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The house did not feel real.
Arthur stood at the edge of the cobblestone path leading toward the entrance, the cool wind rustling through his wheat-blond hair—now grown longer than it had been during the war. He stared at the estate ahead, half-expecting the entire structure to vanish the moment he blinked.
It was not a grand palace like the one he had ruled in his previous life as King Grey.
It was not the magnificent floating castle used by the Council during the war's opening days.
Nor was it a fortress, an outpost, or a blood-soaked training ground.
It was just… a house.
As Arthur tracked his gaze upward along the stone path, he took in the sheer care and craftsmanship woven into the building. He saw how much love and effort, his friends had gone into building this place.
Wooden beams reinforced with subtle runic channels. White stone foundations that hummed faintly with dormant mana. Although he could no longer really sense it that easily with his aether core now broken, he knew it was there.
His eyes traced the unique pitch of the roof, angled intentionally to catch rainwater in carved drainage channels that fed into a small garden area to the east.
Tessia was going to love that.
He reached the front porch, the weight of the moment pressing heavily against his chest. A house like this felt entirely too peaceful to belong to him.
And it felt too much to be something meant for him.
It felt silent.
It felt… entirely peaceful.
‘You’re doing it again, Art.’
Tessia's voice pulled him out of his spiralling thoughts.
Arthur glanced sideways at the voice of Tess.
She stood beside him now, hands behind her back, silver gunmetal hair tied loosely with a simple vine-inspired hair tie, letting a few loose strands frame her face. As Arthur’s eyes finally rested on her face, he could tell what she was feeling then. Arthur could see the faint flicker of uncertainty in her emerald eyes—a quiet proof that she, too, wasn't fully convinced this peace was permanent.
‘I’m not doing anything,’ Arthur muttered.
Tessia gave him a look of pure disbelief. ‘You’re thinking too loudly.’
‘That’s not a thing.’
‘Well, it is for you.’
A soft, familiar warmth brushed against Arthur’s arm as a small dragon with pearlescent scales and sleek horn buds nudged her head against his hand. Sylvie looked up at him, her bright golden eyes filled with gentle amusement before transmitting her thoughts directly into his mind.
‘She is right, Papa. Your mind feels like a stormy sea right now.’
Arthur softened, reaching down to stroke the smooth scales between her horns. 'Et tu, Sylv?'
Sylvie merely smiled back at him.
Arthur exhaled slowly and looked back at the house.
A house…
And gifted by Asuras, at that.
A place ‘fit for a retired legacy,’ they had called it.
At that time, Arthur had not known whether to laugh, feel humbled, or be downright suspicious.
Then, without warning, a purple shadow came into Arthur’s view from above.
A burst of dark purple flame flickered near the eaves before taking the shape of a majestic shadow-wolf. Regis rested his broad paws against the roofline, let out a dramatic snort, and looked down at them.
Although his core had broken, his connection to Regis remained. For how long, he did not want to fathom.
Regis snorted. ‘It’s a trap. I can feel it!’ Regis announced out loud, his tail swaying lazily. ‘A cosy one, comfortable even! Where you will die of sheer boredom instead of trauma.’
‘I vote for boredom,’ Tessia chimed in, a small smile tugging at her lips.
Arthur shook his head, looking between his bond, his companion, and his fiancée. ‘Don't encourage him, Tess.’
‘Boredom sounds wonderful,’ Sylvie replied serenely, trotting up the porch steps ahead of them. ‘No armies. No training fields. Just a sunlit spot by the garden.’
Stepping up to the heavy double doors, Arthur paused, his hand hovering over the handle. He took a deep breath to steady his pulse, bracing himself for the inevitable.
No wards activated from his enemies.
No killing intent surged.
Or even a hidden blade reaching towards him in reaction to his presence.
Just silence.
There was only the quiet click of the latch and the soft creak of carved wood as it swung inward.
Sylvie slipped inside first, her tail swaying happily as her paws padded across the polished wooden floor. Arthur stepped across the threshold right after her, and Tessia slipped her hand into his, following right beside him into their new home.
The interior of the estate was vast, yet inexplicably warm.
It wasn't a warmth born of mana or harsh heat, but the subtle, welcoming comfort of a place built to be lived in. The Asuras may have designed it as a tribute, but someone had taken great care to make it feel like a home.
The central living space opened beneath heavy exposed timber beams. A grand fireplace carved from pale alabaster stone was already stocked with wood that burned with a faint, magical glow—a slow-burning flame designed never to smoke or require tending.
