The next day.
July 14th.
In the royal mausoleum behind the palace hills, a faintly sorrowful melody flowed from the strings, weighing the atmosphere down.
It was a farewell song.
Every powerful and well-connected figure in the capital had arrived. They stood in neat lines, faces solemn.
As the music continued, Luke and Jarvan IV appeared at the front. They walked slowly, one on each side, carrying a silver-white coffin on their shoulders.
Behind them were six more pallbearers.
All eyes settled on the coffin in silent mourning.
So Melli could rest in peace, Jarvan III had personally reinforced the ordinary coffin with an outer layer of the highest quality, matching the standard of the other tombs in the mausoleum.
Within these grounds, fifty-three members of the royal family were buried, including seven generations of kings.
The royal line had once been thriving.
Tragically, Jarvan II died in the war. His wife, broken by grief, followed only days later, leaving behind a single heir—Jarvan III.
And fate didn't spare him either. Two wives, gone one after another.
Now, the entire royal family amounted to only three men: father and two sons.
When the coffin was lowered into the earth, the one inside entered a long sleep with the land itself, and the funeral officially reached its end.
That day, the capital had only one subject.
On every street and in every alley, people spoke the same name—Melli.
The king's decree, posthumously naming her queen, was posted across public notice boards, and with the newspaper's promotion, the entire city learned of it within a single morning.
And then there was the second announcement:
Jarvan III named this day Melli's Rest Day.
Without question, this was Jarvan III exercising the privilege of a king.
To name an entire day specifically for one person was rare even in Demacia's history.
Outside of a handful of legendary kings or people whose contributions to the nation were enormous, almost no one ever received such a distinction.
A famous inventor and craftsman, Durand, had a memorial day on December 7th—the day he was assassinated.
And Jarvan III was the only king to have a day associated with his name while still alive.
Beyond leading the army to a major victory long ago, his governance in recent years had also earned deep trust from the people.
Many citizens had already begun marking the day of his triumphant return as a celebration. Over time, it truly became a holiday tied to his name.
And now, Jarvan III used the authority of the crown to set July 14th as Melli's day.
Everyone could tell what it meant.
This was his attempt to make up for nineteen years of debt.
But the dead could not return, and some debts could never truly be repaid. Even so, the ministers raised no objections.
Among the public, support was the louder voice as well.
After the funeral, the group returned to the palace.
On the way, Roy thought for a moment, then finally spoke. "Your Majesty, I have something to say. I'm not sure whether this is the right moment."
He seemed unsure whether he should bring it up now.
Jarvan III's emotions had steadied significantly by then. He looked over with a small smile. "Say it."
Roy had clearly rehearsed the wording. He spoke immediately. "The royal family is dwindling, and the realm is stable at home and abroad. Continuing the royal line should be the highest priority. I believe it's time to decide the Crown Prince's marriage."
Jarvan IV's expression stiffened on the spot. He scratched his head awkwardly. "I-I-I'm only twenty-three. Isn't that a little rushed?"
Roy's face remained stern, like a strict teacher staring down a student. "Many noble houses finalize engagements when their heirs turn eighteen. Yet Your Highness still doesn't even have someone you favor."
Among nobles, marriages were usually arranged by elders. The match itself was arranged too. Many young nobles were engaged the moment they turned eighteen.
They became pieces on the board—ties binding noble houses together.
Free choice wasn't unheard of, but it was rare.
Navis's mother, for instance, had been a young lady of House Menck, yet she secretly married an ordinary craftsman without her family's approval.
She was immediately cast out. Her husband died not long after, and though she had been born into a top-tier noble house, she was never allowed to enjoy any noble protection again.
If her own mother hadn't pitied her and taken her back in, her life would have effectively ended.
This model had existed in Demacia for years. For many noble heirs, once an engagement was set, it felt like a collar snapping shut—no escape.
But Jarvan IV, a prince of the realm, naturally wasn't bound by that rule.
His looks were excellent, his strength was unquestionable, and over the years, so many noble families had come to propose that they might as well have worn the palace steps smooth. He could choose whoever he liked.
If he gave the word, he could be married into a noble house by the next day.
And yet, even now, Jarvan IV still had no one he favored. It was as if his mind wasn't on marriage at all.
Or as if there was another reason.
Under Roy's unblinking stare, Jarvan IV's presence shrank a notch. He gave an uneasy grin. "I just… haven't met someone who feels right yet. It's not too late to wait."
Roy didn't give an inch. "Wait until when? Last year you told me the same thing. Are you planning to wait until I'm in the ground?"
Roy had watched Jarvan III and Jarvan IV grow up. In seniority, he was arguably the highest-ranking elder in that group, respected to the point that even Jarvan III sometimes yielded.
Hearing that, Jarvan IV hurriedly replied, "You're in great shape. Living another hundred years won't be a problem."
