The early morning air was thick with the scent of dew and freshly cut grass. Elias stood in the garden under Clara's watchful gaze, wobbling slightly as he gripped a short wooden stick—his "practice sword," carved by Albert weeks ago.
"Try again, Elias," Clara said gently. "Keep your feet steady."
Elias nodded, planting his feet wider apart. His motions were clumsy—expected for a child just past one—but there was something fierce in his eyes. He swung with careful determination, mimicking Erwin's movements from memory.
From a distance, Kaela watched with a smile. "He's going to be trouble when he grows up."
"Just like Erwin," Clara replied, laughter in her voice. "Or worse."
By midmorning, Erwin had returned from town with Milo and Rika in tow. The trio collapsed under the tree in the front yard, their chatter loud and full of energy. Milo talked about a traveling merchant who'd shown him a dagger, while Rika complained about her tutor's endless lessons.
Elias, overhearing, toddled over with curious steps. Rika looked down and waved. "Hey there, little fox," she teased, kneeling to ruffle his hair.
"He's been practicing," Erwin said proudly. "Like us."
Milo smirked. "Give him five years. Then maybe he'll beat Rika."
Rika scoffed. "He'd have to beat me first."
Laughter filled the air. For a moment, things felt light.
But later that day, Lucan returned from the forest, his cloak damp and boots muddy. His jaw was tense, and he said little during supper. Elias, perched in his high chair, stared at him silently. Something was… off.
"Everything alright out there?" Albert asked.
Lucan nodded. "The usual. Animal tracks, broken trees. Might just be a storm's aftermath."
Albert didn't press, but Kaela's expression darkened. That night, she spoke with Clara while the children slept.
"He's hiding something," Kaela whispered. "He's trained, but he's not just Survey Corps. The sigil on his cloak doesn't match any I've seen."
Clara hesitated. "He's helped Albert. Maybe that's enough."
"Maybe," Kaela replied, unconvinced.
In the middle of the night, Elias stirred in his crib. A noise—soft, almost deliberate—echoed near the window. He pulled himself up and peeked through the slats. A shadow moved across the grass.
It wasn't Lucan this time.
Something was out there.
Something watching.
The night offered no answers. But morning would come, and with it, more questions.