There was still half an hour before the feast, so Khaal, enduring being dressed by seven maids at once, engaged in meditation. At least, that's what everyone around called it. The prince initially resisted this word, but then got used to it. Well, meditation is meditation. Yes, on Earth it sounds a bit strange and silly, but why not.
Well, what else could he call what he was doing? Sitting in the "lotus" position, breathing evenly, clearing his mind, and trying to absorb energy. Fortunately, he could now feel it much better than before. At first, he even had to doubt its existence. Now, after the sixth stage of Bodily Nodes, when many points on his body had opened, Khaal actually felt something.
Similar to the feeling preceding a storm. As if the air is too electrified. Or maybe someone nearby turned on a huge magnet. Or someone has been staring between your shoulder blades for half an hour, and even the most skeptical people feel that.
In general, something was present in this world. And this something made Khaal stronger, and that's all that interested him at the moment.
Khaal was fully aware of the necessity of such meditations. And while other children increasingly slept instead of actually trying to absorb energy, he was busy with the task. Not an easy one. Very difficult.
As difficult as trying to catch the wind in a jar or sunlight in a box. With the only difference being that slowly it was working, and his level of development was already considered abnormally high for his age. But the prince knew that, besides talent with the sword, he didn't possess any other outstanding abilities.
Which meant that if the nobles in the kingdom raised their children better, they too would have the opportunity to achieve the same results.
"Khaal, dear." The door opened, and Elizabeth appeared on the threshold.
In a dress embroidered with amber and gold. With a silk belt emphasizing her slender waist. Jade flower buds were woven into her hair, and sparkling drops froze on her eyelashes. Her clear green eyes shone with love and warmth.
He had a beautiful mother, whom he loved probably more than anyone in either this world or the previous one. Simply because he had never had a mother, a father, or a sister. He loved them all.
The prince, like a little boy (which he was), flew to the queen and hugged her tightly, pressing his head to her stomach.
"That's enough," laughed Elizabeth and smoothed his long hair.
They had put black and gold clothes on him and placed a wreath on his head. All of this was terribly uncomfortable, but the prince was already used to such celebrations and therefore hardly complained.
He calmly, ignoring mocking glances, walked down the corridor, holding his mother and sister by the hands. To others, this seemed too "childish" behavior, unworthy of a genius swordsman, but Khaal didn't care. No one would forbid him from enjoying the moment.
Alas, the moment didn't last long. The jasper doors opened, and the royal family found themselves in a spacious columned hall. It somewhat resembled the feast halls of the Scandinavian peoples of Earth.
A spacious room with a ceiling lost somewhere in the heights. Wide columns, decorated with carved patterns and bas-reliefs. They depicted scenes of heroes' battles with huge creatures and monsters. Scenes of great fights and battles.
The hall was enormous, even by local standards. Now, at the long wide tables, no fewer than five thousand people had gathered. And at the head, on the "main stools" - golden thrones - the royal couple was supposed to sit. So far, only Haver IV sat there. The King.
He, as is customary in this world, wore his armor for all celebrations. Not gilded, not adorned with precious stones and silks, but battle armor. Imbued with battles, with many scars, made from special ore. They say it was an old mortal artifact, passed down in the family.
In it, Khaal's father looked even more powerful and impregnable. Like a mountain facing an approaching storm - serene and cold.
Instead of a crown, the king's hair was girded with the same leather strap with metal inserts. Haver never wore a crown, considering it somewhat wrong. He said that first and foremost, he was a warrior protecting the country, and only then - a king.
Perhaps this wasn't right, but the people loved him all the more for it.
"We welcome Her Majesty, Queen Elizabeth Sammen!" announced the majordomo to those arriving.
Five thousand people stood up in unison and bowed. They straightened their backs only after a couple of seconds and only after the queen's return nod.
"We welcome Her Highness, Princess Elaine Duran!"
This time they didn't bow, just inclined their heads. Elaine, embarrassed, hid behind her mother. This earned her a few kind smiles and even some applause, which only embarrassed her more. The royal couple raised their children in simplicity.
No, they had the best clothes, the best food, and as far as possible, they were fed various potions, but without instilling the snobbery of nobles.
"And now let's welcome the hero of our celebration," this time the king personally took the floor. "My son - Prince Khaal Soren!"