Roy's expression didn't change. "I know my own body. Your Highness's marriage cannot be delayed any longer."
A flash of bitterness and dimness passed through Jarvan IV's eyes, gone in an instant. He still forced a grin. "No rush… just give me a little more time."
A full-blown marriage-pressure scene played out in front of a crowd this large.
Luke watched with bright amusement, wearing the exact face of someone enjoying a show.
But when he looked more closely at Jarvan IV, he caught subtle changes in his expression—like there was something he couldn't say.
So there really was a story there.
Luke kept thinking while continuing to watch the spectacle.
Then Jarvan IV glanced at Luke and immediately redirected the fire. "If we're talking about continuing the family line, my brother also has responsibility here. You can't just stare at me."
Luke raised his brow.
What exactly are you trying to do?
Roy looked at Luke, then back at Jarvan IV. "The Second Prince has only just turned eighteen."
"So what?" Jarvan IV shot back instantly. "Plenty of noble heirs a little older than him already have kids who can walk."
Jarvan IV threw out the "married at eighteen" logic with absolute confidence.
It seemed to actually convince Roy.
Roy considered it seriously for a second, then looked at Luke. "That's true. Your Highness, you must not follow Jarvan IV's example. You're at marriageable age as well. Do you have someone you favor? If you do, finalize the marriage within this year."
The moment those words landed, Lux, Kahina, Sona, and Fiora all froze.
Their gazes drifted to Luke without even meaning to, waiting to see what he'd say.
Someone he favored?
Did he?
More eyes turned toward Luke.
Many nobles looked at him and lit up with interest, clearly tempted.
They'd nearly forgotten—Luke was a prince too.
His royal status alone was a powerful lure.
If a noble house could marry into the royal family, their entire standing would rise with it, becoming part of the king's extended kin.
Catching the hungry looks aimed his way, Luke clenched his teeth and shot a glance at Jarvan IV, who was visibly relieved.
Brother, if you're going to play dirty, don't blame me for doing the same.
Luke spoke at once. "I should take my brother as my example. If he finalizes his marriage within this year, then I'm willing to do the same."
He kicked the fire right back.
Roy immediately turned to Jarvan IV. "Your Highness, did you hear that? As the elder brother, you should set the example."
"T-That—" Jarvan IV's head instantly felt twice as heavy. He hadn't expected Luke to counter like that. The truth was, he really didn't want to marry.
At that moment, another noble stepped forward. "Minister Roy is right. Within this year, Your Highness should find a good match."
The man who spoke was named Croger Ireland.
He was the brother of Jarvan IV's mother, Queen Catherine Ireland—Jarvan IV's uncle.
He also held significant power, a general of the realm.
With yet another person joining the pressure, Jarvan IV had no idea how to respond.
Luke returned to his "enjoying the show" expression.
He knew perfectly well Jarvan IV wouldn't marry this year, which was exactly why Luke dared to say that.
And as for Luke himself, he had no desire to lock in an engagement this early either.
With his status, if he named a target, an engagement would be almost guaranteed.
But that would completely ignore the other person's feelings. Luke didn't like that feudal arrangement.
He cared more about it being mutual.
Behind them, the three women—aside from Lux—seemed to fall into a kind of deep thought, each wearing a quietly contemplative look.
Lux, who'd been up early and hadn't slept enough, let out a small yawn, her little face drowsy and unfocused.
Tianna took all of it in. When her gaze passed over her niece's blank, sleepy face, she sighed helplessly inside.
Then her eyes returned to Luke.
In her view, this brat was far more capable than his older brother—almost too capable.
And sometimes, being too capable wasn't a good thing.
Still, this was ultimately a matter for the younger generation. Tianna didn't plan to meddle.
Jarvan III spoke with a faint smile. "Let the young handle their own affairs. If their hearts aren't in it, marriage won't necessarily be a good thing."
With that, the marriage-pressure show ended.
Roy stopped pushing, though with his personality, it was only a matter of time before he brought it up again.
Croger quieted down too and returned to the group.
Jarvan IV finally exhaled, relieved.
"Alright. Everyone, disperse."
By then, they had already arrived back at the palace.
At Jarvan III's words, the nobles began to file out.
Luke said goodbye to Jarvan III and prepared to leave as well. He wanted to catch up to Jarvan IV and ask a few questions.
From the look on Jarvan IV's face earlier, Luke was convinced his brother had a story Luke didn't know.
And Luke, unfortunately, had a very strong interest in this kind of gossip.
But when Luke tried to chase him down, Jarvan IV had already slipped away—fast, too.
Luke sighed, and then turned a corner and ran straight into Garen walking toward him.
Luke's eyes brightened. He headed over and waved cheerfully.
"Garen."
Seeing Luke walk toward him with that sunny grin, Garen immediately felt a sense of impending doom. He tried to ignore Luke and speed up.
