As Sylas walked toward the palace, he noticed something… unsettling.
There were layers to this kingdom.
Near the gates, the houses were barely standing. Cracked walls. Broken windows. Mud paths. But the farther he walked, the more everything changed.
The homes looked newer. Taller. More stable.
The people stood straighter. Their clothes were cleaner. Their eyes clearer. They looked healthier. Happier.
As he reached the upper district, it felt like he'd wandered into a different world—too polished, too quiet, too perfect.
The difference was like day and night.
The houses had multiple floors, stacked high with elegant design. Windows sparkled. Walls shone in vibrant colors. Even the air smelled different—like money. Like comfort.
There was no equality here.
Everything was based on status. The city was built like a layered cake—the closer to the palace, the closer to power.
This place was the opposite of everything Sylas believed in.
While living as Arthur, he upheld fairness above all. Everyone, no matter their birth, was bound by the same law. That was what it meant to be a king.
A real king lifted his people—not divided them.
He gritted his teeth. His hands shook uncontrollably. His anger built the closer he got to the palace.
"Calm down, Sylas. Calm down…" he whispered under his breath.
He gave everything he had to restrain himself from doing what Arthur would have done.
His fists clenched. His steps slowed. Each one heavier than the last.
Then, slowly… he put the mask back on.
From here on, it couldn't crack.
"I have arrived!"
He shouted as loud as he could.
Horns blared. Drums boomed. The palace gates creaked open, and at the top of the stairs, the king and queen waited.
The king stood tall, broad, and bearded. His arms thick as logs, his presence that of a man who'd wrestled beasts barehanded.
The queen, on the other hand, looked calm and elegant. Her caramel skin glowed in the sunlight. Her braid spilled over her back. Sylas couldn't help noticing her beautiful emerald eyes. They were sharp like a huntress.
She wasn't as breathtaking as Nyla… but she was close.
Sylas approached and extended his hand respectfully.
But the king had a different idea.
He yanked Sylas forward—so hard, anyone else would've had a few broken ribs.
"My boy, you've grown!" the king shouted as he embraced him, squeezing him tightly. "I haven't seen you since you were just a baby!"
Sylas, thinking fast, returned the hug—and squeezed tighter.
He braced his foot against the ground, arched his back… and lifted the king clean off his feet.
"I know!" he shouted. "How come you never came to see me and my mother?"
The king slammed his foot down—and hoisted Sylas into the air in return.
"I've been busy with work!"
And just like that, their reunion became a contest of strength disguised as affection—communicating through pressure, laughter, and prideful grunts—until a sharp voice finally cut in.
"Honey, that's enough," the queen said softly.
The king set him down with a grin.
"That was fun," Sylas muttered.
They both laughed, wild and free, while the crowd stood in silence—unsure whether to clap or hold their breath.
Sylas turned toward the queen.
"You are far more beautiful than how my mother described you, Milady."
His voice softened—charming, respectful, dripping with warmth.
Then he noticed her.
A girl beside the queen. Young, graceful, with delicate features. Her eyes like softened emeralds, posture elegant but quiet.
Their gaze met.
Without hesitation, he dropped to one knee—like her beauty had made his legs give out.
"And who might you be, pretty lady?"
His voice turned velvet.
His inner Lancelot fully took over.
She tilted her head, gazing at him, wondering, Who's this clown?
Then, with a small, amused smile, she said,
"You flirt like someone who's never been slapped before."
Sylas blinked.
Okay. She's dangerous.
The king roared with laughter. "Your mother didn't tell you anything?"
"She said I had a big surprise waiting for me here," Sylas said with a playful pause. "Which I'm guessing is meeting the great king… and the beautiful queen."
The king and queen roared with laughter.
"No, child. That is my one and only daughter—and your fiancée."
Sylas's jaw dropped.
All he could think was:
Luis, you lucky dog. You managed to get engaged to a girl like her?
"Honey, I think you shocked him," the queen said, giggling.
The king slapped him lightly on the back.
"It's alright, my boy. Rest up. We'll talk more tomorrow—at the feast."
The next morning, after a hearty breakfast, the real conversation began.
The king's name was Kael. He and Queen Lisa—Luis's mother—had attended the Academy together, long ago. He was one of the legendary heroes who'd entered the Veil alongside Luis's father.
He and Queen Lisa hadn't spoken in years. But to keep their kingdoms united, they agreed:
Luis would marry Kael's daughter.
And Sylas realized something then—
Luis's mother wasn't just strong. She was brilliant.
If Luis married Kael's daughter, she'd have indirect control over not one, not two, but three kingdoms.
A perfect power play—for her.
After the meeting, Sylas requested a tour of the kingdom.
He called out casually:
"Lucian."
A man appeared beside him.
He was a few years older. Tall but slender. Strikingly handsome—sharp features, noble face.
He looked like King Kael… but without the bulk.
"Show him around," the king ordered. "And make sure nothing happens to him."
His tone was colder now. Formal. Distant. The warmth from earlier—gone.
Lucian nodded.
As they walked the streets, Sylas mostly observed.
There was something about this man.
From what Sylas saw, Lucian wasn't admired by the nobles—but the people adored him.
Children ran up and clung to him like a big brother.
Vendors greeted him by name.
Old women handed him food from their plates.
Stray animals brushed against his legs, familiar with his scent.
Lucian didn't just move through the city.
He belonged to it.
Even without a crown, he carried himself like a guardian.
A man of the people.
And for a moment, Sylas found himself wondering…
Why isn't someone like that on the throne?
He finally asked, "Who are you?"
Lucian turned, still smiling, still playing with the kids.
"I'm the son of King Kael," he said with a soft smile . "The black sheep of the family
Sylas smiled.
And just like that, the mask nearly cracked.
"So, young prince, what would you do if you were a king?" He asked.