And after a synchronized bow (slightly less deep than for the queen, but still), the hall erupted in a storm of applause. Of course, among the people, there were many who applauded out of pure necessity, but still, the majority genuinely welcomed the prince. News of his phenomenal successes for his age, both on the path of a scholar and a warrior, had already spread throughout almost the entire country.
Somewhere on the outskirts, they were predicting him as the future king, because Haver couldn't sit on the throne forever. And the people saw only the good side of Khaal. Everyone knew that he cared for his servants and was polite and courteous. In general, he was liked much more than the haughty children of nobles.
Khaal, smiling, walked to the thrones and sat to the left of his father. To the right of Haver sat the queen, and next to her - their daughter. All according to the rules of local etiquette.
"Let the feast begin!" thundered the king.
Countless servants began placing various dishes on the tables. In the city squares, they also fed for free and poured the best city wines. The birthdays of the royal family were traditionally celebrated by the whole country - almost state holidays. And the people didn't mind eating and drinking their fill for free.
Festivities began, dancing in the squares, and traveling circuses performed.
Khaal, meanwhile, paid no attention to the tricksters performing for the guests' pleasure at the palace. He was little interested in all these tricks, because knowledge of what real adepts were capable of left the circus far behind.
So he simply enjoyed the food. From simple venison to the meat of a yaroboar, which was at the power awakening stage (approximately - formation for humans).
"Don't rush, dear," the Queen whispered across the table. "It's not the last time you'll eat."
"Al-right, mo-ther," Khaal mumbled with his mouth full.
The queen and princess looked at him as if he were an uncouth barbarian, while his father secretly encouraged him. A warrior should eat a lot and well to gain strength. In this, Haver couldn't blame his son.
The only thing that was now clouding the king's mood was the absence of his elder brother at the celebration. Without Primus, any feast was not a feast. At least for Haver, who was used to always celebrating with him. Only in recent years had differences in their vision of the country's politics distanced them from each other. But the king believed they could overcome all disagreements.
After all, they had argued before, but it never prevented them from fighting back to back in thousands of different battles.
"Darling, people are watching," Elizabeth whispered in his ear.
The king came to his senses and immediately smiled happily and ruffled his son's hair. No one should see the king worried at a celebration. Who knows what they might think and start worrying about.
Luckily, Haver didn't have to be upset for long.
"We welcome the honorable commander, Primus Duran!"
The people, leaving their food, stood up and barely noticeably bowed. Primus was more feared and therefore respected, but not very much loved. He was sharp and even dangerous in appearance.
"Brother, glad to see you." The king rose and spread his arms, inviting his brother into an embrace. "What kept you so long?"
Primus approached, and the brothers patted each other on the back. It looked as if mountains were fraternizing - at least for Khaal. Two mighty warriors resembled bears, and therefore their embrace looked both frightening and inspiring at the same time.
"I wanted to stop by my castle," Primus moved to the foot of the thrones, "to pick up a gift for the young prince."
"Son, thank your uncle."
"Thank you, Uncle Primus," the prince bowed his head.
That's what any normal seven-year-old child would do, but Khaal wasn't normal. He had lived a life in a body unable to move, and therefore had learned to understand people quite well. And although his intuition had dulled considerably over years of peaceful life, his survival instinct was screaming that something wasn't right.
"Bring out the gift!" Primus waved his hand.
Four warriors emerged from the doors, and their very appearance shocked everyone present. The king, who had already sat back on the throne, rose in concern. In green armor, marching in step, came four soldiers of the imperial army. Their black cloaks swept the floor, and helmets covered their faces, but one glance was enough to understand - these were strong practitioners.
"Analysis," ordered Khaal.
[Processing request... Request processing impossible]
If so, their levels were beyond measure.
Level of formation, if not transformation. In the kingdom's army, they would have become the elite, while in the empire, they walked as ordinary privates.
In their hands, they carried a heavy chest and, approaching the king and not even thinking of bowing to him, set their burden on the table with a crash.
"What does this mean, brother?" Haver asked quietly.
"A gift for the prince!" thundered Primus, ignoring the king and throwing open the chest lid.
