Morix and Rales headed straight toward the Royal Palace. Their steps echoed through the grand corridor as the doors to the King's chamber slowly opened.
Morix dropped to one knee the instant he crossed the threshold.
"Your Majesty."
His voice was deep, steady, formal the kind of greeting given only in the highest courts.
Prince Rales knelt beside him, and seeing his father well again filled him with an overwhelming relief. Even though the message about the King's illness had been false, it had shaken him more than he expected. For the first time in years, Rales whispered softly:
"Father…"
The King heard it and though his heart soared, he held his emotions tightly. He was on the throne now, not in the role of a father.
He had been impatiently waiting for Morix to return. He had even decided that today he would finally reveal that old secret the one about Morix's existence. But the moment he saw Morix standing strong and unharmed, he stopped himself. Not yet. Not while Morix was still well.
The King cleared his throat.
"Morix. Where have you been all this time?"
Morix rose to his feet.
"I travelled to Seraphyne, Your Majesty. I wished to assess whether their forces were strong enough to stand with our Empire as allies… strong enough to face tyrant King Mammon of the Galdrevia."
The King leaned forward.
"So? What did you find?"
Morix's expression sharpened the look of a seasoned general reporting after years on the battlefield.
"We've always known their numbers. But numbers mean nothing without strength. I saw that strength with my own eyes. Their soldiers… they move with discipline, unity, and a natural ferocity. Their footmen hold their formations like stone. Their cavalry rides with unnerving precision. Even their young recruits have an aura of raw power."
The King nodded slowly, impressed.
"Did you meet General Gabriel?" he asked curiously.
Morix allowed himself a small breath.
"Yes. We fought."
The King's eyes lit with excitement.
"And who won?"
Morix replied calmly,
"Gabriel is a formidable warrior swift, sharp, and precise. Every strike he makes feels calculated, and his instincts are razor-true. But… in the end, I emerged the victor."
Pride surged through the King as he rose slightly from his throne.
"That is why you are our Empire's shield, Morix!" he boasted.
"No one matches your strength."
Morix bowed lightly.
"I thank Your Majesty. My strength has been enough for every battle I've fought… yet it has stopped increasing recently."
The King's pride froze.
Excitement turned into concern and concern took the form of tension
Inside him, alarms rang.
The signs had begun.
He knew what this meant that thing had already started.
But he swallowed his fear and spoke firmly,
"Do not worry. You are strong enough. You have never lost a single battle."
Morix nodded, and both warriors took their leave.
Outside the Palace
As they exited into the cool evening air, Rales turned to him with boyish excitement.
"So? How is Seraphyne?"
Morix's expression softened for the first time today.
He described the beauty of Seraphyne the crystalline rivers, the sunlit terraces, the laughter of its people. Their cities were planned with precision, roads flowing like veins of light. Their markets were vibrant, and their people carried an unusual calmness despite their strength.
Rales smiled, remembering their childhood how many times Morix had lifted the mood of the entire palace with a single story or shared dream.
They walked side by side, recalling old days:
the time Rales slipped from a horse and Morix caught him mid-fall,
the time they snuck out of the palace just to watch fireworks,
the time they promised hand on wrist that no matter where life took them, they would stand by each other.
Their bond was deeper than blood.
Rales laughed.
"Come have dinner with me. You must be exhausted and starving."
Morix agreed. He still wanted to talk about Seraphyne's military structure and their brilliant town planning.
Just then, Rales remembered something and glanced sideways with a teasing smile.
"By the way… Princess Lucia is dying to meet you."
Morix froze.
Lucia the storm of their childhood.
The girl who could lift the entire palace upside-down with her tantrums.
Even after all these years, Morix instinctively felt she hadn't changed.
Rales saw Morix's soul leave his body and laughed.
He remembered how clingy Lucia had been, how she stuck to Morix like a shadow.
Morix was about to receive the shock of his life tonight.
