Chapter 22 - Where We Cannot Be Seen

Third Person POV

Prince Aurein stood before his father with his fists clenched at his sides, his spine stiff with determination.

"Father, I beg you—please allow me to participate," Aurein said insistently to King Lucen.

The moment his words echoed through the hall, the attention of every general shifted toward him.

General Voltaire remained stone-faced and unreadable. General Zavier wore a lazy grin. General Almiro nodded subtly. General Hector's brows furrowed in disapproval. General Hans looked openly puzzled. General Fredrein smiled faintly, while General Lysandra's sharp eyes narrowed with piercing scrutiny.

"You have only just begun your training," King Lucen said firmly. "You still require a long period of preparation. You cannot simply throw yourself into battle against warriors who have trained their entire lives."

"Then why are General Voltaire's warriors allowed to join?" Aurein challenged. "They are new as well, are they not? Yet they are permitted to compete. What makes them different from me?" he demanded.

"You are a prince," King Lucen said. "They will believe you are being given special consideration because of your title."

"I do not want special consideration," Aurein said, his voice tightening. "How will I ever prove myself if even you stand in the way of my strength?" he asked.

King Lucen exhaled slowly and turned away, returning to his seat. Aurein followed after him, Serena remaining just a step behind the prince in silent support.

Aurein lifted his gaze and swept it across the line of generals before him. Every one of them regarded him with solemn respect, not because they feared him—but because he was still young, untested, and sheltered compared to the battles they had survived.

Only General Voltaire remained silently focused on him, studying him with an intensity that is unreadable.

"I know that you do not yet trust me, Generals of Ardentia," Aurein said steadily. "I am aware of that. I have yet to prove anything to you or to this kingdom. But through this competition—at the very least—allow me to show you that I am worthy of standing before you not as a prince, but as a warrior. Let me prove that I am just not a child hiding behind a crown." he said.

At those words, something softened within General Voltaire. Though his face remained unmoved, quiet pride flickered beneath his gaze at the prince's courage.

Aurein met every pair of eyes in the chamber without flinching.

"Please," he said again. "Allow me to compete."

"The trials will be brutal, Prince Aurein," General Hans said gravely. "Are you certain you can endure them?"

"I am certain, General Hans," Aurein said without hesitation.

General Lysandra examined Aurein from head to toe with clinical detachment.

"Will your body survive the trials?" she asked coolly. "My female warriors are built more powerfully than you. If physical combat becomes the deciding factor, will you endure it?"

"I will train," Aurein said immediately.

"And how old are you, truly?" General Hector asked with a crooked smile. "Eighteen? Your mind is still reckless, driven too much by emotion."

"That is true," General Almiro added. "He rushes headlong without restraint. If this was war, such a mindset would cost us the battle."

"There is also the matter of numbers," General Fredrein interjected. "Each army consists of only fifty warriors. If Prince Aurein joins, General Voltaire's unit will exceed the limit by one. Which could give him the advantage."

Before Aurein could respond, another voice cut in sharply.

"You may end up damaging General Voltaire's reputation instead, Prince Aurein," General Zavier said bluntly. "Everyone knows he is one of Ardentia's most admired figures. If the people see that you are weak, they may believe his training has failed you. Is that what you wish to happen?" he asked.

The air grew thick with opposition. Nearly every general stood against Aurein's participation.

"We are merely protecting General Voltaire and your image should you falter," General Zavier added. "And since you may not yet be ready for what lies ahead..." He turned his gaze sharply toward the silent general. "Why are you not speaking, General Voltaire? Will you allow Prince Aurein to join?"

All eyes shifted to General Voltaire, waiting for him to speak.

Before he could even draw a breath, Serena lifted her hand—effortlessly stealing the attention of the entire hall.

"With all due respect, King Lucen, and to all the generals gathered in this chamber... may I speak?" she said gently.

"And what is it you wish to say, Serena?" King Lucen asked.

Serena smiled—sweet, graceful, yet threaded with unshakable confidence. She looked first at the king, then slowly at every general before her.

