In the vast courtyard of Northgard Castle, hundreds of knights and servants lined up in absolute stillness, the cold northern wind battering their armor. At the forefront stood Lord Maegor with his usual towering presence, and slightly behind him stood Arian in silence.
Suddenly, and before any sign of the visitors appeared on the horizon, Arian narrowed his eyes. Thanks to his senses as a former Supreme Commander, he detected a terrifying shift in the air. It was not merely atmospheric pressure, but a colossal mass of energy approaching—a heavy aura that almost choked the breath from the lungs, entirely different from the aura of ordinary knights.
Arian leaned slightly toward his father and asked in a low voice that was not devoid of seriousness: "My Lord... who on earth is approaching?"
Lord Maegor turned his eyes toward Arian with a look holding a glint of hidden surprise; only a very few veteran knights could sense this pressure from such a distance, let alone a nine-year-old child.
The Lord answered in a rough, low voice: "So you have noticed... It is the aura of the Royal Family. The 'Valerion' bloodline are not like ordinary humans, Arian. They are born with an innate aura rivaling the strength of our veteran knights, while they are still mere infants in the cradle."
Arian raised an eyebrow skeptically: "Isn't that a bit of an exaggeration?"
Lord Maegor shot him a stern look that closed the door on the discussion: "And how else do you suppose they have maintained an iron grip over the entire kingdom for centuries without anyone daring to rebel?"
Minutes later, banners bearing the golden lion fluttered on the horizon, and the royal delegation advanced. It was not merely a procession, but a terrifying display of absolute power. Dozens of knights from the Royal Guard in gleaming armor surrounded a massive carriage adorned with gold and iron. As they drew near, the pressure of the royal aura became palpable, to the point that some of Northgard's horses began to back away in fear, and the servants had to exert double the effort just to keep their backs straight.
The royal carriage halted in the center of the courtyard. The moment its door opened, everyone in the courtyard dropped to one knee in a synchronized motion, with the exception of Lord Maegor, who settled for a slight bow befitting the ruler of a great province.
His Majesty King "Aldous Valerion" stepped out. He was a man of massive build and broad shoulders, possessing a presence that filled the entire space. Behind him descended Her Majesty the Queen, a woman of utmost elegance and poise, with a steady gaze that betrayed no emotion.
And following her was the youngest princess, "Alya," ten years of age. She wore light royal armor crafted specifically for her, and at her waist hung a real sword, not merely a decorative one. The common trait among them was that unnaturally radiant golden hair, which rumors across the continent claimed was woven from pure magical gold.
The King, with a spontaneous and boisterous laugh that shook the courtyard, took wide strides toward Lord Maegor, disregarding all formal protocols. He embraced the Lord tightly and clapped him warmly on the shoulder.
"Maegor! You old bear! Your harsh features haven't changed a bit, my old friend!" the King said in a cheerful, loud voice.
Lord Maegor replied, his features softening slightly out of respect for his old brother-in-arms: "It is a great honor for Northgard Castle to welcome you, Your Majesty."
The King turned his gaze toward the Lord's lined-up family, tossing a few quick compliments to the wives, before his eyes landed on Arian.
The King approached the boy with a broad smile and said: "Oh! So this is the boy? My little daughter's future husband! Bless the gods, he has the exact same cold eyes as you, Maegor."
Lady Morgana and the rest of the wives bit their lips in severe annoyance at this royal attention bestowed upon the outcast son. At that moment, the King looked directly into Arian's eyes. For a fraction of a second, the King's spontaneous smile vanished, and his eyes narrowed slightly. Behind that calm, childish face, the King's instincts sensed a monster—something unnatural. The King quickly swallowed his surprise, recovering his laugh as if nothing had happened.
The moment Alya stepped out, she assumed a posture brimming with royal arrogance. She swept the courtyard with her gaze until it settled on Arian. He was standing quietly in his simple black clothes, deliberately concealing any trace of his aura. Alya's lip curled into a mocking smile, and she shot him a look of undeniable, clear contempt. In her eyes, this boy was nothing but a weak nobody, an insect that didn't even deserve to stand in the same courtyard she breathed in, let alone be the future husband of a little legend like herself.
