CHAPTER 3: Arrival Of Lord Renzine
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"Your stepbrother, Lord Renzine, is expected to arrive in two days," Moratta reported.
"It seems the diplomatic relations with other nations including trade and resource agreements are all in order," he continued.
"Lord Renzine has also extended invitations to several governor-generals, nobles, and royal families from those countries."
"They are expected to arrive two to three days after your brother returns," he concluded.
Sath took a slow sip of tea, eyes following the liquid in his cup with a faint smile.
"My brother… he really is suited to rule. Far better than I could ever be."
Moratta let out a long sigh.
"You're still saying that?" he asked.
"…."
Sath's gaze lingered silently on Moratta.
"It's been seven years," Moratta said, standing and preparing to leave.
"For me, the only one worthy of my support and service is you. No other ruler is an exception."
"…."
Sath smiled faintly to himself.
"Is that a proposal?" he said with a chuckle.
Moratta furrowed his brow, confused.
"Wait… what?"
"Sorry," the king said, taking another sip, "I'm not that type of guy."
"Huh?" Moratta's expression shifted between confusion and frustration.
"Oh… you wanted an exception? Sorry, I'm just not into you," Sath added, smirking.
Moratta stared at the ceiling, exhaling in quiet resignation.
"…Why am I surrounded by these types of people?" he muttered.
The grand hallway stretched ahead, pillars lining both sides, doors at either end leading in and out of the garden. Moratta began walking toward the exit.
"…I wanted to make him feel better, seeing as he's down," he murmured to himself.
"But now… I'm just exhausted."
Suddenly, the exit doors opened.
Moratta's attention snapped as he saw a fully black-armored knight escorting a striking woman.
She moved with grace, her long white hair falling perfectly against her pale, flawless skin. Silver-black eyes glimmered beneath delicate white eyebrows.
Even visibly pregnant, she carried herself with absolute composure, her flowing white gown untouched by discomfort.
"Your Majesty," Moratta called out, quickening his pace.
"Oh my… I've been caught," she said with a soft smile.
"You shouldn't be moving around the castle, Your Majesty," Moratta said, concern in his voice.
"Julious, why didn't you stop her?" the king asked, directing his gaze to the armored knight.
"I tried," Julious said, his calm, unshaken tone unsettling Moratta entirely.
"Really?" Moratta thought looking at Julious calm presence.
"You really are on another level," Moratta muttered, more to himself than anyone else.
Sighing, he looked upward.
"Why am I surrounded by these types of people?"
The woman chuckled softly.
"It seems His Grace played a little trick on you before we crossed paths."
"You could tell?" Moratta asked, slightly embarrassed.
"Well," she said, "you were coming from the entrance to the garden, and I asked around on my way here."
Moratta exhaled silently.
"He hasn't changed a bit… I came today only to drop some reports before heading home."
"You're leaving already?" the woman asked.
"My daughter's birthday is coming up soon," Moratta explained, noticing the brief silence from the knight beside her.
"I wanted to spend time celebrating with her. Next, we can train together. I would've invited you both, but you'll likely be busy with Lord Renzine's arrival."
"Oh… he's coming so soon?" the woman asked, a hint of surprise in her voice.
"Yes," Moratta replied.
"That's why I came to meet with the king."
"Very well," she said with a smile.
"I should be on my way."
"Be sure to give the twins my regards," she added as Moratta started toward the exit.
"I'll make sure to send some presents."
"I'm sure they'll be happy to hear that," Moratta replied.
"I'll send your regards too Julious."
The doors closed behind him, the hall once again falling silent.
"But I didn't say anything…" Julious muttered in his calm, measured tone.
The woman chuckled softly.
Julious glanced at her, confused, as she made her way toward the garden.
---
King Sath lounged in the garden, completely at ease, while the maids stood silently nearby. One of them poured a fresh refill into his teacup, the delicate aroma wafting in the calm air.
"Refill the other cup as well," he said with a soft smile. The maid obeyed without hesitation.
The doors opened, and Julious entered, escorting the lady he had accompanied earlier. They took their seats, Julious on the left behind the mistress, the three chairs forming a small, deliberate triangle.
The lady chuckled softly, turning toward Julious.
"Come, sit with us," she said.
Julious remained silent for a moment, then finally sat.
"I think I'm trapped now… with you two," he muttered.
"You know Sir Julious," the lady said with a playful chuckle, "he's never been one to engage in conversation. You were like this even way back."
Julious stayed silent, unflinching.
"Rose, dear, you shouldn't tease him so much," King Sath interjected gently, sensing Julious's unease.
"Oh my, jealous, are we?" Rose teased, her smile radiant and mischievous.
"Have mercy on me. Don't tease me next," Sath replied playfully, his eyes twinkling.
"This conversation exchange between this two is light years away from normal" Julious thought to himself then added "I'm exhausted already"
---
Two Days Later
Two days had passed. Today was the arrival of Lord Renzine, King Sath's brother.
From above, the city and countryside revealed a realm transformed over the past seven years under Sath's rule. Civilization had advanced, a delicate balance of futuristic innovation and classical architecture shaping a new era. Technology and invention flourished, yet the old-world charm of Avalon endured.
Avalon had grown into a continent. At its center lay the country of Sath named for the hero-king, a land that had become the heart of the new Avalon. Though the king ignored this purposal numerous times brought by the people of the Avalon but later had to choice but to name it so fir his own peace of mind.
In Scottborg, a city in Sath, a mansion with a vast courtyard and labyrinthine garden stood proudly. This was the home of one of the oldest head knights, Moratta Stones.
Inside, Moratta sat unbuttoned on a couch, formal suit slightly relaxed. A cheerful, high-pitched voice echoed through the room.
