"Misses, dinner is ready," Alfred said, coming to inform them. They had been chatting and had forgotten about Alfred's delicious meals.
No wonder Ivy heard a rumbling sound from her stomach, but she ignored it because the conversation was too interesting.
Aura and her friends followed Alfred to the dining area, where her parents were already seated, waiting for them to arrive.
A wave of silence always seemed to precede across the threshold of the dining room, a velvet hush that swallowed the sounds of the bustling kitchen just beyond the swinging door.
The room was perpetually bathed in a rich, warm gloom, even at noon. This was thanks to the heavy, floor-length cranberry-colored draperies that flanked a single arched window, filtering the sunlight into long, dusty yellow spears. It was a space built not for bright modernity, but for solid, ancestral gravity.
Dominating the center was the great mahogany table, a magnificent brute of wood polished to a mirror shine. It reflected the dancing light from the heavy brass chandelier suspended above it—an ornate piece with a dozen fake candles and a spiderweb of actual cobwebs in its upper reaches. The table's surface bore the ghostly indentation of every holiday elbow and every spilled glass of wine over the last thirty years, a topographical map of family history sealed beneath a thick coat of varnish.
Against the far wall, the china cabinet stood like a sentinel. Its glass doors framed a glittering, silent museum: stacks of gold-rimmed plates that were too delicate to ever be used, a cut-crystal decanter shimmering with the memory of amber liquid, and a regiment of tiny, hand-painted teacups.
You could almost hear the faint, delicate chime of them knocking together as you walked past. The scent here was a complex blend of old dust, a very faint hint of lemon polish, and the dry, papery smell of linen stored in the sideboard beneath.
The eight dining chairs were tall and formal, upholstered in a faded, seafoam green damask that caught the light differently in every fold. They looked stiff, designed more for sitting upright and discussing serious matters than for sprawling after a big meal, yet the worn patches on the armrests told a different story of quiet, late-night confessions.
A grand oil portrait—a stern-looking man who is Aura's great-grandfather—stared perpetually down from the wall, his gaze following you with a silent, judging intensity.
The entire room felt like a sanctuary to tradition, a place where time didn't move so much as it settled, layer upon heavy layer, making the air feel weighty and significant.
"Dad, we were—"
"No need to explain," Mr Zelda cut his daughter off before she could finish. He looked genuinely happy, like the happiest man on Earth. Though his other daughter was away, the older one had returned safe and sound, and he had reason to celebrate.
"Mr Zelda, you seem very happy. I remember those weekends we used to visit; even though you were fine, something seemed missing in your eyes. Now that she's here, we need to celebrate," Wren remarked, speaking what was on the man's mind.
"Dad..." Aura started to fill his glass.
"Aura, no need," Mr Zelda said, as Ambrose filled their glasses for them.
Astrid watched her husband. He hadn't changed much, and she loved his appearance. He always tried to make her believe that good health was the key to staying together.
"You guys seem like you're not going back," Astrid observed.
"I'm not leaving," Ivy replied, raising her left hand in affirmation.
"As for me, I'll go and come back. I have to ensure that the factory is running smoothly," Wren said, sounding bored. She didn't want to leave Aura's side, but the situation at the factory required her skills. It was no wonder her dad never let her be free when she turned twenty.
Wren was the eldest daughter of her parents. Like Aura, they were just two sisters. Her younger sister was never eager to take the initiative and always relied on Wren for help.
As the first daughter, Wren's father had trained her to carve shapes out of wood. Theirs was different from the Zeldas. Wren's factory was into all kinds of wooden tools. And she loved to carve.
Ever since she turned twenty, her father had not left her side, always at the factory helping her bring different designs to life. She was a talented inventor, and when she wasn't with her friends, she was at the factory.
Her father was proud of her. It was a family thing, and they all had to follow. Though she was always there, she enjoyed it. Being the head and usually bringing out new Ideas, it made her feel open about her likes.
Her father would soon go on retirement, and she would be in control.
She loved it.
"Dad, I want to take over," Aura suddenly declared.
Ambrose beamed with pride; he knew his daughter well. After going through their experiences in A City, he was confident she was ready to handle the company.
"But your dad hasn't retired yet," Astrid interjected. She understood what was going through her daughter's mind but wanted her to stay close. Besides, Ambrose was fit and strong; she needed Aura around now that Arden was away at school.
"Mom, why not?" Aura replied without hesitation.
"I want you around," Astrid insisted.
Aura smiled but wasn't finished.
"Mom, you don't stay home either. You have your own business to run. What do you need me for?"
None of them was this one free. They all had something doing. Astrid had her fashion company that Arden would take over. This was the reason why Aura did not get to be with them whilst growing up. Astrid especially, always on a fashion show, giving out orders and new designs.
She was a piece on her own.
"Of course, I need you to go out, have some fun, and do girlish stuff," Astrid said, causing Wren and Ivy to cough in surprise.
Ambrose let out a hearty laugh.
"What's wrong with what I said? Is wanting to spend time with my daughter a sin?"
At that moment, Astrid looked almost childlike as everyone, including Aura, laughed at her.
"She wants to take over for me. She's not going to another country. Besides, Arden will be back very soon," Ambrose told his wife.
"Arden will be back in two months. She'll even make you regret having her around," Aura reminded her mother.
It seemed Astrid had forgotten about her younger daughter, Arden Zelda, who was always causing trouble. This was why Ambrose had decided to enrol her in a boarding school.
"That troublesome girl!" Astrid exclaimed. How Arden used to make her shout up and down. That girl had some relentless energy nobody possessed. She would always make Astrid chase after her.
"She's your daughter," Aura teased.
"Dad, I'm ready for this," Aura reiterated.
"I learned a lot when I was in A City."
"I know, but let me discuss this with the board of directors first."
"Alright," Aura replied, feeling hopeful.