The palace of Emestrild had never shone this brightly—not even during coronations, nor the celebrations of war's end. Tonight, every lantern burned in honor of one man's return. Every banner of the Hero Campaign hung proudly from the marble columns, the Delcra crest draped beside it like an oath renewed. The scent of roasted Delcra spices, sweet berries, and warm bread carried through the hall as servants hurriedly refilled tables for nobles and commoners alike.
Outside, the capital roared with festival cheers, music echoing through the streets, fireworks brushing the sky with gold and crimson. But inside the grand banquet hall…everything paused.
The double doors opened.
"His Majesty, Emperor Reinhardt Alvis von Emestrild—
and Archduke Michael Einhart Delcra!"
The orchestra ceased. Every noble rose, bowing deeply. The bustling hall fell to stillness as Reinhardt strode inside, magnificent in imperial white and gold. Behind him, Kael followed—clad in dark tailored attire, silver embroidery catching the chandelier's glow. His white hair shimmered with every step, the faint black strands softening the ethereal air around him.
And behind Kael walked the guardians:
Teodore Valdran, silent and unreadable…
Iris Chesly, smiling with gentle pride…
And Elric Caen Vaelthorn—whose cool steps silenced even whispers.
They ascended the dais.
Reinhardt lifted a glass of wine, voice ringing through the hall.
"Let the banquet begin!"
Music erupted once more. The hall burst into life.
Kael barely had a second to breathe before nobles swarmed him like moths drawn to flame.
"Lord Kael, this is my daughter—"
"My eldest is a skilled seamstress—"
"Please, consider looking at my second daughter, she—"
Kael's practiced smile held, but the corners trembled. His jaw stiffened. He looked like a cornered white fox, politely suffocating beneath powdered perfumes and eager parents. Reinhardt watched from afar, hiding a grin behind his wine glass.
Then—
a familiar hand wrapped around Kael's wrist and pulled him back.
The nobles gasped.
Elric stepped forward, placing herself boldly between Kael and the crowd. Her voice was soft, but every syllable struck like steel.
"I'm afraid Lord Kael already has a partner for the evening."
She smiled—sharp, unyielding.
"I am his fiancée."
Silence.
A ripple of shock.
And finally, reluctant bows before the nobles withdrew.
Kael exhaled, shoulders loosening. Elric glanced at him sideways, a hint of teasing in her eyes.
"Tired already? You should get used to this. There is still much more tonight."
The music shifted—smooth, elegant, a melody that beckoned to the center of the hall. Elric stepped back, raising her hand toward him.
"Do it like we practiced, Kael."
He hesitated only for a heartbeat before offering his hand with perfect poise.
"May I have this dance with you, Lady Elric?"
His voice—steady, soft, confident. Exactly as they had trained.
Elric bowed lightly, taking his hand.
The crowd parted.
And together, they stepped into the center of the hall.
The dance began.
Kael moved with surprising ease—every step smooth, every turn precise. Elric's gown flowed behind her like cascading moonlight, and Kael's steady posture framed her movements with elegance that stunned even the oldest generals present. It felt less like a dance and more like a painting brought to life—the archduke and his future duchess, moving in perfect harmony.
Whispers filled the hall.
"They're incredible…"
"Is this truly the Kael from legends?"
"Their chemistry… it's frightening."
Up on the dais, Reinhardt lounged lazily in his throne, swirling his wine while watching his two stubborn friends dance as though the world belonged only to them.
"Look at that, Robert," he murmured. "Tonight is a war for Elric."
Beside him, Robert did not laugh. His eyes remained fixed on Kael.
"Is Lord Kael staying here after this?" Robert asked quietly.
Reinhardt's smile didn't falter. "He must recover first. The world mustn't know how fragile he still is."
"That's not what I meant."
"I know." Reinhardt's voice dropped, suddenly cold and thoughtful.
"We watch and wait, Robert. That's all we can do."
Robert couldn't fight him. Not here. Not now. Not when the hall's attention was fixed on Kael's graceful first dance…and not when the night held darker secrets lurking beneath the music.
-----------------------------------------
Outside the palace walls, the festival roared. But within the shadows by the back hall, a hooded figure lurked—a cultist disguised as a guest. He couldn't approach Kael; Reinhardt's eyes were everywhere.
So, he approached the man waiting at the darkened corner—a noble desperate for status.
The cultist shoved a wrapped package into the noble's trembling hands.
"Give this to Hero Kael," the cultist growled. "If you wish for recognition from the Pillars, do not fail. Or we will ensure you're never found."
The noble swallowed.
Nodded.
Opened the package slightly—and froze at the sight of strange, dark powder pulsing unnaturally within.
The cultist smirked beneath the hood.
