The Royal Hall was filled with the sound of applause. King Eryndor stood tall on the dais, his voice echoing clearly across the gathered nobility.

  "For bravery, loyalty, and strength," the King announced, awarding medals, titles & money to various captains and knights.

  Finally, the room went quiet as the biggest names were called.

  "Duke Thorne," the King boomed.

  Thorne stepped forward, bowing stiffly.

  "For your victory at Krons, I name you the Supreme War Hero of Shersia. Furthermore, I grant you new territory of Fenward within the annexed Horsin lands.”

  This land was equal in size to the current duchy.

  The crowd gasped. Thorne’s territory had effectively doubled. Duke Larethin and Prince Lucian watched from the side, their expressions tightening.

  "And now," the King continued, a small smile playing on his lips. "Alaric."

  Alaric stepped forward. He felt hundreds of eyes boring into his back.

  "For killing the enemy General and Supreme Commander, and for the strategy that saved thousands of our soldiers... I grant you the title of Warbreaker."

  The King raised a scroll.

  "And I name you... Viscount Alaric."

  The hall erupted in shock. A commoner skipping the ranks of Knight and Baron entirely? It was unheard of.

  "Silence!" the King commanded. "Furthermore, I grant Viscount Alaric the region of Thornmere."

  Duke Larethin’s eyes widened in genuine anger. Thornmere was a massive coastal region in the south, the very entry point Thorne’s army had used. It was far larger than any average Viscount’s land.It was comparable to a Marquess’s territory. And worst of all, it bordered Larethin’s own lands.

  The nobles started whispering frantically.

  "A commoner?" "Thornmere?” "The King is insane!"

  King Eryndor slammed his scepter down.

  Music filled the ballroom. The atmosphere was heavy with perfume.

  Alaric stood near the edge of the dance floor. Immediately, noble daughters began to circle him like sharks. He was young, handsome, a War Hero, and now a Viscount. They all wanted to secure his favor.

  Alaric politely ignored them, his eyes scanning the crowd.

  He saw Prince Lucian moving. The Prince was heading straight for Lucia, who was standing near a pillar looking lovely in a silver dress. Lucian had a possessive look in his eyes.

  Alaric didn't hesitate. He moved.

  Just as Lucian reached out his hand to ask Lucia for the first dance, Alaric stepped in between them.

  Alaric dropped to one knee, ignoring the Prince entirely. He looked up at Lucia with a charming smile.

  "Saintess," Alaric said smoothly. "Would you mind dancing with this humble knight?"

  Lucian froze. His hand was still extended in the air. He stared at Alaric in shock. How dare he? This upstart noble, a commoner just minutes ago was cutting in front of the Crown Prince? It was outrageous.

  Lucia looked at Alaric, her eyes sparkling.

  "With pleasure, Viscount," she said, taking Alaric’s hand.

  They swept onto the dance floor.

  Their moves were impeccable. Alaric moved with the precision of a fighter, every step was calculated and smooth. Lucia, raised as a Duke’s daughter, floated with grace. They spun through the crowd, perfectly in sync.

  All the spectators stopped to watch.

  Lucian stood alone, clenching his fists. He watched Lucia’s face. She wasn't just being polite, she was beaming. Her smile was bright and genuine. She looked at Alaric with total adoration.

  She is in love with him, Lucian realized, his stomach churning. There is no doubt about it.

  Then he looked at Duke Thorne, who was watching from the balcony with a proud nod.

  Thorne knows, Lucian thought. He approves of it. That is why he pushed for Alaric’s promotion. They are stealing everything from me.

  Overcome with jealousy and rage, Lucian turned and stormed out of the ballroom. He was supposed to be the future King. Lucia was supposed to be his. Why did the world refuse to revolve around him?

  Alaric and Lucia saw Lucian storm out. They exchanged a look and laughed quietly.

  "That was bold," Lucia whispered.

  "I couldn't let him touch you," Alaric grinned.

  But as the music ended, the sharks returned. A dozen noble girls surrounded Alaric, asking for the next dance. Alaric, trying to be polite, couldn't say no. He was pulled away into a whirlwind of dances.

  As he spun a giggling noble woman, he felt a sudden chill on his back. He glanced over his shoulder.

  This tale has been pilfered from Royal Road. If found on Amazon, kindly file a report.

  Lucia was standing by , looking at him menacingly. Her smile was gone.

  I am in trouble, Alaric thought, apologizing in his mind.

  When he finally escaped the crowd, Lucia was gone. He pushed through the heavy velvet curtains and stepped out onto the secluded western balcony.

  The noise of the party instantly faded into a dull hum, replaced by the cool, crisp wind of the night. The city below was alive with amber lights, but Alaric only saw one thing.

  Lucia was leaning against the stone railing, her back to him. The moonlight caught the silver threads of her dress, making her look like she was woven from starlight. She looked ethereal, beautiful... and visibly annoyed.

  Alaric walked up quietly, the heels of his boots clicking softly on the stone.

  "Lucia?"

  She didn't turn. She shifted her shoulder away, staring pointedly at the distant clock tower.

  "Hmph," she let out a small, icy breath. "Finished already? I’m sure there are at least three women left who haven't admired your medal yet. Go dance with them."

  Alaric winced. It was cute jealousy.

  "They admired the title," Alaric said softly, stepping up beside her. He rested his arms on the railing, looking at her profile. "But I realized something while I was spinning them around."

  "And what was that?" she asked, refusing to look at him.

  "That I'm an idiot."

  Lucia’s lips twitched. She tried to fight it, but the anger crumbled. She finally turned her head, her eyes flashing with a mix of annoyance and affection.

  "You are an idiot," she agreed softly.

