The Dragons Heir

Arc 3/part 2: The Royal Selection

THE DAY OF THE SELECTION

ALEX

As we passed through the imposing red door, intricately decorated with a striking golden dragon ornament, we stepped into the grandeur of the throne room. I was momentarily taken aback by the sheer scale and beauty of the space that unfolded before me. The throne room was vast, with white walls that towered high above, each adorned with a mesmerizing array of golden, blue, and green markings that seemed to dance in the light. Underfoot, a long, rich red carpet extended from the entrance to the throne, its plush texture inviting yet commanding respect.

At the center of this magnificent room sat the red throne, regal and commanding, its edges outlined in glistening gold. Flanking it on either side were five elegantly designed green chairs with dark brown outlines, all oriented toward the center of the room in a way that suggested a formal council was about to convene. 'That must be where the council of wise men will sit,' I mused with a sense of intrigue as I walked alongside Emilia, the weight of my dark plate armor—now polished to a shine—seemingly lightened by the anticipation of the event.

As I scanned the room, I couldn't help but notice the crowd of attendees segregated into two distinct groups. To my left stood a formidable assembly of knights—Lugunica's royal guard—immediately identifiable by their pristine white uniforms similar to those worn by Reinhard, now complemented by flowing white cloaks that whispered promises of honor and valor. Their formation exuded a powerful sense of confidence, a hallmark of the renowned royal guard, and I felt a swell of pride knowing that they were here to stand vigilant.

In stark contrast, the second group caught my eye—a gathering of individuals clad in sharp black suits. Each of them wore a striking purple drape around their neck, accented with a bold red tie that breathed a vibrancy into their otherwise subdued attire. The group was diverse, comprising younger men and seasoned seniors alike, their faces a mix of eagerness and determination, leaving me curious about their purpose.

Glancing over at Emilia, I noticed the anxiety etched on her face; her hands trembled, and her wide eyes flitted nervously around the room, processing the gravity of the moment. Concerned, I placed a reassuring hand on her shoulder and ground myself in the present to offer her comfort. As she turned to meet my gaze, I flashed her an encouraging smile. "Don't worry; just remember the speech, and everything will be alright," I said, my voice steady as I needed to remain calm.

She returned my gaze with a flicker of uncertainty but managed a slight smile in response, nodding as if to reaffirm her resolve. "Right, thank you, Al," she replied, her voice steadier now, bolstered by our shared moment.

At that moment, the door swung open once more, capturing my attention with an almost theatrical flair. I turned to see Wilhelm and Felix striding in with purpose, flanking a striking woman who instantly drew the eye—Duchess Crush Karsten, as I presumed. Her vibrant green hair cascaded down her back, a bold contrast to her piercing orange eyes that seemed to sparkle with an intensity that demanded respect. She was clad in a meticulously tailored blue military uniform, its fabric sleek and fitted to accentuate her commanding presence. The uniform was adorned with bold red outlines, lending an air of authority, while gleaming golden shoulder pads caught the light, enhancing her stature in the dimly lit room.

With each confident step she took on the polished marble floor, the distinct sound of her black high boots echoed—a rhythmic reminder of her assured gait. The white gloves framing her hands only added to her regal demeanor, poised as if ready to command the room's attention at any moment. As she moved to the center of the gathering, not far from where I stood, her confidence radiated like an aura, a shield against the scrutiny of others. Yet, beneath that assured facade, a flicker of curiosity sparked within me; I found myself wondering how long she could maintain such composure, for I bore a plan that had the potential to unravel her steadiness entirely.