Liam scanned the grand hall. There were far too many eyes on him — some subtle, others less so. From barons to counts, the presence of so many distinguished figures struck him as unusual. There was something going on.
His eyes settled on Edwin, who stood neatly in line with the other servants of House Orlean. Liam made his way over.
"Edwin," he said in a low voice. "What's going on?"
Edwin's expression tightened slightly. He hesitated before responding, "I want to tell you, Master Liam, but I can't."
Liam's suspicion deepened. Edwin was not the type to withhold information unless he had no other choice.
Something really was off.
The atmosphere of the banquet wasn't how it should have been. The Eve of the Month End was a regular occasion, yet tonight, there was an unspoken tension. It wasn't just the number of attendees — it was who was attending.
Count Desmond, a man known for his strict adherence to tradition, was nowhere to be seen. He had never once excused himself from the banquet in past years, and yet, tonight, he was absent.
Meanwhile, Duke Beckett, who had not attended the Eve Banquet this year, was present. Not only that, but he had gone so far as to offer a generous gift — the finest harvest from his vineyards — to be served at the banquet. It was an extravagant gesture, completely unlike him.
And then there were the Marquesses. Some who rarely appeared were here, while others who typically never missed the event were absent. There was no discernible pattern, no consistency that would suggest this was a mere coincidence. If this was an official special occasion, the attendance would be more predictable. But this? This irregularity unsettled Liam.
His thoughts were interrupted as a trio of nobles approached, each accompanied by their spouse, and there daughters.
"Prince Liam, it is truly an honor to meet you again," said Countess Lavern, a woman with sharp eyes and a dignified air. Her husband stood beside her, his expression polite.
"The honor is mine, Countess," Liam replied with a courteous nod. "I trust your family is in good health?"
"Indeed," she said smoothly, before gesturing toward her daughter, a young woman dressed in elegant silks. "This is my daughter, Lady Helena. She has heard much about you."
Liam turned his attention to Helena, offering a slight thoughtful smile. "I hope only good things."
Helena lowered her gaze, smiling softly. "Of course, Prince Liam."
Before the conversation could proceed further, another noble stepped forward.
"Prince Liam, we meet again," said Lord Warrick, a seasoned Count with a well-groomed beard and a heavy ceremonial cloak. "I must say, your presence at the Rite was nothing short of remarkable."
"You flatter me, Lord Warrick," Liam said with practiced ease.
A third noble, Baron Esteban, chimed in, "I would wager that tonight's banquet will be a memorable one. You must allow us the pleasure of a longer conversation later in the evening."
Liam inclined his head. "I look forward to it. Until then, I hope you all enjoy the banquet."
The nobles exchanged a few more pleasantries before turning their attention elsewhere.
Liam exhaled softly. These conversations felt less like casual greetings and more like careful maneuvering. The nobles were watching, evaluating, but what?
Liam excused himself, to occupy a quite area.
Liam barely had a moment to himself before his sisters surrounded him.
"You look good, brother," Cassandra mused, adjusting his collar slightly. "Almost like Father when he was younger."
"You're going to make quite the impression tonight," Evaline added, her eyes glinting with mischief.
Elaine smirked. "And from the looks of it, I'd say you already have."
Liam raised an eyebrow. "What's that supposed to mean?"
"Oh, nothing." Cassandra, waved a hand dismissively. "Just that there seem to be a lot of young noblewomen here tonight."
Cecily giggled. "Told you."
Liam was about to brush off their teasing when something clicked in his mind.
Cecily's teasing in the corridor.
His elder sisters vaguely hinting at something.
Edwin refused to tell him what was going on.
From knights to barons, all the way to Duke Beckett — everyone present was accompanied by their family. More specifically, every family had at least one daughter with them.
Liam's thoughts turned back to the nobles who had spoken to him. They had all been accompanied by their daughters. Every single one.
And the ones who were absent? They didn't want anything to do with me.
