doubt. He met Segrand's gaze and answered in a calm, unwavering tone.
"She is beautiful. One of the most beautiful women I have ever seen." His words carried no trace of deception, only truth. "But it is not about her." He took a measured breath. "I am simply not interested in marriage."
Cecily clenched her fists, her face a mixture of embarrassment and surprise.
Greon and Agwil exchanged glances, still unable to believe what they had just heard.
Segrand's brows furrowed deeply. "Do you already have a woman who holds your heart?"
His voice was softer this time, less forceful. If there was someone else, then perhaps this rejection could be explained.
Keiran shook his head. "I don't have anyone."
A heavy silence settled over them. Segrand's eyes searched Keiran's face, desperately trying to find a crack in his resolve.
If there was even a hint of hesitation, a flicker of doubt, he could seize the opportunity to negotiate. But Keiran's expression remained as impassive as stone. His eyes, dark and unreadable, betrayed nothing.
It wasn't pride. It wasn't arrogance. It wasn't even defiance.
Keiran simply desired nothing.
No woman. No wealth. No grand titles.
All he wanted was an alliance—one that would safeguard the vast and sacred forest of Fiora.
Segrand exhaled slowly, his gaze settling on Keiran with a mixture of resignation and intrigue. "I did what I could to convince you," he admitted. His fingers drummed lightly against the armrest of his chair. "Now, let's hear what terms you have in mind."
Keiran did not hesitate. His voice was steady, composed, and devoid of any unnecessary embellishments. "A common alliance," he stated plainly. "I will pledge to help you protect your territory. If you find yourself in need, I will send reinforcements." His eyes remained locked onto Segrand's, unwavering. "In return, I expect the same from you. When I call, you will answer."
A small smirk tugged at the corner of Segrand's lips. He leaned back, amusement flickering in his expression. "I was expecting you to ask for my army to join your campaign against the demons." His tone was light, almost teasing, but there was a sharpness beneath it—a test, a subtle challenge.
Keiran remained unmoved. "Your people can join my ranks if they choose," he replied matter-of-factly. "They may pledge their allegiance to me and serve under my command. But I do not require it."
Segrand's brow arched slightly. "And what," he asked, his curiosity piqued, "would they gain in return for their servitude?"
Keiran's answer came without hesitation. "Power," he said, his voice carrying an unmistakable certainty. "Power beyond their imagination."
His words hung in the air like a promise—or a warning.
Segrand paused for a second, his sharp eyes studying Keiran's expression. The weight of the decision hung between them for a moment before he gave a firm nod, his resolve unwavering.
Extending his hand, Segrand's grip was steady and confident as he said, "Then, you've got yourself a deal." His tone carried the authority of a man used to negotiations, one who rarely left room for doubt.
Keiran didn't hesitate. He clasped Segrand's hand, the handshake firm, sealing the agreement between them. There was an unspoken understanding in their grip—a mutual respect, perhaps even the beginning of an alliance beyond mere words.
Segrand's lips curved into a knowing smirk. "And about the marriage thing," he continued, his voice laced with casual certainty, "you can think about it. The offer is always open for you." His gaze remained steady, almost expectant, as if he was confident of the outcome regardless of Keiran's immediate response.
Segrand turned his attention to Cecily. "Right, Cecily?" he said, his voice carrying a hint of amusement.
Cecily met his gaze, her smirk widening. There was something almost playful in the way she carried herself—an air of confidence that belied the refined grace of her outward appearance. Beneath the well-mannered poise of a lady, a daring, almost reckless spirit gleamed in her eyes.
"I am not one to give up so easily," Cecily said, her voice smooth yet filled with quiet determination.
The challenge in her tone was unmistakable, her words carrying a promise—one that suggested she had no intention of letting the matter rest.