May 24, 1837.
That day was extraordinary for the entire British Empire.
The air in London seemed infused with a mixture of anticipation, celebration, and a subtle, almost imperceptible undercurrent of political tension. The ringing of the bells echoed deeper than usual, and every vessel on the Thames, no matter its size, diligently hoisted the new British flag in honor of the occasion.
For on that day, the first in line to the imperial throne, Princess Alexandrina Victoria, officially celebrated her eighteenth birthday.
Eighteen was not merely an age.
According to the laws of the Empire, it marked adulthood. From that moment onward, Victoria held the legal authority to govern independently. Upon the death of King William IV, she would ascend the throne directly, without the need for any form of regency.
This reality rang like a death knell for the Duchess of Kent and Sir Conroy. For over a decade they had schemed to seize influence by controlling the young Princess, but their carefully cultivated "Kensington System" now crumbled before the law.
Nobles and politicians across the Empire sensed with clarity the drastic shift in the balance of power.
To demonstrate the majesty of the Crown and announce to the world that Britain now had an adult and legally empowered heir, King William IV ordered the grandest and most extravagant court ball in the history of Buckingham Palace.
The eyes of all Europe's royal families turned toward the fog-veiled capital of the island nation.
As night descended, Buckingham Palace gleamed with tens of thousands of candles and newly installed gas lamps, resembling a golden palace from myth.
One by one, luxurious carriages adorned with family crests rolled into the square before the palace gates, escorted by the Royal Guards. Distinguished figures descended gracefully, aware that even the slightest gesture could stir whispers across the continent.
Envoys from France, Austria, Prussia, and other nations brought congratulations and blessings, though in their eyes flickered curiosity and shrewd appraisal. Portly Rothschild bankers, their fingers heavy with diamonds, sought to gauge future opportunities within the Empire. Dukes, marquesses, and earls of ancient lineage arrived clad in their most splendid attire, medals of honor gleaming upon their chests, forming a tableau of dazzling opulence.
Arthur arrived in his carriage, crafted by London's finest artisans and painted in black and gold. It bore no noble crest—only a red lion and the emblem of "Future Industries," discreetly engraved in pure silver.
When he stepped down with the help of his attendant, he immediately drew the gaze of those around him.
He wore a perfectly tailored black tailcoat, its fabric subtly shimmering under the light. His white silk bow tie and pocket square contrasted sharply with his blond hair and blue eyes. He wore no superfluous accessories; the calm assurance shaped by years in business and politics was more than enough.
"Is that Mr. Arthur Lionheart? He's even younger—and more handsome—than portrayed in the newspapers."
"I heard his wealth rivals that of old dukes, and he's a favored guest of the Prime Minister."
"Quiet! Don't you know? What truly makes him fascinating isn't his fortune or his politics… but his connection to tonight's leading figure…"
The nobles whispered eagerly, exchanging knowing glances. Arthur and Princess Victoria had become one of the most talked-about topics in high society.
He paid the rumors no mind. With polite nods, he moved through the crowd and entered the splendid ballroom.
The hall's dome was decorated with exquisite religious frescoes. Gigantic crystal chandeliers, like frozen waterfalls, illuminated the room as brightly as day. A graceful waltz flowed through the air as elegantly dressed couples glided across the mirror-smooth marble.
Long tables draped in white linen were laden with delicacies: baked escargots and foie gras from France, premium caviar on ice from the Russian coast, and whole roasted Scottish suckling pigs. Towers of champagne shimmered with golden light, and silver-tray-bearing servants moved among the guests like butterflies.
Arthur did not hurry to join the festivities. Taking a glass of champagne, he retreated to a quiet corner near the dance floor, observing the scene with composed detachment.
His gaze soon found the central figure of the evening: Princess Victoria.
She stood beside King William IV, graciously receiving congratulations.
Tonight, she was breathtaking.
She wore a flawless white off-shoulder silk gown, custom-made by the Royal Chief Designer. The skirt, embroidered with silver roses and lilies, was adorned with countless tiny diamond-like stars that shimmered at each movement. Around her slender neck rested a necklace of large sapphires and diamonds—the King's personal coming-of-age gift. The deep ocean-blue gems matched her cornflower-blue eyes, surrounding her with an aura of noble mystery.
At eighteen, her face still held the soft freshness of youth, yet her expression and bearing had gained poise. The shy girl she once was had transformed into a young woman capable of standing tall beneath the gaze of nations. She smiled and nodded to the envoys, every gesture marked by the quiet dignity of a Queen-to-be.
Arthur watched her with sincere admiration. He had witnessed her growth through trials and pressures that few could endure. Now, she stood radiant before the world.
He sensed that, though she conversed politely, part of her attention wandered beyond the crowd. Her gaze swept the hall, quick and subtle, as if searching for a familiar figure.
She was looking for him.
A warm feeling stirred in his chest, accompanied by a steady resolve. Finishing his champagne, he adjusted his bow tie and stepped out from the shadows, moving toward the heart of the ballroom.
The great ball, destined to be remembered in history, had only just begun.
And Arthur sensed that the night would mark the beginning of a new chapter for them both.