"His Majesty requests your presence!"
The messenger bowed slightly, addressing Duke, "Please accompany us to Dawn Castle."
"The king…"
Duke scratched his chin. He had expected King Jarvan III's invitation to come later, giving him time to interact with the nobles, but now it seemed Jarvan III had no intention of leaving any room for that.
It made sense. The technique to awaken Galio was a national treasure.
No one but the royal family could wield it.
Still, had Demacia truly prepared for this? Their anti-magic decree wasn't something that could be easily lifted.
"In that case…"
Duke looked at Lux. Ever perceptive, she said, "I'll head back first. Teacher, you should go to the palace."
"We will escort Lux back to the Marshal's Mansion, Duke. There's no need for concern," the messenger reassured.
Duke nodded. "Very well, then I'll trouble you to handle it."
After Lux disembarked, the attendants sent her off. Duke mounted his own carriage, barely glancing at the luxurious one provided by the messenger.
It looked opulent, but it felt like sitting in a coffin, far less comfortable than his own carriage.
"I'll stick to mine," Duke said, settling in. The messenger made no objection, bowing slightly. "I will lead the way for you."
"Much obliged."
Duke whistled, "Ang, follow them. Let's see the palace."
"Woof!"
Both heads barked in unison, matching the messenger's carriage as they moved.
As the carriage escorting Lux departed, Ang followed behind, heading toward Dawn Castle.
Situated at the heart of the capital, the castle was reachable via Guardian Avenue.
Normally, only court guards, high-ranking officials, or authorized personnel could enter freely; commoners weren't allowed to linger.
Dawn Castle was the most important building in the city, housing the king himself. Its symbolic and political weight was immense.
White walls were adorned with blue banners; Demacians loved the combination of white and blue. Their architecture followed this rule consistently.
The anti-magic stone walls gleamed, reflecting the first light of dawn.
Soldiers in full silver armor stood rigidly on either side of the main avenue, projecting both authority and an unspoken pressure.
It was Duke's first time seeing such a scene. He thought of Esuoken and winced slightly, the hidden kingdoms hadn't displayed such majesty for years.
Thinking of Esuoken reminded him of the headache caused by the contemporary Yuen: his daughter was poorly managed, and he passed the problem onto Duke, under the guise of fostering Esuoken-Piltover relations.
Aside from arranged marriage, couldn't they find another solution?
And that little midget, Kiana, though short, had almost every other trait perfect. Except for her height, she had a flawless figure.
But her temper… it was infuriating.
At least for now, Duke was in Demacia. Returning to Piltover would take time, so he didn't have to deal with that little nuisance, one small consolation.
He shuddered thinking about her reaction if she knew of the arranged marriage with him.
"Duke?"
The messenger's voice pulled him back from his thoughts.
He offered a polite smile, realizing they had arrived at the castle. The messenger, still seated, waited for him.
"Apologies, I was lost in research thoughts."
"Indeed, the youngest master craftsman in history, even his leisure is filled with thinking!" the messenger praised.
Duke smiled politely. After dismounting, the messenger asked about Ang, the shadow wolf pulling the carriage.
"What feed does your shadow wolf require? We can make special arrangements."
"No need. He doesn't eat," Duke said, shaking his head. Inside, Ang had been fully mechanized. Feeding him would be pointless; Duke wasn't even sure if he still had a sense of taste.
"Then, please follow me. His Majesty awaits you in his study."
"Study, huh?"
Duke followed, snapping his fingers. He had expected a more formal setting, but the study suggested Jarvan III's approachable and gentle character.
Yet, all kings have their own hidden agendas. Still, from background knowledge, Jarvan III was indeed known as a benevolent ruler.
Soon, Duke arrived at a side chamber. The messenger gestured, "His Majesty is inside. Please, make yourself comfortable."
"Thank you."
Inside, the white marble floor gleamed. Behind a desk sat a middle-aged man, his hair the same color as Prince Jarvan IV, but streaked with white at the temples. His eyes carried worry, as if weighed down by some burden.
Noticing Duke, Jarvan III lifted his gaze, eyes gleaming as he studied him.
"Demacia welcomes you, Master Duke."
"The honor is mine, Your Majesty."
Duke bowed with his right hand across his chest. Jarvan III stood, extending his hand to guide Duke forward, warm and neighborly in demeanor.
"Are you adjusting well to Demacia?"
"This isn't Piltover, so I understand if things feel a bit rigid," Jarvan III said.
"Not at all. Demacians value justice and law, they are a model of order," Duke replied.
"True, but our traditions are inherited from the past," Jarvan said with a smile.
"Traditions are good, but flexibility is essential," Duke added subtly. Jarvan III paused, then laughed softly, "Outsiders see things most clearly."
Seated, Jarvan III summoned an attendant, kindly asking Duke, "Would you like tea, wine, or some other beverage?"
"A simple ashtray will suffice," Duke joked. "Sometimes I like to use a cigar for focus."
"Then have it prepared," Jarvan waved. Duke was surprised that a simple joke had been taken seriously.
Jarvan III regarded him, unsure where to begin, and settled on casual conversation.
"Duke, you look of age. Any plans for marriage?"
"Ah!" Duke was caught off guard. He cleared his throat politely, forcing a slightly embarrassed smile. "My family has arranged a match for me."
"An arranged marriage?" Jarvan III asked.
"Not with a Piltover noble, an Esuoken princess," Duke replied, briefly explaining the secluded kingdom.
Jarvan III's face softened with admiration. "A wise ruler to dare break a millennia-old tradition for reform. I would like to meet him and discuss these matters."
"If Your Majesty wishes, I can arrange it, but we would need prior consent," Duke offered, placing ten communicators on the desk. "A gift for you, Hextech communicators. They allow real-time conversation across great distances."
Jarvan III examined one, astonished. Even the intermittent blindness didn't hinder the magic of the devices.
Duke taught him to use them. Soon, the device connected to Pete Minwei in Mithril City. Jarvan III's astonishment grew, while Pete on the other end was completely flustered.
"Your Majesty!"
After the call, Duke clipped a cigar, placing it before Jarvan III out of courtesy.
"Truly remarkable!" Jarvan III said, setting down the communicator. "It confirms my decision to adopt Hextech portals was undeniably correct."
Duke straightened, "Your Majesty, there's an old saying back home. I'm not sure if it's proper to share."
"Please, go ahead," Jarvan encouraged.
Looking into the king's eyes, Duke spoke clearly:
"Fall behind, and you get beaten."
End of chapter....
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