On the eighteenth day of the month of Iris, the long-awaited coming-of-age celebration of Prince Edmund Aurelien had finally arrived. Chandeliers bathed the palace halls in warm, golden light. White and deep red cloths dressed the banquet tables, and servants hurried past carrying polished silver trays, adjusting curtains, smoothing creases, and checking every last detail. The palace hummed with movement. Alive, bright, and more vibrant than it had felt in days.

  In his chamber, Edmund, the quiet center of all this commotion, stood on a stool, arms held slightly out while Chloe, a tailor, tugged at the seams of his ceremonial doublet. “Lift your chin, Highness,” Chloe murmured. “If you keep looking down, the collar will fall wrong.”

  Edmund obeyed with a faint sigh, turning his gaze toward the mirror. The boy from the hunt stared back at him. The same red hair and blue eyes, but this time dressed in woven ceremony instead of leather and steel. Midnight-blue fabric hugged his frame, silver embroidery tracing the edges. A thin sash of Aurelith’s colors, light blue and yellow, crossed his chest, and a small golden brooch shaped like a five-petaled flower rested at his collar.

  He wasn’t sure whether he looked older… or smaller.

  “You look like a proper prince,” Aristide proclaimed from behind him, hands clasped proudly behind his back. He was already dressed in a lighter blue doublet, white embroidery catching the light as he spoke like an advisor twice his age.

  “Thanks…” Edmund muttered. “Wait—proper?”

  Aristide smirked.

  Just as Chloe stepped back to admire her work, the chamber door opened.

  Madame Grance entered. Her calm presence settled the room instantly. Without a word, she approached the brothers and moved to stand directly before Edmund, a respectful distance behind the tailor. “Step aside, please,” she said gently.

  Chloe complied, and Grance’s eyes swept over Edmund from head to toe with a practiced thoroughness. The soft glow of the chandeliers reflected in her glasses as she examined the embroidery, the collar, the fall of the sleeves. In the quiet, Edmund could hear faint music drifting from the inner courtyards, a reminder of how close the celebration truly was.

  “Excellent.” Madame Grance clasped her hands together after examining both princes. “You two look perfect, Highnesses.”

  Aristide beamed. “Chloe did a wonderful job with the clothes, and our hair,” he added, turning proudly toward the tailor.

  Chloe’s cheeks flushed a shade of rosy red. She bowed quickly. “It was nothing, Your Highness.”

  “Well, I’d better take the princes to the banquet hall. The guests will be arriving soon,” Grance announced. She turned to the tailor. “Thank you, Chloe.”

  They stepped into the corridor. As they made their way toward the banquet hall, Madame Grance immediately launched into her usual flurry of reminders. A gentle storm of etiquette. “Remember, Highness, bow as you greet them. Always specify their exact rank; never simply ‘lord’ or ‘lady.’ And do ask about their journey, not ‘how they are’, that’s far too familiar. And above all, stand straight. Shoulders back. Chin up—”

  “She seems tense,” Aristide whispered, leaning toward Edmund.

  Grance swept ahead of them, still murmuring reminders under her breath.

  “Actually… me too,” Edmund confessed as they neared the doors. “Stay close to me, okay?”

  Aristide smiled, softer this time and less teasing. “Of course. I’m your future Chief Minister, remember? Standing beside you is part of the job.”

  Edmund huffed a nervous laugh. “Since when did you take the job so seriously?”

  “Since right now,” Aristide declared, squaring his shoulders. “Someone has to keep you from greeting a baron as an ambassador again.”

  Edmund went red.

  “Don’t worry,” his brother added under his breath. “You’ll do fine.”

  The doors opened to a vast hall, easily several stories high, constructed from polished marble and adorned with intricate gold leaf along every archway and pillar. Light streamed in from immense stained-glass windows depicting heroic tales of old, casting jewel-toned patterns across the checkered floor of black-and-white marble.

