Within the royal castle, inside the king's court, sat King Aurelius V. Aetheria upon the throne.
Resting beside him was an artifact sword sheathed in its scabbard engraved with the ancient crest of House Aetheria. Passed down through countless generations, the blade was a symbol of royal bloodline and sovereign strength.
He appears to be in his middle-ages, his features calm, his posture composed, carrying the unmistakable dignity of a king—yet he feels like a friendly neighborhood uncle.
Dark circles hung beneath his eyes as signs of exhaustion. He looked tired—yet beneath that weariness lay a quiet, passive strength, steady and unyielding.
He wore a deep purple robe, simple in design yet unmistakably regal, perfectly suited to his restrained demeanor.
In this magical world, appearances were deceiving. A person's true age often far exceeded what their body revealed, and the king is no exception.
Standing just beside the throne was the Royal Steward, a man seemingly in his early thirties. Compared to the king, he looked youthful, yet his sharp eyes and rigid posture spoke of experience gained through years of service within the court.
The royal court itself was a vast hall of stone and marble, its high ceiling supported by towering pillars carved with ancient runes. Seats were arranged strictly according to rank: the dukes sat closest to the throne, followed by marquesses and earls. Counts, viscounts, and barons were afforded no such privilege—they were expected to stand along the sides of the hall, their status deemed unworthy of a seat in the king's presence.
Aurelius surveyed the court, despite the court session having already begun, he found many seats remained conspicuously empty.
Despite being in the presence of the king, numerous nobles lazily lounged in their chairs with slouched bodies and indifferent expressions, murmuring and whispering among themselves without restraint. It makes one wonder if this is a royal court or a fish market.
Only a small group of the king's loyal retainers and a few steadfast ministers remained proper and attentive. They sat upright, eyes forward, faces grim. Even they could not hide their displeasure as they observed the disgrace unfolding before them.
Aurelius however, remained calm, slowly turned his gaze toward his Royal Steward as if asking for an explanation.
The steward bent slightly and leaned closer, lowering his voice, he whispered, "My lord, many of the nobles are absent. Others have only sent representatives in their stead."
The king nodded in quiet understanding. "Just like always, just a bit more empty, I suppose."
The steward smiled bitterly before he straightened and returned to his posture beside the throne.
Once again, the king's gaze swept across the court.
"Where is the representative of Duke Silas?" he asked.
A ripple of murmurs spread through the hall as nobles glanced at one another, confused, searching the crowd but no one answered.
As if waiting for this moment, a large, burly man strode inside, his broad frame wrapped in expensive silks that struggled to contain his bulk. His face was round and fleshy, his neck thick—more resembling a muscular pig.
His two subordinates followed closely behind him as he walked briskly toward the throne.
"Ah—sorry, sorry!" the man laughed loudly, scratching the back of his head. "Please forgive me, Your Majesty, for being late."
Silent snickers echoed through the hall.
Aurelius smiled—just slightly.
"Oh? If it isn't Duke Silas," the king said mildly. "Aren't you usually far too busy to attend court yourself, preferring to send a representative instead? What special occasion brings the duke here in person today?"
YOU ARE READING
The Eclipse Moons Grimoire: Lilith's Soft Whispers
FantasyA boy who wishes to be a girl dies in an accident and reincarnates in a world of gods and demons as the second son of the baroness with hidden past. His supposed mother disguises and raises him as a girl.
