[House Veyrath — Bathing Chamber — Later]
"Wowww..."
Seyra’s voice rang through the vast bathing chamber; she stood at the edge of an enormous marble pool, staring at it with round, astonished eyes.
"It’s a giant vintage swimming pool!"
Her declaration echoed beneath the vaulted ceiling.
The bathing chamber was unlike anything she had ever seen.
Pillars of dark stone rose toward the ceiling, their surfaces carved with ancient lions, winged beasts, and serpents whose bodies curled around the columns. Bronze lamps burned along the walls, their flames reflected in the warm water. Faint scents of cedar, myrrh, and crushed herbs drifted through the steam.
At the center of the chamber lay the great bath—a sunken pool carved from pale marble, its edges decorated with bronze inlays depicting reeds, date palms, and the sacred beasts of House Veyrath.
To Seyra, however, it was simply...a giant swimming pool.
Her little legs carried her forward before anyone could stop her.
The dark cloak hanging from her shoulders dragged behind her, far too large for her small frame. With her tiny head barely visible above the heavy fabric, she resembled a child who had somehow been swallowed by a soldier’s cloak.
Mira smiled softly, saying, "After you, my lady."
Seyra didn’t need to be told twice. she hurried forward and carefully stepped into the enormous bath. The warm water reached her ankles, then her knees, and Seyra’s expression immediately softened.
"This is amazing..."
Mira gently removed the oversized cloak from her shoulders.
Then she froze and her eyes widened. The other maids, who had been standing nearby, noticed Mira’s expression and looked over.
Their faces changed instantly. Several bruises marked Seyra’s small back. Some were faint and yellowing, while others were darker, newer marks that stood out painfully against her thin skin.
The maids exchanged shocked glances, and Mira’s voice came trembled, "My lady..."
Seyra glanced over her shoulder. "What happened?"
No one answered.
The sudden silence made Seyra frown; she tried to turn around and look at her own back, but her small body simply refused to cooperate. She twisted as far as she could, caught absolutely nothing in her line of sight, and finally gave up.
She looked back at the maids.
"Am I too malnourished?"
Mira’s heart tightened, and for a moment, she didn’t know what to say. Then she forced a gentle smile and crouched beside the bath.
"You will be well fed soon, my lady. Once you eat properly and regain your strength, you’ll become healthier... and even more beautiful."
Seyra blinked, then she grinned. "Then I suppose living here really is a good idea."
The maids exchanged another glance. Mira gently began washing Seyra’s hair, while the others carefully cleaned her small arms and legs.
None of them mentioned the bruises again, but their movements became noticeably gentler and as Seyra happily played with the warm water, completely unaware of the worried looks being exchanged around her, Mira quietly made a decision.
Whatever had happened to this little girl before she entered House Veyrath... It would not happen again.
***
[House Veyrath—Azram Vaerum’s Chamber—Later]
Vaerum had barely finished wrapping a dark shawl around his shoulders when the doors to his chamber flew open.
TWIRRLLLL!!! TWIRLLL!!!
Vaerum lifted his eyes. Seyra came spinning into the chamber like a tiny tornado that had somehow learned how to walk.
"TA-DAAAAA!" She stopped directly in front of him, spread both arms dramatically, and lifted her chin. "Behold!!! At the most beautiful person you have ever seen!"
The hem of her new clothes swayed around her small legs. The outfit had been taken from Vaerum’s childhood wardrobe, though it had been altered to fit her. The dark fabric, embroidered with subtle bronze patterns and the crest of House Veyrath, made her look less like a noble lady and more like a miniature noble boy who had just escaped from a military academy.
The maids stood behind her, frozen.
None of them seemed to know whether they were allowed to laugh. Vaerum, however, merely stared; his silver eyes traveled from Seyra’s neatly combed hair to the oversized sleeves, then to the proud expression on her face. His face remained completely cold as he said, "Are you sure you’re a girl?"
Seyra’s smile vanished; she stared at him in disbelief. "What...!"
Vaerum calmly adjusted the shawl around his shoulders. "You entered my chamber spinning like a warrior celebrating victory; you might become dizzy."
Seyra narrowed her eyes at Vaerum, then she lifted her chin with great dignity. "I am the cutest girl in this entire empire."
Vaerum raised an eyebrow.
"Are you?"
"Yes."
"How did you determine that?"
"I just know that."
Vaerum stared at her for a moment. "That is not how beauty is determined."
"It is for me."
A tiny silence followed.
One of the maids looked dangerously close to laughing. Seyra pointed at Vaerum. "And don’t think your handsome face can defeat me."
Vaerum’s expression remained unchanged. "My face is not fighting you."
Vaerum looked at her for several seconds, then, without saying anything, he reached toward the bed and picked up a small shawl and casually wrapped the shawl around her shoulders.
Seyra looked down.
"You were standing there with your arms spread like a desert bird; you were making yourself cold."
She looked down at the shawl. It was warm, soft, and clearly expensive. Vaerum stepped back.
"Most little girls are afraid when they enter a strange place. They usually hide behind their father; they remain quiet. They cling to his clothes. They ask permission before touching anything."
He paused.
Seyra slowly looked up at him, and Vaerum sighed, his voice becoming quieter, almost like a tired father who had already accepted that peace was no longer part of his life.
"But you...I think I got the wrong daughter."
. . .
. . .
Seyra’s face immediately turned red and stomped after him, placing both hands on her hips.
"HEY! You should be grateful! You must have seen fragile girls all over the empire. Girls who cry when they see a beetle, girls who hide behind their fathers, girls who probably faint if someone raises their voice!"
Vaerum glanced down at her; Seyra pointed proudly at herself. "But I am different! You should be glad you didn’t get some fragile daughter."
Vaerum studied her for a long moment.
Then, without saying anything, he reached down and gently held one of her tiny fingers between his own. "You have a lot of energy for someone who has eaten almost nothing."
Seyra stared at him.
"You were the one arguing with me." She slipped her little hand free and began walking beside him as they headed toward the corridor.
Vaerum glanced down at her. "You need to eat properly. Just make sure you don’t gain so much weight that even the horses refuse to give you a ride."
Seyra stopped walking, and she stared at him in absolute disbelief. "...I chose the wrong person as my father."
Vaerum didn’t even slow his steps. "It’s too late now."
Their conversation continued as casually as though they had been father and daughter for years; neither seemed to notice the servants lining the corridor, or perhaps Vaerum simply didn’t care.
The servants, however, had stopped breathing.
They stared as their usually untouchable Azram walked through the manor beside a tiny girl wearing his childhood clothes, casually arguing with her as they headed toward the dining hall.
Captain Kharzen, standing farther down the corridor, watched them approach; his expression slowly changed.
Renn stood beside him; neither man spoke.
They simply watched the Azram of House Veyrath and his newly adopted daughter walk past them like the most ordinary father and daughter in the empire.
Kharzen finally turned his head toward Renn.
"...Is this really happening?"
Renn watched Seyra tug impatiently at Vaerum’s sleeve.
"Apparently."
And just like that, the most feared man in House Veyrath walked toward the dining hall with his tiny, troublesome daughter beside him.
For the first time in years, House Veyrath had gained something far more dangerous than an enemy.
A family.