The gentle breeze of the morning brushed past his face, carrying the lingering scent of breakfast.
The fragrance of tea hung thick in the air—aromatic, but not overwhelming.
Pleasant.
A wide balcony overlooked the courtyard training ground below, where armored knights clashed in drills under the rising sun.
Despite the steel ringing and orders being shouted, this place—this pavilion set on green grass, ringed with flowers—felt untouched by the chaos beneath.
Damon sat calmly, a teacup in hand, his eyes fixed on the chessboard before him.
The board wasn't standard. Each piece was a carved figure: dragons, elves, fae, centaurs… even demons.
Every piece had its own unique movement set.
And while Damon was holding his own… he was losing.
His opponent was simply too good.
The Grand Duke smiled faintly. Damon had put up an impressive fight for someone so young.
Truth be told, he could've ended the game from the very beginning—but he wanted it to last a little longer.
