The gates of Aerinthal opened, and every eye turned toward the royal carriage gliding into the courtyard. At its center sat Kaelith Gravemont, heir of the House of Gravity. Only twenty years old, he carried himself like a monarch thrice his age. Behind him marched two thousand elite soldiers, their armor glinting in the sun, a living wall of loyalty and discipline.
Kaelith's appearance stunned the crowd. Pale skin, piercing blue eyes, and long hair tied in regal fashion. His sword, a seemingly ordinary weapon, hummed with hidden power. Every step he took radiated authority and latent destruction.
The nobles whispered, the soldiers trembled, and the Princess of Air, as radiant as the wind itself, felt her heartbeat quicken.
The royal guard, trained for battle, instinctively reached for weapons. Kaelith noticed. A cold smile touched his lips. Calmly, he drew his sword. His eyes flared from icy blue to burning crimson, and a wave of wind swept the courtyard, rattling banners and shaking the ground.
Ten squads of guards, seventy men in total instinctively froze, caught between duty and terror. Kaelith's sword tip hovered above the marble floor. He whispered to the earth, and gravity surged outward, pressing the guards into the ground. Within seconds, all knelt, crushed by invisible weight.
A hush fell over the crowd. The princess gasped.
Stepping forward, Lady Elenora Gravemont, Kaelith's mother, placed a gentle hand on his arm. Regal and serene, she spoke softly but firmly: "Kaelith."
He relaxed, lowering the sword, and muttered a formal apology.
Kaelith then patted a kneeling guard on the shoulder with a smirk.
"It was good," he said. "But I was hoping for more. I wanted a fight to remember."
The commander of the royal guard, Sir Vaelor, lifted his head with pride. "Your Highness, we are limited by our power. Against you, we cannot hope to battle as equals."
Kaelith's expression sharpened. "Limit… is what a man chooses when he decides where he stops. Power has no ceiling. Only those who fear it impose limits."
The soldiers bowed lower, unable to deny the truth. Kaelith's voice rang through the courtyard:
"I expected more from this kingdom. Tell me, who among you is the greatest wielder of air?"
A gust of wind swirled around the dais. Lord Aerion, head of the Air House, stepped forward. Winds bent around him in silent defiance, yet Kaelith did not flinch. His attention had already drifted.
His eyes found the princess. She blinked in shock, and in the blink of an eye, Kaelith leaned in, cheekily close.
Her breath caught, her cheeks flushing crimson. The court gasped.
Kaelith whispered just for her:
"So… is it you?"