Elden Ring: 2,000 Hour Speedrunner Becomes a Dragon Chapter 64 64: Receiving the Guests

The pavilion had been established across a sweeping, erald clearing along the high banks of the Rodel Basin. Architects, royal vintners, and dostic handmaids from the inner palaces had initiated their operational cycles a full watch and night ago; by the hour Lucia's vanguard cleared the trees, the empty adow had been systematically transmuted into an elegant, magnificent theater of state.

The footprint of the venue conford to a massive, circular layout. The Royal Court's master masons had utilized the raw physical mass of enslaved Trolls to harvest colossal blocks of pure granite from the ridges, binding the stone with the ancient Alabaster Gravity Core magic inherited from the ancient Void Kings to assemble a towering Guest Platform. The central lawn, designated for the choral and choreography vanguards, had been packed and crystallized by the Fundantalist Monks using high-tier terrestrial incantations, achieving a structural durability that matched the capital's outer bastions in a matter of hours.

Furthermore, every porcelain vessel, silver chalice, and carved trencher had been excavated from the vaults of the Golden Temple itself. Dozens of Master Court Chefs maintained a constant fire within the temporary field kitchens erected behind the pavilion arches. The second the horses dropped anchor, they were prepared to deliver a supre state nu within the tightest humanly possible tifra.

Lucia monitored the periter from the carriage window, his analytical engine calculating the variables. Radagon had clearly directed a monuntal portion of his personal focus toward this reception; the administrative thoroughness across every vector was absolute.

Concurrently, the display hand-delivered an objective lesson regarding the structural foundations of the Golden Dynasty's military capacity. Once these disparate cohorts of masons, grav-mages, and ascetic Monks conford their skills to an active war theater, constructing an impenetrable siege fortress across an enemy's supply lines would take no more effort than raising this banquet ring.

The combined column rolled smoothly into the parking tiers reserved for the high nobility. Lucia stepped out first, offering a steady, grounding hand to guide Miquella across the step before gently waking Malenia. He hoisted her small fra into his arms, carrying her down to settle her limbs into the silk-lined wheeled chair the servants had rolled to the door.

Catching the disappearance of the grim, icy mask he had worn during the journey, the little girl calculated that the Prince had fully processed her earlier tantrum. A brilliant, un-fused smile instantly illuminated her pale face.

Monts later, the three Empyreans intersected Radagon's approaching line. The increasingly majestic Elden Lord threw out the convoluted paraters of court protocol, closing the distance in two rapid strides to drop his knees into the grass, his visor aligning with Malenia's fra.

His palm un-clasped, venting a series of gold, diagnostic threads across her chest before pulling the light back into his rings. His brow knit together in a sharp, defensive scowl. "Headstrong child... did my office not issue an explicit mandate for your fra to remain insulated within the pillows? To clear your chambers before your internal margins have stabilized... if a regression detonates on this grass, what is our counter-move?"

Before his administrative reprimand could close its ledger, Malenia suddenly lunged her arms forward, locking her hands behind his golden gorget. She buried her face directly into the crook of his shoulder, her voice a soft, fragile whisper against his neck. "Father... I love you."

Radagon's entire posture went dead-still, the gold light within his pupils violently shaking for a fraction of a second. His massive, trembling hand lifted, his fingers slowly smoothing her copper locks as her voice continued to drift from his cloak. "Malenia's margins are perfectly level. My brother and Lucia have locked their shields to my flank, so Father... banish the worry."

The King Consort drew a long, ragged breath, leaning down to press his lips against her pale cheek. "I map the logic. But if your system registers the slightest hint of internal heat later, your lips must alert my presence within the heartbeat. Clear?"

The girl offered a bright, compliant nod.

Radagon stood, his majestic bulk blocking the sun as he directed a few precise inquiries toward Miquella regarding his tabolic depletion. Confirming that the prince's exhaustion was rely a temporary feedback loop from his healing output, the tension drained from his shoulders, and his amber eyes shifted to lock onto Lucia.

Their visors crossed for a silent, heavy second. A faint, calculated smile touched Radagon's lips. "My dear child... my office extends its gratification. To carve a window out of your grueling physical cultivation to anchor your presence at this table does your house credit."

Lucia executed a asured, courtly bow, his features conford to a perfectly calibrated, aristocratic smile. "The invitation bore your personal seal, Your Majesty; my compliance is nominal. Furthermore, my own engine is eager to map the trics of the three Carian heirs."

Radagon's face remained warm as a spring afternoon. He dropped a heavy, patronizing palm onto Lucia's shoulder plate. "I harbor a massive list of diplomatic arrangents that require my direct presence before the noon watch. Miquella and Malenia are operating under a severe physical deficit today; I command your shield to assist their movents and monitor their safety. I thank you for the labor."