  A faint blend of beeswax, warm bread, and fresh herbs drifted through the air, softening the hall’s majestic splendor. Two long parallel tables and one across at the end were draped in fine silk and laden with glistening silverware, crystal goblets, and plates piled high with exotic delicacies. Smaller round tables lined the sides, reserved for the main guests’ companions.

  Servants moved gracefully between them, giving each tablecloth one last gentle pull, adjusting goblets by the slightest angle, or whispering instructions to one another as they worked. Larger chandeliers, each a masterpiece of wrought iron and thousands of shimmering crystals, hung from the vaulted ceiling, bathing the scene in a warm, inviting glow. Above, musicians tucked away in a gallery filled the air with the lilting sounds of harps, lutes, and flutes, the notes drifting down like threads of gold to weave into the hall’s rich atmosphere.

  Edmund drew in a slow, steady breath. “We’d better get into position, then.”

  Madame Grance paused, giving him one final inspection. With a soft hum of approval, she stepped closer and gently fixed a stray lock of hair at his forehead. “You’ll do wonderfully, Prince Edmund,” she told him with a warm smile. “Stand proud.”

  She gave his sleeve a last straightening, then swept away toward the far side of the hall to oversee the staff. Moments later, the doors behind them opened once more.

  King Renault entered with quiet dignity, red hair finely combed, dressed in a deep blue coat layered over a matching doublet. The color was rich, but his attire was deliberately simpler than his son’s. His embroidery lighter, his boots plain white, his coat lacking the ornate silverwork that adorned Edmund’s. He met his sons with a faint, knowing smile. “I trust I’m not overdressed. Tonight is yours, Edmund. I would rather the eyes fall on the future king than the current one.”

  Edmund shook his head, a small smile tugging at him despite his nerves. “Father, you look perfect.”

  Renault rested a hand briefly on his shoulder, steady and reassuring. The king and his sons spent some time inspecting the hall. Edmund caught a glimpse of Leif and Serena, waving from the pantry door. They would be celebrating with the palace staff in the opposite wing. He returned the gesture before the two retreated behind closed curtains.

  Finally, in the middle of that afternoon, the hour to open the doors had come. A butler bowed to the king and his sons. “Majesty, Highnesses. It is time.”

  Renault and his sons exchanged glances, then nodded to one another. “Here we go,” Edmund breathed.

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  When the door opened, the three were greeted by a sea of colored robes and silk. Nobles, ambassadors, and dignitaries from the region and neighboring kingdoms lined up to pay homage to the future king. Edmund stood at the front with Aristide and Renault behind, greeting his guests as they entered.

  “Baroness Marie-Claire,” Edmund greeted, bowing to his first guest. “My sincere gratitude for your attendance.”

  The Baroness smiled before bowing to the prince, hands clasped. “I thank you for your invitation, Prince Edmund.”

  “I hope your journey from Sainte-Delbert was a pleasant one,” Edmund said as he straightened.

  “It was, indeed, Your Highness,” Marie-Claire answered before turning to Renault. “Your Majesty, it is an honor to be here.”

  Renault returned her courtesy with a few measured words of thanks. Aristide bowed silently from just behind his brother, hands folded neatly, his expression composed and attentive. Edmund stepped forward to greet the next guest. “Ambassador Gustavo, I receive you on behalf of the Crown of Aurelith.”

  The ambassador, a tall man draped in the gold-trimmed red of Baldoraim, bowed deeply. “I am honored to attend this memorable occasion, Prince Edmund. King Lorenzo extends his greetings and his heartfelt felicitations for your coming of age. He wishes for your continued health and enduring prosperity.”

  “You honor us,” Edmund replied, offering a polite smile.

  Ambassador Gustavo moved on, and the next figure stepped forward.

  “Count Léandre,” Edmund said with another bow, “my sincerest gratitude for accepting this invitation.”

  More guests followed.

