Chapter 13: Return to Morningstar Palace
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Max rode at the front of his convoy, the grand spires of his palace rising in the distance. The gleaming structure dominated the horizon, a fortress of stone and iron that stood as a testament to his power—or rather, the power of Duke Max Morningstar, the man whose life he had now inherited. The banners of his family fluttered in the wind, black and silver, bearing the insignia of a rising sun crossed by twin swords. It was an impressive sight, one that never failed to inspire awe.
His soldiers marched behind him, victorious after the battle, and the newly sworn Orc War Chief and Goblin Overlord trailed a short distance behind, their heads low but their minds no doubt racing. They had seen the palace from afar before, but never had they been so close to its walls. And now, they weren't just outsiders—they were vassals, sworn to Max's will.
Max glanced back at them briefly before turning his attention to the grand gates of his home. A slight smile tugged at his lips.
Max (internal): Home sweet home... Well, for this Max, anyway.
As they approached the palace, Max's eyes wandered over its features, taking in the details. The structure was massive, easily three stories high, with towering walls that seemed to touch the sky. The entrance was a pair of enormous black iron gates, adorned with intricate carvings of ancient battles and victories. The palace itself was built from white marble, its gleaming surface catching the light of the setting sun and casting long shadows across the courtyard.
The main hall, just behind the gates, was the heart of the palace—a vast chamber where councils were held, feasts were thrown, and judgments were passed. Behind that stretched an expansive network of rooms, corridors, and courtyards, all designed to showcase the Duke's wealth and power. His private chambers, of course, were in the highest tower, giving him a perfect view of his lands. It was more castle than palace, really—a fortress that served as a constant reminder of the Duke's authority.
Max rode through the gates, a faint sense of amusement creeping into his mind as he took in the grandeur of it all.
Max leaned back in his seat, gazing out the window as the carriage passed through the massive iron gates, which creaked open to allow his entrance. His palace. His home. And yet, it didn't feel like home. Not really.
Max (internal): I never thought I'd actually see this place in person. In the game, it was just another backdrop. Now it's real—too real.
The palace had been the Duke of Arenia's stronghold in the game—cold, imposing, and filled with riches plundered from countless campaigns. Its halls had been lined with the spoils of war, its dungeons filled with enemies who dared defy him. But in reality, Max now found it more of a burden than a blessing.
The carriage slowed as it approached the grand staircase leading up to the entrance. Two rows of servants stood at attention, waiting to greet him. At the head of the stairs stood Marcellus, the palace steward—a man who looked as if he'd been carved out of stone, his face never betraying an ounce of emotion.
As the carriage door opened, Marcellus stepped forward, bowing deeply. "Welcome back to Morningstar Palace, Your Grace."
Max stepped out, stretching his limbs after the long ride. "Thanks, Marcellus. Miss me?"
Marcellus's expression remained stoic. "Always, Your Grace."
Max (internal): Yeah, sure. Just as much as I miss doing math homework.
The Palace Grounds
As they passed through the outer courtyard, Max's eyes wandered over the lush gardens that lined the pathways, filled with rare and exotic plants from across the empire. Fountains gurgled softly, their crystal-clear waters catching the light, and statues of long-dead heroes stood proudly among the flowers, frozen in poses of triumph.
Max (internal): So, this is where I live now. Not bad for a guy who used to have an apartment with leaky pipes and neighbors who played death metal at 3 a.m.
The soldiers who had accompanied him fanned out, their armor clinking as they marched toward the barracks, while the orc and goblin were led away to more private quarters. Max dismounted, handing the reins of his horse to a waiting stablehand, who bowed deeply before scurrying off.
He stretched his arms over his head, rolling his shoulders to work out the tension from the long ride. The palace was beautiful, sure, but it also felt a bit... excessive. Back in his old life, luxury had been ordering pizza and binge-watching TV shows, not living in a literal castle. But here, as the Duke, this was his reality now.
Max (internal): I should feel more excited about this whole 'palace' thing, but honestly, it's just another reminder of how ridiculous this all is.