"The task is within my paraters," Lucia replied, his smile remaining perfectly level.

The Elden Lord nodded, casting a final, lingering look at his twin children before turning on his heel to clear the pavilion.

Monitoring his retreating silhouette, Lucia's silver eyes suddenly narrowed. Radagon was marching alone; there wasn't a single golden Rodel Knight tracking his cloak. More than that, scanning the entire periter of the granite platforms, the active garrison was practically non-existent.

The layout was high-stakes. The incoming delegation was led by a world-class nace like Knight Moongrum. Even if Radagon possessed a divine, cataclysmic personal combat tric, he was legally conford to station an elite security tier to insulate Miquella and Malenia from a stray blade.

Yet, to demonstrate an absolute sincerity to the children he had abandoned fourteen winters ago, the supre ruler of the continent was genuinely willing to compromise his own personal defense, systematically liquidating his own elite vanguard to remove any shadow of intimidation from the field. It was a level of ideological spirit that few monarchs could ever replicate.

With the King Consort gone, a high-ranking Court Lady-in-Waiting guided their steps up the stone stairs to the primary ring of the Guest Platform. Radagon's high throne anchored the absolute apex of the circle, with two parallel lines of long mahogany tables stretching below to the left and right, already crowded with silver platters of rare, glazed appetizers.

The mistress of ceremonies led Lucia to the secondary bench on the left flank, dropping into a low, deferential curry. "Prince Luciassax, this marker is conford to your rank. The primary seat at the head of this row was originally reserved by the crown for High Priestess Lansseax. Following her administrative migration to Rodelia beside Her Majesty, the station was reassigned to Crucible Commander Ordovis. The Elden Lord has decreed that since your hatching preceded Prince Miquella and Princess Malenia, your shield must occupy this priority."

As she delivered the explanation, the woman maintained a flawless, professional mask, though her eyes subtly tracked the micro-expressions across Lucia's silver lashes to register any hint of royal friction.

Lucia scanned the geotry of the tables, his engine instantly reading Radagon's blueprint. The apex seats of the parallel lines were assigned to Ordovis and Moongrum. These two paladins were not rely terrifying tactical engines; they comprised the highest-ranking hero-class survivors of their respective eras. Given their age and historical body counts, no minister in either dynasty could contest their priority at the front.

As for his own placent, the administrative excuse regarding his "chronological age" was delightfully ambiguous, yet Radagon had hand-delivered the maximum possible courtesy by shifting his seat above the twin Empyreans of his own house. The sincerity was bankable.

Lucia nodded, accepting the layout. He didn't drop his weight imdiately; he wheeled Malenia's fra into its designated gap, hoisting her small body to settle her silks comfortably against the cushions before leaning down to murmur a series of structural directions into Miquella's ear. Once the twins were securely positioned, he unbuckled the scabbards of his Dragon-Scale Blade and the Godskin Stitcher, laying the steel horizontally across the mahogany before taking his seat.

Roughly a quarter of an hour bled off the watch before the sa Lady-in-Waiting reappeared at the steps, bowing sharply. "Prince Lucia, Prince Miquella. The Carian outriders have cleared the fifteen-mile boundary marker. His Majesty has dispatched my office to verify if the two princes desire to accompany his horse to receive the line."

"Naturally. Our presence is conford," Lucia replied. He stood up in a singular, fluid motion, re-locking his twin scabbards to his hips. Miquella rose alongside his bench, smoothing the wrinkles from his white silk vestnts.

Malenia, who was currently buried nose-first in a massive silver chalice of sweet mountain fruit juice, paused, her eyes blinking in confusion. "And my orientation?"

The handmaid smiled softly. "The Elden Lord is paranoid regarding the Princess's physical stability; he commands your fra to remain resting within this pavilion."

"Execute Father's directive and let your cycles settle. Our boots will clear the threshold before the juice is empty," Miquella comforted her with a bright, warm smile.

The little girl monitored her brother and Lucia with a trace of lingering anxiety. Catching the synchronized, reassuring looks both Empyreans directed at her visor, she finally dropped her chin into a gloomy compliance. "Mhm. I map the ledger..."

Clearing the long listone stairs of the Guest Platform to reach the staging grounds below, Lucia noted that Radagon and the newly arrived Crucible Knight Ordovis were already mounted at the head of the reception line. Following a brief, disciplined nod between the two Empyreans and the ancient Crucible Commander, the stable-hands delivered two pure-blooded Altus stallions to the Prince's stirrups.

With a singular, resonant command from the Elden Lord, the grand reception column cleared their gates, galloping at maximum speed toward the western approaches of the basin.

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