Several minutes passed like that.
Then, without warning, the music stopped.
Every instrunt fell quiet at once.
A heartbeat of stillness swept across the banquet hall.
A loud, clear voice echoed through the space.
"The royal family is here!"
All heads turned toward the grand entrance.
The towering doors opened slowly, and a procession stepped inside. Guards in armor walked first, then three figures entered the hall with calm, dignified steps.
Gasps rippled through the crowd.
Nobles straightened their backs.
Others lowered their heads respectfully.
Michael's eyes shifted toward the trio.
A middle aged man in heavy, ornate robes walked at the front. His expression was calm. Behind him were two younger n, both dressed in refined attire.
To Michael's faint surprise, he recognized two of them instantly.
The middle aged man was the Second Prince of the kingdom whom he had once been trapped with in an illusion for before Michael helped stabilize the situation.
The younger one on the right was the Seventh Prince.
The sa prince who had been in Mage Lian's office during Michael's early days in the capital and had a particularly rude personal guard.
As for the third person...
Michael studied him.
A young man who carried himself with confidence and quiet sharpness. He walked beside the other two princes as if he belonged among them completely.
Michael did not know him.
But given his position at their side, his status must have been similar.
Arianne's fingers paused slightly on her glass.
Seria straightened in subconscious respect.
Whispers spread across the room like ripples through a pond.
Michael simply watched calmly.
Royalty entering a hall like this changed everything.
For Michael, however...
It only ant the banquet would beco louder again.
Which ant the peaceful silence he had been enjoying beside the two nervous girls was about to end.
A pity.
Michael took another sip of wine.
As he lowered the glass, he felt a small shift beside him.
Arianne had gone very still.
Not in the respectful way everyone else had.
Her fingers, which had been resting lightly on the stem of her glass,
were now holding it just a bit too firmly.
Her eyes were on the entrance, like everyone else's.
But unlike everyone else, she was not looking at the Second Prince.
Nor at the Seventh.
Her focus was locked on the third man.
The unfamiliar one.
Michael's gaze followed the line of her sight.
The young man walked beside the other princes, calm and composed. He did not smile much, but there was a certain quiet confidence
around him.
Arianne's expression did not change much on the surface.
Yet the faint ease she usually showed around Michael had vanished,
replaced by sothing more guarded.
Michael narrowed his eyes slightly.
This was not just because the royal family had appeared.
Arianne had grown up in this environnt. Seeing princes and nobles was not new to her. She would not tense up over simple ceremony.
Which ant the problem was not the entire group.
It was that man in particular.
Michael watched her for a mont longer, then moved his gaze back
to the trio.
So it is like that.
He did not know what "that" was yet.
But he knew enough to recognize that Arianne's mood had been
stable until the mont that man walked in.
He considered asking her.
It would be simple enough.
"Arianne, who is he?"
But If it was a sensitive matter, Arianne would not be able to answer
freely.
So instead, Michael turned slightly to his other side.
"Lady Seria," he said casually, his voice relaxed, "the one beside the
Seventh Prince. Do you know who he is?"
Seria, who had been doing her absolute best to blend into the nearest
wall, blinked.
She followed his gaze toward the entrance, then her eyes widened a
little.
"You do not know him, Sir Mic?" she asked in a low voice, as if the
very idea was surprising.
Michael gave a small shake of his head.
Seria hesitated for a heartbeat, then leaned in just enough that her
words would not carry far.
"That is His Highness the Ninth Prince," she murmured. "Prince
Raelion Lionheart."
She paused, then added in a soft tone filled with the weight of gossip
and quiet admiration.
"He is often called the Spear of the North. Many consider him one of
the strongest contenders for the throne."
Michael's eyes lingered on the prince for a mont.
Ninth Prince.
Contender for the throne.
He glanced sideways at Arianne again.
Her gaze was still on Raelion.
Seria's voice lowered even more, curiosity slipping into it despite
herself.
"He also has a rather... close political relationship with the Evermoon Duchy," she said. "There were even rumors, in the past, that he might
beco connected to them through marriage."
Michael's fingers tapped his glass once.
"I see," he said quietly. Inwardly, a thought ford.
So that is why your mood changed, Arianne.
Michael let his gaze rest on Prince Raelion for a few more seconds.
A person with political ties to the Evermoon Duchy... and old rumors
of marriag Slowly, Michael lowered his glass.
Arianne's posture was still composed, but that subtle tension never
left her shoulders. Her eyes had drifted away from the prince the
mont she felt Michael's stare on her, yet the faint stiffness around her expression remained.
Michael turned his gaze forward again, thoughts quietly weaving
together.
He rembered the duke's tournant.
A contest for elite talents.
A grand event watched by half the kingdom.
And the final prize-the hand of the duke's daughter.
Even back then, Michael had found it strange.
He knew it was a sche.
Why would a duke place sothing so important on open display?
Now, as he watched Arianne's reaction to Prince Raelion, sothing clicked.
Of course. It wasn't random.
The duke's "competition" was not simply to reward a strong youth.
It was a move.
By declaring the prize publicly and tying it to a contest, the duke locked the matter into a promise of honor.
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