"I have listened carefully to all of your concerns regarding Prince Aurein's participation," she said. "And truthfully... I, too, was once opposed to his joining."

Aurein turned sharply toward her, his brows knitting together in disbelief.

Serena met his gaze and gave a single, subtle nod—silent assurance that she had not abandoned him, that she would handle this.

She drew in a steady breath, lifted her chin, and faced both the generals and King Lucen. For the first time, the fire she hid behind her sweetness surged freely.

"But Prince Aurein is right," she continued firmly. "How, then, is he supposed to prove that he is worthy to become King of Ardentia? Do you not remember his words to the people last night during the celebration? That one must never judge a person by their appearance, movements, or way of thinking?"

The hall fell silent as every ear leaned toward her.

"If you deny him a chance even now... how do you expect him to grow?" she asked.

King Lucen released a quiet breath at her words. Beside him, Aurein allowed himself a faint, grateful smile.

"Yes, Aurein may appear young in your eyes," Serena said, her voice steady and unwavering, "but youth should never be a barrier to growth. In the Kingdom of Grition—where I come from—we encourage the young to step forward into competition so that their abilities may be tested, refined, and sharpened early. That is how we discover what more they can become."

Her gaze swept across the gathered generals.

"But looking at you all now... you are denying the young the right to prove themselves. Why? Do not tell me you fear that Prince Aurein might one day surpass you and your own warriors." she challenged.

A faint grin curved across General Voltaire's lips for the first time. Around him, the other generals began to shift uneasily, caught in thought.

"I will be the future queen of this kingdom," Serena continued. "And all I desire is for my future king to be prepared for every battle this world may throw at him. This competition will only sharpen Prince Aurein further on his journey to becoming the great king he has already promised to be."

She turned her gaze briefly to King Lucen, then back to the generals.

"If you deny him now, then when will he ever prove himself? Only when it is too late? You should be encouraging him—not diminishing him. You are his generals. One day, you will serve under his rule."

Her voice hardened with truth.

"And if in the future he fails to meet expectations, I will remember this day—the day you refused to let him grow, the reason he might one day stumble. His future is not shaped by his will alone. You, too, carry the responsibility to guide him. He is young, yes—but this is precisely the time he must learn, be challenged, be strengthened."

A heavy silence followed.

"I admire Princess Serena's words," General Lysandra finally said. "To see her defend Prince Aurein so boldly... I see a strong queen in the making. In this matter, I stand with her. Let us give Prince Aurein his chance."

Aurein's lips curved into a genuine smile.

"I agree," General Hector said, lowering his head slightly. "Forgive me for underestimating you because of your age, Prince Aurein. The younger you are, the more time you have to grow. I will gladly welcome you as you begin your journey toward becoming a strong king."

"Well," General Fredrein added with an amused grin, "one extra warrior will not break the scales. It only means we will have to push ourselves harder—especially since General Voltaire's army will now outnumber the rest."

"Prove us wrong in our judgment, Prince Aurein," General Almiro said.

"The competition will be ruthless," General Hans added gravely. "You will receive no mercy just because you are a prince—or the future king. We will not make this easy for you."

At this, General Zavier merely gave a slow shake of his head and a crooked grin.

"If that is what the majority desires... then so be it," he said.

King Lucen finally turned toward the one man who had remained mostly silent.

"General Voltaire," he said, "would you like to speak?"

General Voltaire stepped forward slightly.

"I wish only to thank every general present today," he said. "You will not be disappointed by Prince Aurein. And as for his earlier words—that though my warriors may be newly trained, we will become the greatest army not only in Ardentia, but in the entire world—that promise will be fulfilled."

He turned his gaze briefly toward Serena.

"Thank you, Princess Serena, for your words."

Serena inclined her head—and just like that, the fierce fire faded, replaced once more by her gentle, sweet demeanor.

"Thank you, Serena," Aurein whispered.

"Hmph," Serena replied softly.