  Alaric turned to face her fully. The playfulness vanished from his face, replaced by a nervous sincerity that terrified him more than a demon lord’s sword ever had.

  He reached out, his gloved hand hovering for a second before gently tapping her shoulder.

  "Saintess..." he whispered, his voice dropping. "I really am sorry. Can you please forgive this humble servant... and look at me?"

  He tilted his head, giving her a small, pleading smile, the kind that didn't belong to a 'Warbreaker,' but to the boy she had healed.

  Lucia let out a defeated sigh. She turned her body toward him, crossing her arms, though her gaze had softened completely.

  "Fine," she murmured. "You are forgiven. But you owe me."

  Alaric looked at her. Really looked at her.

  He realized then that they had been drifting in this comfortable silence for months. He had fought a war for her. She had healed his soul. They belonged to each other in every way that mattered, yet he had never actually said the words. He had assumed she knew.

  But a woman like Lucia didn't deserve assumptions. She deserved a promise.

  Alaric took a half-step closer. The air between them suddenly felt charged.

  "Lucia," he said, his voice rough.

  "What?" she asked, her breath hitching slightly at the intensity in his eyes.

  Alaric reached out and took her hand. His fingers were calloused from the gun and the sword while hers were soft, warm, and trembling.

  "I’ve spent my entire life fighting," Alaric said slowly, searching for the right words. "I’ve chased ghosts. I’ve hunted monsters. My hands... they are stained with things I can't wash off."

  Lucia squeezed his hand, her eyes widening.

  "But tonight," Alaric stepped closer, invading her space, shielding her from the cold wind. "When I looked at you in that ballroom... I realized I don't want to chase anything anymore. I just want to stay."

  He lifted her hand and pressed a soft kiss to her knuckles, his eyes never leaving hers.

  "Lucia... I love you. Not just as my healer, or my friend. I love you. And if you’ll have me... I want to spend the rest of my life making sure you never have to stand alone again."

  Lucia’s world stopped.

  The sounds of the city, the wind, the party….it all vanished. There was only the heat of his hand and the raw vulnerability in his eyes.

  Blood rushed to her face, painting her cheeks a deep, furious crimson. Her heart hammered against her ribs like a trapped bird. She opened her mouth to speak, but her voice failed her. She felt like she was short-circuiting, her mind overwhelmed by the sheer weight of his confession.

  "I..." she squeaked, her composure as a noblewoman shattering completely.

  "Are you okay?" Alaric asked, his confidence wavering.

  Lucia let out a shaky breath, forcing her lungs to work. Tears pricked the corners of her eyes not from sadness, but from pure, overflowing joy.

  "You... you idiot," she whispered, her voice trembling. "I love you too. I’ve loved you since you were just a stubborn boy who jumped in front of me without thinking of his own life."

  She took a step forward, closing the gap.

  "And I will very much take you up on that offer."

  Alaric smiled….a genuine, blushing smile that reached his eyes.

  Before he could say another word, Lucia lunged. She threw her arms around his neck, burying her face in his shoulder. It wasn't a delicate, noble hug. It was fierce. She squeezed him tight enough to bruise, holding onto him as if he were the only solid thing in the world.

  "I’ve got you," Alaric whispered into her hair, wrapping his arms around her waist, pulling her flush against him. "I’m not going anywhere."

  Lucia pulled back just an inch. Her face was flushed, her eyes bright with unshed tears and adrenaline. She didn't wait. She stood on her tiptoes and pressed her lips to his.

  It was a clumsy, desperate, perfect kiss. It tasted like sweet wine and cold air. It was the seal on a promise made in blood and kept in peace.

  They broke apart after a moment, breathless, foreheads resting against each other.

  "Well," Alaric chuckled breathlessly, his thumb stroking her cheek. "That was a pleasant surprise."

  "Shut up," Lucia murmured, hiding her burning face in his chest again.

  Suddenly, a loud CRACK echoed above them.

  They jumped apart, startled, just as the sky erupted in color. Gold and crimson fireworks blossomed over the capital, followed by thousands of floating lanterns drifting up like fireflies.

  Guests began to spill out onto the balcony to watch the show, laughing and cheering.

  Alaric and Lucia stood side by side, their hands finding each other in the darkness again, fingers interlaced tight. They watched the lights fill the sky, no longer two lonely souls fighting a war, but a future waiting to begin.

  POV: Prince Lucian

  Lucian sat alone in his private chambers, a bottle of strong wine in his hand. He was about to drink his sorrow away when the door creaked open.

  He hadn't invited anyone.

  "Who is there?" Lucian barked, standing up unsteadily. "How did you get past the guards?"

  A man stepped out of the shadows. He wore pristine robes.

  Lucian squinted. He recognized the face.

  "Oh," Lucian muttered. "It was you. Priest Lancaster."

  Lancaster bowed slightly, his expression smooth and sympathetic.

  "It is a tragedy, Your Highness," Lancaster said softly. "To see a mongrel dog sit at the table of kings. Your father has lost his way... but you haven't."

  Lucian gripped his glass tight. "What do you mean?"

  Lancaster walked closer, his voice like velvet.

  "Look at them out there. The Duke and the Warbreaker. They are the real Kings now," Lancaster whispered. "Unless you do something to take back your crown. They even took the woman you wanted. You have to reclaim what you deserve."

  Lucian lowered the glass. The anger in his chest flared hot, burning away the sadness.

  "Reclaim..." Lucian whispered.

  Lancaster smiled. It was not a kind smile.

  "The Covenant can help you, my Prince. We can put the dog back in the cage."

  Lucian listened, intrigued. The darkness in the room seemed to deepen around them.

  Thank you for believing in this world.

  Thank you for believing in these characters.

  Thank you for walking this road with me.

  — The Author