Vionette smiled as she looked at Lucien kneeling, accepting her invitation. The sunlight filtered through the ivory canopy and caught in her white hair like a halo forged from frost and flame, casting her in an almost divine glow. Beneath that glow knelt the heir of Blackmoor — not broken, not defeated — but reshaped. Pride stripped. Ambition redirected. A blade taken from one sheath and placed into another.
"From now on, you will be assigned as the Royal Envoy."
"???"
Lucien lifted his head in surprise for a moment, eyes widening as if struck by lightning rather than mercy, and then quickly lowered it again as discipline reclaimed him.
"…Yes, my liege."
The others present wore the same expression of stunned disbelief. The nobles widened their eyes so dramatically it was as if someone had pulled the curtains off their expectations. Valric's mouth opened unintentionally, the mask of a duke cracking for a heartbeat. The marshal, who had faced battlefields without blinking, now found sweat gathering at his temple. The chancellor's calm expression remained composed — but only because the thin silver mask covering his lower face concealed the tremor in his lips.
"T-the royal envoy?"
"…queen's representative?"
"Lucien?"
My son is…the royal envoy? Lucien?
Murmurs spread like wildfire through dry leaves. The Royal Envoy was no minor title — it was a shadow crown. The envoy directly represented the queen when she was absent. A position that, temporarily, could wield authority above dukes. A living extension of the throne.
And that very role had just been granted to the duke's son who had tried to steal the queen's earring.
The irony was so sharp it could have drawn blood.
A single tear slid down from Lucien's left eye as he remained kneeling before Vionette — not in shame, but in overwhelming release. It glimmered in the sunlight before falling onto the polished stone beneath him like a seal pressed by fate.
I know I'm not a hero but this time, I'll do what needs to be done.
"Now go back to your seat. We'll be continuing the meeting." Vionette withdrew her sword with a smooth metallic whisper, as though the blade itself had been satisfied.
Yes, the Lucien case had only been one layer of Vionette's design — her little game, her quiet political harvest. Break him publicly. Rebuild him personally. Bind him in gratitude rather than fear. What she gained today was not submission — it was allegiance.
The true meeting concerned something else.
Lucien returned to his seat with confidence — but it was a different kind now. Before, he had sought status. Now, he sought worth. Before, he wanted to stand above others. Now, he wanted to stand where she could see him.
"Are we doing an Avengers assemble or something?"
Noa asked, closing one eye while the other remained locked onto Vionette as she calmly resumed her seat.
"Kind of." She lifted her porcelain cup again, enjoying her tea as though she had not just rewritten a noble's future.
"Heheh, this will be fun." Noa leaned back, closing his eyes and tilting his head up as if anticipating fireworks rather than politics.
The nobles glanced left and right awkwardly. For a moment, they had forgotten that Noa had called himself Vionette's partner. Now that memory returned like a delayed explosion.
After the short exchange, Vionette placed her cup down with quiet finality.
"Next, I would like to hear about duke Valric's story."
My story? Does she mean 'that'?
Valric stood from his chair slowly, dignity reclaimed but tension still lingering like smoke after a cannon blast.
"About for a week, there had been some abnormal cases happening near Blackmoor borders."
Vionette's crimson eyes sharpened slightly.
"…Abnormal?"
"Yes," Valric nodded gravely. "Cases like disappearances of civilians and Aether corruption."
The word corruption lingered in the air like a curse.
"And?"
"To investigate these cases I've sent out some of my own knights about three days ago. They—"
"You mean that Kaelen guy right?" Noa interrupted casually, as if cutting into someone's speech was a hobby.
Valric turned toward him and nodded politely.
"Yes, my lord."
'My lord'? This guy switched up too quickly.
Indeed, ever since Noa had declared himself Vionette's partner, tones had shifted. Titles adjusted. Postures softened. Power rearranged itself instinctively around perceived hierarchy.
"You know him?" Vionette asked, tilting her head slightly toward Noa.
"Not quite 'know'. He was just one of 'them'."