He turned and began walking up the stone steps to the entrance, the cool evening air brushing against his face. As he neared the grand doors, memories of his old life bubbled to the surface—specifically, the time he and his friends had looted the very same palace in the game, back when Max Morningstar had been nothing more than a virtual villain.
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The Grand Entrance
Max ascended the wide staircase, his boots clicking against the polished marble steps. The grand entrance of the palace loomed before him, its massive double doors adorned with intricate carvings of dragons and swords. The moment he stepped inside, the cool air of the palace hit him, along with the faint scent of incense that always seemed to linger in the halls.
The interior was as grand as he remembered it from the game—high ceilings with crystal chandeliers, tapestries depicting long-forgotten battles, and walls lined with ornate suits of armor. It was a fortress disguised as a palace.
As Max walked through the main hall, he couldn't help but feel a sense of absurdity. This was his now. The infamous Duke Max Morningstar, feared by all, had returned to his palace... but he wasn't the same Duke anymore.
Max (internal): If only my friends could see me now. I've gone from looting this place after the Duke's death to... well, owning it.
The memory hit him out of nowhere, making him chuckle to himself.
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Flashback: Looting the Palace in His Previous Life
Max remembered it vividly—They had teamed up with the protagonist and launched a full-scale raid on the Duke's stronghold, battling their way through waves of guards, traps, and, of course, the Duke himself.. They had been a ragtag group of adventurers, barely scraping by, and killing the infamous Duke had been a massive achievement.
Friend 1: "I can't believe we actually killed him! Duke Max Morningstar, the big bad!"
Friend 2: "Yeah, and look at all this loot! This guy was loaded."
After the battle, they had looted the palace thoroughly, stuffing their bags with anything that wasn't nailed down.
Friend 1: "Hey, check it out! There's a whole chest of mana stones over here!"
Friend 2: "Nice! Grab them all. We'll split them later."
Friend 1 (laughing): "Man, this guy even had gold bars just lying around. What was he, a dragon?"
Friend 2: "Forget the gold! Look at this armor. It's like a walking bank account."
Max had been grinning ear to ear as he rummaged through the Duke's treasures, finding everything from gold coins to rare artifacts.
Max (laughing): "Guys, look! I found his sword! 'Morningstar's Blade.' This thing's worth a fortune!"
Friend 1: "Man, the Duke sure had it good. No wonder he was so OP. He was hoarding all the best loot!"
They had spent a good hour looting the palace after defeating the Duke, each of them walking away with bags full of treasures. Max had even joked about how over-the-top the Duke's wealth had been.
Max (mocking the Duke's voice): "Oh no, I've been defeated! But at least I still have my ridiculously expensive chair to cry on. Oh wait, you looted that too."
They had all laughed, not realizing the irony of the situation.
Max (internal, now): And now I'm the one sitting in that ridiculously expensive chair. Talk about karma.
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Reality Check: Now I'm the Duke
Max reached the top of the steps and paused in front of the grand doors of his palace. His palace. It still felt strange to think of it that way, but there was no denying it. The wealth, the power, the reputation—it was all his now. And unlike in the game, there was no respawn. No second chances.
He smirked, thinking back to his old friends. If they could see him now...
Max (internal): They'd probably raid me all over again. Loot me dry and laugh about it over drinks.
Max pushed open the doors and stepped inside, the cool air of the palace brushing against his skin. The grand hall stretched out before him, its marble floors gleaming under the soft light of the chandeliers. Tapestries adorned the walls, each one depicting a great victory or significant moment in the Morningstar family's history.
Max (internal): Guess it's time to get used to being the guy with the target on his back.
Back to the Present
Max entered the throne room, the most extravagant part of the palace. It was just as he remembered it—grand, ornate, and more than a little over-the-top. The throne itself sat at the far end of the room, raised on a platform of black marble, its back carved with intricate patterns of gold and silver.
He walked slowly toward the throne, his footsteps echoing off the polished floor. The closer he got, the more absurd it felt. This was his throne. His palace. His life.
Max (internal): I used to laugh at how overpowered the Duke was. Now I'm the one who has to deal with this mess.
As he reached the throne, he placed a hand on the armrest, feeling the cool metal beneath his fingers. The throne was as uncomfortable as it looked—hard, unyielding, and cold.
