The blare of trumpets shattered the stillness of the hall. From above, petals drifted down in a gentle cascade as the great doors groaned open.
King Midas erged from the inner chambers.
He was cloaked in deep crimson. A crown of gold glead against his hair.
He walked with the asured strength of a man who bore both crown and realm upon his shoulders.
Two guards flanked him but they might as well have been shadows for every eye in the hall belonged to the sovereign alone as he advanced toward the dais.
Nobles, servants, officials alike bent in bows and curtsies.
Lucien inclined his head as well though he could not resist stealing a glance.
The king... looked different from what he had imagined.
Not in bearing. His dignity and the weight of his aura rivaled even Lucien’s Sovereign Aura... but in appearance.
He walked tall and sharp-eyed with a neatly trimd beard. His chin was lifted ever so slightly as though concealing the crown of his head.
Just then...
He saw it.
As the king strode toward the dais, his gaze swept the hall... then paused.
On him.
Lucien blinked. He shook his head and looked again.
But no. There was no mistake. The king’s eyes were fixed squarely on him.
It wasn’t his imagination.
The king’s expression was unreadable. It was carved from stone yet Lucien felt the weight of that scrutiny press against him.
His chest tightened and his pulse quickened.
INSPECT.
The skill failed.
Lucien’s eyes widened. The king’s aura resisted, deflecting the probe with a force nearly identical to his own Sovereign Aura.
Impenetrable.
Untouchable.
And of course... the king noticed.
Lucien caught it. It was subtle but undeniable.
A faint smile curved the king’s lips as if to say... ’I know what you did.’ Then just as quickly, the king looked away.
Lucien’s heart pounded harder.
If the king chose to pursue this matter, he would be in grave trouble.
But then...
Lucien quietly activated another skill.
DIVINE SENSE.
Unlike INSPECT, this one was undetectable. It was ant to glimpse the essence of a soul.
To weigh its leanings toward good or evil.
And when his sight fell upon the king... he froze.
The king’s color was chaotic.
His essence shimred like shattered stained glass, splinters of light spinning without pattern or peace. At tis it flared radiant... at others violent... and beneath it all was ceaseless motion as though the colors themselves refused to be still.
It was beautiful.
Terrifying.
Impossible to look away from.
’What does this an...?’
Lucien’s mind raced.
If he had to guess, it was the mark of soone torn apart.
Between crown and self. Between desire and duty.
He exhaled slowly. This only made the king more unpredictable.
At last, the king reached his high seat. The hall fell into hushed silence. His gaze swept over lords and ladies, knights and officials, before the faintest smile touched his lips.
Imdiately, the servants moved with practiced grace, weaving among the guests as they handed down gleaming goblets of wine. The younger nobles received only goblets of juice and Lucien was among them.
In monts, every hand in the hall held a goblet.
"My people," the king began. His voice was deep and commanding. "Tonight I am not rely your sovereign. I am your host. You have gathered to honor the years I have seen but it is this kingdom and you who serve it, that I truly celebrate. Let joy flow as freely as the wine and let no heart in this hall go unlifted."
He raised his goblet. The golden cup glittered.
"To the crown and the kingdom!"
The hall erupted in thunderous reply: "To the crown and the kingdom!"
The king lowered his cup with a faint smile. "Co then. Enough of ceremony. The round tables await. Let the feast begin!"
At his words, music swelled to life.
Lutes. Pipes. Drums.
Laughter spilled across the hall as the nobles move. The voices were warm with excitent.
Stewards guided them to the banquet floor where the round tables were. Polished silverware caught the glow of the chandeliers while steaming platters of roasted ats, baskets of fresh bread and jewel-toned fruits filled the air with rich fragrance.
Servants hurried among the nobles, pouring wine into goblets as minstrels struck a rry tune. Dancers spun near the pillars, their ribbons flashing bright against cold stone.
At last, Lucien found his seat at one of the round tables.
Edric and Maxim were beside him with Ellen and Cielius. Vivian and her friends were in front with Caelum and Lioren joining as well.
Lucien’s eyes lit with warmth when they settled on the old man. A rare lightness stirred in his chest.
Strangely, the two dukes, Alistair and Damian, also chose to sit at the sa table as them.
The court priest was giving a brief blessing to the king, the kingdom and the feast... when Alistair suddenly leaned toward Lucien with a booming laugh.
"Baron, my son told you were no ordinary man. Hah! Now that I see for myself, I must agree."
Damian chuckled as well.
"Indeed. And your sister... she is remarkable in her own right. She carries attributes rare enough to produce Holy Water itself. Lioren will never need to worry about running out of supplies again as we can buy them directly from your sister. Though I must apologize..."
His smile quirked.
"Lioren does beco rather strange when she eats sothing bad."
Lucien answered with a light laugh of his own.
"Dukes, no need to be polite. Please accept this as a token of our eting."
From his side, he produced two slim cans of Energy Drink and placed them before the dukes.
Alistair and Damian took them without hesitation. Even before opening them, the faint aura woven into the packaging was unmistakable.
Caelum and Lioren’s eyes glead with excitent. They had been praising the drinks endlessly and now their fathers finally held them in hand.
The attention of the table shifted. Others glanced curiously toward the cans.
Lucien, to be fair, passed out more.
One each to Caelum and Lioren which earned them bright smiles. And since Vivian had left her spatial bag behind.... one each to her and her friends as well. Of course, to Cielius and the others.
The mont should have ended there.
But suddenly... Lucien felt it.