Sylvie trotted ahead, her pearlescent scales catching the warm firelight as her tail swayed lazily. ‘It feels gentle,’ she noted softly into Arthur's mind, circling a woven rug near the hearth before settling down.
Arthur and Tessia walked out of the main hall, following a wide corridor that split into two distinct wings. Footsteps echoed softly against the polished wooden floorboards as they explored.
One hallway led toward cosy, sunlit bedrooms. The other, surprisingly, opened into a spacious study that attached directly to a reinforced training chamber.
Arthur stopped at the threshold of the training hall, staring flatly at the padded walls and weapon racks. ‘There’s a training room.’
As she reached his side, she nodded. Tessia glanced inside with an amused expression. ‘Of course, there would be one.’
‘But that feels… unnecessary,’ Arthur muttered, crossing his arms.
‘Well, you would have complained if there wasn’t one.’
Arthur opened his mouth to deny it, paused, and sighed. ‘... Fair.’
Without warning, Regis drifted through the wall in his incorporeal form like he already owned this place.
‘Well, sugarcakes, I like it. Such open architecture! It makes phasing through walls and hauntings infinitely more convenient.’
‘Please don’t,’ Tessia replied, a weary sigh already forming on her lips.
‘No promises,’ replied Regis with mirth and mischief in his purplish-translucent eyes.
Leaving their companions to inspect the study, Arthur and Tessia walked toward the far end of the estate, where a set of double doors opened out to the rear grounds.
When Arthur pushed the doors open, the view took his breath away.
The rear exit led to a wide, covered porch that overlooked a sprawling hill sloping down toward a crystal-blue lake. Below them, framed by the bright afternoon sky, the town of Ashber stretched out quietly.
It was Arthur's childhood home. Though Ashber had been nearly levelled during the war, it was now being rebuilt—piece by piece, stone by stone—with the quiet determination of survivors. The Asuras had intentionally chosen this location far from political centres, giving Arthur the space and privacy he desperately needed.
Arthur stood at the wooden railing, arms on the surface of the wooden railing, staring out at the landscape for far longer than he realised.
Tessia noticed the heavy stillness in his posture. ‘You don't like it?’
‘I don't know... what to do with all of this,’ Arthur confessed quietly.
'Live in it.'
'That's it?'
'Yes.'
A set of handcrafted chairs sat along the edge of the porch. Arthur walked over and sat down, resting his elbows on his knees.
The silence that settled over the porch was fundamentally different from the quiet inside the empty house.
It wasn't cold or hollow.
It was shared.
Tessia sat in the chair beside him, while Regis floated lazily above the wooden table and Sylvie stood next to Arthur, a hand placed on his shoulder.
For a long time, no one spoke. The afternoon breeze swept across the hill, bending the tall grass in rhythmic, soothing waves.
Finally, Arthur broke the spell, rubbing the back of his neck as he voiced the thought nagging at his mind. 'I keep expecting someone to burst in and report a breakthrough on the front line.'
Tessia looked at him with deep understanding, reaching out to rest her hand over his. 'That isn't going to happen, Art.'
'I know.'
'You don't sound like you know.'
Arthur leaned back against the chair, letting his gaze wander across the shimmering lake. Ever since he had stopped relying on King's Gambit to process every detail of his life, his unaugmented thoughts felt chaotic, crowded with tactical contingencies for battles that were already over.
'I've spent two lives moving from one crisis to the next,' Arthur murmured.
'And now?' Tessia prompted gently.
'And now… there's a house.'
Regis flipped right-side up above the table, letting out a dramatic snort. 'I suggest immediate panic, then. That seems to be your standard operating procedure for solving problems.'
Tessia let out a soft laugh, and a small, genuine smile finally tugged at Arthur's lips.
He squeezed her hand. Tessia looked at him with unreserved warmth. 'You'll adjust.'
'That sounds dangerously optimistic, don't you think?' Arthur chuckled.
'It is,' she admitted freely.
Sylvie took Tessia’s hand in hers and squeezed both her bond’s and Tess’s hands gently. ‘We will all adjust. Together.’
Tessia stood up and walked to the edge of the porch, resting her hands against the railing as she looked out over Ashber and the lake beyond. 'This is what we fought for, Art.'
She spoke softly, her voice filled with quiet reverence for the peaceful horizon.
Arthur looked at her serene profile, but he didn't answer.
Because that was the core of his fear.
He had bled for peace.
He had broken himself to secure a future for the people he loved.
But now that he held that peaceful life within his hands, he realised the terrifying truth.
