Chapter 46: The Return to the Imperial Palace
The Everhart carriage rolled through the grand gates of the Imperial Capital, Solmiras.
The city stretched before them like a masterpiece of power and wealth—tall spires touched the heavens, banners bearing the Imperial Crest fluttered in the crisp morning air, and golden-domed temples shone under the sun's gaze.
People lined the streets, whispering and pointing as the Grand Duke's procession moved through the heart of the empire.
But Leonhardt paid them no mind.
His gaze remained fixed on the towering palace in the distance—a gilded cage filled with schemers and vultures.
The Imperial Games had begun.
A Cold Welcome
As the Everhart family arrived at the palace gates, a sea of nobles awaited them.
Men and women draped in velvet and silk, their eyes gleaming with curiosity, admiration, and—above all—calculation.
The Emperor himself stood at the entrance, waiting.
Leonhardt's eyes flickered to the man who ruled the empire.
Emperor Hadrian Augustus Solis.
A man known for his wisdom, his ambition—and his ruthlessness.
Hadrian's golden eyes locked onto Leonhardt, measuring him.
Then, the Emperor smiled.
"Welcome back, Grand Duke Everhart. And you, Leonhardt. You've grown since I last saw you."
Leonhardt stepped forward and bowed. "It is an honor, Your Majesty."
The Emperor chuckled. "A polite boy. But that is to be expected. The heir of Everhart would be nothing less than perfect."
A few nobles murmured, their glances flickering between father and son.
The Emperor gestured for them to follow. "Come. We have much to discuss."
The Noble's Whispers
As they moved deeper into the palace, whispers followed Leonhardt's every step.
"He doesn't look ten. He looks older… colder."
"They say he's a genius in both swordsmanship and magic."
"Didn't he defeat an assassin with his bare hands? At only ten?"
"Terrifying. Just like his father."
Leonhardt ignored them.
Let them talk.
Their words meant nothing.
He had only one goal.
Strength. Power. Freedom.
He wasn't here for games.
But the Imperial Palace was full of people who thought otherwise.
The Emperor's Warning
Inside the Emperor's private chambers, a select few gathered.
The Imperial Family. The Grand Duke. The highest-ranked nobles.
And Leonhardt.
Hadrian sat on his throne, his fingers tapping against the gilded armrest.
"I will be blunt," the Emperor began, his golden eyes sweeping over the gathered lords.
"The Empire is not at peace."
A heavy silence filled the room.
Leonhardt remained still.
He already knew this.
War had been brewing for years. The Kingdom of Astaria, a nation devoted to the Sun God, Ra, had been growing restless.
The Empire of Eryndor, Leonhardt's home, followed the God of War and Peace.
And in the past year, skirmishes along the border had turned into full-fledged battles.
Hadrian exhaled. "Astaria's forces are growing stronger. Their faith in Ra drives them. And if war breaks out, it will not be a small conflict."
The nobles exchanged uneasy glances.
Leonhardt watched them all, silent.
Hadrian's gaze sharpened. "We need warriors. True warriors. The next generation must be ready."
And then—
His golden eyes landed on Leonhardt.
"Grand Duke Everhart. Your son… he is a prodigy, is he not?"
Aldric's expression remained unreadable. "He is."
The Emperor leaned forward slightly.
"I have heard rumors. That he trains harder than anyone. That his talent surpasses even seasoned knights."
Leonhardt met the Emperor's gaze, unflinching.
"I do what is necessary," he said simply.
A slow smile spread across Hadrian's lips.
"Good. Then you won't be opposed to a test."
The Imperial Duel
A murmur spread through the room.
Aldric's eyes narrowed. "A test?"
Hadrian nodded. "A friendly duel. Between Leonhardt and one of my knights."
The nobles' whispers intensified.
A ten-year-old boy against an imperial knight?
Absurd.
But Leonhardt simply tilted his head.
"Who is my opponent?"
Hadrian's smile deepened.
"Sir Julius Faelan."
The nobles gasped.
Julius Faelan.
The Imperial Sword of Light. A man who had never lost a duel.
A seasoned warrior. A man in his thirties.
Leonhardt… was ten.
Aldric's voice was cold. "This is not a fair match, Your Majesty."
Hadrian's eyes gleamed. "Are you saying your son is not strong enough?"
Aldric did not answer immediately.
Then—he turned to Leonhardt.
"What do you think?"**
Leonhardt met his father's gaze.
A test?
No.
This was a message.
The Emperor wanted to see what he was capable of.
Wanted to prove a point to the nobles.
That no matter how talented Leonhardt was…
He was still a child.
A boy.
Weak.
Leonhardt's fingers curled slightly.
…How laughable.
Slowly, he turned back to the Emperor.
His lips curved into a faint smirk.
"I accept."