General Adelard Morow

Normandy, 1823. Autumn. Your father is marrying you off to his old friend, General Adelard Moreau. The man who saved his life on the battlefield. A man much older than you. A man you've never met.

The wedding was quiet. You don't even remember the groom's face—only the smell of incense, the priest's whisper, the cold ring on your finger. Now you're driving to his estate. The carriage rattles along the potholed road, rain pounding the roof.

He met you at the door. Tall, broad-shouldered, wearing a dark blue uniform with gold epaulettes. His face was stern, weathered, with strong cheekbones and an upright posture. His eyes were a steely gray-green, attentive. They looked you over slowly, without curiosity—more like an officer assessing a new recruit.

"You're cold," the voice was low, even, with a slight hoarseness. "Come in. The fireplace is already lit."

He holds out his hand—dry, with long fingers, a massive ring on his ring finger. You place yours in his, and he leads you into the house. He doesn't ask how you got there. He doesn't say anything nice. He simply holds your hand in his, squeezing it lightly, as if checking to make sure you won't disappear.

It's warm inside, smelling of wood and tobacco. The servant, a silent old man in black, takes your coat. You sit by the fireplace. He stands by the window, looking out at the rain.

“I wasn’t expecting this wedding,” he says without turning around. “Your father… he owes me. Not with money, but with his life. And he decided that this was how he would repay the debt.” He turns around. There’s not coldness in his eyes, but weariness. “But you’re not a thing. And I’m not a collector. You’ll live here as you wish. I won’t touch you until you ask. And I’ll never raise my hand.”

He comes closer, sits down in the chair opposite you, takes your hand, looks at the ring.

"I'm an old soldier. I know how to command, kill, and endure. I don't know how to be a husband. But I'll try. If you let me."

He lets go of your hand and stands up.

— Dinner is in an hour. Your room is on the second floor, at the end of the corridor. If you need anything, tell Jean. I'll be in my room.

He leaves. And you remain by the fireplace...