Chapter 11- The Departure

The early morning air still carried the remnants of winter's chill. A crisp breeze drifted through the grandiose courtyard of Marcellus Manor, causing Noah to flinch as it brushed against his exposed cheeks.

His small fingers curled instinctively around the fabric of his coat as if seeking warmth, his nose tinged red from the cold. Even so, it was far better than the frost of previous weeks, when every breath left a trail of mist and the bitter chill seeped into the bones.

The estate's residents had gathered outside to bid farewell to Lucien and Jane as they prepared to depart for the academy. The servants stood at a respectful distance with their heads bowed, while the family remained at the forefront.

The atmosphere was formal, yet tinged with an undercurrent of routine, as if this departure were merely another brief chapter in the never-ending cycle of duty and expectation.

Lucien stood composed as ever, clad in a meticulously tailored black coat with silver buttons gleaming in the pale morning light. Beneath it, a high-collared shirt rested crisply against his skin, its ivory fabric stark against his dark attire. His silver hair, slightly tousled by the wind, reflected the sunlight like strands of woven moonlight.

He radiated an air of effortless elegance, his golden eyes betraying no hint of emotion.

Jane stood beside him, a striking contrast to her brother. She was draped in a deep sapphire-blue traveling coat, its rich fabric accentuated by intricate white lace trim that spoke of refined taste and nobility.

Her smooth brown hair, carefully braided into an elegant style, cascaded over one shoulder with a few delicate strands softly framing her porcelain face. She carried herself with the practiced grace of nobility, offering the occasional poised smile, though her eyes remained distant.

Lucien was the first to step forward, offering his father a respectful bow. "Father," he greeted in a calm voice.

John regarded him with his usual firm presence. "Take care of yourself."

Jane followed, dipping into a graceful curtsy. "We will do our best to bring honor to the family." Her words were polished and well-practiced.

Lady Evelina stood beside John, her gaze unwavering as she observed the exchange in silence, her expression carefully composed.

Noah, meanwhile, clung to John's hand, his fingers wrapped securely around one of John's much larger ones.

It was his first time seeing Lady Evelina up close, and he couldn't help but stare in quiet awe.

The emerald silk of her gown seemed to catch the light, its gold embroidery adding a touch of regality to her already imposing presence. The wind played with the loose strands of her chestnut locks, making them dance against the delicate frame of her face. She looked almost ethereal.

Noah had never spoken to her, and he knew, instinctively, that he shouldn't even dare.

Evelina finally took in Noah's presence.

She had ignored him for the most part since his arrival. After all, he was just a stain upon the Marcellus name, a constant reminder of her husband's past mistakes. She had no reason to acknowledge him. Jane was the true heir- the only child that mattered.

And yet… Evelina could not deny the resemblance.

Crimson eyes. Raven-black hair.

The very features that marked him unmistakably as a Marcellus. He carried the lineage she wished he did not. If not for his origins, no one would be able to dismiss him as lesser. That thought sent an uneasy twist through her chest.

Evelina clenched her hands slightly as she turned to her brother-in-law.

John was never this affectionate, not with Jane, not even with Lucien. Yet here he was, his hand resting so naturally against Noah's small back.

Her thoughts were interrupted by John's voice, gentle yet firm.

"Noah, don't touch that."

Noah had been about to crouch down, his fingers reaching for a small beetle scuttling across the cobblestone path. At John's words, he quickly retracted his hand, glancing up at him in silent obedience.

John chuckled softly, ruffling the boy's already-messy black hair.

Lucien finally turned to Noah and extended a hand.

"Goodbye."

Noah hesitated for a brief moment before placing his tiny hand in Lucien's. The handshake was brief, almost fleeting, but there was an odd weight to it.

Jane followed suit, though her smile was just a touch too perfect. One she had worn many times before. A performance, for John's sake.

With final nods exchanged, Lucien and Jane stepped into the waiting car. The door shut behind them with a firm click.

The engine rumbled to life and in a matter of seconds, the vehicle disappeared down the long, winding path.

A hush settled over the courtyard.

It was like something had shifted. A missing presence that left behind an emptiness that couldn't quite be named. The wind stirred, rustling the leaves as if carrying away the last traces of their lingering warmth.

- - - - - -

Later that day, Noah sat cross-legged on the floor of his room, absentmindedly playing with the hem of Bell's sleeve.

She sat beside him, quietly watching over him as he fidgeted with the fabric between his fingers. She made no comment, simply allowing the peaceful moment to stretch between them.

