Every second that passed had never been this thrilling.
Florian was overcome with such an uneasy feeling for thinking about meeting his father, the person he had wanted to meet all his life. But as the time had come, he was lingered by uncertainty.
Did his father even know that Florian existed? What if his father didn’t look like him? What if he won’t be recognized?
Brushing off negative thoughts, he sighed and raked his fingers through his wet hair. Then, a voice coming from beyond the door interrupted, breaking his reverie.
“Florian.” It was Martha’s voice. "Your escort is here, and they are waiting for you.”
As usual, Florian switched the unruly look that had fallen across his face into the cool one, then opened the door and saw Martha standing there, with her brown pupils scanning him from head to toe.
“Good lord, now we’re talking. How could there be such a fine young man just bathed in this mere guest bathroom? And you know what—I would definitely wait for you to grow up if”—Martha formed a cheeky smile—"if you like an older woman, of course.”
Florian rolled his eyes and immediately wore a displeasing look on his face. He was already not in a good mood, and Martha worsened it. “Then, I’ll be leaving. Thank you for everything.” He cast a quick nod and left first, but Martha came along.
“Where will you go? To your father’s?”
“You just answered your own question.”
“Geez, at least tell me where you are going, so I can visit you in the future.”
Florian gave her a sicken sideways look, then quickened his pace and fervently said, “I do not think it’s necessary for you to know, priestess Martha, so I wish you to stop asking personal questions as if we’re close.”
Martha cracked a smile, wondering why she felt amused rather than irritated.
Florian ignored her as if she wasn’t there, and halted as he noticed how fancy the carriage was before his eyes.
“Is this the carriage—to escort me?” For real?
The black, shiny carriage had silver carving all over it. A silver bird at the top of the carriage was similar to the crest on Cithrel’s cloak. Surprisingly, it wasn’t a motor carriage that was popular among the rich, but the old-fashioned one that looked the most luxurious of any carriage he had ever seen. Four black horses drew the carriage, and those were the most expensive breed of horses.
If I steal one of those horses, I can buy a house in Sandfort, Florian mused.
“Certainly, it is. This is a carriage from the House Erembour in Sverale, the capital of Arcsvere,” said Martha.
“Is it Cithrel’s?” Florian asked, uncomfortably looking at the carriage and the servants who were ready to serve him. My aunt is rich? Wow. One servant had opened the door for him to ascend the carriage, causing Florian to feel rather strange and skeptical at that sudden thoughtful service. They are not mistaken, are they?
“No, Cithrel is like the head guard of that family. She is serving that family.”
At that surprising answer, Florian reflexively turned to her and was puzzled. Wait, what? Serving a family? A faerie… serving humans? He drew in a shallow breath to brush off his curiosity and said, “Then, I shall depart.” He glanced at Martha and smiled, forced and quick. “Thank you.”
Martha snorted through a smile. “Grow up faster and remember me, okay?” She grinned and waved her hand as the carriage started leaving.
Florian cast a rigid glance at her in response. I doubt we shall ever meet again.
He had a task to avoid this place, especially not to meet that mad priestess.
***
In the comfortable carriage, a tray of food was served, filled with fruits, bread, and water—finally, decent foods—which were much better than the grilled spider leg.
After finally satisfied with the simple dish served, Florian peered out the coach window, thoroughly studying all the unfamiliar views. Everything about the view was new to him. He had always dreamed of travelling outside Arallean Village to explore the new worlds, but now he couldn’t say if he should be happy. If it weren’t for the incident that befell his family, he could not experience any of this.
Florian lamented the sight regardless of time, and his drowsy eyes gradually closed.
----------------------------------------
Time seemed to pass quickly without him noticing. Then, a knocking sound, followed by the chattering of the nature spirits cheering in his ears, woke him up.
Florian stretched his body, wiped both corners of his lips, finger-combed his hair to look presentable, and adjusted his tunic shirt so as not to be too crumpled. But he still needed time to fully recover from his long, deep sleep.
‘We have arrived!’
‘Let’s destroy everything for revolution.’
‘This place is fucking cool! Millions of times better than our previous house!
Florian ignored the spirits and heard the servant speak.
“Young master, we have arrived,” said one servant as he opened the door. “Is the letter that Lady Cithrel gave with you?”
“Ah, yes-yes, of course.”
Florian showed him the letter without looking at the view beyond the well-dressed male servant.
“Very well.” The servant cast a short bow but didn’t take the letter. “Then you may descend from the coach.”
After all the excellent service, Florian tried not to wear any weird expression and got off the carriage casually.
However—
“Holy shit.”
That came out smoothly from his mouth.
Florian was genuinely flabbergasted by the scenery before his eyes. His drowsiness disappeared, and his mind went blank. He even thought he was still somewhere in his dream.
Someone, please wake me up.
It wasn’t a medium-sized house or mansion, but a palace—a Royal Palace that many people dreamt of all their lives to see.