He had no idea how to live in it.
Ellie and Alice had yet to arrive at the new mansion.
For now, it would only be Tessia, Arthur, Sylvie and Regis spending their first night in the new house.
As night fell, the timber frame creaked softly, settling into the quiet hillside.
Arthur stood near the hearth, watching the magical fire crackle to life.
It was lit now.
Tessia had lit it earlier with a gentle spark of her own mana, activating the slow-burning runes carved into the alabaster stone.
She had also spent the last hour unpacking their belongings with Sylvie.
Arthur had tried to help, only to be met with a firm, ‘Art, you need to rest,’ before his hands were gently shooed away. He had stood there watching her in a state of confused helplessness he wasn't particularly proud of.
Regis had already dubbed him a 'spoiled princess'—an insult Arthur desperately wanted to refute, though his current uselessness wasn't helping his case.
The wooden door opened, and Tessia entered the living room carrying a stack of warm woven blankets.
She paused, taking in the sight of him still standing stiffly by the hearth, bathed in the autumn glow of the flames. ‘You’re standing again.’
‘I’m thinking.’
‘You’re brooding.’
‘I don’t brood.’
She tossed the blanket at him.
He caught it with ease.
‘Sit,’ she instructed gently.
As if catching an unspoken cue, Sylvie stood up from her spot by the rug and walked out toward the hallway, with Regis’s shadowy form floating silently behind her to give them space.
Arthur watched them as they left and obeyed.
Partly because he was tired in a way no battle had ever managed to cause.
Partly because he was also curious about what she had to say.
After Arthur had finally sat on a chair directly right next to the fireplace, settling in for what might be a long while, did Tessia sat. She sat beside him.
She sat close, but not crowding.
Present, but not demanding.
For a while, neither of them spoke.
The fire in the hearth cracked.
Both of their eyes strained toward where the sound came from.
Their eyes stared at the dancing flames for a while.
Then, quietly…
‘This feels… fragile,’ Arthur murmured quietly into the stillness.
Tessia turned her head toward him, her emerald eyes soft in the firelight.
She asked, ‘What does?’
Arthur continued. ‘This. All of this.’
He gestured vaguely.
To the house.
The quiet rooms.
The silence.
The peacefulness.
The life they were trying to build together.
Them.
Tessia didn’t interrupt. She merely listened in patient silence, letting him speak.
Arthur continued. ‘I’ve seen Epheotus collapse,’ Arthur confessed. ‘Kings die. Empires in my past life fell. Even gods get slain. Nothing was ever consistent.’
His fingers, ever so slightly, tightened on the blanket he was grasping.
‘And… now, we’re just here.’
‘Alive,’ Tessia added softly.
Arthur nodded. ‘Alive.’
‘Yes.’
A pause.
Then, Tessia shifted closer to Arthur and leaned her head lightly against the dip of his shoulder.
Arthur did not tense at the sudden touch, but embraced it. Embraced the warmth that came with her.
He leaned into her, letting the warmth anchor him to this very moment.
‘That’s the point,’ Tessia whispered.
Arthur closed his eyes briefly.
‘I’m not used to points like this.’ He took in a breath and shuddered slightly as he released it. ‘It feels… too good to be true.’
‘I know.’
Tessia reached over, taking his hand and lacing her fingers securely through his—a quiet, grounding gesture reminiscent of the comfort she had offered him during his darkest moments after his father's passing.
Like an anchor.
His anchor.
Obviously, this time, it was not like that. But still…
Everything happening now just felt like too much.
Suddenly, a familiar, pompous voice echoed faintly from the ceiling of the adjacent hallway. As if on cue, Regis spoke from somewhere near the ceiling. ‘I give it six months before he tries to punch a wall out of habit.’
‘Four,’ Sylvie’s voice chimed in through their mental bond, laced with serene confidence. ‘My money is on four.’
Arthur stared up at the doorway, his serious expression wavering. ‘Less,’ he muttered under his breath.
A tiny, unpracticed smile tugged at the corner of his lips.
Seeing the faint spark of humour return to his face, Tessia smiled too, squeezing his hand. ‘Then, we’ll fix it.’
Arthur turned his head to look at her.
‘Fix what?’
‘Whatever you break.’
That made him exhale something like a laugh.
Soft.
Unpracticed.
Real.
Days passed.
Then, weeks.
Ellie and Alice finally moved in and settled down in the house, their presence filled the remaining hollow corners of the mansion. Laughter echoed through the halls, the scent of home-cooked meals drifted from the kitchen, and the lingering silence of war was slowly displaced by the quiet routines of daily life.