In the evening, a massive royal dinner banquet was held. The King and Lord Maegor sat side by side.
Despite the festive atmosphere, the conversation between the King and the Lord took on a serious, hushed tone.
"Things are not well on the eastern borders, Maegor..." the King sighed as he sipped from his goblet, his spontaneity vanishing to be replaced by the face of a leader weighed down by burdens.
"There is unprecedented unrest and suspicious movements. I wanted to inform you personally... an imminent war may break out, and I need to know that the strongest shield of my kingdom is ready for battle."
Lord Maegor nodded firmly: "The swords of Northgard are at your command when the time comes."
The King smiled in relief, then raised his voice for all to hear, attempting to lighten the mood: "But today we are here to celebrate life as well! And as we pledged in the war tents of old, Maegor, we shall officially bind our families' futures. My daughter Alya, and your son Arian."
Before the King could finish his words, Princess Alya suddenly stood up from her seat. She pointed her finger at the quietly seated Arian, and spoke in a sharp voice devoid of any respect:
"I apologize, Father, but I categorically refuse! I am a princess of the golden Valerion blood, born to lead, and I cannot tie my fate to a nobody boy who doesn't possess a single drop of talent. I will not marry someone weaker than me!"
Silence engulfed the hall. Lord Maegor's sons smiled maliciously, and the wives' eyes sparkled with joy.
The King stopped smiling, while the poised Queen's features shifted to strictness. In a calm voice that carried overwhelming authority, she immediately interrupted her daughter:
"Alya! Sit down this instant."
The Queen looked at her daughter sternly and continued her reprimand in front of everyone: "These are not the manners of the Valerion bloodline. Lord Maegor and his family are cherished allies, and the pacts between us are not to be rejected in such a childish, insulting manner. Apologize to the Lord and his son immediately."
Alya felt deeply embarrassed by her mother's rebuke. Her face flushed with anger, and she opened her mouth to object, but Arian did not give her the chance.
Arian wiped his mouth with his napkin very slowly, indifferent to the stares of everyone present. He raised his eyes toward the Queen and spoke in a composed, calm tone, entirely devoid of emotion, like an old man discussing a trivial matter:
"There is no need for an apology, Your Majesty... Princess Alya is absolutely right, and I agree with her every word."
Alya was shocked by his cold response, and the malicious smiles vanished from his brothers' faces. Arian continued speaking, looking directly into the eyes of the King and Queen without any trepidation:
"In our world, true alliances are built on power and mutual benefit, not on promises of the past. The Princess has her own path, filled with royal glories befitting her, and I have my own way. Binding two paths that do not intersect is merely a political burden in which I see no wisdom for either party. Therefore, I completely agree with her, and I am turning the page on this engagement from my side as well... for we both have priorities and goals far more important than this marriage."
A deadly silence reigned in the hall. Princess Alya's eyes widened in sheer shock, and her face burned with rage. He had not insulted her; he had done something far worse: he stripped her of her importance, speaking of marrying her as though it were merely an annoying "political burden" that he had just coldly discarded.
The Queen blinked twice, unable to believe the boy's audacity and the diplomatic poise of his response that far exceeded his years, and she found no loophole in his words to consider it an insult to the Crown.
The deadly silence persisted. Alya's eyes widened from the sheer shock that she had not only been rejected, but marginalized and treated like a child playing games.
As for the King, he remained silent for a moment, staring at this nine-year-old boy who dared to reject the Royal Family with a cold face, before unreadable features settled on his countenance, while Lord Maegor's eyes glinted with a hidden spark of deep satisfaction.
Suddenly, the King broke that suffocating silence and erupted into a booming laugh that shook the walls of the hall. He slammed his hand on the table and said in a cheerful voice, trying to ease the tension:
"Hahaha! What a blazing fire in the blood of the young! I liked your response, boy; you possess your father's pride exactly!"
He then turned to Lord Maegor, waving his hand as if swatting a fly, and masterfully changed the subject:
"Let us leave this for now, Maegor. They are just two reckless children; tomorrow they will grow up, their minds will mature, and their opinions will change. We will not waste our night on the arguments of the little ones... where is your castle's famous wine? Let us fill the goblets once more!"