Shiny golden sculptures and carvings were all over the building, rising above the bustle below like eagles rising on the updraft. Five towers stood stark against the sunlit sky, giving off a sense of power and control; two on either side and one in the middle, with each a bronze flag flying high and their golden gleam imitating the sun in the sky.
Having difficulty digesting whether it was a dream or not, Florian could only stand frozen, with his wide eyes shaking. Even a butterfly could easily enter his open mouth.
“Young master,” came politely from the grey-haired servant, helping Florian back to his senses. “Please, do follow me.”
“A-ah, yes.” Florian fidgeted, looking around without focus.
As the servant had shown his back, he led Florian to head towards the palace, padding up the wide staircase without rails. Florian followed the servant obediently, but his eyes wandered, surveying the view of the palace, which was even more majestic than what he had read in books.
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So far, the only grand mansion he had seen was Stanfield’s mansion. But compared to the Palace in front of him, Felix’s house looked like a little hovel.
Many bronze flags were on both sides of the stairs, with the same symbol as the carvings in the Golden Plague: a shield and two swords crossed between wings. The garden was very well-maintained, and the vibrant flowers blooming was too good to be true in his poor eyes. There were many soldiers around on guard, standing as steady as statues.
Feeling overwhelmed by how unreal the view of the palace was, Florian gave up and turned upon the sky with tens of airships floating in it, perhaps trying to ask the universe for answers.
This is not a dream, right? “How long was I sleeping in the carriage?” he asked his little allies quietly.
‘You have been sleeping for seven hours straight!’
‘Indeed, it must be a very good sleep. Good for you!’
Water and fire spirit answered his question, and he quietly nodded in response.
No wonder he felt so fresh. Seven hours wasn’t short.
After climbing hundreds of stairs, he finally reached the palace entrance hall, with many soldiers and wealthy people—but most likely nobles or important individuals. They were all finely and expensively dressed, with luxurious accessories glittering like stars all over their clothes, necks, and ears. Their attention, of course, was drawn to Florian without them noticing.
There was a pause of silence before whispers began to echo in Florian’s ears.
In his nervousness, Florian glanced at his original companies. The dark nymph hovered around curiously, but no one could see her, obviously. The nature spirits also seemed shocked, as none of their noisy chatter rattled in his ears. He felt somewhat relieved at not being alone in being nervous. His little allies seemed to be as shocked and nervous as him.
After entering the first massive door, Florian started to ignore all the attention directed at him, as he was more interested in observing the interior of the corridor.
The interior was way too magnificent for his poor eyes, very novel for an unsophisticated boy like him. Many silvery armoured knights stood steady on both sides. The weapons on every empty armour were no ornament. Each held a spear and shield, or sword and shield, with no dust impairing its shine.
Heading to another immense door, the servant talked a few words with the other soldiers while occasionally peering at him. And the shocked expression coloured across their faces when they saw the letter in Florian’s hand.
Without hesitation, they opened the door; the iron hinges groaned in the process, causing all the gazes to head towards the door and the striking red-haired boy.
At that moment, there seemed to be an official meeting in the throne hall, but all the hustle and bustle had died into a tense silence as Florian took the first step entering the hall.
Florian could hardly breathe in the thin air as intense and curious stares flooded him. The deeper his legs stepped into the throne hall, the tension grew heavier. There was such a tight swirl in his stomach that he wanted to throw up all the food he had eaten. His fists under the sleeve opened and closed several times, the tip of his fingers shaking.
And the throne hall made Florian even more doubtful if it was real in his eyes.
Inside, the smell wasn’t like metal and minty like in the corridor, but scented gold, slightly citrusy, and sandalwood. The light from the diamond-shaped windows reflected off the treasure at all angles, filling the room with a warm, golden, glimmering light. Coins fell in the waterfall of gold, freezing in the ceiling as if the stars were twinkling in the daylight. Necklaces swirled through the piles of gold-plated snakes, gems like flowers adding colour among golden hills. Finally, at the end of the hall, upon the squared, padded, high-backed throne engraved with shimmering gold and gems, crown gleaming, there sat a king.
Florian immediately dropped his gaze after his eyes accidentally met the King’s.
“Who are you?” echoed the King, heaving off his seat in that shocked sort of way, yet still looking graceful and causing the servant escorting Florian unable to announce his purpose. He seemed surprised; his eyes widened in disbelief, yet the corner of his lips twitched as if he struggled to stifle a smile.
Florian lifted his gaze, stiffly and slowly. His attention was directed to the man with long, silky, red hair that reached his chest and bonded with gold ties. The King still stood steady, with his blue eyes fixed on Florian. While Florian, in fact, focused on the King’s hair colour, which was exactly the same as his.
No... He is not, right? Florian quickly averted his gaze again, struggling to steady his chaotic heartbeat.
“May the glory shine upon Arcsvere, Your Majesty,” greeted the servant as he cast a curtsy. While Florian stood stiffly—like a statue he had seen in the corridor before.
