Chapter 332
Chapter 332: The Young King
The party gradually made their way inside the great stone castle's mouth, enveloped on all sides by ministers.
Azure-blue lamps illuminated what had otherwise been a dark corridor, yet could do nothing to dispel the cold silence within.
Whether by sight or sensation, this castle—a colossal mass of stone crouching upon the earth—pressed upon all who entered with a sense of authority and solemnity.
Towering stone pillars sank deep into the ground, forming natural structures that resembled great barriers.
Passing through the castle's gates, they were met with a vast, grey-misted hall of sweeping proportions.
The light was dim and fractured; even the shadows in the corners seemed to flicker and stir.
The faint glow of candlelight caught the surfaces of 3 enormous steel pillars suspended in mid-air, the dull orange flame barely able to push back the surrounding darkness through the heavy iron walls.
Flanked by the Kant Kingdom's nobility, 12 Imperial diplomatic ministers in imposing azure-green robes made their way into the center of the hall.
Every Kant Kingdom noble carried at their waist a longsword that shimmered with a cold gleam, and a wordless pressure surged from them like a tide, bearing down on the entire delegation.
Blades and banners hung from the steel pillars above, their lead-gray hues deepening the already severe and martial atmosphere of the great castle.
The Knights and guards had all been left behind in the city—none had been permitted to accompany them further.
In such an atmosphere, even the 12 diplomatic ministers wore grave expressions, maintaining their silence.
This was not, after all, their first visit here.
But to witness the Kant Kingdom stage a reception of such scale and grandeur—that was something none of them had seen before.
This did not feel like a diplomatic meeting. It felt more like a royal ceremony, a solemn welcoming of distinguished guests who had come from afar.
Among the assembled nobility, nearly all were prominent Grand Lords of the Kingdom.
And even the legendary Duke spoken of in whispers had come in person.
Festan Balo.
The Grand Duke commanded extraordinary prestige and renown across the entirety of the Kant Kingdom—his wealth was without number, and his elite soldiers could cover a hundred miles of ground. The territory under his stewardship was governed with exceptional order and stability.
The capable individuals in his service were beyond counting, and all of them executed every territorial command the Grand Duke issued with wholehearted dedication.
Second only to one; above ten thousand others.
And above the Grand Duke himself—only the royal family.
Though it was said as such, even the royal family extended to Duke Balo the utmost respect.
The diplomatic ministers had visited the Kant Kingdom many times and had, on each occasion, been received by the King—yet none of them had ever laid eyes on this legendary Grand Duke.
Still, the ministers understood clearly in their hearts: the reason they were being accorded such treatment was entirely because of the person walking at their head.
Auréliane Sorel.
As the future heir of the Kingdom of Carencia, the Kant Kingdom would naturally extend every courtesy. And there was one more thing.
This Grand Duke was Princess Auréliane's maternal grandfather.
At that moment, Grand Duke Balo walked at the very front, leading the assembled ministers deeper into the castle interior.
Auréliane walked alongside Viktor.
Watching the slight hunch in the old man's back ahead of her, she suddenly, hazily, became aware of it.
This Grand Duke—whose name rang throughout the Kingdom.
Was her grandfather.
It gave Auréliane a strangely unreal feeling.
After all, she had never even met her own mother. How could she have met this, her mother's father?
And yet, just the same.
The old man ahead of her walked at an unhurried, measured pace.
He did not turn back. He did not speak.
His living kin was right there behind him, yet he had not so much as glanced at Auréliane.
Sometimes Auréliane would wonder—whether her maternal grandfather suffered too, from the loss of his daughter.
Watching his daughter marry into a foreign land, give birth to a child, and then pass away without ever waking again.
Did he harbor resentment toward the Empire?
Auréliane didn't know.
She didn't dare try to fathom the depths of this grandfather's thoughts.
Through the vast hall, down the long corridor, they arrived at last in the true throne room.
The palace was spacious in its entirety, yet all around it, lead-colored Cold-Iron reared upward, formed into towering pillars sunk deep into the earth.
They seemed to reach for the sky—like bridges between heaven and ground.
Those immense Cold-Iron pillars upheld a silver elevated platform, their shafts passing through the floor and spreading outward toward the palace's flanks, coiling and intertwining in the air above.
The lights on the high ceiling seemed to be composed of stars, their gentle radiance falling softly onto the Cold-Iron and drawing from it a faint luminous halo.
The surrounding atmosphere was so quiet it seemed one might hear a pin drop, as though time itself had come to a standstill in this moment.
The ministers entered the palace, their feet meeting the thick grey carpet beneath them—like a road of dignity leading straight to the far end of the elevated platform.
Upon the platform stood a steel throne, exquisitely carved, its surface bearing sculpted beast motifs that seemed ready to spring free at any moment. Most striking was the bear's head—bared fangs and outstretched claws, as if standing sentinel over the Kingdom's honor.
All around the throne, blades had been set into its frame, declaring the power and authority of the one who sat upon it.
Seated on the throne was a handsome young man.
He too wore a light-colored, broad-cut robe, and a crown upon his head.