A slow realization settled over him.
The nobility who valued mana talent, who saw no worth in a prince without exceptional magical potential, had excused themselves from attending.
Duke Beckett, a man who had never once attended an Eve Banquet, was here tonight — offering his finest vineyard harvest. He was here to strengthen ties with the royal family.
Liam exhaled slowly. So that's what this is.
His mother…
He glanced toward the gilded dais.
But then, a shift rippled through the hall.
The queens had arrived.
The moment they entered, the nobles quickly adjusted their postures, diverting their attention to the royal consorts. Liam took this moment to compose himself. Tonight, he would need to remain extra vigilant.
The room fell into respectful silence as Queen Isabella stepped forward to address the gathered nobility.
"Tonight," she began, her voice carrying through the hall with effortless grace, "we honor the beginning of the Month of Noah. As we stand beneath the new moon, we remember the legacy of King Noah Winston, the ninth ruler of our great empire. His wisdom, his leadership, and his relentless pursuit of unity shaped the very foundation of Ironhelm as we know it today."
A murmur of agreement rippled through the crowd.
"In his time, he forged alliances that strengthened our borders. He cultivated prosperity that ensured our people thrived. And so, on this night, we raise a toast in gratitude — to his vision, his achievements, and the kingdom he helped build."
She lifted her goblet, and the entire hall followed in unison.
"To King Noah."
"To King Noah!" the nobility echoed, their voices ringing in harmony.
As the moment of tribute passed, the conversations in the hall resumed, the air still buzzing with quiet reverence.
Liam, however, found himself staring at his mother.
He hadn't been prepared for this.
She's trying to arrange a marriage for me.
He almost laughed — almost.
Mother… I am just a child.
But before he could dwell on it further, a small group of noble children, clearly gathering their courage, approached him.
They offered polite bows and curtsies before introducing themselves, their expressions a mix of admiration and nervousness.
Liam straightened his posture, schooling his features.
His sisters weren't letting up.
"Oh, look at them," Evaline whispered, nudging Elaine. "They're adorable."
"They seem nervous," Cassandra noted with an amused smile. "It's sweet, isn't it?"
"It really is," Elaine agreed, grinning at Liam. "You're quite popular tonight."
Liam felt his jaw tighten. How am I supposed to respond to this?
The noble girls in front of him were standing prim and proper, their expressions carefully composed, but there was a nervous energy between them. Some avoided his gaze entirely, while others stole glances his way, waiting — expecting him to say something.
The weight of their attention, combined with his sisters' stifled laughter, made Liam feel like a cornered animal.
He needed to escape.
But how?
He couldn't just walk away — that would be too obvious, and worse, it might be seen as an insult.
Feigning illness? No, that would bring more concern.
A distraction? Perhaps, but what—
Then, an idea struck him.
Liam turned slightly to his youngest sister, keeping his voice low enough for only her to hear. "Cecily," he muttered. "I need you to do something for me."
Her eyes sparkled with mischief. "Oh? What's in it for me?"
"How about not getting lessons," Liam replied flatly.
"Ugh…Deal."
A second later, Cecily let out a small gasp, her expression instantly shifting to one of exaggerated surprise.
"Oh, Brother look!" she said dramatically, grasping his arm. "Did you see presents over there? Over there, by the banquet table — Father's send you a gift!"
Liam blinked. Father's gift?
Before he could question her, she tugged at his sleeve insistently, drawing the attention of those around them.
"We have to go check!" Cecily continued, practically bouncing on her feet. "It's something special, isn't it? I heard it's — oh, never mind, I can't spoil it! Let's go!"
The noble girls exchanged curious glances. Even his sisters looked intrigued.
Liam didn't hesitate. He gave a polite nod to those around him. "If you'll excuse me," he said smoothly, "I must attend to something."
Then, without waiting for a response, he let Cecily drag him away.
The moment they were out of earshot, he exhaled in relief. "That was quick thinking."
