Inside the grand chambers of the duchy's manor, the twins stood before a tall, gold-framed mirror, already dressed for the celebration. Today marked their thirteenth birthday—a momentous occasion not only as a family milestone but as a rite of passage across the kingdom. It was the day they would be presented before nobles, mages, knights, and royalty as heirs stepping into the path of adulthood.
Malric stood straight, wearing a navy-blue tunic trimmed with silver thread and the sigil of the North—a glacial wing—emblazoned over his chest. His black boots were polished to a mirror shine, and a ceremonial sword hung neatly at his side. His dark hair had been tied back into a neat warrior's tail, giving him a quiet, composed look.
Beside him, Lira shimmered in a flowing aquamarine gown layered with sheer green fabric, styled to resemble the movement of water. Tiny emeralds embroidered along the hem caught the light with every step. Her silver-blonde hair was elegantly braided into a circlet, and a sapphire teardrop pendant—a gift from their mother—rested gently against her collarbone.
The door creaked open, and Jorin stepped inside.
"Woah… you both look incredibly beautiful," he said, blinking.
Malric snorted. "Say that again, and I'll toss you out the window."
"You know what I mean!" Jorin laughed, adjusting the collar of his deep green coat, accented with bronze thread. His boots were new and slightly too stiff, and his unruly hair had at least been tamed for the occasion.
"You don't look bad either," Malric admitted.
The door opened again.
Alaric stepped in, briefly stunned by the sight of his friends before realizing they were looking right back at him.
Lira gasped. "You're… more beautiful than us."
Alaric flushed. "D-Don't say that."
He wore a tailored white tunic with pale gold accents, a high collar, and a silver clasp shaped like the duchy's crest. A deep maroon cape was clipped over one shoulder. His normally tousled white hair had been combed neatly, and his dark eyes reflected the candlelight with quiet depth.
Jorin gave a teasing whistle. "You clean up well, farm boy."
"Let's just get this over with," Alaric muttered.
Jorin chuckled. "We'll head out first. Good luck."
He and Alaric exited, leaving the twins alone for their final preparations.
The grand ballroom gleamed with marble floors, enchanted glass chandeliers, and streaming banners of icy silver and deep blue. Nobles and honored guests mingled amid music, wine, and finely arranged tables of food.
The music softened as the large doors opened.
Duchess Lireya Thorne entered arm in arm with her husband, Lord Marek, flanked by their children.
Lireya's silver-blue gown shimmered like fresh snow, with thin strands of diamonds laced at the shoulders. She carried herself with calm grace and strength. Marek, steady and composed, wore a dark gray coat embroidered with earth-toned designs and a polished earth-crystal at his throat.
Their children walked with regal poise.
Lireya raised a hand and addressed the room.
"Honored guests," she said, her voice clear and welcoming. "Thank you for joining us on this special evening. Today, my children—Malric and Lira—celebrate not only their birth, but their passage into early adulthood. Soon, they will begin their journey at the Grand Arcanum Institute."
She looked at the twins with pride. "I ask that you offer them your blessings, your wisdom, and your hopes as they walk into the future we are building together."
Applause echoed warmly through the ballroom.
Guests began approaching the family.
Lord Herath Vollen, a decorated military commander from the western border, arrived in dark armor trimmed with gold. With him was his daughter Maela, a quiet girl with wind affinity who would be joining the Arcanum.
Next came Magister Luthen Varr, a former royal court mage and now headmaster of a private academy. His son Callen, draped in crimson mage robes, stood confidently with a wand strapped to his belt.
Several other nobles followed, many with sons or daughters near the twins' age, each hoping for good relations in the academy.
Near the back of the room, Alaric and Jorin watched.
"Do you know any of these people?" Alaric asked.
Jorin nodded. "A few. That one over there is Solen Virell, head of the Wind Tower in the North. Rank 10 Wind Mage. One of the strongest mages in the entire kingdom."
Solen stood tall, his long silver hair braided behind him, sharp green eyes scanning the room beneath calm brows.
"And her?" Alaric asked, pointing toward a group near the adventurers.
"That's Captain Tharyn, head of the Adventurer Guild's northern branch. Knight Rank 9, Earth Mage Rank 3. She leads dungeon-clearing missions and trains elite adventurers."
Just then, Malric and Lira joined them.
"What are you whispering about now?" Lira asked.
"Just giving Alaric a rundown," Jorin said.
"You forgot some important ones," Malric added. "Like the other dukes."
He pointed toward the southern side. "That's Duke Lucien Duskryn of the South. Thunder Knight, Rank 10. Cold and calculating. He brought only his legitimate son—Kael Duskryn, Knight Rank 4. Trains relentlessly."
Then to the east. "Duchess Thalara Meredyn. A master mage of five elements: Wind, Fire, Water, Earth, and Lightning. Her daughter, Sirela, is said to be both brilliant and beautiful."
"And over there," he pointed west, "That's Duke Ardan Veyranth, the elf duke. He brought both of his children—Aerion, reserved and observant, and Virelya, cheerful and talkative."
"Looks like we'll meet all of them soon at the academy," Jorin muttered.
Alaric nodded. "Hopefully not all at once."
Suddenly, the music slowed and the herald stepped forward.
"Announcing Their Royal Majesties—King Aldros and Queen Elira, and Their Highnesses, Crown Princess Seraphina and Prince Kaelen!"
The grand doors at the top of the stairs began to open.
Golden light spilled into the ballroom, and all conversation stopped as every eye turned to welcome the royal family.