Our steps echoed softly as both Maria and I descended the staircase.

The wooden boards creaked faintly under our weight.

The morning light filtered through the tall windows.

Casting pale beams across the hallway.

But… It did little to chase away the remnants of sleep still clinging to me.

I stole a glance at Maria beside me.

Her hair was slightly messy from just waking up.

Yet, somehow, she carried it with effortless grace.

The way someone does when they don't try to look perfect but end up looking even better for it.

Tiamat followed behind us in near silence.

His large form moving with the quiet efficiency that made him both imposing and strangely comforting.

He never spoke unless it was necessary, and today was no exception.

His footsteps were softer than mine, yet somehow heavier.

As if each step carried a weight of its own.

When we reached the dining room, I saw Kalia moving gracefully between the table and the counter.

She was placing dishes neatly, her motions fluid like a dance.

The smell of fresh bread and brewing coffee reached me.

It kept mingling with the faint scent of oranges from the fruit bowl.

And I realized that the morning was already shaping up to be… pleasant, despite the heaviness I'd felt earlier.

Lucy was sitting at the far end of the table, hunched slightly.

Her brow furrowed as she wrote something on a piece of paper.

The quiet scratching of her pen against the paper seemed almost louder than it was.

It kept echoing in the otherwise calm room.

I could see the deliberate care in her strokes.

The way her fingers gripped the pen just so, and I felt a sudden warmth in my chest.

I walked closer to her, curiosity and anticipation mixing with something else.

Something tender I didn't want to name.

The moment I reached her, she abruptly slapped the paper onto my chest.

I staggered slightly from the surprise, but before I could speak, her half-lidded eyes met mine.

"I stayed awake the whole morning to write this… for your speech," she said softly.

Her voice tinged with fatigue but threaded with care.

I stared at the paper, holding it in my hands for a moment longer than I should have.

Feeling a strange heaviness in my chest.

Then, slowly, I put it on the table in front of her.

I reached out and placed both hands gently on her shoulders.

"Thank you, Lucy," I said, my voice low but firm, carrying all the sincerity I could muster.

"I don't know what I would do without you."

Her sleepy eyes widened, and for a brief second.

I thought I saw a blush creep across her cheeks.

She turned her face away quickly, as if trying to hide it.

But…the slight curve of her lips betrayed her embarrassment.

"You're really getting good at this," she said, her voice lighter now, teasing, almost.

I tilted my head, a small smile tugging at my lips.

"Good at what?" I asked, curiosity coloring my tone.

But before the conversation could develop any further.

A slow, deliberate set of footsteps announced another arrival.

Aria was descending the staircase.

Her movements heavy and languid, still tethered to sleep.

Her hair fell in soft waves around her face.

And the faint shadows under her eyes betrayed how little rest she had truly had.

She looked almost ethereal in that hazy, just-awoken state.

Like someone caught between dream and reality.

A thought struck me suddenly.

A spark of inspiration that made my chest tighten with excitement.

I turned to her with a grin I could barely contain.

"Aria," I said, my voice firm yet inviting, "how about you become my general?"

Her reaction was delayed.

It was as though her brain needed to catch up to my words.

And to process the sudden weight of the request.

A full minute passed before the comprehension finally seemed to settle in.

And then, like sunlight breaking through clouds, her face lit up.

Her eyes, a brilliant crimson, shone with joy.

"Really? Really?" she shouted, her voice trembling with exhilaration and disbelief.

Her happiness was so infectious that I couldn't resist.

I pushed my chair back and practically ran to her.

My hands reached out to wrap around her in a tight embrace.

I could feel the energy radiating from her.

The sheer delight of being asked, and it made my own heart race.

"Yes," I whispered into her ear, hugging her tightly, careful yet firm.

"You would be my right-hand woman… my strongest general."

For a brief moment, we stayed like that.

The world around us fading into the soft hum of early morning and the quiet crackling of the kitchen.

Then, as if on cue, I leaned back slightly.

Giving her a playful, airy kiss on the top of her head.

She giggled, a sound so pure it made my chest ache in the best way.

And I carefully set her back on her feet.

I returned to my seat, a wide smile still plastered across my face.

But… the moment I sat down and lifted the paper Lucy had given me, the atmosphere shifted.

The weight of the words, the purpose behind them, pressed down on me like a storm rolling in.

My face darkened slightly, and the faint smile faded.

It was replaced by a quiet, contemplative tension.

Lucy watched me carefully, her eyes narrowing just enough to show her concern.

"Is something wrong?" she asked, her voice soft, almost cautious.

I shook my head, trying to dismiss the sudden heaviness.

"No… it's just, this paper. It's… a lot to take in."

Her fingers twitched slightly on the edge of the table.

And I knew she could sense my inner turmoil.

"You've always been able to handle more than you think," she said gently.

I sighed and ran a hand through my hair.

Feeling the weight of leadership pressing on me in a way it hadn't before.

The words Lucy had painstakingly written weren't just words; they were a reflection of expectations, of responsibility, of trust.

And suddenly, I felt it all converge in that tiny sheet of paper in front of me.

"Lucy…" I began slowly, trying to find the words.

"You stayed up all morning… just for me. You… you always make me feel like I'm not alone in this."

Her eyes softened, and she gave a small, almost shy smile.

"That's because you're not," she whispered.

And there was a weight to her words that made the room feel warmer, lighter, yet heavier all at once.

I looked back at Aria, who was now bouncing slightly on her heels, still thrilled at her new role.

Kalia moved around the table quietly, placing a final dish before pausing to watch the scene unfold.

Even Tiamat, ever silent, seemed to radiate a subtle calm approval from his corner.

And in that moment, I realized that this….

This mix of chaos, warmth, loyalty, and joy, was what we had.

It was messy, unpredictable, and entirely ours.

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