Unlike the others, however, at his waist he carried 3 different blades.
A single glance at each longsword was enough to make one sense something dangerous about them.
Though he looked young, no one—including Auréliane—found this surprising.
Auguste Samuel.
He had ascended the throne 3 years prior, succeeding the previous King who had died of old age and illness, and had become this nation's new King as a matter of course.
He rose slowly from the throne, his gem-bright gaze sweeping across the assembly, and spoke in a resonant voice:
"Welcome, honored guests who have traveled from afar."
"Please, be seated."
The words had barely fallen when countless chairs glided out from the darkness, filling the perimeter of the entire hall in an instant.
The diplomatic ministers took their seats along the outer flanks on either side, while the Kant Kingdom's nobles were seated toward the outer edge near the entrance.
Just below the steps near the King, 2 distinguished chairs had been placed as well.
2 chairs—one to the left, one to the right.
Viktor walked to the chair on the left, and Auréliane, after a moment's hesitation, took the seat on the right.
The young King Auguste gave Auréliane a smile and a slight nod.
Then he turned to look at the Grand Duke and said with deference:
"Grand Duke Balo, please be seated."
That respectful expression of his seemed to appear only in the presence of Duke Balo.
The Grand Duke said nothing more, simply making his way to the front of the assembly and taking his seat in the chair beside the great Cold-Iron throne.
Leaning on his walking cane, he settled into it steadily.
The moment the Grand Duke sat down, the entire palace seemed to be pressed firm by an immense weight, and the atmosphere grew wholly settled.
As though everyone had been waiting for him to take his seat.
One could tell—throughout the entire Kingdom, this old man commanded profound respect.
Auréliane, too, stole glances at the Grand Duke from her seat, taking in his face—marked by the weight of years and trials—which carried a distinct quality of hardness and gravity.
If she were honest with herself, compared to the young King, she found this inscrutable grandfather of hers far more interesting.
The feeling he gave her was like gazing at an ancient tower keeping secrets deep within.
She suddenly thought of her Professor, Viktor.
In many ways, the two were strikingly similar. Her Professor seemed, in many respects, not so different from this Grand Duke.
Viktor's standing and renown within the Empire had long surpassed that of many nobles—and was perhaps not far beneath Duke Balo's own.
Yet there remained a clear distinction between them.
After all, the Kant Kingdom was rich in warriors, while those who could command Magic were vanishingly few—a situation entirely unlike the Empire's.
Grand Duke Balo, being one of the rare few Mages among those warriors, had nonetheless earned the respect of the entire nation.
In this regard, his standing differed greatly from Viktor's.
At this moment, Auréliane drifted into a reverie.
She imagined herself seated upon her father's throne, with Viktor positioned just beside her—much as Grand Duke Balo sat now—the two of them governing the entire nation together as a matter of course.
Then, suddenly, the King's voice rang out and broke Auréliane from her daydream.
"Princess Auréliane, what are your impressions of the Kingdom now that you've arrived? The land and its people—how do you find them?"
"In a sense, after all, this place could be considered a second home for you."
The King smiled as he looked at Auréliane.
Seeing this, Auréliane responded politely:
"Your Majesty, the Kant Kingdom is governed with precision and order—the roads are free of disorder, and that is something I truly admire."
"All along the way, I saw flourishing wheat fields and people singing and laughing. Abundance and peace exist side by side here."
Her reply was impeccably measured, leaving no room for criticism.
Then, with sincerity, Auréliane concluded:
"But what surprised me most were the Kingdom's formidable Grand Lords."
"I believe it is precisely because of their presence that the Kingdom's many territories remain stable at all times."
As her words settled, the noble lords seated throughout the hall straightened their backs almost involuntarily.
Perhaps because these words came from the lips of a princess of the Kingdom of Carencia, they carried considerable weight.
But the words were, in truth, not false.
The Kant Kingdom's territory was vast—vast beyond easy measure. To enforce policy and law across every region was extraordinarily difficult, and to attend to every matter was more difficult still.
That was precisely why the Grand Lords needed to be powerful enough. Powerful enough to hold dominion over all beneath them—only then could absolute stability in their territories be guaranteed.
Watching Auréliane, the King's face lit with pleasure; perhaps he hoped to keep hearing the young Princess praise his Kingdom.
Only.
Auréliane's tone shifted.
"The Empire and the Kingdom are different in nature, after all, so I cannot offer any assessment beyond that."
The King nodded and said with a smile:
"I see—a very measured view."
It seemed this Princess Auréliane had done her preparation thoroughly before coming. She had not arrived blindly, only to shower the Kingdom with praise of uncertain meaning.
This, in fact, made him feel somewhat favorably disposed toward the young Princess before him.
And so he spoke again:
"I hear, Princess Auréliane, that you are a Mage?"
"I find Mages quite interesting, and so there are certain things I would like to ask you about."
Auréliane nodded:
"Please go ahead."
The King stretched slightly in his throne, sat up straight, and spoke:
"I would like to establish a Magic Academy in our Kingdom as well."
"Princess Auréliane, might you be willing to offer some guidance?"