His room, once empty and unfamiliar, had slowly transformed into something warm. Plush toys of all shapes and sizes now occupied the shelves and bed.

John had noticed Noah's fondness for soft, fluffy things and never failed to bring him more to add to his collection whenever merchants arrived with new ones.

Numerous books had also started to accumulate on his bedside table, with picture books filled with vibrant illustrations and fairy tales that spoke of magical worlds and mythical creatures.

Noah loved such stories, and he truly believed in them.

After all, wasn't his life proof that magic existed? Only a miracle could have taken him out from the slums and placed him in a manor.

Noah hugged a stuffed rabbit to his chest as his thoughts drifted to the morning's farewell.

"The carriage…" he murmured.

Bell stirred. "Hm?"

"The big carriage from this morning." Noah's voice was quiet and thoughtful. "I saw one like that when Uncle John came to take me away.

Bell, who had been sitting beside him with a warm smile, gently patted his hand.

"That's called a car, Master Noah. People usually use it to travel long distances."

Noah tilted his head, his curiosity piqued. "Do we all have to go to the academy by car?"

Bell smiled softly, "Not everyone. Some take the train too."

Noah's eyes lit up with interest. 'The train?'

Bell chuckled at his innocent wonder.

With a soft, melodic voice, she described the massive steel beast, its wheels thundering over the tracks, steam billowing like a dragon's breath as it cut through the countryside.

Noah's eyes sparkled. "I want to ride a train too!"

Bell stilled for a moment, her usual warmth dimming into something quieter, almost distant. As she looked at Noah, a shadow of nostalgia flickered in her eyes.

"You remind me of someone," she murmured.

Noah blinked up at her, puzzled. "…Who?"

"Master Lucien," she said with a slight smile. "He used to say things like that to Lady Vivienne."

The unfamiliar name caught Noah's attention. "L-Lady Vivienne?"

"…..She was Master Lucien's mother," Bell explained, her voice tinged with affection . "She was the most beautiful woman I've ever laid eyes on. No one could compare to her in my humble opinion."

She leaned in slightly with a spark of excitement. "Master John fell for her the moment he saw her. Love at first sight, they say." She chuckled, shaking her head fondly. "Even now, the workers of Marcellus still whisper about their romance."

Noah tilted his head, intrigued. "Was she prettier than Lady Evelina?" he asked innocently, referring to his stepmother.

Bell faltered, glancing around as if checking for eavesdroppers. Then, with a small, conspiratorial whisper, she admitted, "Oh, Lady Evelina doesn't even come close. Though I probably shouldn't say such things… but it's the truth."

Noah pondered, before another question formed on his lips. "Where is she now?"

Bell's gaze softened with sorrow. "She's an angel now, watching over us from heaven," she said, her tone warm yet melancholic. "Just like in the stories we've read before."

Noah's lips parted slightly. "Is that the same place as my mommy and daddy?"

Bell's heart ached at the question, but she forced a reassuring smile. "Yes," she murmured. "They're all looking after you from above, always wishing for you to live a good and happy life."

Noah was quiet for a moment before his curiosity returned with a gentle tug. "Is that why Lucien is so pretty?" he asked, his voice soft but filled with innocent wonder. "Because he takes after his mother?"

Bell let out a quiet laugh. "Yes, indeed."

She paused briefly, "I think Master Noah might have seen Lady Vivienne's portrait in the hallway leading to the south wing."

Noah frowned as he sifted through his memories.

"Oh… I know…..the one near the entrance," he said, his fingers tracing the shape of the doorway in the air. "Next to those biiig golden… things," he added, his arms extending to emphasize the size of the artifacts.

Bell smiled and nodded in confirmation. "Yes, that's the one," she said, her voice full of fondness.

Noah recalled standing before the portrait, captivated by her striking features and silvery-white hair that shimmered like a veil of frost under the morning sun. But something had held him back from immediately associating her with Lucien.

"But….She had black eyes," Noah finally said, his voice thoughtful. "Not golden ones like Lucien."

At his words, Bell noticeably stiffened, a shadow flickering across her expression before she masked it with a cheerful smile.

"Now, now, Master Noah," she said, dusting off her apron as she stood. "You must be hungry. I believe the chocolate cookies in the kitchen should be ready by now. How about I fetch some for you?"

Noah nodded eagerly, distracted by the promise of sweets.

As Bell's footsteps faded down the hall, the room fell into a a heavy silence. Yet, it wasn't an empty stillness. It was heavy, like the hush before a storm, ready to shatter at the slightest touch.