The nobles exchanged confused looks. The marshal frowned faintly. The chancellor's eyes narrowed.
But Vionette understood.
So it's true.
Kaelen was one of the so-called "protagonists." A variable. A narrative disturbance. The reason she had sent Noa here in the first place.
This trip might be even better than I thought.
"Let's hear the story directly from him then." She turned back toward Valric. "Summon this Kaelen guy."
"I shall." Valric bowed.
***
"…What happened here?"
Kaelen stared at the half-destroyed training ground as if gazing upon a battlefield after a divine tantrum. Cracked stone. Splintered wood. A crater that suggested someone had been introduced to gravity at high speed.
He stood in a casual white t-shirt and brown long pants, though bandages wrapped around his torso and arms betrayed recent combat. Kenar supported him by the shoulder — loyal, sturdy, and slightly too expressive for someone in noble territory.
"I heard that someone punched the duke," Kenar replied.
Kaelen blinked.
"…Punched?"
Before more theories could be born, a maid approached them with swift, composed elegance. She bowed lightly.
"Her majesty, princess Vionette, had summoned sir Kaelen to the Private Garden."
The two stared blankly.
"…what?"
…
Hey! Hey! Hey! What is going on here?
As Kaelen and Kenar approached the private garden, led by the maid, their steps slowed unconsciously. The ivory canopy came into view first — a symbol of calm authority. Then the figures beneath it.
A young woman in her mid-20s with white shining hair that radiated sunlight sat elegantly at one narrow end of the long table. Her crimson eyes turned toward them from afar, sharp and assessing.
"Is that her majesty?" Kaelen whispered toward Kenar.
"…I think. Do you see any other females here?"
"I see."
They had never seen Vionette before, but legends were descriptive. White hair. Crimson eyes. Regal composure that felt like standing near a blade's edge.
Both turned toward Valric instinctively.
"…Why is the duke in that position?"
"Right? Shouldn't he be facing—Oh."
Kenar's voice lowered as his gaze shifted.
At the opposite narrow end sat a black-haired young man, relaxed, almost lazily comfortable — exactly where the second-most powerful person in the dukedom should sit.
"Hey! That's the guy that saved us from before."
Kaelen turned sharply.
Noa met his gaze and waved cheerfully.
"…that's him?" Kaelen asked.
"Yes."
Kaelen narrowed his eyes, examining Noa like one would inspect a puzzle piece that didn't fit.
"He doesn't seem to be a royal knight though."
"I know right? And…"
"Yea. He is sitting where the lord is supposed to."
Questions piled up faster than answers.
They entered beneath the canopy and bowed toward Vionette. Kenar was permitted to remain due to Kaelen's injuries.
"Rose, get 2 chairs for them." Noa said casually, assessing Kaelen's bandages with analytical interest.
The two stiffened in alarm.
We're supposed to stand. If we sit without her majesty's permission—
"Please don't. We're fi—"
"Don't worry, just sit down. We're going to have a long chat."
Vionette's smile was warm — but it was the kind of warmth that felt like sunlight in winter: gentle on the skin, impossible to refuse. It carried authority wrapped in silk. An invitation that was not truly optional. The ivory canopy above them filtered the light, casting soft gold across her white hair, turning her into something that looked less like royalty and more like a saint about to conduct judgment.
They looked at each other.
It's fine then…right?
Kenar's eyebrows lifted slightly. Kaelen's bandaged fingers twitched. In noble courts, sitting without direct permission was a social suicide attempt. In front of royalty, it was practically self-execution.
Still, she had said it.
They nodded and sat — stiffly, backs straight as spears, knees locked like they were bracing for a cavalry charge rather than a conversation.
…why did he move without her majesty's permission? Kaelen glanced at Noa.
Noa had spoken first. Casually. As if seating arrangements were beneath him. As if hierarchy were a suggestion.
Who is this guy? Kaelen wondered.
"Kaelen was it?" Vionette asked.
Her voice drew his attention back like a thread pulling a needle through fabric.
"Yes your majesty," he stood instantly, nearly forgetting his injuries. "Kaelen Veythorne."
