Back in the drawing room, the atmosphere had grown thick with a completely different kind of tension. Settled into the plush velvet couch of the grand receiving space, the two warriors looked less like guests enjoying a post-lunch rest and more like two opposing generals waiting for the next move.

Gillian leaned back against the plush cushions of a heavy couch, holding a cup of tea. He looked remarkably relaxed for a man sitting in the heart of territory he had spent years fighting against.

"I must admit, Duke," Gillian began, a wry smile playing on his lips as he swirled the liquid in his glass. "I never imagined a day would come where I would be sitting in one of your homes, relaxing like this, when all we did all this time was try to finish each other off on the battlefield."

Zarius sat across from him, his posture as rigid and imposing as a statue carved from the northern mountains. His large frame dominated the space, his eyes fixed entirely on the imperial prince. He didn’t touch his own tea.

"I don’t know about relaxing," Zarius said smoothly, his deep voice slicing through the quiet room.

Internally, Zarius’s thoughts were far less polite. Right, I don’t think I can relax with you being here. He didn’t trust the easygoing demeanor Gillian was putting on. It was true that the war had passed, and they were no longer actively trying to take each other’s lives or dismantle each other’s militaries, but Zarius couldn’t help but feel a lingering sense of wariness. Especially when Cherion was around.

That was the exact reason Zarius had intentionally kept Gillian held here in this room. The moment lunch had ended and Cherion offered to show Princess Iryna the gardens, Zarius had immediately steered the Prince in the opposite direction. He wanted Gillian right where he could see him, ensuring the Solaric heir wouldn’t be anywhere near Cherion.

Gillian, seemingly oblivious to the depths of Zarius’s internal protective instincts, or perhaps simply choosing to ignore them, set his cup down on the low table between them. He shifted the conversation to more practical matters.

"Since we have a moment of privacy, I wanted to ask about the bandit well-being from the other day," Gillian said, his tone turning a bit more serious. "My informants mentioned there was a strange surge in activity near the border right before our arrival. Were your men able to clear them out cleanly, or is there a deeper root we should be concerned about?"

Zarius leaned forward slightly, resting his forearms on his knees. "My knights handled them. It was nothing more than desperate scraps looking for an easy target, though their timing was admittedly peculiar."

As Zarius began to detail the security measures he had implemented along the transit routes, a sudden, low vibration thrummed through the room.

It wasn’t a massive, destructive force, but a light, distinct earthquake that made the cup on the table click softly against each other. The heavy chandelier overhead swayed ever so slightly, casting shifting shadows across the dark wood panels.

Zarius froze mid-sentence, his instincts instantly locking into high alert. His hand hovered instinctively near where his blade usually rested. What the hell is going on? he thought, his eyes narrowing as he scanned the room for the source of the disturbance. The Valtrane estate was built on solid bedrock, it didn’t just shake without a powerful catalyst.

Across from him, Gillian didn’t panic. Instead, he stood up, reaching out a hand to hold onto the back of the couch to steady himself as the minor tremor subsided. A deeply exhausted, thoroughly practiced look of exasperation crossed the Prince’s face.

Gillian let out a long, heavy sigh, muttering under his breath, "Oh, please, Iryna..."

Zarius’s gaze snapped to him.

"I think I know exactly what caused this," Gillian said, shaking his head before correcting himself. "Actually, no. Who caused this."

Without giving any further explanation, Gillian turned and began heading out of the room toward the grand hallways. His casual demeanor was gone, replaced by a hurried stride. Zarius didn’t hesitate for a single second. If this tremor had anything to do with Princess Iryna, then Cherion was directly in the line of fire.

Zarius moved past Gillian, his long strides taking the lead as they navigated the corridors of the estate, heading swiftly toward the glasshouse and the outer winter gardens where the tremor had originated.

The closer they got to the garden entrance, the more the air changed. The calm afternoon air was completely disrupted by erratic, howling gusts of wind that whistled through the open stone archways.

Zarius threw open the heavy iron-wrought gates leading into the garden promenade, his eyes instantly sweeping the area for a single specific head of hair.

What he found made him halt, his jaw tightening as Gillian caught up beside him.

The usually pristine, manicured winter garden was a scene of absolute, chaotic confrontation. A thick, swirling cloud of white mist and shattered ice shrapnel hung heavily over the frosted grass. Through the haze, a jagged, imposing wall of ice stood erected in the center of the path, reflecting the pale sunlight.

But it was the two figures clashing in front of that ice wall that drew all the attention.

Marielle vaulted forward, her dual daggers glinting dangerously as she deflected a sharp gust of compressed wind magic that Iryna sent slicing through the air. With a fluid spin, Marielle closed the distance, her swift, physical movements enhanced by a raw flare of non-elemental mana that coated her blades in a shimmering light.

Iryna didn’t flinch, she stomped her heel, instantly raising a jagged pillar of ice from the ground to intercept Marielle’s slashing daggers. The impact shattered the frost with a loud crack, sending a shower of glittering shards between them as they locked eyes, both fully intent on overwhelming the other.

"Stop! Both of you, stop right now!" Cherion screamed from the sidelines, his hands raised in pure panic as he watched the deadly dance unfold. "Why are you two even fighting?! Oh my god!"

"Your Highness, please lower your magic!" Ezek shouted, dodging a stray fragment of flying ice, while Reiner tried to step forward without getting caught in the crossfire. "Lady Marielle, stand down! This is a diplomatic disaster!"

The rest of the imperial guards and attendants were shouting in a chaotic chorus, completely bewildered by how a peaceful stroll had devolved into a literal battlefield in a matter of seconds.

They didn’t only see a tense standoff, they saw a full-blown, violent clash of magic and steel. Iryna was seamlessly weaving her wind currents to hurl sharper ice lances, while Marielle was aggressively shattering them with her daggers, using her pure mana to boost her speed and close the gap for another strike.

Slowly, Zarius and Gillian turned to stare at each other in complete silence. A second later, another loud crack of magic colliding with steel rang through the garden, and both their heads snapped right back toward the chaos.

Zarius stared at the utter madness, his jaw tightening as he bellowed across the garden, "What in the name of the hells do they think they’re doing?!"