"I know." Cecily grinned. "You owe me."
Liam shot her a look. "For what? Making up a lie?"
"Oh, please, its here" She waved a letter dismissively. "Even if I was lying — which I wasn't — you still needed saving. So, you're welcome."
Liam sighed but couldn't argue. For now, at least, he was free.
"Liam," her voice was soft but firm. "What are you doing here?"
Isabella's presence alone was enough to make Liam freeze in place.
Cecily stiffened beside him, but Liam quickly composed himself and turned to face his mother. "I needed some air," he answered carefully.
She studied him for a moment before speaking again. "Walk with me."
Liam hesitated but nodded. Cecily gave him a curious glance but said nothing as he followed Queen Isabella into a quieter corridor away from the grand hall. The distant hum of conversation faded, leaving only the faint echoes of their footsteps against the polished floor.
Liam took a slow breath, gathering his thoughts. Then, he finally spoke.
"Mother… why are you doing this?"
She glanced at him, her expression unreadable. "Doing what?"
His brows furrowed. "You know what I mean." He stopped walking and faced her directly. "Why are you trying to have me engaged?"
A flicker of something —amusement, perhaps — crossed her face.
Liam frowned. "You're not denying it."
She turned to face him fully, her gaze calm and measured. "Liam, I didn't question you when you forfeited your claim to the throne," she said. "I accepted your choice without protest. But I will not stand by and watch you isolate yourself in future."
Liam's hands clenched at his sides. "And you think this is the best way? By arranging a match for me?"
She tilted her head slightly. "It is for your own good."
A bitter chuckle escaped him. "For my good? Or for the family's?"
Isabella exhaled softly. "Liam, whether you acknowledge it or not, you are still a prince of this empire. That carries weight — responsibility."
"An arranged contract," Liam muttered, shaking his head. "That's all this is, isn't it? The noble families get closer ties to the royal bloodline, and I—" he let out a dry laugh, "—I, the boy with no talent, get a consort."
She didn't respond immediately.
Liam's gaze darkened. "And what about her?" he asked quietly. "Whoever she may be. What future does she have? Is she just supposed to accept it? Does she have to suffer because of her parents' ambitions?"
Isabella's lips parted slightly, but no words came.
Just as Liam turned to leave, Isabella finally spoke, her voice softer now, laced with something rare—vulnerability.
"Liam… I am worried about you."
He stopped in his tracks. Slowly, he turned back to her.
She took a step closer. "Do you know what pains me the most?" she asked, her gaze searching his. "It's not that you abandoned the throne race. It's not even that you struggle against the expectations placed upon you." Her expression tightened. "It's watching you, day by day, lose hope in every ambition you once had. It's seeing you fade into something lesser than what you could be."
Liam's throat tightened. " I— "
"You are becoming a mortal, Liam," she said quietly. "And it terrifies me."
He stared at her.
Isabella shook her head. "Only if someone could aid you, guide you… maybe then…" she trailed off.
Liam swallowed hard. He forced a small smile. "I'm fine, Mother."
Her sharp gaze didn't waver.
"I mean it," he insisted. "I am happy. You don't have to worry about me."
A bitter chuckle left his lips. "I am content with my life. Father said he has hopes that I'll be a Champion one day." His voice steadied. "I'm not going to be a mortal."
For a moment, Isabella said nothing. Then, without warning, she stepped forward and wrapped her arms around him.
Liam stiffened in surprise. His mother had always been composed, strong — a force of nature in her own right. This moment of warmth, of raw emotion, was unexpected.
Slowly, he returned the embrace.
After a moment, he spoke. "Mother… about the letter."
She pulled back slightly, her hands still resting on his shoulders. A knowing look crossed her face.
"Your father sent it to you," she said simply.
Liam's heart skipped a beat. "Father?"
She nodded. "It arrived earlier this week."
His mind raced. His father never sent letters directly to him. What could this possibly mean?