Max (internal): No wonder the Duke was always so grumpy. Sitting on this thing would give anyone a bad attitude.
He turned and sat down, leaning back as he surveyed the room from his new vantage point. For a brief moment, he allowed himself to revel in the absurdity of it all.
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A Moment of Reflection
Max stared out across the empty throne room, his mind wandering back to his old life. He remembered how his friends had joked about the Duke's palace, how they had laughed about looting everything they could carry. And now, here he was—living in the very palace they had once stripped clean.
Max (internal): I bet they'd be dying of laughter if they knew. I went from looting this place to ruling it.
He couldn't help but smile at the irony of it all. But the smile faded quickly as reality set back in. Being Duke Max Morningstar wasn't as glamorous as it seemed. There was no adventuring party to back him up, no respawns, and no reset button.
He was in charge now, and that meant making real decisions—decisions that affected not just him, but everyone in his territory.
Max (internal): I wonder if the old Duke ever felt like this. Overwhelmed, but trying not to show it.
Max stood from the throne, pacing back and forth. The palace, with all its grandeur and riches, was his now. But it also came with responsibility. His people were counting on him to be strong, to lead them. They believed in his power, in the legend of Duke Max Morningstar.
Max (internal): They don't know the truth. They don't know I'm just winging it most of the time.
He stopped pacing, looking out the tall windows that overlooked the vast lands of Arenia. The horizon stretched out before him, endless and full of challenges. He knew that staying here, in the safety of the palace, wasn't an option. There was too much at stake.
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Making Plans
Max turned away from the window, his mind focused on what needed to be done next. The palace was a symbol of his power, but it wasn't enough to secure his position. He needed to act. He needed to consolidate his power, build his forces, and prepare for whatever threats might come his way.
Max (internal): I've got an army to build and monsters to promote. And if that means tracking down rare ingredients or hunting seven-star monsters, then so be it.
He grinned to himself, the absurdity of his situation no longer weighing him down. It was time to embrace the role of Duke Max Morningstar, even if he still felt like a fish out of water.
Max (internal): Who would've thought I'd be living in the Duke's palace? If my friends could see me now...
He could practically hear them laughing in his head, teasing him about being the Duke they had once looted.
Friend 1 (in Max's mind): "Hey Duke Max, mind if we come by and take some of those mana stones?"
Friend 2 (in Max's mind): "Don't forget to save us a seat on that golden throne of yours!"
Max shook his head, smiling as he walked out of the throne room.
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Max leaned against the railing of the balcony, letting the cool evening breeze wash over him. Below, the sprawling lands of his estate stretched out for miles. From up here, everything looked peaceful—the soldiers in their camps, the quiet villages dotting the landscape, the forests in the distance. It was hard to believe that only days ago, he had been in the middle of a battle, negotiating with orcs and goblins for their loyalty.
But now that the dust had settled, Max couldn't shake the feeling that something bigger was on the horizon. The palace, the wealth, the army—it was all his, but it didn't feel stable. Not yet. He had taken control, yes, but control was fragile. In a world like this, it could be snatched away at any moment.
Max's Determination
As he made his way through the palace halls, the weight of his new responsibilities felt lighter. The memories of his old life were still there, but now, they fueled his determination. He wasn't just playing the game anymore—he was living it. And if he was going to be Duke Max Morningstar, he was going to do it his way.
Max (internal): Okay, so maybe I'm not exactly Duke Max Morningstar. But I've got the palace, the army, and enough gold to make anyone think twice about crossing me. That's got to count for something.
Max (internal): Great. Now I'm paranoid in a medieval fantasy world.
But he couldn't ignore the reality of his situation. In a world filled with powerful beings, rising kingdoms, and ambitious rivals, he needed more than just walls and soldiers to protect what was his. He needed to start thinking like the Duke everyone feared. He needed to strategize, to build alliances, to strengthen his position before someone else decided to take it all away.
Max (internal): Time to start acting like the Duke they all think I am.
With that thought, Max exited the palace, ready to face whatever challenges lay ahead.
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This chapter balances the grandeur of Max's return to the palace with his comedic reflections