Chapter 26 – The Ballroom of Light
Music flowed out of the grand hall—soft, smooth, like a gentle stream of water weaving through the cracks of a long silence.
Even from outside, the sound carried a curated elegance. Grace. The careful, polished noise of a society celebrating its own survival.
And then—the doors opened.
Ignes and Xavier stepped inside, and at once, the entire ballroom shifted. It was like a physical tide turning; a thousand conversations faltered, and a thousand eyes moved as one.
First—toward Xavier.
The air filled with a heavy, thick respect. No—it was more than respect. It was gratitude, raw and undeniable.
After all—he was the man who had saved humanity. Twice.
At fifteen, he had been the line in the sand, stopping the demon army's surprise attack when the world was looking the other way. If he hadn't acted, humanity would have been wiped out before they even realized they were at war.
And then, the Great War itself. Two years of endless blood and ash against the demon tides. It hadn't ended in a total victory, but a ceasefire—and in this world, that alone was a miracle.
Xavier had hunted and killed every single Demon General. Without him, those generals would have hollowed out the Empire, slaughtering families, friends, and entire bloodlines.
So when the nobles looked at him, they didn't just see a Prince of the blood. They saw their savior.
But soon—their attention shifted to the one walking beside him.
Ignes.
He walked calmly at Xavier's side, matching the Prince's stride. Side by side. Equal.
Whispers began to spread like a low-burning fire across the hall.
Who is he…? White hair… red eyes… Isn't that the young lord of the House of Heart?
This was his first time truly appearing before noble society. Ignes was only fourteen, still a child in the eyes of the law. In six days, he would turn fifteen, and that would be his official introduction to the world.
Yet now—he stood here. Already claiming the center of the room. Already holding everyone's gaze without even trying.
Before anyone could approach, before the first polite greeting could be uttered, a voice cut through the music.
"Come here."
The crowd parted instantly, a path clearing as if by magic. Frederick stood ahead, watching them with a look that was part Emperor, part old friend. No one dared step forward now; when the Emperor called, you answered with silence.
Frederick walked toward them, his movements regal yet surprisingly warm. He placed a hand lightly on each of their shoulders, guiding them forward into the heart of the celebration.
"You two look like you've settled your problem quickly."
There was a unmistakable hint of amusement in his tone. He had, after all, left them alone earlier specifically to resolve their… couple's quarrel. He had expected them to take hours.
But clearly—that hadn't happened.
As they walked through the hall, the sea of nobles lowered their heads. Some smiled with genuine relief, others observed with calculated precision, and many began to rewrite their political maps on the spot.
Frederick leaned slightly closer as they moved, his voice a low hum meant only for their ears.
"You're fast. I thought you'd still be bickering about the past."
Ahead, the familiar figures came into view. Alexander, the other Dukes, and their sons. They stood in a semi-circle of power, waiting. Watching.
As the three of them approached, the gravity of the ballroom seemed to settle entirely on that single spot. As if the music, the lights, and the fate of the Empire itself were quietly revolving around them.