Trumpets rang through the ballroom, silencing the chatter and music as every guest turned toward the grand staircase. A deep, steady voice echoed:
"Announcing Their Royal Majesties, King Aldros and Queen Elira, and Their Highnesses, Crown Princess Seraphina and Prince Kaelen!"
The double doors swung open, revealing the royal family in full regalia.
King Aldros was tall and broad-shouldered, with neatly styled white hair that shimmered like snow beneath the chandelier's light. A crown of pure white gold rested atop his head, complementing his long, regal cloak woven with ancient light runes and gold trim. His piercing silver eyes held the calm authority of a ruler born and tested.
Beside him, Queen Elira descended with graceful dignity. Her long white hair was braided with silver strands, and her violet gown flowed like moonlit mist, adorned with luminous thread. Her presence radiated gentleness, though her eyes revealed the calculating mind of a queen who had weathered many storms.
Behind them came the royal heirs.
Crown Princess Seraphina walked with elegance and poise. Her silver-white hair was styled in a flawless braid resting over one shoulder, and her gown of white and pale amethyst glittered like starlight. Her amethyst eyes were sharp, observant, and unreadable.
Beside her walked Prince Kaelen, his expression calm and serious. His short, snow-white hair and quiet posture gave him the appearance of someone who watched more than he spoke. He wore a formal navy coat trimmed in silver and black, and his black gloves marked him as a mage in training.
The royal family descended the marble staircase to where Duchess Lireya Taldred, Lord Marek, and their children stood in formal greeting.
Lireya and Marek bowed in perfect sync, and the twins mirrored the motion.
"Your Majesties," Lireya greeted, her voice calm and respectful. "We are honored to host you here in the North."
King Aldros smiled. "The honor is ours, Duchess Lireya. The North stands as firm and noble as ever."
Queen Elira stepped forward, eyes lingering on Malric and Lira. "Your heirs carry the presence of true nobility. They do you great credit."
"They have worked hard," Marek replied with quiet pride.
Seraphina stepped forward, offering a graceful nod. "Malric. Lira. Your names carry weight, and expectations. I look forward to seeing what you make of them at the Grand Arcanum."
"We are honored, Your Highness," Malric answered with a composed voice.
Prince Kaelen added, "Congratulations on your coming of age. May your paths be worthy ones."
"Thank you, Prince Kaelen," Lira said, smiling brightly.
As the royal family moved toward their seats, Seraphina's gaze paused on Alaric, who stood quietly beside Jorin. Her eyes lingered just a moment longer than expected—curious, assessing—before she continued on without a word.
Alaric lowered his head respectfully, but something in that glance stayed with him.
Later, as the ballroom settled into a rhythm of quiet conversations and soft music, Duchess Lireya began her rounds among the dukes.
She first approached Duke Lucien Duskryn of the South.
Lucien stood tall in a black and navy coat stitched with crackling lightning runes. His presence was stormlike—silent, powerful, and charged with tension. His silver eyes held cold calculation.
"Duke Lucien," Lireya greeted smoothly. "I trust the journey north was uneventful?"
Lucien gave a clipped nod. "Your guards are efficient."
Beside him stood Kael Duskryn, arms crossed, face etched with bored disdain. His violet coat bore his family crest, and his sword was worn openly, ceremonial but sharp.
"I've heard Kael has reached Knight Rank 4," Lireya said.
Lucien allowed a small smile. "Yes. His growth exceeds expectations."
Lireya tilted her head slightly. "A strong heir. I trust that strength will always serve the kingdom."
Lucien's eyes narrowed. "The South is loyal, Duchess."
Her own gaze didn't falter. "Of course."
Though her expression remained polite, Lireya's thoughts circled back to the rumors—quiet reports of armed expansions, merchant whispers, military movements. She would not dismiss the threat of the South.
Next, she approached Duchess Thalara Meredyn of the East.
Thalara wore a gown of flowing elemental threads, each color representing her five affinities—wind, fire, water, earth, and lightning. Magic pulsed from her softly, like a heartbeat.
"Duchess Lireya," Thalara greeted with a sly smile. "This celebration is divine. I can only hope my daughter's future banquet shines as brightly."
"High praise," Lireya replied.
Sirela Meredyn, her daughter, stood to her side. Her red and gold gown shimmered with warmth, and her confident poise drew attention. Her crimson eyes carried fire—both literal and temperamental.
"She's already mastered mid-tier manipulation in three elements," Thalara said proudly.
"A prodigy," Lireya said. "Lira will find a worthy rival in her."
Sirela smirked slightly. "I look forward to it."
Finally, Lireya approached Duke Ardan Veyranth of the West.
Dressed in emerald robes embroidered with silvery vines, Ardan stood like a figure out of elven myth. His long white hair flowed behind his shoulders, and his ageless eyes regarded the room with quiet thought.
"Duchess Lireya," he greeted with a soft smile. "The North is colder, but no less warm in spirit."
"Thank you, Duke Ardan," she replied warmly.
His children stood nearby. Aerion, tall and reserved, offered a polite nod. Virelya, bright-eyed and exuberant, bounced on her heels.
"Your daughter's dress is beautiful!" Virelya exclaimed. "I hope we can be roommates!"
Lireya chuckled. "She'd love that."
Meanwhile, the heirs had gathered near the open terrace, clustered around the twins.
Kael Duskryn stood with arms folded. "Knight Rank 3? Hmm. I suppose that's decent."
Malric lifted his brow. "We serve our people first. Rank is earned over time."
Kael shrugged. "Strength is what earns respect. Sentiment doesn't win battles."
Lira stepped forward. "No—but character does."
Sirela tilted her head. "You're passionate. I like that. I'd enjoy testing you in a duel sometime."
Aerion, quiet as always, said, "Perhaps we could all train together. Strategy speaks louder than sparks."
Virelya grinned. "Or we could all just share pastries!"
Malric chuckled. "A mix of both would be nice."
From a short distance, Alaric and Jorin observed the gathering.
"They're already posturing," Jorin muttered.
Alaric's voice was low. "This is their battlefield. Just more polished."
As the stars rose beyond the balcony windows, a quiet resolve settled over them all. The heirs of legacy. The weight of duty. The hush before futures collided.
And from her high seat at the front of the ballroom, Princess Seraphina glanced toward Alaric once more—her gaze narrowed, contemplative, like someone trying to solve a puzzle she didn't know existed yet.