That Night The Royal Dinner
Morix arrived at the palace in a formal evening attire dark, well-fitted, elegant but not flashy. He carried a bouquet of flowers as a respectful gift for his friend.
He was, for the first time in a long time… nervous.
A soft voice greeted him. He turned and froze again.
A stunning young woman stood before him, dressed in an elegant gown of pale gold that shimmered like moonlit silk. Her hair cascaded gracefully, and her posture was composed, regal almost serene.
She bowed slightly.
"Welcome, General Morix."
She guided him toward the dining hall.
Morix followed politely… until he saw Rales waiting at the table.
But still morix was scanning the entire room like he was searching something
Rales smiled.
"What's wrong? Looking for someone?"
Morix hesitated.
"Has Princess Lucia… canceled the dinner?"
Rales blinked once then smirked.
"What are you talking about? You walked in with her."
Morix went stiff.
The elegant lady beside him smiled calmly.
"…Lucia?"
The same little girl who used to throw stones on dogs ?
Her voice was refined.
"I was just a little girl back then. I've grown now."
Morix narrowed his eyes suspiciously.
Rales burst out laughing.
"He's not buying that, Lucia."
Lucia puffed her cheeks in sweet anger.
"Brother! Why must you ruin everything? I almost fooled him!"
Rales slapped the table, laughing harder.
"Lucia, even if you get reincarnated ten times, Morix would still recognize you instantly! Who else but him knows what a devil you truly are?"
Lucia's eyes flared.
"BROTHER! Must you expose me every single time?"
Morix stood there awkwardly, bouquet in hand, not sure if he should laugh, bow, or run.
Lucia turned to him with a warm, dramatic sigh.
"Do you know how many years I've waited for this moment?"
And just like that, the three of them settled at the table and their laughter filled the hall.
They reminisced about Lucia's childhood chaos:
the pranks, the tricks, the times she nearly set the palace on fire,
how she clung to Morix like he was her personal knight,
how she bullied Rales into giving her extra dessert,
Lucia at seven with candle wax in her hair because she insisted on being a "royal light." Morix had spent an hour scraping the wax and pretending he enjoyed the new hairstyle.
The time she declared war on the senior kitchen staff for serving porridge instead of the sweeter grain, staging a one-child protest with a handmade flag and a surprisingly eloquent speech that had made half the staff cry laughing.
How she used to drape herself over Morix's shoulders, claiming he smelled like "victory," and how he always pretended to be disgusted while secretly enjoying her clinginess.
Each story landed with a warmth that made Morix's jaw twitch. He remembered how he'd once carried Lucia to bed after she fell asleep on a pile of maps, how she had whispered plans for imaginary battles into his ear, how she stuck a crooked crown made of tinfoil onto his head and declared him the "King of Tomorrow."
Rales wiped a tear of laughter from his eye. "You were the terror of the palace."
Lucia stamped a foot with mock outrage. "Terror? I was a visionary!"
The three of them laughed properly, full-throated and reckless. Even Morix, who stood awkward with his bouquet, felt something thaw. The bouquet suddenly seemed ridiculous in his hands; the hall felt like a place that could hold their small, loud history.
Lucia wiped a tear from the corner of her eye, still laughing as she leaned back against the cracked stone wall.
"Oh and do you remember the time Damion tried to race all of us to the training grounds?" she said, chuckling as she continued, "He pushed past everyone, shouting he'd be first no matter what"
The room fell silent.
The warmth drained from Morix's face. Rales's smile collapsed instantly, replaced by something hollow, old, and bruised. The name hung in the air like poison.
Morix's hand slowly lowered from his forehead as his gaze drifted to the floor.
Rales swallowed hard, a flicker of exhaustion crossing his eyes.
Even Lucia's voice trembled as she realised what she'd just said.
The laughter died abruptly smothered under the shared memory of a boy who had never laughed with them… only competed, demanded, resented.
A boy who always needed to win.
A boy who always needed to be first.
Damion.