Seeds of Departure : Flora's distress

Location: Shelb Estate, Training Grounds

The recruits were already busy with their horseless carriages, some attempting cautious first maneuvers while others fiddled nervously with levers and switches. Micheal, overseeing the chaos with a mix of amusement and exasperation, was interrupted by the sound of faint applause.

"Ladies and gentlemen!" a familiar voice called out, drawing every gaze toward the entrance.

Adrian von Shelb, golden-haired and effortlessly charming, strolled onto the training grounds, his signature smirk firmly in place. His military uniform was impeccably tailored, the gold accents catching the sunlight, though his relaxed stride betrayed none of the urgency Micheal had displayed earlier.

"Fashionably late, as always," Micheal muttered under his breath, his sharp blue eyes narrowing as his older brother approached.

"Apologies for my tardiness!" Adrian announced, his arms outstretched as if addressing an adoring crowd. "But what is progress without a little flair?"

The recruits broke into scattered cheers and claps, their admiration for Adrian's charisma evident. His reputation for boosting morale—equal parts humor and camaraderie—had made him a favorite among soldiers and recruits alike.

"Ah, Micheal," Adrian said, clapping his brother on the shoulder as he reached him. "Already hard at work, I see. But where's the entertainment? These poor recruits look like they could use some inspiration."

Micheal raised an eyebrow, his tone dry. "If by inspiration, you mean someone to crash into a tree, by all means, take the lead."

Adrian laughed, undeterred. "Always the comedian. Watch and learn, little brother."

Seated on a nearby bench, Greta watched the scene with an expression of polite disinterest. Her fiery red hair, usually a beacon of vitality, hung in loose waves that lacked their usual luster. Her brown eyes, often sparkling with mischief, were dulled, and her posture—prim and composed—suggested she was here out of obligation rather than enthusiasm.

Adrian's sharp gaze caught hers, and his grin widened. "Greta! You honor us with your presence."

Greta offered a faint smile, her tone measured. "I wouldn't miss it. Duchess Eleanor asked me to observe, and I thought it might be... enlightening."

Adrian, oblivious to the subtle frost in her voice, puffed out his chest. "Prepare to be dazzled! A demonstration of unparalleled skill awaits!"

Without waiting for further comment, Adrian strode toward a nearby carriage, his movements theatrical as he climbed aboard. The recruits cheered, some already anticipating the chaos that was sure to follow.

With a confident flourish, Adrian adjusted the controls of the carriage, his golden hair catching the light as he turned to wave at the recruits. "Watch closely, gentlemen! This is how you master the art of the horseless carriage!"

The vehicle sputtered to life, lurching forward with a jolt that drew a collective gasp from the crowd. Adrian, undeterred, gripped the controls with exaggerated ease, his smirk firmly in place.

"What did I tell you?" he called, his voice carrying over the noise of the engine. "Smooth as silk—"

The carriage veered sharply to the left, heading straight for a stack of hay bales.

"Adrian, the brakes!" Micheal shouted, his voice laced with exasperation.

"Brakes?" Adrian repeated, momentarily confused before realizing his predicament. He pulled the lever just in time, bringing the carriage to a screeching halt mere inches from the hay.

The recruits erupted into laughter, their cheers mingling with shouts of playful ridicule.

Greta, who had risen slightly from her seat during the commotion, settled back down with a quiet sigh. "Impressive," she said dryly, though her expression betrayed little amusement.

Adrian climbed out of the carriage, dusting himself off with a sheepish grin. "A minor miscalculation," he declared, addressing the recruits. "But every great innovator stumbles before they soar."

Barnaby, who had been observing from a distance, stepped forward with his usual impeccable timing. "Perhaps, my lord," he said, his tone dry but respectful, "next time you might read the instructions before attempting flight."

The recruits roared with laughter, and even Micheal allowed himself a smirk. Adrian, undeterred, gave a mock bow. "Duly noted, Barnaby. Duly noted."

As the day wore on, the chaos Adrian brought to the training grounds served to lighten the mood, his antics providing a much-needed distraction from the day's challenges.

