The morning sun rose over the vast empire of Eidenbrook, casting golden light across its sprawling territories. This was a nation renowned throughout the realm for its military might and unwavering strength. It's a land where power was not merely displayed but lived and breathed in every corner.
At the heart of this formidable empire stood the imperial court in Calcara, the glittering capital city where the king and the royal family resided in their magnificent palace. From this seat of power, the kingdom's laws flowed outward like rivers, binding the four great provinces together under one banner.
But the true strength of Eidenbrook lay not just in its royal court, but in the four noble houses that governed its four provinces. These families were the iron pillars upon which the empire rested, equally feared and revered across the land.
The northern province, with its capital city of Varsilia, belonged to House Drakmir. The southern province, whose jeweled capital was Celestia, answered to House Aurelius. The eastern province, centered in the bustling city of Osmania, was ruled by House Valefort. And the western province, with the mysterious city of Irisia as its heart, was governed by House Nightveil.
Each of these four provinces was ruled by a general who held absolute authority over their lands. These were no mere noblemen. They were warriors, strategists, and leaders whose very names commanded respect and instilled fear. The imperial court itself had placed its complete trust in these four houses, for they had proven their loyalty and strength time and again.
Among these four generals, one stood apart, not for his age, but for the legend that had already begun to form around him despite his youth.
General Leonhart Valefort.
At only twenty years of age, Leonhart was the youngest of the four generals, yet none dared question his position as the iron-blooded ruler of the eastern province. On the battlefield, he was a monster. A force of nature that left destruction in his wake. His soldiers spoke of him in hushed, reverent tones. His enemies whispered his name with dread.
He was a master of martial arts, unmatched in hand-to-hand combat, deadly with a sword, and possessed a strategic mind as sharp as any blade. His physical strength was legendary, raw, brutal power that seemed almost inhuman. But perhaps most intimidating of all was the cold aura that surrounded him, an invisible wall that kept everyone at a distance.
Leonhart Valefort was completely unapproachable.
Yet beneath that frozen exterior beat a heart of gold. His sense of justice and honor ran deep, and he would never raise his hand against the innocent. Despite his iron rule, he cared deeply for his subjects, though he was hopelessly bad at showing it. Under his governance, the eastern province thrived. Not a single person suffered unjustly under his watch.
His appearance is just as magnificent and majestic. Standing at six feet three inches tall with broad shoulders and an athletic, powerfully muscular physique, Leonhart cut an imposing figure. Long midnight-black hair fell to his lower back, with straight bangs framing his strikingly sharp, handsome, and aristocratic face. His sharp, piercing golden eyes seemed to see through everything, and his facial features were carved with aristocratic precision. Strong muscles rippled beneath his military uniform, testament to the raw brute strength he possessed.
He was elegant, refined, and devastatingly handsome. A fact that made his complete lack of social warmth all the more frustrating to those around him.
________________________________________________________________________
It was an ordinary day in the eastern province. The city of Osmania bustled with activity as it always does every morning. Merchants called out their wares, children ran through the streets laughing, and soldiers marched in formation through the main thoroughfares.
General Leonhart Valefort rode through the streets on his massive black horse, his posture perfect, his expression as cold and unreadable as always. People quickly moved aside, bowing deeply as he passed. None dared meet his piercing golden gaze.
He had a simple errand today. Visiting the tailor shop he occasionally patronized. The establishment was run by a poor but skilled middle-aged tailor who had been making clothes for House Valefort for several years. The shop itself was modest, tucked away on a quieter street, but the craftsmanship was excellent.
As he came accross the shop, Leonhart dismounted gracefully and tied his horse outside. The familiar wooden sign creaked slightly in the morning breeze. Without hesitation, he pushed open the door and stepped inside.
The moment he crossed the threshold, he stopped.
Sitting in a chair at the corner of the shop was a young girl he had never seen before. She was completely absorbed in her work, carefully sewing a piece of cloth while humming a beautiful, innocent melody. The soft tune filled the small space with unexpected warmth.