Luke just matched him, warmly slinging an arm over his shoulder. "Why are you walking so fast?"
Garen sighed inwardly, face unchanged. "Your Highness, do you need something?"
"It's not a big deal." Luke smiled and asked, "I'm just curious about my brother. He has plenty going for him, and there are so many outstanding noblewomen in the capital. Why does he refuse to marry?"
Realizing it wasn't about himself, Garen relaxed.
Oh, it's about Jarvan IV. Then it's fine.
Garen thought for a moment. "There is a reason."
Luke leaned in, eyes bright. "Can you tell me?"
He wasn't pretending. His inner gossip engine was fully awake.
Garen hesitated, so Luke added, "If you can't say it, that's fine. Don't force it. By the way, I've been thinking about doing a second interview feature on you soon. What day do you think works best?"
With that harmless smile on Luke's face, Garen's mouth twitched.
"It's not exactly a secret," Garen said at last. "It's just that I think you should ask Jarvan IV yourself."
He sighed again. "But asking him will only bring him pain. So I'll tell you."
This wasn't part of Jarvan IV's "embarrassing history," so Garen hadn't mentioned it back then.
Now, as they walked, Garen spoke slowly under Luke's eager gaze.
"Jarvan IV isn't without someone he cared about. When he was your age, he already had someone he favored."
Luke's anticipation spiked instantly.
This really was something he didn't know.
"That year, he and I were training with the army out on the frontier. That's where he met a woman named Ariel. She lived in a nearby town and made a living keeping bees."
Garen continued steadily.
Luke asked, "What was Ariel like?"
Garen looked back into memory, then said, "She was gentle. The first time they met was because Jarvan IV tried to steal honey to mix into a drink."
"It set off an entire hive. He got chased down and ended up with his head full of swollen stings."
"When we went into town to get medicine, we met Ariel. Since her family kept bees, she always had salves on hand. She invited him to her home and carefully treated the swelling."
"After that, Jarvan IV went to see her constantly, and their feelings for each other grew quickly."
He remembered it clearly.
Luke processed it.
That sounded mutual, so why didn't it work out?
He guessed, "Because of social status? They were forced apart?"
Garen shook his head. "He's a prince. If the woman he chose was acceptable, marrying her wouldn't have been difficult."
That was true. The royal family sat at the peak—her background mattered far less than her character.
Then a possibility flashed through Luke's mind, and the next words confirmed it.
Garen's voice lowered. "In the end, they didn't work out for one reason."
"Because Ariel was mageborn."
Luke's eyes sharpened.
Of course. There was only one answer.
Mageborn—another word for it was simply mage.
Garen continued, "I still remember Jarvan IV's expression the day he learned the truth. He couldn't believe it at first. But he made his choice quickly."
"And Ariel didn't even know she was mageborn. When her power awakened suddenly, it surged out of control. She was terrified."
"Jarvan IV calmed her down and promised he would protect her."
Garen paused.
Luke couldn't help it. "What happened after that?"
Garen exhaled and went on. "Their relationship was discovered. Ariel's family took her and fled Demacia. After that, there was never any news again."
Luke finally understood why Jarvan IV still wouldn't marry.
He'd never let go of Ariel.
And honestly, in Luke's view, Ariel fleeing had been the right decision. Otherwise, it could have ended the same way as Luke's mother.
Back then, even Jarvan III—already king—had faced enormous resistance trying to marry a foreign woman. In the end, Melli left the capital and died with regrets.
If that could happen to an ordinary woman, then a prince trying to marry a mage?
That would never be allowed.
They reached the palace gates.
Garen looked at Luke. "Your Highness, I'll take my leave."
"See you." Luke lifted a hand in farewell.
Garen turned and walked away.
Luke found his own carriage and climbed in.
The moment he pulled back the curtain, he saw four women inside, dressed in refined, elegant finery. Four pairs of beautiful eyes locked onto him at once.
Lux asked, "Why are you so slow?"
Luke sat down and answered casually, "I talked with your brother for a bit."
Lux said, "Oh," and didn't speak again.
There were five people in the carriage, yet it felt strangely quiet. No one spoke. Luke glanced over their faces and realized they all looked like they were thinking about something.
As the carriage rolled home, the women seemed weighed down by heavy thoughts.
People said you could never guess what women were thinking, and Luke had no idea what was going on in their heads.
But quiet was fine by him.
He leaned back against the carriage wall and closed his eyes.
He'd been sleep-deprived for the last two days, so he decided to use the ride to catch up.
Lux also sensed the mood was different today, but she assumed it was because of Queen Melli.
As the carriage swayed along, drowsiness hit her too. She opened her mouth and let out a sleepy yawn.
Then she leaned back, closed her eyes, and dozed off.
In one carriage, two completely carefree people fell asleep, while the other three sat silently, each lost in her own thoughts.
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