The court erupted.
Voices overlapped. Nobles rose from their seats. Silk rustled violently as outrage rippled across the hall.
"This cannot be accepted!"
One bold nobleman stepped forward, face flushed. "Your Highness, it is forbidden to hold such a relationship with your own knight!"
Another stood. "Absurd!"
A third added sharply, "You must choose from among the dignitaries who presented themselves today!"
"And he did not even request your hand!" someone else snapped. "How can you choose a man who has not formally asked for you?"
The accusations flew like arrows.
Nael, however—
Smiled.
That was the line he had been waiting for.
He slowly turned his head.
Leo met his gaze for only a second.
And then—
He moved.
With calm, unhurried steps, Leonard Velcrest walked past the murmuring nobles and into the very center of the hall.
Silence fell gradually, confusion overtaking outrage.
Then, before the entire empire—
He went down on one knee.
The movement was smooth. Controlled. No hesitation.
One knee against polished marble.
Back straight.
Head slightly bowed—but not lowered in weakness.
In dignity.
In pride.
His voice carried clearly through the stunned hall.
"I, Leonard Velcrest, knight of the Prince of Elyndria…"
He lifted his gaze toward the throne.
"…hereby ask the King of Elyndria for the honor of his son's hand in marriage."
A collective intake of breath.
"I pledge," he continued firmly, "to protect him, to stand beside him, and to ensure that he never knows struggle or unhappiness as long as I live."
The words were not flowery.
Not exaggerated.
But they were unwavering.
Steady as steel.
The hall froze.
Even those who had objected seconds earlier found themselves speechless.
The audacity.
The composure.
The sheer presence.
Several young nobles in the audience clutched their handkerchiefs in stunned admiration.
That's how you ask for someone's hand…
A few even nodded unconsciously, mentally taking notes.
Ravel blinked slowly.
Marcus looked stunned into silence.
Adrien let out a low whistle under his breath.
Queen Marlia's eyes gleamed with unmistakable approval.
King Alaric leaned back slightly, studying the kneeling knight with sharp calculation.
A sharp voice broke through the stunned silence.
"How can a mere knight be so presumptuous? By what status does he believe he can marry a prince?"
Murmurs of agreement followed.
"Know your place!"
"Royal blood is not for common swords!"
Nael's expression hardened instantly.
"Mind your words," he said, voice no longer playful.
The hall quieted at once.
"If you are unaware of someone's background," he continued coolly, "then do not make assumptions."
His gaze swept over the gathered nobles like a blade.
"He is not 'a mere knight.'"
A man from the elder council scoffed. "Is he not simply an adopted son allowed to stand by your side, Your Highness?"
Nael did not rush.
He stepped closer to Leo, standing proudly beside him.
"Let me clear your foolishness."
His tone was calm—dangerously calm.
"Have you never used your eyes properly?"
A few nobles stiffened.
"Look at him."
The court obeyed almost involuntarily.
"Does his face not resemble Duke Marnard Velcrest?"
A ripple of realization spread.
Nael continued smoothly, "Ninety percent."
Gasps.
"He is not adopted."
Silence.
"He is the lost son of Duke Marnard Velcrest."
The name itself carried immense weight.
Duke Marnard Velcrest was not a minor noble. The Velcrest duchy stood as one of the strongest military pillars of Elyndria—old blood, respected lineage, unmatched loyalty to the crown.
The hall went utterly still.
Eyes darted from Leo's sharp features to one another.
The resemblance suddenly seemed obvious.
The jawline.
The eyes.
The posture.
No one could refute it.
The noble who had spoken earlier faltered. "T-That—"
But there was nothing to argue.
If Leonard Velcrest was truly the lost son of Duke Marnard—
Then his status was beyond acceptable.
It was formidable.
Nael crossed his arms lightly, chin raised.
"So," he said coolly, "does anyone else have a problem?"
No one spoke.
No one dared.
A brief silence lingered after Nael's declaration.
Then Marcus finally spoke, brows drawn together.
"…Is it really alright to reveal something like that without Duke Marnard's permission?"
His concern wasn't doubt.
It was caution.
Secrets of noble bloodlines were not minor matters.
Ravel leaned back in his seat, far less troubled.
"He always wanted to announce it," Ravel said calmly. "Duke Marnard searched for years. When he found Leo, he intended to declare him publicly."
His gaze shifted toward the kneeling knight.
"But Leo refused."
Marcus looked at Leo. "he… refused?"
Ravel continued, unfazed. "He chose to remain as Nael's knight instead. If his identity were announced formally, he would've been pulled back to the duchy immediately."