She looked young. Perhaps fifteen or sixteen years old at most.
Leonhart's sharp golden eyes widened as he stared at her, his breath catching in his throat.
She is beautiful.
Not in the practiced, polished way of noble ladies or the provocative manner of women seeking attention. No. Her beauty was something else entirely. It was innocent, sweet, pure. Utterly untainted.
Long, wavy honey-brown hair cascaded to her waist like a waterfall of silk. Soft bangs framed an innocent, sweet face with delicate features that seemed almost ethereal. Her skin was pale and fair, her cheeks naturally rosy, her lips a soft pink that looked as delicate as flower petals.
But it was her eyes that truly captivated him.
Large, warm, soulful light blue eyes framed by long, thick dark lashes gazed down at her work with a dreamy innocence that made his heart clench. Those eyes were full of youthful sweetness, completely unguarded, reflecting a soul that knew nothing of the world's cruelty.
She was slim and petite, almost delicate in her build. She wore a faded, patched blue dress, which was clearly well-worn but clean and modest. Its skirt falling just above her ankles. Despite its poor condition, the dress clung to her petite frame in a way that highlighted beautiful, modest, youthful curves. Her shoes were worn, showing clear signs of poverty.
Yet despite the evidence of her humble circumstances, her innocent, pure beauty was undeniable and radiant, like a wildflower growing in a forgotten field, beautiful simply because it existed.
Leonhart felt his heart begin to race.
He had never seen her here before. In all his visits to this shop, she had never been present. And she was the most beautiful girl he had ever laid eyes on.
She looked so innocent, so sweet, so completely lost in her work and her gentle humming. She was so small and delicate. She wouldn't even reach his chest if she stood beside him. Her pale, fair, soft skin looked so fragile that he feared it might bruise if touched carelessly.
Her small, delicate body was a stark, almost startling contrast to his own tall, strong, rock-hard muscular physique. Standing near her, he would look like a brute, a monster beside a fairy.
Those soft pink lips and rosy cheeks made her look even cuter, and his heart raced faster with each passing second.
She is so cute.
So adorable.
So beautiful.
He couldn't look away.
In his dazed state, entranced by this vision before him, Leonhart took a step forward, and the old wooden floor creaked loudly under his heavy boots.
The sudden sound startled the girl. Her head snapped up instantly, and the moment her innocent blue eyes met his sharp golden gaze, they widened in surprise.
A deep blush spread across her cheeks as she took in his handsome appearance. She abruptly stood up, the motion so hasty that the chair nearly toppled backward. She caught it at the last second, then bowed clumsily, her voice soft and sweet as she stammered, "W-welcome to our shop, sir! Please come in!"
Leonhart's heart raced even faster, this time with amused affection.
She is an airhead. A complete, adorable airhead.
And her voice is so sweet. Just like honey and sunshine mixed together.
He wanted to say something kind to her. He wanted to ease the nervousness he could see in her trembling hands. He wanted to make her smile.
But true to his intimidating personality, the words that came out were entirely different.
He glared at her and said coldly in his smooth, deep, velvety voice, "You should pay more attention to people around you, girl."
The words were harsh, spoken out of pure habit. The automatic response of someone who had spent years maintaining an iron exterior.
She flinched visibly at his tone, her shoulders drawing in slightly. Then she said softly, apologetically, "I am really sorry, sir. It won't happen again."
Her innocent, sincere apology made his heart clench painfully with guilt.
Damn it!
She is so sweet, so genuinely apologetic for something that isn't even her fault. Why am I getting angry at her? She has done nothing wrong. She was simply working, lost in her own little world.
Before he could say anything else, before he could attempt to soften his words or explain himself, the tailor emerged from the small room adjacent to the shop. And the moment the middle-aged man saw Leonhart standing in his shop, his face went pale as snow. He bowed so deeply his forehead nearly touched his knees.
