Marnard Velcrest. The name alone carried weight across the empire. He had been the personal knight of the king, the strongest and most skilled warrior in the realm, and the closest companion of the monarch since their youth. Tales of his unmatched swordsmanship, strategic genius, and unwavering loyalty were whispered in every noble court, respected even by those who feared him.
Yet fate had forced him to leave the capital. His firstborn son had been kidnapped, vanishing like a shadow in the night, and shortly after, his second son—three years younger—fell gravely ill. With a heart torn between duty and family, Marnard requested to move far from the political venom of the court. The king, understanding the gravity of his loyalty and pain, bestowed upon him the title of Duke, allowing him to build a sanctuary of safety far from the capital's intrigues.
Even now, hearing Prince Nael reveal the truth about his knight—Leonard Velcrest, son of Marnard—sent ripples of astonishment throughout the court. Every noble, every alpha, every whispering guest was captivated.
Then, the hall gates opened.
The guards' voices boomed, clear and resonant:
"His Grace… Duke Marnard Velcrest, the most formidable warrior of Elyndria, summoned by His Serene Highness, the Sun-Blessed Omega of Elyndria."
A hush fell over the room. Every gaze turned toward the entrance, hearts quickening. Nobles stiffened, servants held their breath, and even the most confident alphas felt a flicker of awe.
The murmurs began immediately:
"Is that… Marnard Velcrest?"
"once The personal knight of the king himself?"
"Summoned by the youngest prince?"
Every eye tracked his entrance. There was no question—this was the legend. The man whose skill, authority, and loyalty had shaped the empire from the shadows. The stage of the grand hall felt smaller under the shadow of his presence, every whisper of the past echoing in the awe-struck silence.
Even the king and queen, the royal court, and Nael's brothers were struck by the aura of the man summoned by the youngest prince. No one dared speak. No one could question. The star, the legend, had entered, and the empire's attention was fixed entirely upon him.
Marnard Velcrest stepped fully into the hall, every eye following him, every breath caught in awe of his presence. He approached the throne with measured dignity, bowing deeply to the king.
"Your Majesty," he said, his voice calm but carrying the authority of a lifetime, "please forgive my tardiness. I offer my respects and wish His Serene Highness, Prince Nael, a most happy birthday."
He rose slightly and stood sideways, a posture of both respect and readiness. The hall remained hushed, all attention fixed on the legendary duke and knight.
King Alaric chuckled softly, his gaze flicking toward his youngest son. "You've certainly planned daringly this time, my son," he said, amused.
Nael smirked, shamelessly bowing his head in acknowledgment. "Thank you, Father, for your compliment."
The king's gaze returned to Marnard. "And you," he said casually, "you know the current situation… why are you here?"
Marnard inclined his head politely, his lips curving into a restrained smile. "Truthfully… only a little," he replied.
The king leaned back, shaking his head lightly. "We're about to become in-laws in the near future, and you're telling me you don't even know the full story?"
For the first time, Marnard's throat tightened. He choked on his own saliva, swallowing carefully as his eyes flicked toward Leonard Velcrest—his son—standing loyally beside Prince Nael. Then, he glanced at Nael himself, who grinned and waved shamelessly at him, full of mischief and pride. Finally, his gaze returned to the king, whose expression mirrored that same amused smile, the same calculated patience.
Marnard thought, almost reluctantly, like father, like son.
Marnard straightened, inclining his head slightly toward the king once more. "Oh, my forgiveness," he said smoothly, his deep voice carrying across the hall, "next time I shall come fully prepared when asking for the hand of Prince Nael formally."
Even from these small, subtle gestures, Marnard had already pieced together the story—the boldness of the prince, the presence of his own son loyal knight of the prince, the daring plan that had unfolded before the court.
Nael watched him thoughtfully, a small, mischievous smirk playing on his lips. he truly is one of the strongest, mightiest men in the empire, he thought, admiration and amusement mingling in equal measure.