The king rose from his seat with controlled authority, his presence commanding the entire hall into silence.

"Then it is decided," the king said. "One month from now, the competition shall commence. I trust that this will be sufficient time for your preparations."

His gaze swept across the seven generals like a blade.

"I want each of you to inform your warriors immediately so they may begin their training in earnest," he continued. "The nature of the trials will remain unknown. A real war does not announce what it brings, and neither will this competition. You must be ready for anything."

A final pause followed—heavy and deliberate.

"And let it be clear," the king added. "Only warriors shall compete. The generals themselves will not take part. You are dismissed. This meeting is concluded."

The seven generals rose at once and bowed in unison.

Moments later, the king departed the hall. The tension barely had time to settle before Aurein seized Serena by the wrist and pulled her swiftly out of the chamber.

"Serena," Aurein said earnestly. "You saved me again."

Serena scoffed sharply and jerked her hand free.

"Don't get the wrong idea, Aurein," she said coldly. "I didn't do that for you. I did it because I refuse to let them think the future king is weak. If you appear weak, they won't follow you—neither will I. So from now on, I made it very clear who holds power. It is us, not them. And don't be too weak, okay? Show them we are better!"

Aurein smiled softly.

"And I think you made that painfully clear."

"Wipe that smile off your face," Serena snapped. "I said a lot in there, so you better live up to every word. Don't embarrass me after I carried your name on my back like that."

"I won't," Aurein said sincerely. "I promise. Thank you."

He drew her into a sudden embrace.

"Hey—what are you doing? Get off me!" Serena protested irritably as she shoved him backward. "Only General Voltaire is allowed to hug me now! Hmph!"

She spun away with dramatic flair.

"I'm going to rest," she huffed. "Talking that much exhausted me."

Aurein could only smile as he watched her walk away.

In his heart, he knew—they may both compete for General Voltaire's attention in their own ways, but one truth remained unshaken.

He trusted Serena completely.

Aurein was about to return to the meeting hall to find General Voltaire when voices reached his ears. He stopped short and remained hidden just outside the doorway.

"Whether he joins the competition or not, nothing will change," General Zavier said mockingly. "He is nothing more than a spoiled child forced into a game by an indulgent parent. He won't be a threat anyway."

"Prince Aurein may hear you, General Zavier," General Lysandra warned coolly. "You are speaking recklessly in front of General Voltaire himself."

"Good," General Zavier replied with a smirk. "Let the prince hear it. He holds no weight in this tournament. All he will bring is shame upon the king with his pitiful display."

Each word struck Aurein like a blade. His chest tightened as his confidence began to fracture.

"Do not underestimate Prince Aurein," General Voltaire said firmly. "You have no idea what he is capable of. And I say this to all of you—what he will show you will leave you stunned. Prepare yourselves well. Especially you, General Zavier. We will not fall behind you."

Aurein's breath caught.

"General..." he whispered to himself, clutching his pendant as warmth surged through him.

"You and that useless army of yours," General Zavier sneered. "Along with that dainty little prince? Hope that you'd be lucky to rank sixth—just ahead of General Lysandra's unit."

"Are you implying my warriors are weak simply because they are women?" General Lysandra snapped, her temper igniting.

"I'm only stating that men and women possess different strengths," General Zavier said smugly. His gaze shifted back to Voltaire. "But regardless, your army will be the worst, General Voltaire. One month is nothing. You won't prepare them in time."

"I do not rely on hope," General Voltaire answered coldly. "I rely on certainty. And I assure you—Prince Aurein will be the one who will raise my army above all others. We will win this competition."

And with General Voltaire's words, Aurein's heart was deeply moved by the way he protected him. He wanted to cry from sheer gratitude, but he chose not to.

"You are arrogant," General Zavier scoffed. "You only speak boldly because your reputation shields you. War prodigy? Living fortress? The most formidable general in Ardentia? And yet—what did that all mean when you failed to save your father in your last war together?"

The air shattered.

In an instant, General Voltaire seized General Zavier by the collar and slammed him violently against the wall, his forearm crushing against Zavier's throat.

