The young king, born of rebellion, sat not as a fearsome tyrant but as a figure of unexpected gentleness. His features, handsome and neatly arranged, belied the brutality that had marked his ascent to power. Beside him, instead of the rightful queen, Lelusha, there sat a vision of opulence and allure—a lady adorned like a resplendent peacock.
Lelusha’s poised facade cracked, betraying the anguish that seethed beneath the surface.
…Princess Odette von Grüsewald.
Odette, renowned throughout Reveln for her breathtaking beauty, held court as the epitome of nobility since her debut.
While whispers occasionally danced about her foreign lineage stemming from the esteemed Grüsewald family, her beauty and the family’s wealth overshadowed any semblance of flaw. She was hailed as the “Queen’s birthright,” embodying the epitome of regal grace and magnificence.
“Your Majesty,” Lelusha’s voice pierced through the tension, strained with effort as she addressed him. The king paused, offering a smile that lacked warmth, merely a perfunctory gesture.
“My apologies for the delay, my lady,” he murmured, his words tinged with formality.
“It’s all right.”
“It must be, now that you’ve grown accustomed to waiting.”
Lelusha remained silent, her gaze drifting toward Princess Odette. Meeting Lelusha’s gaze, Odette’s lips curved into a sly grin, a silent acknowledgement passing between them. With a graceful step back, she assumed a more reserved stance, as if yielding to the rightful order of things. Yet, beneath the surface, it seemed as though she willingly made way.
“The main star seems to be fashionably late, as usual,” remarked Jocelyn, his tone tinged with thinly veiled impatience.
The ceremony, a tribute to the valor of the Royal Knights, had been meticulously orchestrated to honor their triumph over the rebellious forces of Ervaden. At its center stage was the illustrious Knight Commander Matthias, a figure of unparalleled skill and courage.
“Seems Matthias has grown rather bold, keeping the king waiting. Wouldn’t you agree, my lady?” inquired Jocelyn, his words laced with a hint of disdain.
As Lelusha remained silent, Jocelyn clicked his tongue in irritation.
“Ah, the importance of a proper upbringing,” Jocelyn continued, his disapproval evident. “A student often mirrors their mentor.”
“Are you suggesting I’ve become arrogant?” Lelusha inquired.
“No,” Jocelyn replied hastily, a nervous chuckle escaping his lips at the composed retort.
As if on cue, Matthias, the much-anticipated focal point of the ceremony, made his grand entrance into Gaecheon Square.
Having secured victory as the youngest Knight Commander in history, Matthias exuded an aura of commanding presence astride his warhorse. His imposing stature, honed on countless battlefields, was matched only by his strikingly handsome features and well-built physique—a man born for glory, a subject of admiration and envy alike.
“That flawless face remains untouched, despite leading from the frontlines,” Jocelyn muttered, his discontent evident as he gestured toward Knight Commander Matthias.
“Step forward, Knight Matthias!” he commanded, cutting through the murmurs of the crowd.
As Matthias gracefully dismounted his steed and strode toward the platform, a hushed reverence descended upon the bustling square. All eyes, brimming with admiration and awe, were fixed upon him. In the presence of such a young, potent, and strikingly handsome war hero, none could remain indifferent.
With each step, Matthias garnered the adulation of the crowd, his arrival at the platform marked by a reverent hush as he knelt before the throne.
In the confrontation between the youthful usurper king and the valiant hero, the contrast was palpable. Though both possessed youth, beauty, and strength, the disparity in their demeanor and aura was stark—a juxtaposition of light and shadow.
While the imposing figure of the usurper king, stained with the blood of his conquests, might have commanded awe, it paled in comparison to the cold, steely resolve of the war hero known as “war incarnate.”
Lelusha found herself unable to avert her gaze from the refined Knight Commander, who had returned with a newfound vigor after a year. Sensing her captivation, Jocelyn arched a disdainful brow and muttered derisively.
“You can hardly contain your joy, my lady, that one of your own has returned home a hero of Reveln. Judging by the way your eyes glaze over even in the presence of your husband.”
