The battlefield still echoed with the sounds of victory. The clamor of steel had faded, replaced by cheers and chants as the human army celebrated their hard-won triumph over the demonic forces. But for Karl von Dunbery, the Crown Prince, there was no joy in the celebration. He had won the battle, yet the weight of the day's events bore heavily on his shoulders.
The prince knelt in the bloodstained dirt, exhaustion evident in his trembling limbs. His white and gold armor, once gleaming and pristine, was now streaked with the grime of war. Blood—his own and that of his enemies—mingled with the dust on his face. Karl's usually sharp, blue eyes were dulled by fatigue, his chest heaving with every breath.
"LONG LIVE THE CROWN PRINCE!" the soldiers roared, their voices filled with gratitude and admiration for the man who had led them to victory.
Karl, though barely able to stand, managed a weak smile as he tried to rise. But his legs refused to support him, and he collapsed back onto his knees. Before he could hit the ground, a pair of hands grabbed him.
"Big Brother!" Fiona, his younger sister and a powerful mage, knelt beside him, her face tight with worry. She was usually composed, but seeing her brother like this tore at her. Her orange hair, wild from the day's battle, framed her pale face as she gently lifted Karl to his feet.
"Fiona…" Karl's voice was hoarse. "I'm fine… just tired."
Adrian, who had been nearby, approached, his brow furrowed in concern. He had fought with all his might on the battlefield, and seeing the prince like this, after his inspiring leadership, was unsettling.
"You two… are siblings?" Adrian asked, his voice full of surprise.
Fiona glanced at him, offering a small smile despite the exhaustion that clung to her features. "I wanted to tell you before, but… well, there was never a right time." She shrugged, still holding onto Karl.
Adrian, realizing he was in the presence of royalty, quickly bowed, his face flushing with embarrassment. "My apologies, Your Highness. I didn't know."
Karl waved his hand dismissively. "There's no need for that now. We're all just soldiers today."
The sound of approaching footsteps drew their attention. Captain Mohan, Rowan, and Lucas walked over, their faces etched with respect and admiration. Mohan, ever the stern and experienced warrior, gave a respectful nod to Karl.
"Your Highness," Mohan said in his gravelly voice, "your actions today… they were an inspiration to all of us."
Karl, still leaning on Fiona, managed a small, grateful nod. "I've learned from the best," he said, casting a meaningful glance toward Mohan, his former mentor.
Adrian blinked, taken aback. "Wait… Captain Mohan trained you, Your Highness?"
Rowan chuckled softly. "Oh yes. Captain Mohan is more than just a soldier. He's the one who shaped the prince into the warrior he is today."
Adrian's respect for Mohan grew tenfold. The captain's quiet strength, his unwavering discipline—it all made sense now. He had been the one to guide the prince, to mold him into the leader who had just led them to victory.
Before anyone could speak further, Fiona's excitement broke through the heavy atmosphere. "Why don't we all go to the capital for dinner?" she suggested, her eyes brightening. "We could use a change of scenery after everything that's happened today."
Rowan shook his head, the weight of his responsibilities clear on his face. "I have duties here, but I'm sure Mohan, Adrian, and Lucas would enjoy it."
Mohan hesitated, but Fiona's playful nudge toward Karl sealed the decision. The prince, though still weary, nodded in agreement. "It's been a long day. A good meal sounds like exactly what we need."
With a wave of her hand, Fiona summoned a glowing portal, the shimmering magic casting soft light across the bloodstained ground. "Come on, let's go home," she said, her smile wide.
Stepping through the portal, they emerged in the heart of Ulcea, the capital of the Breles Empire. Adrian and Lucas immediately found themselves in awe of the city's grandeur. The bustling streets were a far cry from the chaos of the battlefield. Towering buildings, ornate with intricate designs, lined the cobblestone streets, and the air buzzed with the energy of a thriving metropolis. Merchants called out to passersby, their stalls filled with exotic goods, while nobles in lavish garments strolled through the city, their laughter ringing out over the din.
"Welcome to Ulcea," Mohan said, watching Adrian's wide-eyed wonder. "It's quite different from the barracks, isn't it?"
Adrian nodded, unable to tear his gaze away from the scene before him. The capital was everything he had imagined and more—alive with opulence, culture, and power.
As they approached the towering gates of the imperial palace, Adrian's awe grew. The palace was a masterpiece of architecture, its white spires reaching toward the sky, gleaming in the fading light of day. The intricate carvings on the marble walls depicted the history of the empire—heroes of old, legendary battles, and the rise of the von Dunbery dynasty.
"Your Royal Highness, Milady," a knight at the gate greeted Karl and Fiona with a deep bow. "Shall we escort you inside?"
Karl nodded, and they were led through the palace gates, into the grand halls of the imperial residence. The palace's interior was even more breathtaking than the city. Chandeliers of crystal and gold illuminated the marble floors, and tapestries woven with scenes of the empire's victories adorned the walls. Servants lined the corridors, bowing deeply as the group passed.
Fiona glanced at Adrian and Lucas, her eyes gleaming with mischief. "You two look like you've never seen a palace before."
Adrian, who had been trying to keep his mouth from hanging open, chuckled nervously. "I haven't. It's… overwhelming."
Lucas grinned. "I've seen a few mansions, but this? This is something else."
They were led into the grand dining room, a vast space with high ceilings and walls lined with portraits of past emperors and queens. The table, set with gleaming silverware and polished goblets, was laden with a feast fit for royalty—roasted meats, fresh bread, fruits, and delicate pastries that filled the room with their aroma.
But what caught Adrian's attention wasn't the feast—it was the man seated at the head of the table.
Dressed in regal robes, his mere presence exuded power and authority. His eyes, sharp and calculating, scanned the group as they entered, his expression unreadable.
The head butler stepped forward. "Presenting His Imperial Majesty, Emperor Alistair von Dunbery."
Adrian's heart pounded in his chest. He was standing before the Emperor of the Breles Empire, the man whose decisions shaped the fate of the realm.
Emperor Alistair's gaze settled on Adrian for a moment, assessing him before shifting to Karl and Fiona. "You have returned," the Emperor said, his voice deep and commanding. "And I see you have brought guests."
Karl bowed deeply, his exhaustion forgotten in the presence of his father. "Yes, Father. We fought bravely, and the battle was won."
The Emperor's eyes softened slightly as he looked at his son, pride evident in his expression. "Well done, Karl. You have proven yourself once again."
He then turned his gaze back to Adrian and Lucas. "You fought alongside my children, I presume?"
Adrian swallowed hard, bowing deeply. "Yes, Your Majesty. It was an honor to fight for the empire."
The Emperor nodded, his piercing gaze still fixed on Adrian. "Good. You may yet have a place here in my court."
Adrian straightened, his mind racing. A place in the Emperor's court? The path of nobility, the road to power and influence, was opening before him—but what would it cost?