"Do not bring my father into this!" Voltaire roared, his eyes blazing with unrestrained fury.

Yet General Zavier only grinned through his labored breathing.

"I wouldn't be shocked," Zavier taunted weakly, "if one day Prince Aurein dies on the battlefield beside you. Would they still call you a living fortress then—"

The punch landed before the sentence ended.

Voltaire's fist collided with Zavier's face, splitting his lip with a violent crack of bone and flesh. Blood spilled immediately.

Fast as lightning, General Zavier did the same.

Voltaire was about to move for another blow—but three generals intervened at once.

General Hector, General Almiro, and General Hans forced themselves between them, gripping Voltaire with all their strength. They knew it would be deadly this time if his fist landed on Zavier's face.

"Take it back," Voltaire snarled. "Take back what you said."

Zavier simply wiped the blood from his mouth and laughed.

"There's nothing to take back," he said. "I'll simply wait patiently for the day I hear that Prince Aurein has died because of you."

Voltaire surged forward again, fighting against their restraint.

"Get out, General Zavier!" General Lysandra shouted angrily. "This has gone too far!"

"I will only be satisfied," Zavier replied, "when I am the strongest warrior in King Lucen's eyes—no longer living in the shadow of General Voltaire and his famous father."

"You disgraceful coward!" Voltaire roared, straining against the grip of three generals.

It took all of them to restrain him.

"Leave. Now," Lysandra commanded.

Zavier turned and walked toward the exit at an infuriatingly slow pace.

"Don't deceive yourselves into thinking you'll ever surpass me," he said coolly. "Most of my warriors came from General Orion's army—General Voltaire's legendary father. They were molded through true war. They have already survived every form of hell."

With that, General Zavier disappeared beyond the doors.

And the echoes of his cruelty lingered behind him.

General Zavier came to a sudden halt as he stepped out of the meeting hall.

Slowly, he turned his head to the right.

Standing beside the towering doorway was Prince Aurein.

For a moment, silence stretched between them.

Then General Zavier curved his lips into a slow, mocking grin—his gaze sweeping over the prince with open contempt.

"I know you heard everything we said, Prince Aurein," General Zavier said coolly.

With that, he turned his back and walked away without another glance.

Aurein swallowed hard.

His throat felt tight as he finally stepped inside the hall.

There, he saw General Voltaire still being restrained—General Hans gripping one arm, General Hector the other, while General Almiro anchored him from behind. Voltaire's body was rigid with rage, his breathing ragged, his eyes still burning with fury.

Aurein's chest tightened at the sight.

"Please... let go of General Voltaire," Aurein said softly.

"But he might chase after General Zavier," General Fredrein said with concern.

Aurein took a steady breath before speaking again.

"I will take responsibility for General Voltaire," he said, his voice calm despite the fear trembling beneath it.

The three generals exchanged hesitant glances. Reluctantly, they released Voltaire from their grip. The moment he was free, Voltaire violently shoved them away, his anger still blazing beneath his skin.

"Please... leave us for now," Aurein said.

One by one, the generals withdrew—until only Aurein and Voltaire remained inside the vast chamber.

At first, Aurein hesitated to approach him.

Voltaire's entire body trembled with restrained fury. His knuckles were split and bleeding from the punch he had thrown, crimson dripping slowly onto the stone floor.

Still, Aurein steadied himself.

Gently, he reached out and wrapped his hands around Voltaire's trembling fists.

"General Voltaire, please... calm down," Aurein said.

"I cannot simply calm myself after they mocked you," Voltaire said through clenched teeth, "especially when General Zavier dragged my father into his poison-filled words."

"I heard everything," Aurein said quietly. "Please don't let it get to you. I believe he only sought to provoke you—to make you lose focus before the upcoming competition."

Voltaire fell silent for a moment.

"Aurein... what if you withdraw from the competition?" Voltaire asked in quiet fear. "I am worried they will show you no mercy. I fear they may become brutal. They might do something inappropriate to you."

