*Two weeks later - Royal Palace*
The war room had been transformed into a planning center, its ancient oak table now covered with maps, personnel files, and architectural drawings. Damian stood at the head of the table, his emerald eyes scanning the documents while Tycun reviewed potential sites for their headquarters.
"The Drakmoor Fortress is well-positioned," Tycun said, pointing to a location on the map. "Defensible, remote enough for secrecy, but with good access to major population centers. The previous owners abandoned it after the war with Zeref, but the structure is sound."
"It's also haunted," Damian replied dryly, not looking up from a file detailing potential recruits. "Local reports mention strange lights and voices in the night. Hardly conducive to training."
"Nothing a good exorcism won't handle," Tycun shrugged. "Besides, ghosts might actually improve discipline among the recruits."
Despite his serious mood, Damian found himself smiling. Over the past two weeks, he'd discovered that beneath Tycun's stone-faced exterior lay a dry sense of humor that surfaced at unexpected moments. The former bounty hunter had thrown himself into the task of building the Magic Knights with the same methodical precision he'd once applied to tracking criminals.
"What about this one?" Damian indicated another location. "Shadowmere Keep. It's been empty for decades, but it has good bones and excellent strategic positioning."
"Too close to the Magic Council headquarters," Tycun said immediately. "They'd be watching everything we do. We need somewhere they can't easily interfere with our operations."
A knock at the door interrupted their planning. "Enter," Damian called, and Captain Marcus stepped inside with a respectful bow.
"Your Highness, you have a visitor. Miss McGarden is here to see you."
Damian's heart skipped a beat. He hadn't seen Levy since the incident in Magnolia three months ago, though they'd exchanged several letters discussing magical theory and, increasingly, more personal topics. He'd wanted to visit her in person, but the demands of establishing the Magic Knights had consumed all his time.
"Send her in," he said, then glanced at Tycun. "We can continue this later."
Tycun gathered up the sensitive documents with practiced efficiency. "I'll scout the Drakmoor site personally. With or without ghosts, we need to make a decision soon."
As he headed for the door, Levy entered, and Damian felt that familiar warmth in his chest at the sight of her. She wore a simple blue dress that complemented her hair, and carried a leather satchel that undoubtedly contained books. Her brown eyes swept the war room with obvious curiosity before settling on him.
"Prince Damian," she said formally, offering a small curtsy.
"Just Damian, please," he replied, moving around the table to greet her properly. "I'm glad you came. Your letters have been the brightest part of some very long days."
A soft blush colored her cheeks. "I hope I'm not interrupting anything important."
"Nothing more important than seeing you," he said sincerely, then gestured to a comfortable seating area near the windows. "Please, sit. Can I offer you anything? Tea? Something to eat?"
"Tea would be lovely," Levy said, settling into one of the chairs. As a servant appeared to fulfill the request, she looked around the room with its maps and military paraphernalia. "I heard rumors that you're forming some kind of elite guard unit. Is it true?"
Damian took the chair across from her, suddenly aware of how the afternoon light streaming through the windows turned her blue hair to silver at the edges. "Magic Knights, yes. A specialized force to handle threats that require immediate response."
"Like what happened in Magnolia," she said thoughtfully. "You could have waited for the Rune Knights or sent word to Fairy Tail, but innocent people would have died while we mobilized."
"Exactly." He leaned forward, his expression growing intense. "The current system is too slow, too bureaucratic. By the time officials decide on a course of action and allocate resources, how many people suffer? How many die because help arrived an hour too late?"
Levy was quiet for a moment, absently adjusting her glasses as she considered his words. "It's a noble goal, Damian. But creating an elite force loyal directly to the crown... that's a significant concentration of power. What safeguards will you put in place to prevent abuse?"
The question hit him like a physical blow. Not because it was hostile—Levy's tone was genuinely curious rather than accusatory—but because it forced him to confront doubts he'd been pushing aside.
"I..." he started, then stopped. How did he answer that? That he was a good person who would never abuse such power? That his intentions were pure? History was littered with the good intentions of those who'd accumulated power in the name of protection and order.
"I don't know," he admitted finally. "I know what I want to accomplish, and I believe it's right. But you're asking me to guarantee something that may be impossible to guarantee."
The tea arrived, giving him a moment to collect his thoughts while the servant poured and withdrew. Levy sipped her tea quietly, her brown eyes studying his face with that same intense focus she brought to her books.