"Lord Valefort! Good morning! What an honor to have you here. Welcome, my lord!"
Leonhart's expression remained cold and impassive. "Hm. Good morning."
Behind him, he heard a sharp intake of breath.
The girl's breath had hitched audibly. "Lord Valefort?" she whispered, barely audible.
He is a Valefort?
Leonhart felt her gaze on him and turned his sharp golden eyes back to her. The moment he saw her innocent face again, his gaze softened slightly, though to anyone else, it still looked like a terrifying glare.
She blushed even more deeply and shyly lowered her gaze, unable to meet his eyes. Her innocent heart raced in her chest.
He is so handsome...
Leonhart's heart melted into a puddle of tender affection at her shy reaction.
She is so shy, so cute, so utterly innocent.
He was completely smitten.
In that single moment, standing in that humble tailor shop, General Leonhart Valefort, the iron-blooded ruler of the eastern province, the monster of the battlefield, the man feared across the empire, fell deeply, madly, hopelessly in love with her at first sight, giving his heart to her completely and irrevocably.
The tailor followed Leonhart's intense gaze and looked at the girl. His eyes widened slightly, and then, completely misunderstanding the situation, his expression shifted to one of alarm.
He snapped at the girl sharply, "Idiot! What did you do? Do you even know who he is? He is Lord Leonhart Valefort, the general of this province! And you managed to offend him on your very third day here?!"
The girl flinched as if struck, her eyes going wide with distress. She bowed clumsily, her voice trembling as she said, "I am sorry! Please forgive me!"
Leonhart's eyes widened, and his heart clenched painfully in his chest.
No.
She doesn't deserve to be scolded. She has done absolutely nothing wrong. The fault, if there is any, lay entirely with me for speaking so harshly.
He opened his mouth to say exactly that, to defend her, to make it clear that she was blameless.
But before he could form the words, the tailor placed a gentle hand on the girl's head, ruffling her hair in a manner that was both scolding and deeply affectionate. He turned to Leonhart and said earnestly, "Please forgive her rudeness, my lord. She is a foolish child. She doesn't know how to behave properly yet. But she is a good kid. Truly, she is. Please forgive her."
Leonhart blinked, momentarily thrown off balance.
He wanted to say that she had done nothing wrong. He wanted to make it clear that there was nothing to forgive.
But all that came out was a noncommittal, "Hmm."
The tailor turned back to the girl and said, "Why are you standing there like an idiot?! Go bring tea for his lordship!"
The girl flinched again, bowed hastily, and squeaked, "Right away!"
With that, she hurried through the doorway into the small room adjacent to the shop, presumably, the room where the tailor stays.
The moment she disappeared from view, Leonhart felt a sharp pang of disappointment pierce through him. He wanted her to stay. He wanted to keep looking at her, to hear her sweet voice again, to see that adorable blush on her cheeks.
After she was gone, the tailor quickly pulled out the best chair in the shop, still humble by noble standards, but clearly the finest piece of furniture the small establishment possessed.
"Please, my lord. Sit down."
Leonhart sat, though his sharp golden eyes remained fixed on the doorway through which the girl had disappeared. Even seated, his posture was perfect, his presence commanding.
After a moment of silence, he asked, his tone carefully neutral, "Who is that girl? I haven't seen her around here before. A new worker?"
The tailor smiled, a fond expression crossing his weathered face. "She is Aurora, my niece. She arrived in Osmania just three days ago from a border village. She's quite good at sewing. I can teach her the work myself, and she can help me here in the shop."
Aurora.
Leonhart's heart raced at the name.
Even her name is cute, soft and gentle like the dawn.
He kept his expression carefully neutral as he said, "I see. And how old is your niece?"
"She is sixteen, my lord."
Sixteen.
So young. No wonder she radiates such innocent purity. She is four years younger than me. A perfect age difference.
His heart skipped a beat, but his face remained impassive. "She is of marriageable age. Is she married or promised to anyone?"