"Do you lack faith in me as well?" Aurein asked softly. "I thought you wanted me to prove myself to them. To surprise them. Or were you shaken by what General Zavier said—that you might not be able to save me? That even the so-called war prodigy and living fortress could fail to protect me?"

"I am only afraid," Voltaire admitted.

Aurein smiled faintly.

"That is not the General Voltaire I know," Aurein said gently. "The General Voltaire I know would never back down. He does not know the word 'fear'. He would defy the entire world just to protect what must be protected."

"I'm sorry, Aurein," Voltaire said quietly.

"You still seem deeply unsettled," Aurein said. "Forgive me for saying this—but I do not know what truly happened when your father died. If you would allow it... would you be willing to speak of it? You always seem wounded when his death is mentioned."

Voltaire released a slow, heavy breath.

"If you're not ready, that's alright," Aurein added gently.

"I want to tell you," Voltaire said.

Aurein nodded.

"Then come," Aurein said softly. "Let us talk in my chamber."

* * *

Aurein's POV

We were inside my chamber now, bathed in dim lamplight—quiet, secluded, far removed from the chaos beyond these walls. The world outside felt distant, muffled by stone and silence. We sat side by side on the edge of my bed, a small porcelain basin of water placed beside me. For the injury General Voltaire had earned after striking General Zavier.

I dipped a cloth into the water and gently cleaned the dried blood from the corner of his lips. His skin was scarred by countless battles, yet I treated it with careful tenderness. As I wiped his lips, he suddenly reached out and caught my wrist. Instinctively, I lifted my gaze to his face.

His eyes met mine.

I gave him a small, reassuring smile and returned my focus to his wounded lips, continuing my work in silence.

Then, slowly, with his free hand, he began to stroke my head—softly, rhythmically, as if grounding himself through the motion.

I allowed it.

I would even admit—quietly, shamefully—it felt comforting.

I should be the one comforting him, not the other way around.

"Tell me when you are ready, General Voltaire," I said gently.

He exhaled deeply and finally withdrew his hand from my hair.

"In his final war, I was there," he said quietly. "I witnessed his last moments, Aurein."

His voice carried a sorrow so heavy it pressed against my chest.

"When I remember it—especially in my dreams—I blame myself. I ask why I could not save him. Sometimes I wonder... am I truly worthy of being called the Living Fortress? A war prodigy? The most formidable warrior—if I could not even save my own father?"

My heart tightened.

"How did he die?" I asked carefully. "They say he died heroically. That is what I heard."

"Yes... he did."

He stared at the floor, lost somewhere deep within memory. I could see the pain written plainly across his face.

"If remembering hurts too much," I said softly, "you do not have to tell me."

At that, he gave a faint smile.

"I want to tell you," he said. "I want to share a feeling I have buried for far too long."

"Then let me share that pain with you," I said just as quietly. "Do not carry it alone. Let me help you ease the burden."

He let out a quiet, breathless chuckle and gently stroked my head once more before finally beginning.

"I was only a warrior then, under my father's command," he said. "Under his guidance, I learned everything. Even then, he trained me to lead his army. I crafted strategies. I planned battles. He trusted me with command as if he were already shaping me into a future general."

His voice remained steady—but I sensed how carefully it was being held together.

"Every battle I led ended in victory. That is when my name began to spread. My father was proud. King Lucen took notice. And that is how I earned the title of War Prodigy. From that point on, fear followed wherever my name was spoken."

I looked at him quietly.

I was proud of him.

And for a fleeting moment, regret pierced my chest—regret that I had not noticed him sooner, admired him sooner, understood him sooner. I had been young then. My heart had been chasing other paths, blind to what stood beside me.

"But the last major war my father took part in..." his voice lowered. "He chose to lead it himself. Our enemies from the Kingdom of Hendrox were powerful. Unforgiving. It became a war that would scar history."

He swallowed.

"It was at the northern border of Ardentia. That night, I was beside him—at the very heart of the battlefield."

