CHAPTER 430: ’LETTER FROM A DUKE.’

Florian grabbed the stack of letters handed to him that morning, the seal of each duke unmistakable on their envelopes. His expression soured the moment he saw the names Alexandrius and Alaric scrawled on two of them. Without hesitation, he scoffed and tossed those aside with a sharp flick of his wrist.

He wasn’t in the mood to read empty words from men he didn’t trust.

But one letter caught his attention—a finely pressed envelope bearing the crest of House Skyshroud.

"Duke Elara?" he murmured, brows knitting slightly. He recalled her telling him, before the summit had ended, that she had something in mind for him. A task, if memory served right.

’I wonder what she meant by that...’ the thought lingered, brushing against the haze of exhaustion still clinging to his mind.

Curiosity piqued, he carefully tore the envelope open.

To His Highness, Prince Florian,

I hope this letter finds you safely, though I write it with a heavy heart upon hearing the distressing news of your recent kidnapping and the ordeal that followed. I cannot begin to fathom the trauma you’ve endured, but please know that my thoughts have been with you since the moment I was informed. May you find peace, strength, and comfort as you recover—at your own pace and in your own time.

Florian blinked, caught off guard by the genuine tone of the opening lines. His fingers tightened around the letter slightly.

Azure, who had been quietly perched on his shoulder, tilted his small head with a curious chirp.

"Kraa?"

Florian turned his head to the blue dragon and gave him a small smile. "Shh. I need to read this first, Azure," he whispered, gently patting the top of his companion’s head.

His eyes returned to the letter as he continued.

Now, forgive me for not lingering too long in pleasantries, but I will not beat around the bush either.

That made Florian exhale a small laugh. ’Of course she wouldn’t.’ He admired that about Elara—no unnecessary flattery, no shallow words. Just intention.

The true reason I write today is also to speak of a matter I had hoped to entrust to you—a task that, truthfully, I have not met anyone who could accomplish. After witnessing your conduct during the recent summit, I must say I was thoroughly impressed. Your sharp wit, composed demeanor, and natural intuition left a lasting impression, not only on me, but on several of the other dukes as well.

I believe you are the right person for this task.

Of course, I understand you are still recovering, and I have no intention of rushing you. Consider this letter an open door. When you feel strong enough, when your heart is steady and your mind clear—write to me. I will have everything ready by then.

Florian’s lips parted slightly, surprised at the earnest praise. He read the next line aloud under his breath, almost unconsciously.

"If you choose to accept and should you succeed, I assure you there will be a reward befitting your effort. One not only of gold, but perhaps of something far more valuable—recognition, and a favor from House Skyshroud."

A reward.

His thoughts swirled as he exhaled slowly.

Take all the time you need, Prince Florian. The task will wait.

With sincerity and patience,Duke Elara Skyshroud.

Florian set the letter down on his lap, staring at it for a moment as if expecting the words to rearrange themselves into something less surreal.

"A reward, hm?" he murmured, glancing at Azure, who stared back with those inquisitive eyes, still nestled comfortably on his shoulder. "What do you think, Azure? It seems interesting, right?"

The little dragon gave a soft trill.

From what he remembered of Elara—and from what he’d seen—she seemed to be the most level-headed and even-tempered among the dukes. Unlike the others, she hadn’t spoken down to him. She hadn’t dismissed him.

She had seen him.

Not just the prince in the king’s harem, but Florian. And that alone made him pause.

"Elara was also close to Anastasia," he murmured, fingers idly running along the edge of the parchment. "Even so, she supported Hendrix, not Heinz. Which means... she’s not exactly predictable."

And Florian had learned, the hard way, that his judgment of character wasn’t always as sharp as he liked to believe.

’Still... maybe I could ask Heinz about it. Once he’s back.’

The letter remained on his lap as his gaze wandered toward the window, sunlight filtering in through the soft curtains.

He placed the letter gently back onto the stack, ignoring the others. Their words could wait. Their motives could wait.

"I guess... that’s another thing I have to figure out," he said quietly.

Azure purred against his neck, and Florian reached up, scratching beneath his chin.

As soon as Florian’s thoughts began to settle, the door creaked open behind him.

He turned his head slightly, expecting a maid perhaps—but instead, he saw Cashew stepping into the room, arms barely able to carry the small mountain of folded clothes he held. The boy’s purple eyes were bright and careful as always.

And along with him...

A flurry of familiar pastel colors danced through the air.

"Oh, my little butterflies!" Florian exclaimed with sudden joy, immediately pushing himself up from the bed in excitement—only for a sharp, shooting pain to remind him of his still-sore body.

"Fuck. Bad idea," he hissed under his breath, collapsing back onto the mattress with a wince, hands clutching the sheets.

"Your Highness!" Cashew cried, rushing forward with the bundle of clothes still in his arms. Behind him, the butterflies fluttered frantically around Florian, their wings glowing softly in the light of the room.

Florian gave an awkward little laugh as he sat upright more slowly this time. "Haha... yes, yes, I’m okay. I just... have an aching back."

He grimaced a bit, glancing at Cashew’s worried face.

’Shit, that sounded so suspicious.’ His smile twitched. ’I don’t need him to worry or ask about my condition.’

Especially when the condition was caused by a certain king.

He patted the boy’s shoulder lightly. "Really, no need to worry."

Cashew wasn’t convinced. His eyes were wide and uncertain. "A-Are you sure? Do you want me to call Sir Lysander?"

Florian quickly shook his head. "No, no, I swear. I’m fine. Just a little sore." He paused. "Slept weird."

Before Cashew could question that flimsy excuse any further, the butterflies swooped in with excitement, flapping their wings near Florian’s face in a fluttery whirlwind of blue hues. He giggled, squirming a little at the ticklish sensation as their delicate wings brushed his cheeks.

"Ack—! Haha, okay, okay—I see you guys missed me too."

They danced around him, almost shimmering with joy, their tiny forms pulsing with a soft, magical glow. One landed on his hair, another on his hand, wings twitching with delight.

Florian’s smile softened, genuine warmth flooding his chest. "Twinkle, Dewdrop, Shimmie, Blinky, Mimiwing..." He pointed to each butterfly as he said their names, recognizing them by the faint patterns on their wings.

But then his hand paused in mid-air.

He frowned, eyes narrowing as he looked over the group again.

"...Wait."

He looked at the butterflies, then back at Cashew.

The mood shifted.

With wide eyes, voice dropping to a more serious, quieter tone, he asked:

"Where’s Luluwing?"