The tailor blinked, clearly surprised by the question. He hesitated for just a moment before answering, "No, my lord. She is not married, nor is she promised to anyone. Her parents are poor. They cannot afford a proper dowry, so there has been no talk of marriage proposals. And..." he chuckled fondly, "she is too childish and clumsy, unlike other women her age. Not exactly what most men are looking for in a wife."
Leonhart's heart leaped with relief, though his expression betrayed nothing.
Good.
She is not taken. She belongs to no one. Which meant I can have her all to myself.
"I see," he said simply, his tone giving nothing away.
Meanwhile,
In the small kitchen in the room, Aurora carefully prepared the tea. Her hands trembled slightly as she worked, and her cheeks remained flushed a deep pink.
Her heart was still racing wildly in her chest.
So that handsome young man is General Leonhart Valefort?
She had heard stories about him, of course. Everyone in the eastern province knew of their young, powerful general. Tales of his strength, his strategic brilliance, his iron rule. But this was her first time seeing him in person.
And she had never, ever imagined he would be so handsome.
She had never seen anyone so beautiful in her entire life. His sharp, aristocratic features, his long black hair, his tall, powerful build. Everything about him seemed almost unreal, like a prince from one of the fairy tales her mother used to tell her.
But most of all, his eyes.
Those beautiful golden eyes.
They were like warm sunlight, beautiful and mesmerizing and utterly captivating.
Aurora's innocent young heart raced as she thought about him, and her cheeks flushed an even deeper shade of pink.
Then embarrassment washed over her as she remembered how she had completely ignored him when he first entered the shop. She had been so absorbed in her sewing and humming that she hadn't noticed him at all.
I'm so stupid!
She shook her head, trying to focus on her task. Carefully, she prepared the tea, making sure it was perfect. She placed the steaming cup on a small wooden tray and took a deep breath to calm her racing heart.
Then, with as much composure as she could muster, she stepped out of the kitchen.
The moment Aurora stepped through the doorway carrying the tray with the cup of steaming tea, Leonhart's eyes immediately fell on her.
And they softened instantly, though to anyone else they would still appear intense and piercing.
When her innocent blue eyes met his sharp golden gaze, her cheeks flushed that adorable pink again. Her innocent young heart raced wildly, and she shyly lowered her gaze, unable to maintain eye contact.
Leonhart felt a smirk tug at the corner of his lips, completely smitten with her shy reaction. His heart melted with tender affection.
She's shy.
I will see just how shy she can get when I marry her.
Aurora timidly approached him, her steps careful and measured. She stopped beside the small table near his chair and said softly, shyly, "Your tea, my lord."
She placed the cup carefully on the table, her movements gentle and precise.
"Thank you," he said, deliberately softening his tone.
Her heart fluttered at the slight warmth in his voice. She blushed deeply and smiled shyly as she said softly, "You are welcome."
She smiled at me.
Leonhart's heart skipped several beats. She looked even more beautiful when she smiled. Radiant, like the sun breaking through clouds.
But he said nothing, simply lifted the cup and drank the tea, maintaining his usual stoic composure even as his heart raced beneath his ribs.
After he finished, he set the cup down carefully and stood to his full, imposing height. He turned to the tailor and said, "I need a new ceremonial uniform by the end of this month. I am here to give my measurements."
The tailor nodded quickly. "Of course, sir."
He picked up the measurement tape from a nearby shelf and approached Leonhart, ready to begin his work.
But Leonhart held up one hand, stopping him.
"No. Not you."
The tailor blinked, confused. "My lord?"
Leonhart turned his sharp golden gaze directly toward Aurora, who stood a few feet away, and said clearly, "Come here. You will take my measurements."
The words hung in the air like a thunderclap.
Both Aurora and her uncle froze, their eyes widening in shock.
Aurora blinked rapidly, her voice barely a whisper. "Me?"