The training grounds were alive with energy, a mix of laughter, nervous chatter, and the occasional mechanical sputter from the horseless carriages. Micheal stood at the center of it all, alternating between guiding recruits and suppressing his amusement as chaos unfolded around him.

Arthur Gray, ever the reluctant participant, shuffled toward a carriage with an expression of sheer dread. His usualy neat attire seemed slightly askew, as though he'd already been in a scuffle with fate.

Micheal spotted him from across the grounds and called out with mock encouragement. "Arthur! Don't look so grim. It's a carriage, not a dragon!"

Arthur shot him a glare, his tone dripping with sarcasm. "A dragon might be less terrifying, my lord."

"Come now," Micheal replied, gesturing dramatically. "This is progress! Embrace it!"

Muttering under his breath, Arthur climbed into the driver's seat, gripping the controls with the desperation of a man clinging to the last shred of his dignity.

"Relax, Arthur," Micheal said, approaching to inspect the setup. "It's simple: ignition, throttle, and brake. You're in control."

Arthur eyed the levers suspiciously. "You say that, but I'm not convinced this contraption agrees."

"Confidence, my dear assistant," Micheal said with a grin, stepping back. "Now, go on. Show us what you've got."

The carriage sputtered to life with a loud chugging noise, jolting forward slightly before settling into a low hum. Arthur yelped, gripping the wheel so tightly that his knuckles turned white.

"This is madness!" he shouted as the vehicle began to move, wobbling slightly.

"Straighten the wheel, Arthur!" Micheal called, trying and failing to keep the laughter out of his voice.

Arthur complied, though his movements were exaggerated, sending the carriage swerving erratically. Recruits dove out of the way, shouting warnings and laughing as the vehicle zigzagged across the grounds.

"Brake! Brake!" Micheal shouted, his amusement giving way to mild panic as Arthur approached a cluster of hay bales.

Arthur fumbled with the controls, the carriage lurching to an abrupt halt just inches from disaster. He sat frozen for a moment, his chest heaving as he processed his narrow escape.

The recruits erupted into cheers and laughter, clapping and whistling as Arthur climbed down from the carriage, his legs visibly shaky.

"Never again," he muttered, his voice carrying just enough melodrama to draw another round of laughter.

Micheal clapped a hand on his shoulder, his grin wide. "You survived. That's progress."

Arthur groaned, his expression a mix of exasperation and grudging amusement. "Barely."

As the day progressed, the recruits grew bolder, their initial hesitations giving way to competitive energy. Some maneuvered their carriages with surprising skill, while others careened off course in ways that drew equal parts admiration and mockery.

One particularly daring recruit attempted a tight turn, sending his carriage into a spin that ended with it toppling onto its side. The crowd roared with laughter as the recruit climbed out, unscathed but sheepish.

Micheal shook his head, his voice carrying over the commotion. "Well, if nothing else, you've proven it's durable!"

Adrian, ever the showman, took the opportunity to stage another attempt at a demonstration. This time, he managed a smooth start and a few laps around the grounds before declaring himself the "undisputed champion of horseless carriages."

Barnaby, watching the scene unfold with his usual composed demeanor, leaned toward Micheal. "A productive day, sir. Chaotic, but productive."

Micheal chuckled, brushing a stray strand of platinum hair from his face. "Innovation thrives on chaos, Barnaby. Let's call it a success."

As the sun dipped below the horizon, the training grounds began to empty. Recruits left with bruises, laughter, and stories to tell, their enthusiasm undiminished by the day's mishaps.

Micheal stood at the edge of the grounds, watching the last of the carriages being wheeled back into storage. Arthur approached, his expression weary but content.

"Well, my lord," he said, his tone laced with dry humor, "if the Empire doesn't need horseless carriages, we could always start a comedy troupe."

Micheal laughed, clapping him on the back. "A tempting idea, Arthur. But I think we'll stick with progress for now."

Barnaby appeared beside them, his emerald eyes glinting with satisfaction. "An excellent day, Master Micheal. The recruits are inspired, the nobles intrigued, and you... punctual."