"Tonight," he whispered,
"the archduke falls."
And as the hall echoed with applause for Kael and Elric's dance, danger quietly threaded its way into the celebration—unseen, unnoticed, and deadly
-----------------------------------------
Thunderous applause rolled across the banquet hall as the final note of the orchestra faded. Kael and Elric stepped apart, breaths warm and mingled from the dance, and the hall erupted—cheers, whistles, praise echoing beneath the crystal chandeliers.
"Magnificent!"
"As expected of the Hero!"
"What a perfect pair—they truly look like a legend reborn!"
Kael lowered his gaze slightly, his elegant practiced smile never faltering. Elric gave a courteous bow, but her hand never left the small of his back—an unspoken claim no one dared contest.
The music resumed, lively once more, and immediately nobles surged forward again.
"Lord Kael, will you share your thoughts on the border expansion?"
"Why did you hide for five years?"
"Will you reopen Delcra's trading route to Galdwin Kingdom?"
"Are the rumors true that you defeated the Undead Dragon alone?"
Kael's smile strained. He opened his lips—
But Elric was faster.
"Lord Kael has already discussed this with His Majesty," she replied smoothly.
"Those matters will be finalized soon."
"We appreciate your patience."
"Please enjoy the celebration—this night belongs to him."
She stood tall, expression calm, shielding Kael with her presence like a silent wall of silver armor.
Only when the nobles backed away did Kael release a quiet breath.
-----------------------------------------
The banquet lasted until the moon hung high, and the palace lanterns flickered with the late hour. Outside, the capital still roared—streets bursting with lights, dancing, laughter, fireworks painting the sky. But inside the palace guest chamber assigned to Kael, the night finally settled into silence.
Kael slumped onto the chair, shoulders heavy. His body felt like carved stone.
Robert knocked softly before entering, carrying folded garments.
"Young master… no, forgive me—my lord," Robert corrected himself, bowing.
Kael's fingers twitched at the title.
"I have prepared a change of clothes. Do you wish to take a bath before resting?"
Kael merely nodded. His throat felt too tight to speak.
Robert instructed the palace maids, and soon steam drifted from the bathroom as warm water filled the marble tub. When the maids left, Robert helped Kael undress and guided him gently into the bath.
The heat enveloped him instantly. Kael's muscles loosened, exhaustion seeping into the water like ink.
Robert kneeled beside the tub, dipping a soft cloth into the bath and wiping Kael's shoulders.
"Today was a long day," he murmured.
"And you endured all of it. Perfectly. I am proud of you, my lord."
Kael leaned back, silent.
The warmth lulled him, sinking deep into his bones.
Robert chuckled softly.
"This is the most you have interacted with people since your return. If only the others saw how hard you practiced for this day… I hope you can keep this spirit tomorrow too."
Kael turned slightly, eyes half-lidded.
Robert stared back, then smiled.
"You are officially an Archduke now. Naturally, my way of addressing you must reflect that, my lord."
Just as Robert reached for the sponge again, Kael's quiet voice slipped out—barely a whisper over the water.
"…just… call me like you always do."
His fingers curled against the water.
"…like in the past."
The sponge slipped from Robert's hand, plopping softly into the bath.
"You…"
Robert's breath trembled.
"Do you… remember?"
Kael did not answer. He simply leaned back again, eyes lowered, refusing to explain further.
Robert swallowed whatever emotion trembled in his throat and resumed bathing him in silence.
After the bath, Kael dressed in his nightly robe and climbed into bed. Robert bowed deeply at the door.
"Good night… master Kael."
The moment Robert's footsteps faded down the hall, Kael lay still, staring at the ornate ceiling.
His mind returned again and again to the dance.
Elric's outfit shimmered in his memory—the delicate white fabric layered with light blue, matching his future ceremonial attire. She had worn pants as well, the half–gown flowing behind her like wings. Feminine, elegant, yet practical… so very her.
Her hand in his.
Her breath near his ear.
Her promise.
"If you do well, I'll give you a special gift."
He waited for it—but Elric vanished after their dance, swallowed by nobles seeking her counsel. He pushed aside the faint disappointment curling in his chest. She was busy. She was a duchess. He understood.
Tomorrow, Reinhardt would review the Delcra border paperwork with him. New responsibilities awaited. He needed rest.
Yet…
A strange heaviness twisted in his chest.
A familiar warning—soft but persistent.
A sensation he could never ignore.
Something is coming.
Something dangerous.
But nothing happened today. The celebration ended peacefully.
Kael's eyes closed slowly, exhaustion dragging him into sleep—yet the uneasiness lingered, like cold breath on the back of his neck.
Something in the night whispered:
This peace won't last.