  “Earl Julien…”

  “Ambassador Sergius…”

  “Count Joaquin…”

  Edmund greeted each one without faltering. Titles correct, etiquette impeccable. He did not miss a single name, station, or state, not even once. Aristide watched behind him, eyes flicking between the nobles and his brother with a mix of pride and relief.

  A familiar pair approached next, so familiar that Aristide subtly straightened and Edmund felt his chest lighten. Still, he didn’t break decorum. His posture remained impeccable. “Baron Armand, my sincerest gratitude for your attendance.”

  The baron bowed deeply, Nadja following him with perfect grace. “We thank you for your invitation, Prince Edmund.”

  When he rose, his tone softened with paternal warmth. “Prince Edmund, you have grown into a fine young man. I look forward to the day I bow to you as my king.” He then leaned in, voice low enough for only Edmund to hear. “Assuming I survive Renault until then.”

  Edmund’s lips twitched, the smallest crack in his formal mask, but he forced them back into composure.

  Renault stepped in with impeccable timing. “Lord Armand, it’s a pleasure to see you.”

  Armand straightened, smiling broadly as he bowed to Renault. Meanwhile, Nadja stepped forward, lowering her gaze as she offered a graceful curtsey to Edmund. Keeping with formal etiquette, though his smile softened just a little, Edmund extended his hand. When she placed hers in his, he bent slightly and brushed a polite kiss over her knuckles.

  “Welcome, Lady Nadja,” he said quietly.

  Her cheeks flushed a delicate pink before she stepped aside, following her father into the hall.

  After the warm procession of nobles, Edmund continued his duties with steady etiquette until a striking figure stepped forward. His attire commanded attention before he uttered a single word.

  He had short ash-blonde hair, unevenly parted and finely combed. A doublet and jerkin of the finest black velvet wrapped his frame, the fabric so soft it seemed to drink the light. Draped over his shoulders was a similarly dark cape, lined with shimmering silver silk. Along the collar and the sweeping train, intricate embroidery caught the glow of the chandeliers like threads of moonlight. The stark black was offset by brilliant white ruffs at his neck and wrists.

  Edmund did not break posture.

  But behind him, Renault’s expression tightened, ever so slightly.

  “Count Nicolas,” Edmund greeted, “Please accept my heartfelt welcome on behalf of the Crown of Aurelith.”

  Nicolas bowed in return, movements smooth and practiced. “My sincerest gratitude for your invitation, Prince Edmund. King Baldwin extends his greetings and wishes for your continued well-being and prosperity.”

  When they lifted their heads, the count’s amber eyes met Edmund’s blue. Steady, searching, quietly measuring. Yet Edmund felt no unease. He met the gaze with calm courtesy.

  Nicolas extended his right arm. “It is a pleasure to finally meet you, Your Highness.”

  Edmund extended his in turn, their hands meeting in a firm, formal shake. “And a pleasure to meet you as well, Count Nicolas. I hope your journey from Cervolna was a pleasant one.”

  A faint smile touched Nicolas’s lips. “It was indeed.”

  He turned to Renault next, bowing with impeccable form. “King Renault, it is an honor to be here for this occasion and to meet you at last as well.”

  “The honor is mine,” Renault replied evenly. “How has our kingdom treated you thus far?”

  A slow glance swept the hall. “Quite well, Your Majesty. Your people smile often. Even as winter approaches, it is… unexpectedly warm here.”

  “I am glad to hear it,” Renault said.

  Nicolas dipped his chin slightly. “I also noticed,” he continued, voice light but eyes too focused, “that you have Alvarynn in your household.”

  Renault answered gently, yet with steel beneath the softness. “Truly. Their contributions are invaluable. Aurelith respects loyalty and merit, wherever they are found.”

  Nicolas smiled. A thin, precise curl of the lips that never reached his eyes. “Genuinely admirable. Even King Baldwin, wise as he is, would not permit one within a hundred meters of his presence.”