"Dad! Look here!"
He turned to see his eldest daughter, Rebecca, glowing with excitement. She wore a beautiful red gown, her long black hair cascading over her shoulders, eyes shining crimson.
"You look astonishing," Moratta said warmly, eliciting a delighted smile from her.
Behind her, the twin slowly approached. Identical to Rebecca in every feature, she wore a matching red-and-black gown, her short hair framing her pale face and crimson eyes.
"Leyfia, don't you like the dress?" Moratta asked, noticing her hesitation.
"I-I love it!" Leyfia replied quickly, glancing at her sister.
"I like the same things as Big Sis… and I love the presents from the King, Lord Julious, and the Queen!"
Relieved, Moratta bent to pet her head, her expression lighting up with joy.
"Alright, I understand," he said softly.
He straightened, turning to his wife, Latina. Who is identical to his daughter but has pale as Leyfia and had long red hair.
"You look beautiful as always, love," he complimented, sincerity in his gaze.
Latina nodded in acknowledgment, her smile gentle yet proud.
"Okay, let's go then," Moratta said.
"The air-cab is waiting outside."
---
The castle was alive with celebration.
In response to the return of Lord Renzine, a grand ball was held within the heart of the royal palace, inside a vast ceremonial hall crafted in refined British architecture.
Golden pillars lined the hall from end to end, their polished surfaces reflecting warm light like liquid gold. At each entrance stood towering knights clad in full plate armor, unmoving as statues, while others remained stationed beside the pillars in silent vigilance.
The ballroom floor was layered in deep red carpet, rich and immaculate, prepared for dance.
Nobles, rulers, royals, and wealthy merchants filled the space with laughter and conversation, exchanging greetings and toasts as crystal glasses clinked gently in the air. The atmosphere was vibrant alive.
Maids and butlers glided effortlessly through the crowd, silver trays balanced in practiced hands, serving wine and delicacies with elegance and restraint.
Yet despite the grandeur, all attention inevitably returned to one figure.
Lord Renzine.
Standing upon the raised platform at the far end of the hall accessible by twin staircases on both sides, he observed the celebration quietly.
Renzine was slightly older than King Sath, yet time seemed kind to him. Where Sath appeared youthful beyond his years, Renzine carried a mature composure that made him equally striking.
His black hair fell neatly, his dark eyes sharp and observant. He wore a pristine white suit, black gloves fitted perfectly to his hands. His jacket was draped loosely over his shoulders rather than worn properly, revealing a black inner vest beneath, an effortless blend of authority and ease.
Nobles approached him endlessly, offering greetings and praise. He accepted each with calm grace, never rushed, never flustered.
Watching him closely was Rebecca, Moratta's eldest daughter.
She stood still, eyes fixed on Renzine, unusually quiet.
Moratta noticed.
He stepped beside her and spoke softly.
"Rebecca, dear… is something wrong?"
She turned, startled.
"Dad?"
Her gaze returned to the platform.
"Lord Renzine… he's the one everyone is celebrating, right?"
Moratta followed her line of sight.
"Yes. This celebration is for his return."
Rebecca frowned slightly.
"But he doesn't look like he's having fun. He's just standing there… greeting people."
Moratta blinked in mild surprise.
She was only five yet her words carried an unexpected depth.
He smiled, bending down to gently pat her head.
"It may look that way, but trust me… he is enjoying himself."
Straightening, he added,
"How about we go greet him together? Then you can ask him yourself."
Rebecca's face lit up instantly.
"Really?!"
"Of course," Moratta said, lifting her into his arms.
"Your mother and Leyfia will join us later. Today is your birthday, after all. Let's make it special."
"Yay!" Rebecca cheered, hugging him tightly.
As Moratta carried her toward the platform, Lord Renzine lifted his glass of red wine only to be interrupted.
"We are honored by your return, Lord Renzine," a nobleman said warmly.
"My deepest respect for your achievements."
The man was dressed in a striking red suit with a black inner shirt, his jacket unbuttoned. He was slightly chubby, with a mustache and short beard, black hair thinning at the crown. Golden rings adorned each finger, a heavy necklace resting proudly on his chest.
Renzine lowered his glass slowly, turning his gaze toward him.
"Thank you," he replied, his voice deep and calm, a faint smirk touching his lips.
"You must be Graviston Roger, head of Fortmoth's central trading companies."
Roger's eyes widened.
"Your Grace knows of me?"
He bowed slightly, hand pressed to his chest.
"It is a great honor."
"Your family has governed Fortmoth's trade for generations," Renzine said smoothly.
"It would be strange not to know you."
Roger straightened, visibly pleased.
"You flatter me, my lord."
He hesitated, then spoke carefully.
"If I may… Lord Renzine appears to be without a partner this evening."
Renzine's eyes shifted toward him as he took another sip of wine.
A brief silence followed.
"I— I apologize if that was improper—"
"There is no need," Renzine interrupted calmly.
Roger stiffened.
Renzine lowered his glass slightly.
"To answer your question… no. I do not have a partner."
He paused, then added quietly,
"Not anymore."
"I see," Roger said gently.
Renzine exhaled faintly, then smiled.
"Still, if you know of someone who might replace what I've lost… I wouldn't mind an introduction. Consider it a joke, if you like."
Roger's eyes lit up.
"Actually, Your Grace… I do."
He leaned forward eagerly.
"My daughter is of age to marry. If you permit it, I would be honored to arrange a meeting."
Renzine glanced at the wine swirling in his glass, then back at Roger.
"Very well," he said.
"I'd like to meet her."
Roger nearly beamed.
"Splendid! I will make the arrangements immediately, Your Grace."
As Roger hurried away, Lord Renzine lifted his glass once more, his expression calm, unreadable…