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Scene 3: The Arrival of the King
Amidst the lively chatter and commotion of the grand banquet, the hearts of a certain boy and girl were beating far louder than the voices around them.
Keela slowly made her way through the crowd, gently pulling each of her teammates away one by one. All Akira could do was trail behind her, his face burning up while his thoughts were in complete disarray.
If my heart hadn't already belonged to someone else… I think I would've lost it again just now. Girls in fantasy worlds are seriously dangerous… Do they even know how charming they are? He let out a soft chuckle to himself—thankfully, no one noticed.
Once our team had regrouped, we turned our attention to the long-awaited meal. Our stomachs had been calling out for quite a while. But just as we'd come to expect, the food here was… light. Too light. While the flavors were decent, they still couldn't compare to the meals from the Thunderwill kitchen.
As we ate, we shared stories of the various people we'd spoken to during the event. Draco, usually reserved, now looked noticeably more confident after receiving so many direct compliments.
Elina seemed more self-assured too, though she kept it well hidden behind her usual composure.
Mirelle was practically glowing—overflowing with excitement after her lively conversations with the arcane scholars.
Even Osiris, who rarely spoke much, looked vibrant tonight, energized by the fact that someone had actually listened—truly listened—to her stories.
Keela and Akira quietly played the role of listeners, their smiles reflecting the joy of their friends.
But just as the warmth of the moment reached its peak—
—the conversations came to a halt.
Because someone had just mentioned the arrival of…
"The King of Skyperion."
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Everyone had cleared a path from the entrance all the way to the stage. Evan led our group to stand by its side.
And then… the sound of wings fluttering approached—and vanished. What followed was the slow, deliberate footsteps of a small procession…
A beam of light soon illuminated the figure at the front. His garments shimmered with royal brilliance, a dazzling sight befitting royalty.
But his steps were weak.
The grandeur he once carried had now faded, replaced by the heavy weight of exhaustion.
Beside him, a tall, impeccably dressed man gently supported the frail old king. There was no doubt he was the ruler, not by presence—but by appearance alone. His aura, however, was… weary.
On the other side, an older woman—draped in extravagant fashion and pride written all over her face—was assisting the king with a smile of satisfaction, her eyes clearly scanning us.
Behind them followed a towering man, battle-worn with scars that spoke of countless wars. His eyes swept the surroundings vigilantly. It didn't take much to guess—he was the royal bodyguard.
Everyone in the hall fell into a hush, waiting for the king to reach his daughter.
He spoke with a dry, strained voice.
"How was your journey, Keela…? Did you enjoy yourself…? And… welcome home, my dear…"
The old king reached out to gently caress his daughter's face. Keela held his hand softly.
"It was wonderful, Father. I've met so many good friends… Oh—and greetings, Lord Markelosh, Lord Garuda, and Aunt Anemone."
She turned respectfully to the three who had accompanied the king.
The bodyguard gave a polite nod. Lord Markelosh offered a faint smile.
"I heard Her Highness traveled with none other than the Heroes of Arcadia. How extraordinary. Perhaps Skyperion will finally be rid of Chaos after all."
We instinctively gave a slight bow as we were acknowledged.
"And will any of you be getting involved in Skyperion's politics?" came a sharp voice, biting and cold. "Let's hope you don't upset the heir's balance."
The speaker: Lady Anemone—Evan's mother.
"Mother, that sounds a lot like you're accusing Keela," Evan said coolly. "I'm sure she knows what's proper. Don't you, little sister?"
He turned to her, his gaze unreadable.
"Oh come now, Auntie. The right to compete for the throne lies with Brother Calan and Brother Evan," Keela replied with unwavering calm. "I merely brought my friends home for a visit."
"Yes, that's true. As long as King Altheron hasn't made an official announcement…"
"Indeed… as long as there is no announcement…"
Altheron echoed the phrase slowly, deliberately—like a bell tolling in the minds of all who heard.
A sentence simple in form, but heavy enough to spiral into meaning far more complicated than anyone dared say aloud.
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A heavy silence fell over the hall.
Sensing the tension, Altheron gave a dry chuckle.
"Look at me… ruining the mood of a perfectly cheerful evening. Ah well… welcome home, Keela."
He tilted slightly and turned his gaze to the rest of us.
"And to all of you as well… please enjoy yourselves."
He then looked to Lord Markelosh.
"Mark, clear my schedule for tomorrow, would you? I want to get to know my daughter's friends better."
Markelosh hesitated.
"But Your Majesty, you have an appointment with the Elfegreen envoy tomorrow—"
"It's fine," Altheron interrupted gently. "He's staying for a few days, right? Just toss him some money and take him sightseeing for a day. We'll talk the day after. A little bribe and a shuffled calendar—he won't mind."
He was firm, yet oddly casual.
Markelosh's face twitched with restrained reluctance.
"As you wish, Your Majesty. I'll see to it."
Altheron gave him a reassuring pat on the back.
"Sorry to trouble you—but I've always trusted you… haven't I?"
"Thank you, Your Majesty." Markelosh gave a small bow.
"Oh, and Mone," the king turned to the older woman. "In three days, would you host a small gathering? Nothing too grand—I just want to make a little announcement. And Keela's friends should attend as well…"
A simple request from a king.
Yet its undertone hinted at something that could ripple across the kingdom.
There was no room for us to decline.
"As you wish, my dear," Anemone replied, her voice silk-smooth with just a hint of irony.
We bowed in unison, following Keela's poised lead.
"Well then, enjoy the rest of the evening," Altheron said softly, ruffling Keela's hair.
"I just… wanted to see my daughter's face. That's all. I'll see you tomorrow… my dear little girl."
And with that, the royal group slowly made their way backstage.
The festive atmosphere didn't return.
Conversations turned hushed, whispers replacing the earlier cheer. Something had shifted.
"Hmm… this food doesn't taste good anymore…" Yue muttered, visibly sulking. "It was delicious just a moment ago, but now it's all bitter somehow…"
We couldn't help but chuckle softly, despite the lingering tension.
"Shall we head back?" Keela offered.
"Can we?" Yue asked innocently, her eyes wide.
Keela turned to Evan.
"Can we leave early, big brother?"
"Of course," Evan replied. "The formalities are over. You've eaten, met Father—there's nothing else left. You should all get some rest."
"Then we'll excuse ourselves," Keela said, giving a proper curtsy, prompting us to follow suit.
We quietly made our way out, step by step, feeling the weight of dozens of eyes trailing behind us.
Among them… one gaze in particular—harboring thoughts no one could read.
Thoughts… that just might reshape the fate of this entire continent.
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