My hands stilled over my lap. I said nothing. I did not dare interrupt.

"The war had nearly ended," he continued. "Only one enemy force remained—stubborn, relentless. We thought it was a simple final assault. We were wrong."

A bitter smile curved his lips.

"Traps everywhere. Spears hidden beneath the soil. Arrows buried in shadow. My father's warriors... they fell one by one."

In my mind, the scene came alive.

A vast northern plain swallowed in smoke and flame. Screams tearing through the air. Steel clashing beneath a storm-dark sky. General Orion astride his warhorse, sword raised high—drenched in blood—storming forward with the fiercest warriors of Ardentia at his back.

And at the center of it all—

General Voltaire.

Watching his world collapse.

"At that time, I was positioned at the rear line, tasked with guarding the flank of the army," General Voltaire continued. "I noticed the enemy's movements changing. They were no longer charging to win... they were rushing to trap us. The moment my father saw it, he immediately stormed the front line—alone."

My grip tightened around the cloth. I felt the faint tremor in his hand beneath my touch.

"'Voltaire, fall back and reposition your unit to the rear,' he ordered me," he said, faintly mimicking his father's voice. "'I will hold them here. The entire army must not be sacrificed for a single misstep.'"

"Did you obey?" I asked quietly.

"I did," he answered in a near whisper. "Because I was a warrior—and he was my general. I deployed my unit at the rear. I secured the retreat route... exactly as he commanded. I watched them from a distance... as he alone tore through the bulk of the enemy's forces. I wanted to fight beside him. I wanted to stand at his side. But if I had done that, the wounded warriors would not have escaped. They would have been slaughtered."

In my mind, I saw General Orion as a lone wall standing against a raging tide. Every swing of his blade sent bodies crashing to the earth. Every thunderous battle cry forced his warriors to retreat in order—not as fleeing cowards, but as disciplined soldiers withdrawing with honor.

"But no matter how strong he was, he was still only human," General Voltaire said quietly. "There were arrows I could not stop. Soldiers I could not intercept. I saw him struck in the shoulder... in the side... and still, he continued to fight. Until the moment when—"

His voice broke.

I saw him blink rapidly, forcing back the tears threatening to spill from his eyes.

"Until the moment when?" I asked softly, waiting.

"He turned toward me," Voltaire said at last. "And even as the enemy surrounded him... he was smiling. He raised his sword... and shouted his final command."

Silence filled the chamber. Only the faint sound of wet fabric and the soft crackle of the lamp remained.

"'Voltaire! Protect Ardentia! Protect the King and Queen! Protect the Crown Prince!' Those were the last words he ever spoke to me." His fingers clenched the edge of my blanket. "And instead of running toward him... I ran away, to obey that order. I led the retreat. I made sure no wounded were left behind. I made sure we reached the border intact."

The weight of every word pressed heavily on my chest. In my mind, I saw General Orion slowly swallowed by the sea of enemies—while General Voltaire marched away, not out of fear, but because that was the command he had been given.

"When we returned with the reserve forces..." General Voltaire said softly. His voice roughened, scraped raw by the weight of the memory. "It was already too late."

He paused, breath unsteady.

"The battlefield had fallen into an unnatural silence—as if even the fire had learned to hold its breath. Smoke still drifted through the air. Ash still fell like dying snow. But there were no screams left. No clashing steel."

His jaw tightened.

"And when we found him... he was already dead."

Voltaire's gaze lowered, as if the image still lived behind his eyes.

"My father was kneeling alone at the center of the plain. Not in surrender," he said. "Not in defeat."

A faint tremor slipped into his voice.

"His sword was driven deep into the earth before him—planted like a final oath. His body had gone rigid around it. Not because he fell..." His fingers curled slowly at his side. "But because he refused to."

He lifted his eyes to Aurein.

"He chose to die on his knees—so he would remain the last man standing."

Silence swallowed his words.

"Around him lay the bodies of the enemy. Dozens of them. Scattered in a broken ring... as if none of them had dared pass him even after death."