  The air shifted. Almost imperceptibly. Edmund felt heat rise in his chest. His jaw tightened, eyes narrowing before he could stop himself.

  The king was unfazed by the remark. “Every kingdom has its customs,” he replied evenly. “Aurelith follows its own.”

  Nicolas inclined his head, a gesture that could have been respect, condescension, or the quiet satisfaction of someone who had achieved exactly what he intended. Then he stepped aside to join the gathering nobles. As he walked away, the silver lining of his cape shimmered like a blade sliding back into its sheath.

  Aristide leaned slightly toward his brother, keeping his voice low. “Calm down, brother. Empty words. Nothing more.”

  Edmund inhaled slowly, closing his eyes as he forced his pulse to settle. “Right. Just… empty words.”

  But they both knew they weren’t.

  The two princes were still focused on Nicolas’s retreating silhouette when the final guest stepped forward.

  “I suppose it’s my turn to make a dramatic entrance,” came a voice rich with warmth and amusement.

  A man in a crimson coat approached, his white jerkin immaculate, his dark gray hair swept neatly back from his brow. There was a certain confidence to him, the kind carried by men who had survived enough courts to know exactly how much presence to command.

  Edmund and Aristide turned at once and bowed deeply.

  “Ambassador Oswald,” Edmund began, flustered. “My sincere apologies. On behalf of the Crown of Aurelith, I welcome you.”

  “I thank you for your invitation, Prince Edmund,” Oswald returned, mirroring the bow with polished ease. “Grand Duke Einon extends his greetings and his wishes for your continued health and good fortune.”

  As they lifted their heads, Edmund spoke again, earnest and hurried. “Please accept my apologies for not greeting you sooner, Ambassador.”

  “No offense taken, Your Highness,” Oswald said with a soft laugh, placing a hand briefly over his heart. His gaze then drifted unmistakably to Count Nicolas, who was just taking his seat among the nobles.

  “Speaking with a Sabran,” he added dryly, “is never an easy endeavor, nor is it a pleasant one.”

  Aristide fought a smile.

  “King Renault,” Oswald greeted, bowing smoothly. “It is a pleasure to see you again, Your Majesty.”

  “Likewise, Ambassador,” Renault replied. “I hope your journey from Trinovantes was a more pleasant experience this time.”

  Oswald chuckled softly. “Aside from the early snow four days in, I would say it was indeed quite pleasant.”

  “I’m glad to hear it,” Renault said, offering a small smile.

  “Majesty. Highnesses.” Oswald bowed once more, then turned and made his way into the hall.

  Edmund exhaled, tension spilling from his shoulders. “That was a close one…”

  Aristide pressed a hand to his chest. “Imagine if we had accidentally slighted Trinovantes’s ambassador.”

  Edmund watched Oswald take his seat. “Good thing he seems to be in a good mood.”

  “He’s always like that,” Renault said suddenly.

  Both princes turned toward him.

  Edmund blinked. “You… you know him, Father?”

  Renault nodded, the hint of an old memory softening his expression.

  “I do. I met him during my pilgrimage across Ambria. When I reached Trinovantes, he was the one who acted as my guide.”

  “I see…” Edmund murmured, letting his eyes drift across the banquet hall. Dozens of his guests had known his father for years. They knew Renault’s character, his wisdom, his humility, his strength, and Edmund understood, now more than ever, what they would expect from him.

  “You’re already doing well, son,” Renault said softly, placing a steady hand on Edmund’s shoulder. “The hardest part is done. From here, it’s a matter of listening, learning, and observing. Inside that hall are future allies and future enemies. As Aurelith’s next king, you’ll need to know which is which.”

  Aristide stepped up beside him, offering a small, confident smile.

  Allies and enemies, Edmund thought.

  He drew in a slow breath, straightened his back, and allowed the weight of the moment to settle on his shoulders.

  Not as a burden, but as a mantle waiting to be claimed.

  Then he stepped forward.

  His first step into a new battlefield.

  Politics.