Playing the suona was one of General Leon’s infamous abstract talents, so agreeing not to teach it to their third child wasn’t an issue. After all, talent could be inherited, but eccentricity couldn’t, and Leon understood this well.  

“Alright, I won’t teach the baby to play the suona,” he agreed quickly.  

Rosvisser smiled faintly, her lips curving upward as she said weakly,  
“And… I love you… ah… ahhh…”  

Even talking to her beloved husband as a distraction couldn’t completely dull the intense pain of labor. Her attention faltered as the physicians around her became increasingly busy.  

Leon gently brushed his hand across her face, smoothing out the furrows of pain on her brow.  
“What else? Whatever it is, I’ll do it.”  

Normally, getting Leon—the upright and unyielding dragon-slaying hero—to listen to someone else’s requests, even politely, required some effort. Negotiations with him often involved a bit of back-and-forth.  

But this was no ordinary situation. With his wife in labor, Leon had to follow Isa’s earlier advice: accommodate Rosvisser’s every demand as much as possible.