"...His Grace, Duke Aiden Vulcan,
and her Grace, Raika Vulcan, the Thunder Princess,
the battle mage with the instincts of a dragon but the grace of a phoenix," the herald announced, his voice thundering throughout the hall.
All gazes raised, looking up at the giant flight of stairs.
At its end were the two, the Thunder Princess, Raika Vulcan, adorned in a snow-white gown fitted through the bodice and flowing into a full skirt, heavily embroidered with intricate silver runes along the neck and sleeves.
The purity of the white gown, coupled with her wild beauty, gave her the air of a white dragon, beautiful yet unapproachable.
Cradled in her arms was Alaric, his eyes closed.
He had fallen asleep a few hours after his birth, his infant body's instinct overriding his will.
By their side was the Patraich, he too adorned in white as was the custom for the celebration of birth, his gentle appearance giving him the air of an angel, his searing heat aura turned off because of Alaric.
As they walked down, the crowd remained silent, observing the two descend.
Most had their thoughts, but it was considered impolite to talk as the host descended; whatever thoughts you wished to gossip about had to be kept in until they descended, but that didn't mean your expression couldn't voice them out.
Most had the expression of reverence and admiration, a few of annoyance, and a handful envy and something else.
The two paid them no heed, their eyes forward, steps slow and deliberate.
"Welcome to the celebration of the birth of my youngest," Aiden's voice echoed as they reached the end of the stairs, his tone gentle, a smile on his face.
"Alaric Vulcan, the one who rules," he added, shush murmurs following.
"Alaric?!... I guess he has already chosen his successor..." They all came to the conclusion.
Though Aiden didn't explicitly say it, Alaric would succeed him; his name said it all.
At the mention of his name, almost everyone turned their attention to two certain individuals.
A pink-haired lady, adorned in a yellow gown, more glamorous than the host, her gentle brows, round face, and cherry blossom eyes giving her the elegance of a flamingo.
Though she wore a smile, her eyes couldn't hide the hostility as she stared at the sleeping infant.
She, Zariah Vulcan, the second wife of the Vulcan clan.
Her hostility was viable, most women understanding her.
She had borne Aiden many sons, six to be exact, and a daughter, a boy even being the oldest of Aiden's children, yet another instead of her son was being proclaimed as the Heir.
Why?
Because he was the son of the first wife.
Something she couldn't accept.
The second, a golden-haired lady, her hair flowing down to her waist, diamond face, steep arched brows, her starry purple eyes gently gazing at the baby, a warm smile on her face.
Elena Dominus Vulcan.
The third wife of the Vulcan clan.
Though she too had children, her gentle expression made it difficult for people to understand her thoughts.
"...Enjoy yourself, today is a day for merry-making..." Aiden raised a glass, the crowd doing the same.
Cheer!! Cheer!!
The chatter began as Aiden and Raika moved to their seats.
Now that they were present, the gossip couldn't help but pause.
They didn't fear the Patraich, he was powerful but a gentleman.
He wouldn't react to hush whispers as long as they didn't go over the board but the problem was the temper of the Thunder Princess
Most of the nobles believed she was too crude to even be a noble.
Her senses as a fifth-resonance mage were beastly; if she were to hear any untasteful gossip, she would retaliate right there and then.
Having done that several times, now they knew not to provoke her, as none had the strength nor the backing to annoy her.
The two busy body aunty kept to herself, changing the topic to something else entirely.
They will continue at home.
Music was played, food served as they enjoyed the banquet.
The birth celebration went off without a hitch.
It was now time for the presentation of gifts.
Aiden and Raika sat on a slightly elevated platform, Alaric, who was now awake, staring curiously at what was going on.
"... From the Parch Clan, Viscount Petra Parch presents the blood ore, acquired from the fourth tier tower, Crimson domain" the herald announced, quiet murmurs quietly reviewing his gifts.
A mineral used to make growth-type weapons, weapons that grow with their users.
Most nodded their heads in approval, believing such a gift could be used to make a nice staff for Alaric when he grew, or maybe a wand he could use in his early years.
The herald continued to mention gift after gift, most unremarkable, at least to the majority of those present.
"..."
"From the Sedna Clan, Marquess Leonard Sedna presents the tear of Poseidon, acquired from the sixth tier tower, Posiden Castle" the whole crowd gasped in astonishment at the gift given by the blue-haired individual.
A plus-size man, with an arrogant expression, the smirk on his lip trying to say who could top his gifts.
The tear of Poseidon was a legendary treasure, a thumb-sized teardrop-shaped jewel, holding within it's small-frame power to flood a small town, create rainclouds from mana, but the problem was that to a non-water mage it was just a nice-looking trinket.
Useless to anyone who didn't resonate with the water element.
Their gasp wasn't because of how great it was, but at what a waste of a treasure, giving such a precious gift to a clan that couldn't even use it.
Everyone turned to him, his smirk dying down as they shook their heads in mockery.
He was always like this, trying to show off, but they didn't know he was stupid enough to give a legendary-rank weapon, the second-most powerful type of treasure, to someone who couldn't use it nor even needed it.
"Did I do something wrong?" he averted his gaze, pondering what their looks meant, but before he could continue further, the next announcement rang.
"From the Agni Clan, Duke Valentin Agni presents..." The herald paused, hesitating to mention the contents of the parchment.
"What's the hold-up?" Alaric thought.
He had been quietly observing all that was transpiring, the numerous gifts being presented to him, and even the evidence of the medieval culture in the celebration, even the way they did the presentation.
Engrossed in what was happening, trying to understand more of his new world.
Everything seemed so real, too real.
This even made him think maybe he had reincarnated in the past, but their colorful hair and the obvious fantasy culture in their attire made him reconsider such thoughts.
He had to observe more.
Whatever the case, he was now engrossed in the gifts being presented to him, the herald's hesitation making him curious.
"...A demonkin."
___________
.
.
.
A/N
1/1