The tailor stared at Leonhart, clearly startled by this unusual request. "My lord, she is inexperienced. She will make mistakes—"
"She will do." Leonhart's tone was firm, leaving absolutely no room for argument. "She is working here. She should learn."
His heart was racing wildly beneath his carefully controlled exterior. He simply wanted her close to him. He wanted to feel her presence, to see her up close, to watch that adorable blush spread across her cheeks again.
But his expression remained cold and commanding.
The tailor hesitated for only a moment before nodding respectfully. "Yes, my lord."
He turned to Aurora and handed her the measurement tape. "Here. Go, child. Do what Lord Valefort asks you to do."
Aurora's cheeks flushed deeply. She felt incredibly shy, almost overwhelmed by the thought of standing so close to him. Her innocent young heart pounded against her ribs.
But she took the measurement tape from her uncle with trembling fingers and timidly stepped forward.
As she came to stand directly in front of him, Aurora's breath hitched audibly.
He was so tall. So big. So impossibly powerful.
His elegant black military uniform, perfectly tailored and immaculately maintained, did nothing to conceal the powerfully muscular body beneath it. The brute strength in his frame was undeniable. She could see it in the breadth of his shoulders, the thickness of his arms, the solid wall of his chest.
She didn't even reach his chest. Standing this close to him, she felt impossibly small, delicate, fragile.
And he was so handsome it almost hurt to look at him.
She shyly raised her eyes to his face and said softly, "Um... I will take your measurements now. So please stand still."
Leonhart's heart melted into absolute puddle of affection at how sweet she was, how earnest and innocent.
He said calmly, his deep voice carefully controlled, "I am standing."
Her blush deepened to a shade of pink that rivaled roses.
She began her work.
And Leonhart's heart raced wildly as he looked down at her, watching her every movement with barely concealed fascination.
She is so beautiful. So cute. So shy. So innocent.
That sweet blush on her cheeks is making her look even more adorable than before.
And she is so small, so delicate, so fragile compared to me
But he forced himself to stand perfectly still, not wanting to make her more nervous than she already was.
Aurora held the tape up with trembling fingers, measuring his shoulder width first. His shoulders were broad, powerfully muscular, carved with the kind of strength that came from years of training and battle.
With burning cheeks, she carefully noted the measurement.
Then she moved to his side and wrapped the tape around his strong, muscular arm.
Her breath hitched again.
His arm was like steel. Strong, muscular, rock-solid, rippling with raw brute strength even through the fabric of his uniform.
Her blush deepened even further, and she timidly wrote down the measurement of his arm, her handwriting slightly shaky.
Next, she measured the length of his arm, her movements careful and precise despite her nervousness.
Leonhart watched her the entire time with an amused, deeply affectionate smirk playing at the corners of his lips.
She is adorable. Innocent, pure, sweet. Completely untainted by the world.
Perfect for me to marry.
With her heart racing so loudly she was certain he could hear it, Aurora timidly picked up the tape again to measure his chest.
This was the part she had been dreading.
Her cheeks flushed bright red as she shyly looked up at him and said timidly, "My lord... um..."
He lifted his arms slightly to give her better access and said calmly, "Go on. Continue."
Her blush deepened impossibly further.
She carefully wrapped the tape around his chest, trying to maintain some distance—
"Why are you standing so far away as if measuring a bush?" His cool voice cut through her thoughts. "Step closer."
She flinched and squeaked, "Y-yes!"
And immediately stepped much closer, close enough that she could feel the heat radiating from his powerful body, close enough to catch the faint scent of leather and steel and something indefinably masculine.
She adjusted the tape around his chest with shaking hands, acutely aware of how solid and broad his chest was, how strong and unyielding.
She wrote down the measurement with burning cheeks, certain her face must be as red as a tomato by now.
Then she measured his waist, and finally the length of the coat, writing down each measurement carefully despite her trembling hands.
The entire time, she kept her gaze shyly downcast, unable to meet his eyes for fear she might simply combust from embarrassment.
Finally she finished.
