"I apologize, Duke Aurelius," Mordred said, averting his gaze away.
Arthur casually spoke. "Modred mostly spent his time in the army, Aurelius. So, he is not familiar with the royal dinner etiquette."
Aurelius waved his hand with a smile. "It's not a problem, Your Majesty."
The Duke was familiar with the faces and had lunch with them a lot of times during the past years. He was aware of their personalities. In fact, he could even accurately guess that this could be one of the most peaceful dinners that the King might have had with his entire family.
The young knight leaned back in his chair; his expression turned ugly as he sipped from his goblet. Rael remained composed, trying his best to stay calm. But one thing became clear to him. It wasn't just his family that didn't have a peaceful family dinner, although the source of the problem is always him that disturbs the atmosphere. For that moment, he saw himself in Modred. Perhaps the difference was that Eon would come to his defense at all times, and here it seems the princess is a bit too nervous to even speak.
Later that night;
The cool moonlight filtered through the intricate stained-glass windows of the King's private chamber, casting colorful patterns on the stone floor. King Arthur and Duke Aurelius sat across a polished oak table, the air between them charged with significance as they were enjoying the drink of Velaris' Veil—a rare and highly coveted win, reserved exclusively for esteemed guests of the castle.
Arthur leaned forward, his hands clasped. "Brother Aurelius, I see great potential in your family. Rael has already proven himself a remarkable talent, and Eon's Arcana mastery is just as promising. I wish to propose a union that would strengthen the bond between the House of Garcia and Camelot."
The Duke tilted his head. "Your Majesty?"
Arthur's tone grew serious. "I ask your daughter's hand in marriage for my son, Loholt. She would become the future Queen of Camelot, standing beside the next ruler of this kingdom. We can become in-laws. What do you say?"
Aurelius exhaled slowly, leaning back in his chair. "It is a generous offer, Your Majesty, and one that many would eagerly accept. However, I must respectfully decline—for now."
Arthur frowned slightly. "Decline? Why? It is a rare opportunity for any noble house to ascend to such a position. My son might have awakened a platinum-grade Arcana spirit, as opposed to your daughter's celestial grade, but still, with the resources of our royal treasury, he would become a demigod for sure.
Aurelius nodded. "Don't misunderstand me, Your Majesty. The thing is that my decision is bound by a promise I made to my son, Azrael. He insisted that I never interfere in matters concerning him or Eon against their will. Neither of them would be willing to separate from each other, too. If Eon were to marry, her husband most likely would live within our household, which is impossible for Prince Loholt."
Arthur's brow furrowed. "A live-in son-in-law? Surely, you understand how unthinkable that is for a high-born family. Not even an Earl would agree to such terms. Surely, you wouldn't want to marry your daughter to some Viscount's daughter, right?"
The Duke smiled faintly. "I understand it is unconventional, Your Majesty, but I cannot break my word. My son's demands may seem childish, but I respect his determination and loyalty. Rael is no ordinary boy, as you have seen."
Arthur sat back, crossing his arms. "You are willing to jeopardize your daughter's future for the whims of an eight-year-old? Marrying Eon into the royal family could solidify your house's influence for generations. Your decision risks alienating Camelot's goodwill."
Aurelius's expression grew firm. "I understand, but for now, I must honor my promise. How about we revisit this conversation in a few years? When my children are twelve, if their stance changes, I will reconsider your offer. Until then, I ask for patience."
Arthur studied the Duke's face, searching for any sign of hesitation, but found none. The King exhaled, his shoulders relaxing slightly. "Very well, Aurelius. I will wait. For your sake, I can afford to wait for another four years, and I hope you would say then. But before that, I have another proposal, which I'm sure you won't disappoint me by rejecting it like earlier."
"Hmm? What is it, Your Majesty?"
The following day;
In the castle gardens, Rael, Artaigne, and Loholt spent the afternoon together. Artaigne showed Rael her set of daggers, eagerly demonstrating her techniques against practice dummies, while Loholt watched with an air of mild superiority.
"Why don't you give it a try, Azrael?" Loholt asked, his tone tinged with challenge.
Rael smiled politely. "Perhaps another time. I am more accustomed to working with my Arcana than physical weapons."
Loholt smirked. "A true knight masters both. Relying solely on Arcana is a crutch."
Rael's smile didn't waver. "And a wise knight chooses the right tools for the right circumstances."
Artaigne giggled at Rael's retort, earning a sharp glance from Loholt. "Do you want me to tell Mother that you were playing with daggers again?"
Artaigna's mood soured, and she hung her head down. "Sorry."
As the sun dipped toward the horizon, a servant approached the children, informing them that dinner would soon be served. Rael glanced at Artaigne and Loholt, his mind already working through the implications of their interactions.
The scene shifts to the bustling jousting lists, where knights clad in gleaming armor mounted atop powerful horses engage in fierce competition. The crowd's cheers echo through the arena, adding to the charged atmosphere.
As Prince Loholt led the group toward the lists, he suddenly stopped and turned to face his half-sister, Artaigne. "You're not coming," he declared, his tone cold and dismissive.
Artaigne lowered her gaze, biting her lip. "I'll just go back to my room, then," she murmured.
Rael, watching the exchange, frowned. "Why can't she come? What harm could it do for her to watch the jousting?"
Loholt crossed his arms. "It's because she's Morgana's daughter. While she may enjoy the privilege of a princess, there are certain restrictions for her. One of them is that she cannot come out in public. Frankly, I don't even understand why Father adopted her and Modred into the family instead of throwing them out of Camelot."
Rael narrows his eyes at the prince, the resemblance to his own older brother Raphael sparking a flicker of irritation. He was aware of the history of Camelot and who was Morgana, too. But, Morgana is Morgana and Artaigne is Artaigne in his eyes.
"She is still your sister," Rael said firmly. "If someone were to use their grudge against His Majesty to hurt you, would you think that fair?"
Loholt stiffened, momentarily speechless. The sharpness of Rael's question caught him off guard, and he struggled to come up with a response. Finally, he huffed and shrugged. "Do what you want. You're a guest, after all."
As Loholt marched ahead, Rael turned to Artaigne, who was staring at him in surprise, looking conflicted at the same time. "Thank you for standing up to me, but I should go," she says softly. "It's fine, really."
She turned around to leave, but Rael stepped forward, taking her hand gently but firmly. "No. You're coming with me," he said with a kind smile. "I want you to enjoy the jousting as much as I do."
Artaigne blinked in surprise, her lips parting as if to protest, but Rael didn't let go. He led her toward the lists, the noise of the crowd growing louder as they approached.