His wife, the Duchess sitting beside him, was far less subtle in her emotional display. Lady Alexandra had once shared the same cascade of golden hair as Eleonora, but it had turned completely silver over the years.

  Rather than lament it, she wore the change with enviable grace, meeting age the way she met everything else in life, like an old friend stopping by for tea and gossip. Her dress that morning was an extravagant creation that hovered precariously between daringly fashionable and unapologetically gaudy, its billowing skirts embroidered with beautiful floral designs framed in golden thread that sparkled every time she moved.

  However while her dress still maintained her usual grace, her makeup was a different story. It was normally applied with the precision of a master painter, but that morning it had gone slightly awry and become smeared at the corners of her eyes from the steady stream of tears she’d been shedding since she'd awoken that morning.

  So while her husband fretted in his own way, Lady Alexandra grappled with the moment in her own way, which was less tied up with Rowan’s tangled knot of honor, tradition, and paternal dread. Her feelings had more to do with the pure, aching instinct of a mother who simply did not want her last baby to leave the nest. Which in many ways made her feelings simpler than her husband’s, but also in some ways sharper and more painful.

  She didn't wrestle over questions of knightly propriety or the ancient duties of noble houses; instead, she was faced with a far more horrifying realization, that morning, with Eleonora leaving, she was officially and undeniably old. She had always been an exuberant woman full of life with expressive flourishes and dramatic gestures. In many ways her personality mirrored Eleonora’s own, though Lady Alexandra herself was far more traditionally feminine.

  Thus; unlike Eleonora who charged through life like an overeager puppy in armor; Lady Alexandra drifted her way through life, dramatically, practically soaking up as much limelight as she could, while she swooned through the world. It was why the mother and daughter duo had always both paradoxically gotten along so well and butted heads so often.

  It was also why this moment hurt so much. Despite her noble title and the airs she carried with effortless grace, Lady Alexandra had been born the daughter of a successful merchant house, her marriage initially arranged to secure a sizable dowry and a series of lucrative deals for her family.

  Her brothers had continued the business with ruthless competence, while she was sent into the world of nobility, expected to navigate its rules with poise and grace. Yet what had begun as a practical union between two houses had blossomed over the years. Between shared hardships, pillow talk, heated arguments, and the joy and chaos of raising four wonderful children, Lady Alexandra and Duke Rowan had discovered a deep, enduring love for each other.

  Together, they had built a family that was loud, messy, dramatic, and full of life. Which Lady Alexandra had cherished every unpredictable, beautiful moment of. But now that chapter was coming to an end, as if a door was closing forever, one which she could only revisit in her memories of those wonderful times.

  Lady Alexandra had always secretly hoped her youngest daughter might turn out just a little more traditional. Just a little more interested in dresses, court gossip, embroidery, or perhaps a respectable number of suitors. Instead, Eleonora had sprinted full-speed into adulthood with sticks for swords, frogs in her pockets, and dreams of heroic quests.

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  She truly adored her daughter so completely that sometimes it frightened her. Just like Rowan, all she wanted to do now was lock the girl in the tallest tower of the manor so she could keep her safe forever. Yet love, she knew, did not mean holding on.

  It meant letting go, even when every part of her wanted to cling tighter. She hadn’t admitted it aloud; and probably would not admit it even under threat of execution; but seeing her last child ride out today made something deep within her whisper that her youth had finally slipped away.

  The manor would soon be quiet, much too quiet. And if she let herself think about that for even a moment, she feared she might melt into a puddle of tears right there on the keeps courtyard patio.

  So she dabbed her eyes, lifted her chin, and clung to Rowan’s arm with theatrical resolve. “Oh, my precious girl,” she cried, waving a lace kerchief with a dramatic flare. “Is going out into the dangerous, cruel world. Oh, Rowan, hold me, I’m becoming faint”.

  “How can you faint when you're sitting,” the Duke murmured, though his voice cracked treacherously on the last syllable. “But I could faint at any moment”. "I'm simply overwhelmed by my emotions right now", she said dramatically.

  “Frankly, my dear, I don’t give a damn,” he said his common refrain to his overly dramatic wife of decades and a line he always delivered when uncomfortable emotions threatened to erupt between them. But this time it failed spectacularly, as he immediately pulled his wife into a tight embrace. “Oh, Rowan, you hypocrite,” she whispered fondly into his chest. “Quiet, woman,” he muttered back, sniffling suspiciously.

  When Eleonora arrived she dismounted so she could throw herself at them in one giant hug. Her armor clanked, a bright metallic chorus echoing across the garden courtyard. “I’ll write letters!” she promised, squeezing both parents at once with enough enthusiasm to crack ribs.

  “And I’m going to have so much to tell y'all about", she started. "I’ll, like, fight monsters and rescue villagers, find, like, some magical treasures, and maybe even, like, tame a baby monster to raise and like name it Princess Marshmallow!” Duke Rowan stiffened.

  The last time she begged for a magical companion, he’d ended up buying her a horse and that had been an extremely mixed bag.

  “Please do not adopt any monsters,” he said firmly.

  “No promises, Papa!” Her mother then grabbed her by the shoulders.

  “Sweetheart, don't forget to contact your brother Maximinus when you arrive in Hagian.” “Mamaaa,” Eleonora groaned. “Don't worry I totally will”, she said trying really hard to sell the lie.

  She didn't want deal with Maximinus who was in her words, "a anti fun meanie", though she hadn't seen him since she was eleven.

  Nearby, Isadora cleared her throat in a manner that somehow sounded both respectful and deeply impatient. “We should depart, my lady,” she said. “If we hope to avoid the midday heat.”

  “Yes! Adventure awaits!” Eleonora declared, raising her fist triumphantly into the air. She hugged her weeping parents once more, then scrambled back onto Lady Sparkles, nearly sliding off the wrong side before regaining her seat with the aplomb of a skilled horseman.

  “Farewell, Mama! Farewell, Papa!” she cried out already riding off. “Write!” her mother cried out after her, waving her kerchief and dabbing her eyes. “Be careful and stay safe!” her father shouted.

  Isadora then mounted Speed with effortless grace and saluted the duke and duchess smartly. Before she could fully turn away, the Duke called out, “Keep her safe, Isadora.” The maid paused, expression softening.

  “I will, my lord.”

  She nudged her cantankerous warhorse to catch up with Eleonora, who had already begun trotting dramatically toward the wide road leading down the ridge. When Isadora drew alongside her, Eleonora rose slightly in her saddle, pointed in the most heroic direction she could find, and bellowed, “To glory! To heroism! To… uh, oh right, Hagian! ONWARD, LADY SPARKLES!” Lady Sparkles snorted with regal approval and trotted forward proudly.

  While Isadora couldn’t help but smile, caught up in her charge’s infectious enthusiasm. She spurred Speed forward, following close behind.