Inside, on velvet coverings, lay a sword in light scabbards. Grabbing it by the hilt, the commander pulled the blade from the scabbard, making everyone hold their breath. In the light of torches and lamps, the blade glowed with a barely noticeable, steady golden glow.
"A spiritual artifact," whispered through the rows.
"Forged from solar metal," echoed others.
Khaal took a barely noticeable step back.
What the hell?!
Why would Primus give him such a thing! This sword alone could buy the entire palace!
"What does this mean, Commander Primus?!" barked Haver, touching the hilt of his own sword.
"This means treason," a quiet, calm voice sounded, and again the hall plunged into silence.
A dry middle-aged man walked through the doors. Dressed in simple black clothes, he emanated an aura of such powerful authority that Khaal found it difficult to breathe. He invoked the neural network's table, but it could only display:
[?????]
Actually, from the fact that with a wave of his hand, this person illuminated the hall as if it were a clear day, it became clear - Khaal had seen a Heavenly Soldier for the first time.
"Governor?" and, it seems, Haver knew him. "We are glad to welcome an imperial official at our celebration, but allow me to ask what you are doing here?"
"Celebration," the adept grimaced, surveying the tables with contempt. "If you, Haver, call it that... well, I expected no more from your little village."
The warriors grabbed their swords, but the king waved his hand, and they froze. Even if the entire army were here, they would hardly be able to even touch an adept of the Heavenly Soldier stage, let alone execute him for the insult.
"And yet, I didn't expect such stupidity from you, Haver. For many centuries, your... backwater has paid us tribute. Small, but regularly. And no troubles."
"We still pay."
"Enough!" The adept barely raised his voice, and many of those standing near him fell unconscious.
Even Khaal was reached by a wave of inconceivable power, which almost doubled him over.
Haver made some incomprehensible sign, and breathing became easier, and out of the corner of his eye, the prince noticed a slight shimmering sphere covering the throne.
"This is treason, Haver!" The adept proudly and mockingly raised his chin. He was clearly mocking what was happening. "You hid solar ore from us, Haver. And this is direct treason to the emperor."
The king cast a glance full of disbelief and pain towards his brother, but Primus met it only with a predatory smile.
"We are not subjects of the empire!"
"Don't deceive yourself, Haver," the adept dismissed him as if he were a bug. "You didn't interest the empire only because... you have nothing. At your expense, we simply maintained a border town. The tribute barely covered its needs."
What?! Their entire kingdom fed just one city of the empire! Khaal had guessed that he lived in a well while a whole ocean raged around, but he didn't suspect that this ocean was so enormous.
"And you know what the sentence is for treason, Haver."
The king reached for his sword, but the adept simply waved his hand, and the world froze. Like a soap bubble, the sphere with which Haver had covered his family burst, and no one could move anymore. They could barely breathe.
Such was the power of a Heavenly Soldier. Without any techniques or artifacts - by desire and will alone, he turned them into will-less slaves.
"Our king betrayed us!" Primus chanted, walking through the rows. "He was weak and foolish! He didn't want to recognize a simple fact - our kingdom is no more than a small village on the outskirts of this world! And he had a chance to fix everything. He had! We found a vein of solar ore! So rich that even the emperor himself became interested in us!"
While the commander was giving his speech, the adept stood aside and lazily examined his own nails. What was happening interested him little. Well, these uncouth villagers are wallowing in their manure, so let them wallow.
"He is a traitor not only to the empire but to his own crown! And traitors await only one fate - death! And I understand that you were deceived by his weakness, so I offer one last chance. Who wishes to remain with me - your new king..."
Primus swung his sword, leaving a long, deep furrow on the stone floor.
"...take a step across this line."
The adept didn't even raise an eyebrow, but all five thousand people suddenly gained freedom. Some of them, like beaten dogs, picking up their clothes and shedding tears of fear, almost crawled across the line.
Some cast a quick glance towards the royal family and, bowing their heads, meekly walked towards the line.
Out of five thousand, only a few hundred remained standing motionless.
Men and women.
Children.
They remained loyal to their king, who had been devoted only to them all his life.
"Fools," sighed Primus and suddenly began to radiate the same power as the adept.
Khaal's uncle had somehow reached the stage of the Heavenly Soldier, and this meant only one thing - there was no chance of salvation.