Chapter 9
The grand gates of Valcreat opened like the jaws of a golden beast, welcoming the Solv family procession into the heart of the Kingdom of Neltan. Towering spires of white marble and gold reached toward the evening sky, their surfaces glowing under the light of countless magical lanterns. The air smelled of blooming night flowers and roasted street food from the distant markets.
Elyra pressed her small face against the carriage window, her blue eyes wide with reluctant wonder. In her previous life, she had only seen the capital from dark alleys and rooftops—never like this. Never as part of the honored procession.
"Waaa… so big…" she whispered in her childish voice.
Elina smiled and gently stroked her daughter's blonde hair. "Yes, sweetheart. This is the royal capital. You'll see even more beautiful things tomorrow."
Damnern sat across from them, his expression calm yet alert. Eldern was still asleep, his head resting against his father's arm.
As the carriage slowed near the royal palace's outer courtyard, Rayyan Bartos rode up beside them on his white stallion. The Polearm Deity's presence was imposing—tall, broad-shouldered.
Rayyan bowed his head slightly from atop his horse. "Lord Damnern, we have arrived at the designated palace wing prepared for your family. The ceremony tomorrow will begin early in the morning. His Majesty has requested your presence for a private audience tonight, if you are not too weary from the journey."
Damnern glanced at Rayyan, his silver eyes cold and evaluating.
"Tell the King I will attend," Damnern replied flatly. "But my family rests first. If he wishes to discuss state matters tonight, he can wait until morning."
Rayyan's expression remained respectful, though a faint smile tugged at his lips. "As expected of the Fifth Strongest. I will relay your words. Though I must say… not many would dare make His Majesty wait."
Damnern snorted softly. "Then they are not me."
Rayyan chuckled lightly before bowing again. "Indeed. Rest well, Lord Damnern. The palace is secure."
With that, Rayyan signaled the guards and rode ahead to clear the final path.
The carriage continued forward until the Neltan Royal Palace came fully into view.
Even Elyra found herself momentarily speechless.
The palace stretched across the horizon like a city within a city. Countless white towers rose into the sky, connected by elegant bridges of marble and gold. Crystal lanterns illuminated the grounds, while rows of palace attendants stood neatly along the entrance.
As the carriage rolled through the palace gates, rows of attendants lowered their heads in perfect unison.
"Welcome to the Neltan Royal Palace."
Damnern and the others stepped inside, greeted by the calm and dignified atmosphere of the royal residence.
As they walked through the vast royal corridors, a figure suddenly appeared from the opposite direction. He looked remarkably young, seemingly no older than twenty, with soft brown hair that framed his features neatly, giving him an appearance far gentler than the imposing atmosphere of the palace.
The attendants immediately lowered their heads.
"His Highness, Prince Feryan Neltan."
Damnern and Eldern instantly bowed respectfully.
"Greetings, Your Highness," Damnern said.
Beside them, Elina gracefully lifted the edge of her gown and bowed elegantly.
"Your Highness."
Meanwhile, Elyra simply stood there in silence. She blinked once, then twice, completely unaware that everyone around her had already bowed.
The corridor suddenly felt awkwardly quiet.
Elina's eyes widened in panic.
"E-Elyra!" she whispered sharply before quickly turning toward Feryan. "My deepest apologies, Your Highness. My daughter is still unfamiliar with palace etiquette."
Elyra frowned slightly.
What etiquette?
Before she could even react, Feryan chuckled softly.
"There is no need to apologize."
He stepped closer without the slightest hint of offense on his face. Instead, his expression looked strangely amused.
Then—
Pinch.
Feryan casually pinched Elyra's cheek.
"You're quite interesting," he said with a gentle smile.
Elyra froze. Her eye twitched instantly. The irritation hit her so suddenly that she almost slapped his hand away on reflex, but she stopped herself—barely. This was the royal palace, and he was the prince. So Elyra forced herself to stay still, even though every fiber of her being screamed in annoyance.
"…Tankyu," she muttered stiffly.
But her expression betrayed her completely. Her lips twitched, her brows tightened, and the look in her eyes clearly conveyed a single message:
Don't touch me again.
Feryan stared at her for a moment before letting out another amused laugh, clearly entertained by the way she failed so miserably at hiding her displeasure.
Elina nearly fainted from secondhand panic.
After exploring the wide corridors adorned with luxurious carvings, they finally arrived at the room prepared for them to rest. Elyra couldn't help but feel a quiet sense of awe; she had thought Damnern's home was already grand, but the palace was on an entirely different scale—far larger and far more luxurious than anything she had ever imagined.
"Dis… dis is wut(what) palace inside look like..." Elyra whispered to herself, her eyes wandering to take in every corner that felt so foreign to her.
Elina could only smile at Elyra's reaction.
"Get some rest, all three of you. You've had a long journey. I have to see King Arveth first," Damnern said, his tone steady but final. Without waiting for a reply, he turned and left immediately, the sound of his footsteps fading swiftly down the expansive corridor.
The heavy door closed behind him with a deep, echoing thud.
And as the room grew quieter, the vast palace outside seemed to hold its breath with them, waiting for the morning to come.
Eventually, morning arrived, with sunlight gradually illuminating the city after a peaceful night had passed.
That day marked the upcoming investiture of Damnern as Count. The morning inside the palace was already tense with anticipation. Servants moved swiftly through the corridors, and guards stood at attention along the vast marble halls. Elina adjusted her gloves as she walked.
"We're almost there…"
Soon, they reached a large set of doors guarded by royal attendants.
"Lady Elina, Young Master Eldern, Young Lady Elyra," one of them announced respectfully. "Please proceed inside."
Elina took a steady breath. "Let's go in."
The doors opened. A wave of silent pressure hit them the moment they stepped into the hall. Inside, the enormous ceremonial hall stretched endlessly, lit by high stained-glass windows that cast faint golden light across rows of nobles.
Elina lowered her voice. "So this is the main hall…"
Eldern swallowed. "There are so many nobles…"
Elyra felt slightly overwhelmed by the sheer number of people.
They were guided to their VIP seats near the front. As they sat, murmurs began to spread among the nobles.
"That's Solv's family…"
Elina kept her posture straight, though her fingers tightened slightly on her gown.
Beyond the middle section of the hall, the crowd thickened—lower-ranking nobles and commoners filled the distant area, their figures barely distinct under the grand chandeliers. In that silence, the weight of the hall pressed down even harder, as if every rank, every stare, and every whispered word were silently measuring who belonged—and who didn't.
For some reason, Elyra's heart was pounding. Not the kind of excitement she liked to admit—something sharper, more restless, as if the air inside the hall had suddenly grown heavier without warning.
Then—
A deep, ceremonial sound echoed through the hall.
THUMP.
The towering palace doors at the far end slowly opened, and every movement in the hall seemed to pause at once.
The guards entered first.
They were dressed in full ceremonial armor, polished to a mirror shine, their expressions stern and unreadable. They marched in perfect synchronization, boots striking the marble floor with disciplined rhythm.
THUMP. THUMP. THUMP.
They formed two rigid lines along the central aisle.
Not a single sound of conversation remained.
Even the nobles who had been whispering moments ago fell silent instantly.
At the far end of the hall, beyond the rows of nobles, the throne platform came into full view. The king sat there—motionless, calm, radiating authority without needing to speak a single word. The guards lowered their heads slightly as they completed their formation, creating a clear, untouched path straight toward the throne. An oppressive stillness settled over the entire hall.
Then—footsteps. Measured, firm, unhurried. A single figure stepped through the opened doors. Damnern.
End Of Chapter 9