“Gavard.”
The King sounded jolly, as though he knew the servant escorting Florian, then fastened his pace, with his eyes planted on Florian’s again, unwilling to move even though he talked to Gavard.
“I request a word.”
“He is the child Lord Erembour ordered me to accompany him to the palace,” answered Gavard, his voice sounding like a whisper, but it reached the King clearly.
Even the whispers echoed in the throne hall fell silent because of Gavard’s statement.
“Young Master, please show His Majesty the letter.”
The call from Gavard flinched Florian a little, but he resisted to show the tension creeping up his body. Bracing himself, Florian inhaled and took the letter out, but then the King gently snatched it from him, leaving Florian startled to death.
“This letter is sealed with a special royal plaque,” muttered The King. He inspected the letter a moment longer before shifting to Florian again, his eyes narrowing in focus and his lips curving softly. “Only Mana with royal ancestry could break the seal.”
Only Mana with royal ancestry? Florian felt like holding a breath as those words lingered in his head.
To Florian’s stillness, the King took another step closer to Florian, his eyes refusing to move from the amber pupils of Florian’s eyes—to the point that Florian could even see his reflection in the King’s chasmic pupils.
“If you perhaps have awakened your mana and can control it, then the golden plaque responds to your mana—" the King paused as someone from the council’s seat cut in.
“Your majesty, I beg your forgiveness for my interruption.”
The silver-robed old man stood from his seat. He was one of the twelve councils of Arcsvere, Kocsis Lennartson, the Patriarch of House Lennartson. His eyes squinted as he examined Florian, looking terribly dubious.
“The royal plaque seal is not something that people can carry conveniently, although they are someone from the House Erembour that you cherish more than anyone,” he said, his voice raspy, and his long white beard swayed as he spoke. “How could a mere boy carry around a letter with a golden plaque? This is nonsense that I am unable to conceive. And if he is indeed someone who has a connection to House Erembour, at least Lord Erembour himself is willing to come to the palace together with this boy, as he should be.”
The rest of the councils whispered and nodded, approving of his testimony.
Kocsis Lennartson turned to Florian with fierce eyes, slackening Florian’s courage. “And who are you really, boy?” he asked, representing the question everyone was curious about.
With that question dawdling his thought, Florian took his eyes off the Council, desperate for a brief distraction, and dropped his chin, sweat dampening his hairline and his heart starting to race. Nervousness kicked him hard in his chest to the point that a knot welled in his throat, blocking all the answers he could pass.
But someone else answered the question; his gentle voice soothed Florian.
“Flora.”
It was the King.
“And with my name, Adrian.” The King paused and touched Florian’s chin to lead Florian to look at him. “You are Florian.”
It sounded like both an answer and a question.
Florian and the King looked into each other’s eyes, both looking for answers and certainty.
But Florian closed his eyelids momentarily, ignoring the nervousness that drowned him. No matter what, calm yourself first, he repeated the words Locke would’ve told him if he was here.
Letting out a shallow sigh, Florian opened his eyes and looked into the King’s eyes again, staring at the calmness of his blue eyes that made him somewhat calm despite the whole situation he was in. And with that, he reached the letter and sent his golden mana into it, which invited all shocked gazes pointing at his exquisite mana flow.
The crowd in the throne hall had gotten an absolute answer by seeing the solid colour of Florian’s golden mana.
Furthermore, the cause of all the shock gasps that echoed in the hall was the clicking sound of the golden plaque. It easily split into two, unsealing the letter, and followed by the strong gust of wind containing cherry blossom petals bursting out from it, rousing and magical.
The cherry blossom petals danced in the air and slowly fell as if to enliven and celebrate something. People in the hall were certain of what it meant, yet no one dared to say a word.
The corners of the King’s lips twitched, his eyes welling up. “It’s been a while,” he mumbled, smiling a tired smile. A wistful, yet relieved smile.
After letting the yearning pass through him, the King lowered his chin and looked at Florian again; their eyes locked on each other, ready to drop a tear.
In the tense calm, as the cherry blossoms had rained down the hall, someone broke the silence, with his gentle voice clear to everyone’s ears.
“Yes, my name is Florian.”
The King breathed out through his smile. Something surged in his heart, but he expressed it through his face.
“Welcome home, my son.”
The King fondly wrapped Florian in his arms—so tightly that the audience in the hall could see how jubilant the King was to finally meet the child he had been looking for the last twelve years.
The Queen’s son had returned.
Florian, however, was thinking of something else as he glanced at his father's stat.
[Special identification lv.1 ]
Name
Unknown
Race
Human
Rank
Grand III
HP
5150/5150
MP
6429/6500
My dad is strong.
“Do not fret—I will take care of people who dared to question you again,” the King whispered in Florian ears.
Florian smiled at those words while burying his face in his father’s chest with tears that didn’t stop flowing from his eyes.