Tick… tock… goes the clock.
Cuckoo man,
tick tock,
tick tock.
What do you hear?
Could it be…
your end is near?
Antonio
The small cottage smelled of bread and roasted meat when Antonio stepped through the door.
Matilda stood at the table cutting thick slices while Bob hovered nearby, polishing the same cup he had already polished twice. The two of them had served Antonio since the day he was knighted four years earlier. In truth, they ran the little household better than he ever could. “I received a letter from the Capp house,” Antonio said as he removed his gloves.
Matilda glanced up immediately.
Bob stopped polishing.
“That is not a house that sends letters to small knights,” Matilda said carefully.
Antonio placed the folded parchment on the table.
“That’s what concerns me.”
Matilda pushed a chair back and sat down across from him, “Do you know what they want?”
Antonio shook his head. “Only that Grand Duke Tybalt Capp has requested my presence.”
Across the room, Jessica kicked happily on her play mat, completely unaware that the adults had suddenly gone quiet.
Matilda glanced over at the baby before returning her attention to Antonio.
“Politics,” she muttered.
On the floor nearby, Gia sat cross-legged stacking wooden blocks with fierce concentration. Every time the tower leaned too far, she shoved another block underneath it and tried again.
Antonio watched them for a moment.
The girls had changed everything.
Knighthood had once meant adventure. Patrols, battles, glory. Now it meant keeping a roof over a cottage and making sure two small children never went hungry.
“Whatever the Capps want,” Bob said at last, “it is rarely simple.”
Antonio exhaled slowly.
“I’m beginning to suspect that.”
Matilda folded her arms across her apron. “When do you leave?”
“Now.”
Gia’s tower collapsed with a loud clatter of blocks.
Jessica squealed with delight.
Antonio stood, fastening his gloves again.
Bob finally set the polished cup down. “Then I suppose the Grand Duke should not be kept waiting.”
Antonio nodded once before heading for the door.
Behind him, Matilda scooped Jessica up from the playmat while Gia began rebuilding her fallen tower.
Neither girl knew that before the day ended, their father’s life—and the fate of a kingdom—would begin to change.
Antonio left the cottage just as the morning mist began to lift from the road.
Behind him, the door closed softly, leaving the quiet sounds of the household inside—Matilda settling Jessica, Gia still rebuilding her fallen tower, and Bob muttering something about polished cups and troublesome nobles.
The road toward the Capp estate wound through tall hedges and lantern-lined paths that grew grander the closer he came. Stone walls rose higher; the gardens trimmed into shapes far too perfect to be natural.
The Capp house stood high on a gentle rise, its pale walls and tall windows overlooking the surrounding gardens like a watchful sentinel.
He straightened his coat before stepping inside.
Inside, the estate was warmer than Antonio expected.
Golden walls reflected candlelight from tall candelabras, and polished floors shone like mirrors beneath his boots. The room smelled faintly of wax and expensive oils.
Grand Duke Tybalt Capp sat comfortably across from him, dressed in rich crimson embroidered with gold thread. A crown rested easily upon his head, as though he had never known life without it.
Beside Antonio sat Lady Beatrice, calm and composed, her posture as graceful as the room itself.
Tybalt gestured lazily as he spoke.
“Sir Antonio Rockwell,” he said with an amused smile. “A knight with an excellent reputation for handling… unusual situations.”
Antonio shifted slightly in his seat.
“I simply serve where I am needed, Your Grace.”
Tybalt chuckled at that.
“Yes,” he said. “That is precisely why I sent for you.”
The king leaned back in his chair, studying Antonio carefully.
“For today,” Tybalt continued, waving a dismissive hand, “I simply wished to meet the man.”
Antonio wasn’t entirely sure whether that answer comforted him or worried him more.
After a few final pleasantries, the meeting ended as suddenly as it had begun.
Antonio rose, bowed politely, and allowed the attendants to guide him back toward the entrance.
Outside, the air felt fresher.
Antonio pulled on his helm and stepped through the open doors of the Capp estate.
The polished halls and gilded furniture faded behind him as he returned to the quiet roads beyond the gates.
For the moment, he was simply a knight again.
And a knight had patrols to finish.
Antonio turned toward the long road ahead, unaware that before the day ended, a hollow log, a strange mirror, and a woman in a rose-colored gown would lead him toward a crown he had never sought.
Antonio’s patrol took him farther from the main road than he usually traveled.
The mist still clung to the ground in thin ribbons, curling between stones and wildflowers as the path wound through a small grove of tall cypress trees. The world had grown quiet here, the sounds of the town fading behind him until only the rustle of leaves and the distant trickle of water remained.
At the end of the path, something pale stood among the trees.
Antonio slowed.
It looked like a monument at first—some forgotten marker placed at the top of a few worn stone steps.
But it wasn’t a monument.
It was a mirror.
The mirror stood taller than a man, its pale frame carved in curling shapes that reminded him of vines and waves.
It should not have been there.
No noble house claimed this grove. No road led travelers this far by accident.
And yet the mirror stood perfectly upright at the top of the steps, as though someone had placed it there deliberately.
Antonio climbed the steps slowly.
Mist gathered around the glass, dulling the reflection.
For a moment he saw nothing at all.
Then the surface cleared.
His own reflection stared back at him—armor polished, shoulders straight, the crest of his helm rising above him like a flame.
Antonio frowned.
And then the mirror spoke.
The voice was not loud.
It sounded almost like a whisper carried through the glass itself.
A riddle.
Soft.
Measured.
Ancient.
“Seek the rose where shadows play,
Where cards decide what fate will say.
Follow laughter, silk, and wine—
There you’ll find what once was mine.”
Antonio stepped back slightly.
“A trick,” he muttered.
But when he looked back into the mirror again—
The reflection changed.
His armor vanished from the glass.
In its place sat a woman in a light pink gown embroidered with roses.
She rocked gently in a chair, pale hair pinned high, her expression calm and almost amused—as though she knew he was watching.
Antonio blinked.
The image disappeared.
His own reflection returned. The grove was silent again.
Antonio stood there for several long moments.
“A rose…” he said quietly.
He looked once more toward the empty path behind him.
Then toward the road that led back toward home.
Somewhere nearby, music and laughter drifted faintly through the air.
A tavern.
And perhaps— A woman in a rose-colored gown.
The Velasco Saga 