It made the house feel less empty.
He liked it.
The house finally started to stop feeling new.
The kind of unfamiliar monument built by Asuras. Slowly—and awkwardly at first.
And slowly, uncomfortably so at first, it began to feel like something else.
It felt like home.
Yet, old habits died hard.
Especially for someone like Arthur.
Arthur woke before sunrise every day.
Not because he needed to.
But because he didn’t know how not to.
Even after losing his ability to absorb aether or interact with mana, that did not stop him from honing his melee skills and physique.
And Tessia would often join him halfway through.
Not just to spar.
But to exist alongside him in the quiet morning mist.
Sometimes she corrected his stance.
Other times he corrected hers.
However, most of the time, more often than not, they simply trained in silence.
It felt like the good old times when they would train together with Virion, years ago before the war. Thinking back, it felt like an eternity ago, since they last had time to experience and enjoy the simple thing of just training or being together, before the continent was torn apart back when the weight of the world was not in their hands.
One morning, Tessia stopped mid-strike, lowering her wooden practice sword.
‘You’re holding back again.’
Arthur paused, wiping a bead of sweat from his forehead. ‘I’m not.’
‘You are,’ she insisted, pouting slightly.
He frowned, looking down at his hands. ‘... I don’t know how not to.’
Tessia’s expression softened instantly. She lowered her weapon entirely and stepped closer.
‘Then, don’t think of it as holding back. Come at me with all you got. That is the only way I can learn. To grow stronger.’
‘What should I think of it as, then?’
Tessia reached out, placing a warm hand over his chest.
‘Think of it as learning that you don’t always have to survive something.’
Arthur fell silent.
That idea felt foreign.
Dangerous, even, in a different way than war.
Later that night, as the first stars began to twinkle across the vast, midnight-blue sky, Arthur sat on the porch. The wooden steps were quickly becoming his sanctuary.
Beside him, Regis lay sprawled out like a giant shadow-puppy, blatantly pretending to be asleep. Across the porch, Sylvie sat curled in a chair, intensely engrossed in a copy of Little Lady resting on her lap, devouring the pages with fierce concentration.
The creak of the door announced Tessia's return. She stepped out onto the porch carrying three steaming mugs of chamomile tea and a plate of freshly baked pastries.
She set a mug down beside Sylvie and placed a pastry near Regis’s nose. Abandoning his facade of sleep instantly, Regis snapped up the pastry in a single, shameless gulp.
‘Delicious! I'm going to need a second serving, boss lady!’ Regis barked into their minds.
Tessia laughed. ‘I’ll get you more later, Regis. They’re still in the oven.’
She then handed the final mug to Arthur.
He accepted it automatically, his fingers wrapping around the warm ceramic as he rubbed the back of his neck.
A pause.
Tessia leaned against the porch railing beside him, taking a slow sip of her tea. 'I ran into someone in town today.'
Arthur glanced up at her. ‘In Ashber?’
She continued. ‘Mhm, yes. In town.’
‘And?’
‘They recognised you.’
Arthur sighed, leaning his head back against the post. ‘Of course they did.’
‘They asked if you were here to ‘protect the region,’’ Tessia continued, a fond, knowing smile playing on her lips.
‘And what did you tell them, Tess?’
Tessia set her cup down on the small side table before answering. ‘I told them, you were here to live.’
Arthur stared at her for a long moment. Thoughts swarmed in his mind, turning over her words. ‘That sounds like something that could get me dragged into local politics.’
'It almost did. They offered.'
'I hope you declined on my behalf.'
'I told them you'd probably refuse,' she chuckled.
Both Sylvie and Regis raised their heads in unison.
‘Democracy is scary,’ muttered Regis in horror.
Arthur took a slow sip of his tea, letting the warm herbal flavour settle over his tongue.
For the first time that day, his shoulders eased slightly.
He looked toward the horizon on this fine night.
Ashber lay quietly beneath the starlight
Not empty.
Not broken.
Just… continuing.
And they would continue, even without needing Arthur.
For now, that was more than enough for Arthur.
That night, wrapped in the quiet warmth of the bedroom he shared with Tessia, Arthur drifted off to sleep.
He did not dream of his past life or the war.
For the very first time in a long, long time…
He dreamed of nothing at all.
Somehow, as the peaceful darkness washed over him, Arthur realised that the empty quiet was no longer something to fear—it was peace.
And that was the most peaceful thing he had ever felt.