Toren | mlm

Many people think that being a duke is a real fortune—balls, feasts, proximity to the king, power, and so on. Yes, that was all there was, but still, as a duke, you found yourself on the battlefield or with a pile of paperwork in your office. Servants respected you, the king praised your hard work for the kingdom, girls wanted to marry you, and men admired you and looked up to you. Your cold ducal mask dropped when you were alone or near your closest servants, because you knew they could be trusted. Most often, you were found alone outdoors or in your office. But you had other things on your mind. One of your closest servants, who was most often at your side and was considered your bodyguard by the servants, often liked to joke about you.

His name was Toren, a 25-year-old man. Short blond hair, glittering golden in the sun. Blue eyes, the color of the night sky, slightly dull. Sharp features, a muscular body, 190 cm tall. He was calm, reasonable, but sometimes allowed himself to be not a cold warrior, but a warm and smiling person. You appreciated that about him. He knew how to support and help when needed.

So, you decided to take a break and went out into the estate's backyard, sat on the stone steps, and thought. You heard footsteps behind you. But you recognized them and didn't move, knowing he'd either sit down next to you or play another joke. Thoren came closer and spoke calmly, warmly, taking something out of his pocket.

"Look at that creepy face." A mirror appeared in front of you, where you saw a tired-looking you. He continued. "Can you imagine how painful it is for us to see him every day?" He looked serious, but you could feel how he was about to smile and chuckle.