He took out his knight's cloak, brushed off the dust, and draped it over the golden Orichalcum armor that gleamed beneath. The tabard, crafted by the elves themselves, was embroidered with an emblem of an ancient golden chalice surrounded by fire and old runes. Special enchantments had been woven into the fabric so that not even the strongest impacts could damage it.
Only the wrinkles, it seemed, were beyond the reach of magic.
He smoothed out the creases of the long, heavy hem with a few brisk pats, wiped the dust from his sabatons, and stood up. When he finally stepped out of the tent, the overcast sky stretched gray and heavy above him. The wind, which had been fierce since morning, now carried the scent of rain. It looked as though a shower would soon fall.
Frowning, Edric grabbed a rain cloak and started toward Talia's tent. But before he could reach it, the deep, solemn toll of the sacred bell echoed behind him—signaling the start of the ceremony.
Whipping his head around, he saw the Crown Prince and the First Princess, already fully prepared, leading their attendants into the temple's grand arched entrance. Edric hurriedly crossed the encampment, passing between massive stone pillars carved like towering statues, until the interior of the holy sanctuary unfolded before his eyes—a vast hall bathed in faint bluish light.
He paused briefly, scanning the gathered attendants who filled the pews and the long row of knights stationed along the walls. At the altar stood the Crown Prince and First Princess, receiving a consecration prayer from the presiding priest before the ritual began.
Impatiently tapping his foot, Edric spotted Sir Siorkan waiting near the transept and quickly crossed the nave to reach him.
"Commander, Her Highness the Second Princess will be ready shortly. Would you please allow a few more minutes?" he said carefully as he approached.
Sir Barcas turned his calm gaze on him, and Edric instinctively held his breath.
Instead of the knights' uniform, Barcas wore a black doublet over which rested a breastplate engraved with the Siorkan family crest, and a uniquely cut mantle hung over one shoulder. Even to another man's eyes, he looked striking—almost unnervingly so. Suddenly, the Second Princess's earlier insult about Edric's looks flashed through his mind.
If she had grown up surrounded by men like this, no wonder she found every other man unattractive.
Lost in that absurd thought, Edric blinked as his superior exhaled a faint sigh and began walking toward the altar.
"We'll need to pause the ceremony," Barcas said evenly. "Her Highness the Second Princess has decided to attend the consecration."
The priest, who had been reciting the prayer, froze mid-chant and glanced nervously between Barcas and the awkwardly standing Edric.
As a member of the imperial family, the Second Princess was obliged to participate in such rites. If she had refused, that would be another matter—but since she had expressed her intention to attend, it was proper to accommodate her. Still, the priest hesitated to answer, glancing toward the Crown Prince for direction.
"You're telling me to wait for that bastard's spawn?"
The Crown Prince spat the words through clenched teeth, his glare cutting toward Barcas.
"Proceed with the ceremony now! I won't delay a single second for that wretch!"
Edric's face hardened. He already knew how deep the Crown Prince's hatred ran toward the Second Princess, but hearing him declare it so publicly—so shamelessly—still left him stunned. The Second Princess's participation had been decreed by His Majesty himself. How could he defy that before the entire court?
Hesitant, Edric finally spoke.
"Her Highness is also a member of the Imperial Family, acknowledged by His Majesty. By custom, she too has the right to receive the Saints' blessings."
The Crown Prince's blazing eyes shifted from Barcas to Edric.
Edric swallowed hard as the prince's sharply cut face twisted into a feral snarl. He stalked forward like a prowling tiger.
"Do you even know who you're speaking to?"
"M-My apologies, Your Highness, I only meant—"
Before he could finish, the Crown Prince seized him by the collar and yanked him forward, choking the breath from his throat. Edric fought to keep his face composed as he met that murderous gaze head-on.
That must have only enraged the prince further—his deep green eyes flashed like a wild beast's.
"A mere knight dares to lecture me?"
"I—I beg your pardon…" Edric forced the words out, gripping his fists tightly so as not to resist.
Then, Barcas laid one hand gently on the Crown Prince's shoulder.
"Your Highness."
The low, steady voice froze the prince's movements. Edric could see a flicker of tension—just a fleeting one—cross the Crown Prince's arrogant face.
Barcas spoke softly.
"There are many eyes upon us."
A faint flush of heat rose to Gareth's cheek. For an instant, it seemed he felt shame at having been cowed by the knight before him.
He released Edric's collar with a shove and turned on Barcas, fury burning behind his eyes.
"I warned you never to lay a hand on me again, didn't I? Do you think my patience is endless?"
Snapping his shoulder free from Barcas's grip, the prince stepped in close, their faces almost touching, growling in barely contained rage. The knights—and even the First Princess—hurried forward to intervene before things could escalate.
And then—
A cool, melodic voice, as cold and clear as falling ice, rang through the nave.
"If I'd known there was such an entertaining spectacle waiting, I wouldn't have missed the last ceremony."
Startled, Edric turned to see Talia striding leisurely across the hall, flanked by several maids.
The woman who could never resist stirring trouble at every opportunity had appeared, but this time—she was immaculate. Perfectly poised, dressed with regal precision, she approached the altar with unhurried grace.
The sunlight filtering through the windows illuminated her face—so like the late Empress's—and the delicate form draped in a gown of pale platinum silk.
For a moment, Edric stood dumbstruck by the surreal sight. But he quickly realized he wasn't alone. Every eye in the hall, without exception, was fixed on her in silent awe.
He glanced toward the Crown Prince and the First Princess.
The Crown Prince's expression was that of a demon, his gaze filled with venom. The First Princess's face remained serene, but her tightly clasped hands had gone bone-white.
Sensing the suffocating tension among the three royals, Edric moved quietly to stand at the Second Princess's side. None of the others seemed to notice—save for Talia herself, who glanced at him briefly, her eyes flicking with faint amusement before turning back to the front.
Her gaze settled on Barcas and the Crown Prince.
"What are you waiting for? Weren't you about to brawl?"
Grinding his teeth so hard his jaw might break, the Crown Prince slowly withdrew from Barcas. Then he gave his half-sister a long, sweeping look—from head to toe—and let out a scornful laugh.
"I don't know who you're trying to impress by dressing up like that, but I hope you don't think it hides your filthy bloodline."
"Funny—you scolded me the other day for not being properly dressed. You complained so much that I made an effort this time, and now you're offended? That's rather hurtful."
Talia's smile was faint, deliberate. She stepped closer, every movement measured.
Edric stared in alarm. After what she'd endured yesterday, she was still provoking him—fearless, or perhaps simply reckless beyond reason.
But the Second Princess didn't care what anyone thought. Lifting her chin, she leaned close to the prince and said sweetly:
"I went through all this trouble to dress exactly the way you like, dear brother…"
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