General Voltaire's voice dropped to a reverent whisper.

"He did not fall protecting the ground."

His eyes hardened, fierce and aching all at once.

"He became the ground no one could cross."

I bit down hard on my lip.

In that instant, I remembered the place in northern Ardentia marked on our maps as Orion's Stand. This was the reason. They said the general's sword was still buried there to this day. I want to see it with General Voltaire, to give honor to his father. I know it might be late, but I want to do it.

"They saw a hero," General Voltaire said. "A man who sacrificed himself and fought until his final breath. A legend. Ardentia's last standing wall. They accepted a beautiful story—that he died smiling, carrying the kingdom's honor in his hands. All of Ardentia recognized it as a complete victory in the north. The enemy was driven back. The border was secured... in exchange for my father's life. But for me—this was a failure."

He drew in a slow, trembling breath and tilted his head slightly, as though the memory itself had weighed him down.

"But I, Aurein..." he said softly, "I saw the truth. I witnessed the moment when I should have run toward him... not away. Every single day, I ask myself—whether I was right to follow that order as a warrior... or whether I failed him as a son."

I could no longer stop myself.

I let the cloth fall from my hand and gently took his clenched fist in both of mine, drawing it slowly toward my chest, as though placing his grief against my beating heart.

"General Voltaire..." I said softly. "Your father chose for you to live. He chose for you to protect Ardentia... even at the cost of himself. If you hadn't obeyed him, many of our warriors would have perished. In your own way, you still did your best. You followed the command of your general—of your father. And because of that, you won. This was not a failure."

"I am not the one who won that war," General Voltaire said quietly. "My father did—until his very last breath. He should have been called the war prodigy. The fortress of Ardentia. The most formidable general... not me."

He glanced at me then.

And for the first time, I did not see the legendary warrior. I did not see the living fortress. I saw only a son—one who had never truly escaped the weight of that final battlefield.

"You are wrong, General Voltaire," I said. "You won his final war because you honored his will. The title they give you... it belongs to you. You carry your father's legacy, and that makes it yours. If there is anyone in this world deserving of that name—of that strength—it is you. You represent him. You preserve him."

As I held his hand, I felt the tension in his fingers slowly loosen.

In the stillness of the room, beneath the soft glow of the lamplight, I realized something in silence.

At this moment, I was not the only one wishing to be strong.

We both were.

General Voltaire took a slow, steady breath. I saw the storm inside him settle as I looked into his face.

Then—so gently it almost stole my breath—he lifted his hand and cupped my right cheek. I tilted my face upward without thinking. My eyes closed on instinct.

A heartbeat later...

Warmth.

Softness.

His lips brushed against mine in the gentlest of kisses.

But this time, it did not end there.

The kiss deepened—not in hunger, not in urgency—but in quiet devotion. I felt the warmth of him linger against my lips, slow and unhurried, as though he were afraid the moment might shatter if he moved too fast.

My grip tightened around his hand.

It was my first time feeling a kiss like this—so calm, so steady, so overwhelming in the most quiet way possible.

He pulled back slowly. His eyes were half-lidded when he looked at me, his breathing faintly uneven.

"General Voltaire..." I whispered, smiling softly as he continued to cradle my cheek.

Then he took my other hand.

And lowered his lips to my knuckles.

The warmth of his lips pressed against my skin like a vow—one that did not belong to a prince, not to a future king... but to me.

"I will protect you with all my life, Aurein," he said softly. "I swear it... my queen."

The way he called me that—my queen—even though I was a man, reached deeper than any blade ever could. In that moment, he was my king... and I was the one he had chosen to guard with his life.

And I, too, was ready to protect him.

Beneath the dim glow of the lamp, inside the quiet room where no one bore witness but the cold wind slipping through the window, I saw him smile faintly.

Not as a general.

But as a man who had finally chosen someone else to protect.

And in that moment, I understood—

We would not only face the coming competition.

We would face the world...

Together.

End of Chapter 22