Olga's fatherly instincts tingled at the joy in Sophia's eyes. Could his daughter have feelings for Lord Sean? His face darkened. "Sophia! Don't tell me you've fallen for Lord Sean?"
Sophia staggered back, pale as a ghost, then flushed crimson. "N-no! What are you talking about, Father?"
"Good." Olga's tone remained stern. "You two exist in different worlds. He's a Violet noble, a baron with a viscounty. His future wife will be a count's daughter at least. Don't end up like Lilith—trapped as a noble's mistress. Understand?"
Sophia shivered, recalling Lilith's plight. A Silver Rank warrior reduced to that fate… what hope for a Bronze Rank like me? Her shoulders slumped. "I understand, Father. I'll keep my distance."
She tuned out his talk of introducing her to Cain's son, a young paladin.
After the meeting, Sean returned to the castle, his routine unchanged: bath, dinner, meditation, sleep. The next day, April 24th, dawned bright and clear—perfect for travel.
Sean rose early, admiring the spring scenery. Twelve days since leaving Yorn, now returning… fate works in circles.
After breakfast, he headed for the town gate, only to find Sophia lingering on the castle steps, lost in thought.
"Sophia, what's wrong? Uncle's here to help," he said, ruffling her hair.
Uncle? Sophia's heart skipped a beat—he was 16, she 15. "Lord Sean… I heard you're returning to Yorn. Can our caravan join yours?"
"Sure, but we're riding horses and carriages. Can your mercenaries keep up?"
"We can!" she insisted. "When do we leave?"
"Noon, north town gate. Don't be late."
"Understood!" She stole a glance at his handsome face, then fled, flustered.
Windsor chuckled, "Girls these days—half the town is lovesick for Anduin. Sophia's no different."
Sean sighed, "I should summon Tess Graymane to distract them." A Hearthstone reference—Tess paired well with Anduin in both Warcraft and the card game. But she's an 8-cost legendary… better not dwell.
He inspected Henry's preparations: 10 slum children joined the caravan; the rest stayed with Anduin. By noon, wagons loaded with goods, the procession departed—Sean's carriage flanked by Sophia's mercenaries, Gabe's entourage, and Lucio's knights.
The group raced across the Thorn Ridge, horses and carriages moving swiftly. Sean estimated reaching Yorn by nightfall the next day. Sophia rode ahead, her tulip tucked in her armor, torn between her father's warnings and the flutter in her chest whenever Sean spoke.
Olga, watching from his cottage, clenched his fist. Forgive me, Lord Sean. But debts to the Count must be paid… even if it means betraying your trust.
As the caravan disappeared over the horizon, Anduin stood at Riverside's gate, Kyle beside him. "Think he'll succeed?" the mage asked.
Anduin smiled faintly, "With that dragon egg? He might just start a revolution… or burn the city down. Either way, it won't be boring."
In the end, departure was a leap of faith—for Sean, for Sophia, for Riverside. The road to Yorn stretched ahead, a ribbon of dust and destiny, carrying dreams, secrets, and a dragon egg ready to hatch into a world that underestimated the power of a lord with a system, a scheme, and a very confused teenage girl trailing behind.
The journey had begun, each mile a step toward glory or ruin. But Sean, ever the optimist, knew one thing: In a world of nobles and monsters, the best preparation was a sharp wit, a loyal crew… and a good haircut from Tony the Barber.
And as the sun dipped, Sophia stole one last glance at Sean's carriage, her father's words echoing: "Different worlds."
But in a world where dragons and magic existed, was any divide truly unbridgeable?
Only time—and a certain dragon egg—would tell.