A weight pressed against him. A gaze.
His eyes flicked upward.
The king.
Not watching him.
Watching the cans.
Lucien’s throat tightened. He swallowed hard.
’Did he notice sothing...?’
Then, Duke Alistair and Duke Damian rose to their feet.
"It is our turn to give our ssage to the king," Alistair said with a smile. "Please, don’t mind us."
Damian gave Caelum and Lioren a firm look. "Caelum and Lioren. Behave yourselves."
The others chuckled clearly amused by the warning and the table laughed with them.
For a ti, Lucien found himself talking with Vivian’s circle of friends. To his mild surprise, everyone blended together easily.
Caelum and Lioren, despite their noble standing were welcod without pretense, and they, in turn, seed to genuinely enjoy the company.
Vivian’s friends treated them as equals rather than heirs and their warmth drew out a lighter side of the usually sharp-tongued brothers.
"We should’ve all t long ago," Caelum said, leaning back with a grin. "It’s a sha I’ve only t you recently, Baron."
"That’s a blessing in disguise," Lioren cut in with a sly smirk. "I rember what you were like as a child. Spoiled rotten. If the Baron had t you back then, he wouldn’t have liked you at all."
The table broke into laughter. The sound rang bright against the music and chatter of the hall.
Lucien smiled as he watched their carefree banter. For a rare mont, he allowed himself to simply enjoy the warmth of the gathering.
And yet... his eyes kept straying to the side.
To Cielius.
Without anymore hesitation, Lucien finally asked the question that had been weighing on him.
"Grandpa... can you tell more about your daughter?"
Cielius froze, caught off guard. His eyes slid toward Lucien and what he saw there stopped him from brushing the question aside.
The boy’s gaze was intent, hopeful, almost hungry for an answer.
The old man’s heart stirred.
’That expression... it’s the sa one Cienna used to give when she wanted the truth...’
Around the table, Ellen, Edric and Maxim stiffened. Cienna’s na was a wound rarely touched and Cielius’s reactions to it had always been... unpredictable.
No one knew if he would flare with anger.
Shut down in grief.
Or simply walk away.
But this ti, sothing was different.
The old man didn’t look wounded. He looked... content. Almost happy.
"My daughter, Cienna..." Cielius began slowly. His voice was soft but steady. "She was the most talented mage this world has ever seen. And I don’t say that as a doting father but as a mage who knows the asure of talent."
His eyes softened as mory overtook him.
"She entered the Magic Tower when she was still young, eager to claim the title of mage. I can still rember her joy that day... how her smile lit the halls brighter than any spell."
Cielius let out a long breath then a wistful sigh. Yet a gentle smile tugged at his lips as though he were speaking not to the others at the table but to the daughter etched into his heart.
Lucien leaned forward slightly with anticipation burning in his eyes.
"She would return to the academy from ti to ti, telling stories of her research," Cielius said. His voice carried a fondness rarely heard. "Would you believe it boy, if I told you she possessed all known magic attributes?"
Lucien’s breath hitched.
His body tensed almost instinctively tugging at his sleeve.
Ellen leaned in, unable to contain herself.
"That’s true, Nephew. She even taught the fundantals of Ti Magic. Do you understand how impossible that is? Ti spells are elusive and fragnted... yet Sister Cienna spoke of them as though she were reading the very script of the world. Without her, I would never have reached this mastery. Every strand of my ti magic proves she existed."
Cielius nodded slowly as mories washed over him.
But Lucien...
Lucien’s chest was pounding. He clutched at it, feeling his heart thunder against his palm. Each beat was louder than the last. His throat went dry.
He leaned forward. "And then? What happened next?"
The old man noticed his intensity and chuckled softly.
"Ah... if only she had t that man a little later in life. When they were both stronger and wiser..."
Lucien’s head snapped up. His eyes burned. "Who? What is his na?"
The demand ca too quickly. Everyone at the table froze.
Ellen, Edric and Maxim exchanged glances. None of them had ever seen Lucien like this.
Cielius stroked his beard, hesitant. "Strange... I have never spoken this to anyone. Not even to my disciple. So truths are dangerous and yet..."
He leaned closer, lowering his voice.
"I feel as though I must tell you. Young man, co closer. I will whisper it."
Lucien didn’t hesitate. He bent forward at once.
The others... Ellen, Edric, Maxim... Watched with tight jaws and clenched fists.
This was knowledge denied even to them. All they knew was that Cienna had left and that she had died. But now... soone else was entering the tale.
Soone powerful enough and precious enough to have won Cienna’s heart.
Cielius finally leaned close. His voice dropped to a trembling whisper.
"Luke. Yes... He is Thousand-Skill Luke."
Lucien’s mind went blank.
It was as if lightning had split the hall in two. His body jolted and every hair on his skin stood on end. A cold rush crawled down his spine as goosebumps erupted.
Thump.
His heart slamd violently against his ribs.
Thump. Thump.
His divine energy core stirred, pulsing in chaotic rhythm. Sothing deep inside him was calling out, resonating.
He staggered back into his seat with his expression frozen.
His lips parted but soundless. His jaw trembled yet no words ca.
The realization hit like a blade through his chest.
Luke... Cienna...
Lu... Cien...
Lucien.
The naming tradition of his old world echoed in his mind, undeniable and cruel in its simplicity. Combining the nas of father and mother to forge the na of their child.
His vision blurred. His breath caught.
He was Lucien.
Son of Luke and Cienna.
User Comments
0 comments from readers