Micheal grinned, his sharp blue eyes sparkling. "Let's hope tomorrow is just as successful—perhaps with fewer near-death experiences."

As the trio walked back toward the estate, the sounds of laughter and camaraderie lingered in the air—a testament to a day well spent, where even chaos had its purpose.

Location: Imperial Gardens

The imperial gardens were bathed in a warm golden light, the vibrant hues of blooming flowers surrounding the sisters like a living painting. The gentle hum of bees mingled with the soft rustle of leaves as Flora Featherfield Valoria leaned closer to her sister. Her golden blonde hair shimmered in the sunlight, catching the breeze as she clasped Magda's hand with an enthusiasm that seemed almost contagious.

"I'm leaving the capital," Flora announced, her green eyes sparkling with a mixture of excitement and mischief. "Fedrick and I have decided to marry sooner than planned."

Magda's crimson eyes widened briefly, a soft gasp escaping her lips. Her own jet-black hair, flowing like liquid ink, framed a face that mirrored the Emperor's regal beauty. "You're leaving?" she asked, her voice tinged with surprise.

Flora nodded, her radiant smile growing even brighter. "Yes, isn't it wonderful? We're done waiting for court politics to dictate our happiness. Fedrick and I want to begin our life together—properly this time."

Magda's fingers tightened around Flora's, a bittersweet smile touching her lips. "I'll miss you," she admitted softly. "But I'm glad you're choosing your happiness."

Flora tilted her head, studying Magda with a curious intensity. "And what about you, dear sister? Will you stay here, in this lovely gilded cage?"

Magda hesitated, her crimson gaze drifting to the horizon. "I'll likely return to the Shelb estate soon," she replied, unaware of the recent agreement between Micheal and their fathers to alternate stays between the capital and the Southwest.

Flora's smile turned sly, her fingers tapping Magda's hand lightly. "Back to your darling husband, then. Tell me, has the Merchant Prince swept you off your feet yet?"

Magda's cheeks flushed a deep crimson, her composure faltering. "Flora!"

"What?" Flora teased, leaning closer with a conspiratorial grin. "You've been married for months now. Surely you've explored the... joys of married life?"

Magda's eyes darted away, her voice dropping to a whisper. "It's not like that."

Flora gasped theatrically, her hand flying to her chest. "Not like that? Magda, you're practically royalty! If anyone deserves to experience passion and romance, it's you."

"Flora, please," Magda murmured, her voice barely audible as her blush deepened.

But Flora was undeterred, her green eyes twinkling with mischief. "Oh, Magda, you're adorable when you're flustered. But seriously, you have a husband who dotes on you, designs carriages just for you, and stares at you like you're the only star in his sky. What's holding you back?"

Magda fidgeted, her fingers tugging at the hem of her gown. "It's complicated. Micheal and I... we're still figuring things out."

Flora leaned back, her expression softening as she studied her sister. "You're overthinking it," she said gently. "Micheal loves you. I can see it in the way he looks at you, the way he speaks about you. He's just waiting for you to let him in."

Magda's crimson eyes flickered with uncertainty, her heart pounding in her chest. "I... I wouldn't even know where to begin," she admitted quietly.

Flora's grin returned, her enthusiasm bubbling over. "Start with the little things. A touch, a look, a moment just for the two of you. Let him see the side of you that isn't weighed down by court politics or expectations. Trust me, Magda, the rest will follow."

Magda's blush deepened, her mind spinning with Flora's words.

"And," Flora added with a playful smirk, "I'll have you know that Fedrick and I are quite ahead in that department. If the Emperor's waiting for his first grandchild, well..." She trailed off, her expression smug.

Magda groaned, burying her face in her hands. "Flora, stop."

Flora laughed, the sound light and melodious. "Oh, come now, it's all in good fun. Besides, wouldn't it be wonderful to beat me at something for once?"

Magda peeked at her sister through her fingers, a reluctant smile tugging at her lips. "You're impossible."

"Impossibly brilliant," Flora corrected, rising gracefully from the bench. She adjusted the folds of her gown, her expression turning wistful. "But truly, Magda, I want you to be happy. Life's too short to waste on 'figuring things out.' Take a step, and you'll see how wonderful it can be."

