Gleaming marble floors. Towering golden pillars. Massive crystal chandeliers catching every flicker of light.
Empire Palace.
Inside the grand audience chamber — the Hall of Accord, where the King and Queen usually held court — two young men stood before the royal dais.
One of them scratched the back of his head, clearly out of place.
"Why am I even here?" Aslan muttered under his breath, glancing sideways at Cael.
Cael, calm as ever, responded without turning.
"Because you made it into the Top 2 of the academy's swordsmanship competition. And… your fans made quite the fuss."
"They said you weren't ready, that it was unfair, maybe even a mistake."
"That you should've won."
Aslan groaned softly, dragging his fingers through his crimson hair.
"Do I even need a wish?"
"If I really want something… I could just ask Father myself."
He sighed, more annoyed than nervous.
"They should give this opportunity to someone who actually needs it."
Just then, the towering doors at the end of the hall opened with ceremonial grace. A line of silver‑armored knights stood in attention.
A voice rang out:
"Her Highness, Empress Seraphine Nyros, now arrives."
Aslan flinched slightly.
The Empress entered with regal poise and settled gracefully into her seat at the head of the hall.
Without a word, Cael dropped to one knee.
Then — reaching behind Aslan — he firmly pressed the Aslan down beside him.
"Greetings, Your Highness, Empress Seraphine Nyros," Cael spoke clearly.
Aslan, still kneeling, glanced up — and met the Empress's gaze.
She smiled gently at him.
The Empress's voice rang clear, elegant, and composed.
"His Majesty was called away on urgent matters and could not attend."
"I stand in his place to oversee this audience."
She tilted her head slightly, eyes glinting with warmth.
"I trust you have no objections?"
Cael bowed his head slightly, voice steady and respectful.
"We have no objections, Your Highness."
The Empress leaned slightly forward, her gaze resting on Aslan.
"So then… what is your wish?"
Cael stepped forward, eyes bright with determination.
"I wish to join the Imperial Knights, Your Highness. Will you grant me this honor?"
The Empress sighed softly.
"I'm afraid… you cannot become an Imperial Knight," she said with genuine regret.
"You are the son of a noble family, Cael."
Cael lowered his head, disheartened.
But the Empress's voice softened.
"However, considering both your skill and your noble lineage… you are eligible to become a Knight Captain."
Cael's head shot up in surprise.
The Empress smiled.
"After graduation, we'll evaluate your abilities. Prepare yourself well. If you prove worthy, the position shall be yours."
A bright grin spread across Cael's face.
"Thank you, Your Majesty!" he said joyfully.
"I'll make sure I become worthy of it."
The Empress gave a nod of approval.
"Then it's settled."
She turned her gaze to Aslan.
"Now… it's your turn."
Aslan looked her straight in the eye and said bluntly,
"I have no wish."
Then, without waiting for a response, he turned to leave.
Startled, Cael quickly dropped to his knees, pressing his forehead to the floor.
"I–I'm so sorry, Your Highness," he stammered.
"He doesn't understand Imperial law. I apologize on his behalf!"
The Empress raised a hand gently.
"That's quite alright," she said calmly.
Later, in a quiet room of the palace, the Empress stood with Aslan.
She stepped forward and wrapped her arms around him gently.
"I missed you so much, my son," she whispered warmly.
Aslan smiled softly in return.
The Empress pulled back, eyes shining with joy.
"I'm so happy to see you've made a friend."
Aslan shook his head slightly.
"He's not my friend," he replied flatly.
"Just a classmate."
The Empress raised an eyebrow, amused.
"Hmm… I don't think so. You two seem quite close."
Aslan sighed.
"He just follows me around all the time."
The Empress chuckled.
"So… what's your wish? You came second in the swordsmanship competition — I'm so proud of you, Aslan."
Aslan hesitated for a moment, then spoke quietly.
"Mother… I…" He glanced away, then met her gaze.
"I want… when I return after these twenty days… I want Father, Varek, Lucian, and you — all of you — to welcome me together."
The Empress smiled gently.
"Even before you said it… we'd already decided on that."
Aslan's expression shifted to curiosity.
"Mother… where is Father?"
The Empress's smile faded slightly.
"He's at the border."
Aslan's eyes widened in surprise.
"Still? He hasn't returned yet?"
She nodded.
"There were a few matters that required his personal attention. But he'll return before you do."
"Yes, Mother." Aslan gave a small nod.
A little while later, aslan and Cael stepped out of the palace. Both climbed into the waiting carriage. As they rode off, Aslan sat silently, staring out the window as the landscapes passed by.
He was deep in thought.
"It's suspicious…"
"Father never stays away from the capital this long… unless something serious is happening."
Aslan returned to his dorm.
The room was quiet, the afternoon sun spilling across the floor. In his hand was a sealed letter — its edges slightly worn, the wax pressed with the royal crest.
The Empress had handed it to him just as he was leaving the palace.
"This arrived for you while you were away. It's from… him."
He had nodded silently, tucking it away.
Now, seated on the edge of his bed, he slowly broke the seal.
The familiar strokes of the handwriting pulled at a place deep within him.
My dear little brother,
I know you turned fifteen this year — and I'm truly sorry I couldn't be there.
Honestly… I'm a terrible big brother.
I was supposed to be there in time for your birthday, but something urgent came up here.
But I promise — when you return from the academy, I'll be waiting to welcome you myself.
I mean it.
Take care of yourself, Aslan.
Your brother,
Varek Arctis
Aslan stared at the letter for a long moment. Then, for the first time in days, a faint smile curved his lips.
"Brother…" he murmured softly.
He rose, crossed to the window, and gazed out at the horizon. In that quiet moment, thoughts of Varek surfaced — vivid, sharp, and unshakable.
Varek Arctis… the eldest. The golden son of Elaris. Calm. Composed. Always collected.
Three years older than Lucian, five years older than me. The Crown Prince — not because he was called one, but because he earned it.
At eighteen, he was already holding the borders, a shield for the kingdom. By twenty, he became a five‑star swordmaster — a feat no one had ever achieved at that age.
Everyone admired him. Not just as a prince, but as a man who truly cared for his people.
And now… he was out there, holding the line. All alone.
Aslan drew a slow breath, brushing a hand through crimson hair.
"My brother… Varek Arctis. The one person I've always looked up to."
To Aslan, he was a distant star.
Brilliant. Unreachable. Yet always lighting the way.
He folded the letter carefully and placed it in the drawer by his bed. Then sank down, hands resting behind his head.
"So you'll welcome me back yourself, huh?"
"I'll hold you to that, Brother.