Aurora immediately stepped back, putting distance between them, and said breathlessly, "I'm done, my lord."
Leonhart looked down at her with that same amused, affectionate smirk and said smoothly, "You missed one."
She blinked up at him in confusion. "Missed?"
His smirk deepened, his heart racing with tender love for this adorable, innocent girl. "My heartbeat."
Her innocent blue eyes widened. "Your... heartbeat?"
"Yes." His golden eyes held hers captive. "You missed my heartbeat. If only you could measure how fast it is."
He paused deliberately, letting the words sink in.
"And it's because of you."
Aurora's blush deepened to a shade of crimson that spread from her cheeks down her neck. She shyly lowered her gaze, unable to form words, her heart pounding so wildly she thought it might burst from her chest.
Leonhart smirked, feeling utterly satisfied and completely smitten with her.
She is adorable.
He turned to the tailor, his expression shifting back to his usual cold, commanding demeanor. "That's it. Ensure the ceremonial uniform is flawless. Make it simple. Elegant. No unnecessary decoration. And make sure to deliver it by the end of this month."
The tailor nodded quickly. "Of course, my lord. It will be exactly as you wish."
Leonhart nodded once in acknowledgment.
Then he looked back at Aurora, who still stood there nervously, her cheeks flushed that adorable shade of pink.
His eyes softened noticeably as he said, his tone calm yet unmistakably smooth and flirtatious, "And you. You will come to deliver it to me yourself. Got it, Aurora?"
She blinked up at him, her eyes wide. "Me?"
He allowed himself a faint smirk. "Yes. You."
She blushed deeply and looked at her uncle uncertainly.
The tailor blinked in surprise. "My lord, that won't be necessary. I can deliver it myself, as I always do—"
"No." Leonhart's tone was firm, brooking no argument. "She took my measurements. She knows the fit. If there are adjustments needed, she should see them herself."
It was a flimsy excuse and they all knew it. But his commanding presence and unyielding tone made it impossible to refuse.
The tailor hesitated, then slowly nodded. "Of course, my lord. If that is your wish."
Aurora's blush deepened even further. She shyly nodded and said softly, "Yes, my lord. I will deliver it."
Leonhart felt a surge of victory rush through him.
She said yes.
I will get to see her again. I have ensured it.
But he masked his feelings perfectly behind his usual stoic expression and said simply, "Good."
With that, he turned on his heel and strode toward the door, his long black hair swaying slightly with the movement, his military boots echoing against the wooden floor.
He stepped out into the morning sunlight and closed the door behind him.
Inside the shop, Aurora stood frozen in place, still blushing adorably.
Her innocent heart raced wildly in her chest, and her thoughts swirled in delightful chaos.
Lord Leonhart Valefort.
He is so handsome. His voice is so deep and beautiful, smooth like silk. And he speaks in such a cool, refined manner. It makes my heart flutter.
But most of all, his eyes.
Those beautiful golden eyes that looked like warm sunlight.
I have never seen anything so beautiful in my entire life.
Aurora's innocent young heart raced faster, and despite her best efforts to control it, a shy, dreamy, lovestruck, completely smitten smile tugged at her lips.
I want to see him again.
Outside, Leonhart mounted his massive black horse with practiced ease. The animal shifted beneath him, sensing his mood.
As he took up the reins and began riding back toward the Valefort mansion, his cheeks were slightly flushed. A rare occurrence for the usually stone-faced general.
And his heart was racing.
Aurora.
She is so beautiful and cute. So innocent, sweet, and shy. So pure, so untainted, so perfect.
He had fallen deeply, hopelessly, madly in love with her at first sight.
And he wanted her as his. His woman. His wife.
And he would make her his.
Because once Leonhart Valefort set his eyes on something he wanted, he would have it for certain.
Nothing, and no one, would stand in his way.
The general had found his heart's desire.
And the world would soon learn that when the iron-blooded ruler of the eastern province claimed something as his own, it was his forever.
...............End of Chapter 1.............