Magda watched as Flora turned to leave, her golden hair catching the sunlight once more. Despite her embarrassment, a flicker of determination sparked within her. Maybe Flora was right—maybe it was time to take that first step.

The gardens fell silent again, save for the gentle rustling of the leaves, as Magda sat in quiet contemplation, her sister's words lingering in her heart.

Location: Imperial palace, Flora's chambers

Flora's chambers, usually a haven of light and beauty, felt heavier than usual as the golden hues of dusk painted the walls in soft, fading light. Flora stood by her dressing table, absently brushing out the curls in her golden hair, her mind replaying the laughter and teasing she had shared with Magda earlier in the day.

Her musings were interrupted by the soft creak of the door. Flora's personal maid entered quietly, her expression shadowed with unease.

"My lady," the maid began, her voice hushed, "there's news you should hear."

Flora set down her brush, turning to face her maid with a curious smile. "What is it, Ilena? You look as though you've seen a ghost."

Ilena stepped closer, her voice dropping further. "It's about the marriage bill being proposed in the court. It raises the age of marriage to twenty-one for women and twenty-five for men. If passed, it would dissolve certain unions—those deemed premature or politically opportunistic."

Flora's smile faltered. "Dissolve... under what circumstances?"

The maid hesitated before answering. "Underage marriages that have not been consummated would be annulled, my lady. And marriages that haven't been officiated—like yours—would not be recognized until both parties meet the age requirements."

The weight of the words settled over Flora, her earlier enthusiasm dimming. "So, Magda and Micheal's marriage..."

"Could be dissolved, yes," Ilena said softly.

Flora's brow furrowed as she considered the implications. While her sister's marriage might survive on the strength of Micheal's political maneuvering and the Emperor's protective hand, her own future with Fredrick now seemed precariously uncertain.

"And mine?" Flora asked, her voice steady despite the storm brewing in her chest.

Ilena's hesitation was telling. "The bill would prevent your wedding from being recognized. But, my lady..." She trailed off, her cheeks flushing as she avoided Flora's gaze.

"But what, Ilena?" Flora pressed, her tone sharp with curiosity.

Ilena's voice dropped to barely a whisper. "If anyone were to inquire too closely, they might... discover the truth. That you and Duke Fredrick have already... consummated your relationship."

The words hung in the air like a thunderclap. Flora's green eyes widened, her heart racing as the memory of that night at the Flower Festival flooded back. The warmth of Fredrick's proposal, the moonlit terrace where they had shared their first kiss, and the passion that had followed—it had all seemed so perfect, so right. But now, it carried the shadow of scandal.

Flora turned back to the window, her gaze distant as she tried to process the tangle of emotions rising within her. Love and duty clashed in her chest, the certainty she had felt just hours ago now replaced with doubt.

"What do I do, Ilena?" Flora asked softly, her voice trembling just enough to betray her vulnerability.

The maid stepped forward, her expression one of quiet determination. "You follow your heart, my lady. You've always been strong—stronger than anyone gives you credit for. If this bill becomes law, it will challenge many, not just you. But your love for Duke Fredrick is real, and real love... it finds a way."

Flora nodded slowly, her fingers brushing the edge of the windowsill as she gazed out over the gardens. The sky was a tapestry of orange and purple, a reminder that even as the day ended, another was waiting to begin.

"Thank you, Ilena," Flora said softly, her voice regaining some of its steadiness. "You're right. Whatever happens, Fredrick and I will face it together."

As the maid quietly exited, Flora remained by the window, her green eyes fixed on the horizon. The weight of her decision mingled with the uncertainty of the bill, leaving her torn between love and duty.

The soft hum of the evening filled the room as Flora pressed her fingers lightly to her lips, her thoughts drifting to Fredrick and the bond they shared.

Whatever came next, she vowed, she would face it with her head held high.

But as the first stars began to dot the sky, a faint shadow of doubt lingered in her heart. The seeds of departure had been planted, and the path ahead was uncertain.