"My father once told me something," she said eventually. "He said that the most dangerous people aren't those who seek power for selfish reasons—they're usually obvious enough to spot and stop. The truly dangerous ones are those who accumulate power for noble reasons and then convince themselves that maintaining that power is necessary for the greater good."
Damian set down his teacup with a soft clink. "Are you saying I'm dangerous?"
"I'm saying you're human," Levy replied gently. "And humans, even the best of us, can rationalize almost anything when we believe we're protecting something important."
The words stung because they rang true. How many times had he already justified decisions based on the greater good? How many compromises had he made in service of his vision for Fiore's future?
"Then what would you suggest?" he asked. "Should I abandon the project? Allow the current system to continue failing while I content myself with being a powerless figurehead?"
"I'm not suggesting you abandon anything," Levy said, leaning forward in her chair. "I'm suggesting you build accountability into the system from the beginning. Create checks on your own power, establish oversight mechanisms, ensure that someone can tell you 'no' when you need to hear it."
"Like who? The Magic Council? They're part of the problem."
"Like people you trust. People who share your values but aren't afraid to challenge your methods." Levy's eyes met his steadily. "People who care more about protecting others than protecting you."
Damian was quiet for a long moment, turning her words over in his mind. It was a radical concept—deliberately limiting his own authority when he was trying to create an organization capable of rapid, decisive action. But wasn't that exactly the kind of safeguard that would distinguish his Magic Knights from a mere tool of oppression?
"You'd be perfect for that role," he said suddenly.
Levy blinked in surprise. "What?"
"You understand magical theory, you care about the consequences of power, and you're not intimidated by authority." Damian found himself speaking faster as the idea took shape. "You could serve as an advisor, help establish protocols, ensure that we never lose sight of our principles."
"Damian, I'm flattered, but I'm barely eighteen years old," Levy protested. "I have no experience with military organization or—"
"Age is just a number," he interrupted. "Wisdom isn't about how many years you've lived, it's about how deeply you think and how clearly you see. You've already demonstrated both qualities."
Levy was quiet, her fingers tracing the rim of her teacup as she considered. Finally, she looked up at him with an expression that was both vulnerable and determined.
"If I were to help with this project," she said carefully, "I'd need complete honesty from you. No secrets about the organization's goals or methods. No withholding information to 'protect' me from difficult truths."
"Agreed."
"And I'd need the authority to voice dissent publicly, even if it embarrasses you or undermines your position."
Damian hesitated for just a moment before nodding. "Agreed."
"And..." she took a deep breath, "I'd need to know that this isn't just about politics or power. I need to know that you genuinely care about the people we'd be protecting."
The vulnerability in her voice made something twist in Damian's chest. He set down his teacup and leaned forward, his emerald eyes holding hers with complete sincerity.
"Levy, I've spent my entire life preparing to rule this kingdom. I've studied history, politics, military strategy, economics—everything a king needs to know. But until I met you, I never really understood what it meant to care about someone beyond duty or obligation."
Her breath caught slightly, and he continued, his voice growing softer.
"You've made me realize that power without compassion is just tyranny with better intentions. That protecting people means more than keeping them safe—it means preserving what makes them human. Their freedom, their choices, their ability to live lives worth living."
"Damian..."
"I can't promise I'll never make mistakes," he said. "I can't guarantee that power won't change me in ways I don't expect. But I can promise that as long as you're willing to stand beside me, I'll remember why this matters. I'll remember that the goal isn't to control people—it's to serve them."
For a moment, the war room was completely silent except for the soft ticking of the grandfather clock in the corner. Then Levy smiled—that brilliant, warm expression that had captivated him from their first meeting.
"Alright," she said simply. "I'll help you build your Magic Knights. But Damian?"
"Yes?"
"If you ever forget what you just said, if you ever start believing that your vision matters more than the people you're supposed to protect... I'll be the first person to tell you. And I won't be gentle about it."
Despite the seriousness of her words, Damian found himself grinning. "I wouldn't expect anything less."
As afternoon turned to evening and their conversation shifted from politics to personal topics, Prince Damian E. Fiore realized that he'd just made one of the most important decisions of his life. Not just in accepting Levy's oversight of his ambitions, but in allowing someone to see past the crown to the man beneath.
For the first time since he'd begun planning the Magic Knights, he felt truly confident in the path ahead. Not because it would be easy, but because he wouldn't be walking it alone.
---
*To be continued...*