Nael suddenly rose from his seat.
The subtle scrape of his chair echoed far louder than it should have in the grand hall.
Every conversation died instantly.
All eyes followed him as he descended the steps from the royal dais. His movements were slow, deliberate—almost lazy—but the tension in the room tightened with each step he took toward the center.
Leo straightened behind him but did not interfere.
Nael stopped in the middle of the hall.
He let out an exaggerated sigh.
"Father," he said, voice carrying clearly across the chamber, "I'm tired."
A ripple of confusion spread among the gathered nobles.
King Alaric raised a brow. "Tired?"
Nael nodded dramatically. "I've already chosen a groom for myself today."
The hall erupted into shocked murmurs.
Ravel blinked. "Huh?"
Marcus leaned forward. "What?"
On the other side—
Queen Marlia's lips curved slowly.
Adrien let out a quiet breath of amusement.
"So it begins," he murmured under his breath.
Nael turned his head slightly, eyes sliding toward the section where senior court officials sat—the same elders who had pressured the king for months.
Those old bastards.
A slow, mischievous smirk curved his lips.
The court stiffened.
Nael clasped his hands behind his back and tilted his head innocently.
"So," he said sweetly, gaze sweeping across the hall, "should I choose him now?"
The silence that followed was deafening.
King Alaric's expression remained composed—but there was the faintest gleam of curiosity in his eyes.
Ravel and Marcus exchanged alarmed looks.
What is he doing?
Queen Marlia, however, looked almost entertained.
Adrien leaned back slightly, watching carefully.
King Alaric cleared his throat, though the corner of his mouth twitched faintly.
"Go ahead," he said, voice measured but carrying through the hall. "I would very much like to meet the person who has taken my son's liking."
A ripple of anticipation surged across the court.
Nael clasped his hands behind his back and waved one dismissively.
"Oh, don't worry, Father," he said playfully. "I wasn't bewitched by just anyone."
His eyes swept across the long line of suitors—the nobles, foreign dignitaries, ambitious heirs.
"Certainly not by these people."
A few of them stiffened at the open disdain in his gaze.
Nael continued, tone light but pointed, "I was bewitched by a handsome but reliable beauty."
Gasps.
"A beauty?" someone whispered.
"Reliable?" another murmured.
Nael tilted his chin proudly. "Unlike most of the presented individuals here, he actually possesses gentlemanly conduct."
The insult landed smoothly.
The tension in the hall grew almost unbearable.
Queen Marlia's eyes gleamed.
Adrien looked thoroughly entertained.
Ravel muttered under his breath, "He's really doing this."
Marcus looked ready to either laugh or faint.
Nael paused deliberately.
The entire court held its breath.
He smiled.
"His name is…"
Even the banners seemed to still.
"Leonard Velcrest."
A collective intake of breath.
Nael turned slightly, extending his hand toward the figure who had stood behind him the entire time.
"My knight."
Every gaze in the hall snapped toward Leo.
Leonard Velcrest.
Dressed in impeccable formal knight attire. Calm. Steady. Imposing without trying.
The very man who had stood guard behind Nael's seat all day.
The same knight who had said nothing, done nothing dramatic—
Yet had outshone nearly everyone present.
Nael beamed shamelessly.
"He bewitched me today with his handsomeness," he declared boldly, "and with a gentlemanly attitude that most of the people presented here seem to lack."
The hall exploded into murmurs.
A knight?
The prince had chosen his own guard?
Ravel nearly choked.
Marcus stared.
Adrien leaned back, clearly enjoying the unfolding chaos.
Queen Marlia did not look surprised.
King Alaric's expression was unreadable—but his eyes had sharpened.
And Leo—
Leo stood still.
Unmoving.
But the entire court could feel the shift.
Because in a single playful declaration—
Prince Nael had just thrown the empire into beautiful, deliberate commotion.