The movement was too fast. Pain shot across his ribs like lightning. He endured it without a sound.
Shit! It hurts!
"I'm Kenar Sigwon." Kenar followed, standing and bowing with perhaps slightly too much enthusiasm for someone in front of a princess.
There was a brief silence.
A dignified one.
The kind that usually precedes something important.
Then—
"Pfff."
A poorly suppressed laugh slipped out.
It was small. Sharp. Betraying.
Everyone turned.
Noa was covering his mouth with one hand, shoulders trembling faintly. His dark eyes glimmered with barely contained amusement.
Kenar-Karen.
Ancient memories from another world had ambushed him without mercy. A name that once triggered entire storms of arguments and viral chaos. The absurdity of it — here, in a medieval dukedom — was too much.
He tried. He really did.
He failed.
Vionette's eyebrow twitched.
A single, precise twitch — like a crack forming in marble.
"Shut the hell up!"
Her composure shattered for a heartbeat, echoing across the garden. Even the birds in the distant hedges seemed to reconsider their life choices.
The nobles froze.
The marshal blinked.
Valric looked like he was witnessing political suicide in real time.
Noa narrowed his eyes playfully, leaning back slightly as if he had just thrown a pebble into a still lake and was enjoying the ripples.
"You found it funny too right?"
Vionette froze.
Her expression locked.
The porcelain princess. The composed monarch. The future queen.
Cracking.
"You're just better at hiding it than I am."
He tilted his head with infuriating confidence.
She turned her head, covering her mouth.
"…well…pf-kind of…pff."
Her shoulders shook once.
Just once.
But that was enough.
"Right? I knew it!"
Noa pointed triumphantly as though he had just won a debate in a tavern rather than destabilized royal decorum.
Across the table, Lucien stared at the scene like a man watching history rewrite itself in front of him.
This… this is the royal family?
Rose stepped forward immediately, the embodiment of discipline walking into chaos like a firefighter into a burning building.
These two… I am not getting paid enough for this.
Her eye twitched ever so slightly — a microscopic rebellion.
"My lord, your majesty, I think we should continue the main meeting."
Her tone was polite.
Her smile was perfect.
Her internal scream was legendary.
"…jeez, you're no fun Rose. You even screwed up my Batman role-play."
Noa sighed dramatically, placing a hand over his chest as though deeply wounded.
"Agreed," Vionette nodded solemnly, regaining composure with almost terrifying speed.
They looked like two problem children scolded during royal court — except they technically outranked everyone present.
Kaelen and Kenar stared.
"What's going on?" Kaelen whispered, leaning slightly toward Kenar while trying not to make it obvious.
"I don't know," Kenar muttered. "Is my name weird or something? Could I be some royal's descendant?"
For a brief moment, his imagination betrayed him.
Sigwon… ancient bloodline? Lost prince? Hidden heir?
"Hell no!"
Kaelen crushed the fantasy immediately.
Kenar deflated.
"…worth asking."
At the far end of the table, the chancellor silently questioned his career path.
The marshal reconsidered whether battlefield command might be less stressful.
Valric simply accepted that today would shorten his lifespan.
"Ahem! Okay! Kaelen, tell us about what happened in Blackmoor borders while you were there, from start to finish."
Vionette's tone snapped back into princess mode — refined, commanding, layered with velvet authority. The laughter was gone. The warmth receded. What remained was governance.
The shift was so seamless it was almost frightening.
Kaelen straightened.
The air itself seemed to realign.
"Yes—"
He paused.
He had been about to say it again.
"By your will."
The words escaped anyway.
Silence followed.
A heavy, judgmental silence.
Noa slowly turned his head toward him.
Lucien blinked.
Even Kenar subtly leaned away.
Dude, get another line for that.
Vionette sighed internally.
Her crimson eyes held steady — but inside, she made a mental note.
We will workshop their responses later.
Kaelen cleared his throat, unaware of the internal critique panel forming around him.
He placed one hand over his bandaged ribs, grounding himself.
And Kaelen began his report.