Confrontation

"Alright! Order!"

A familiar figure rose from his seat, tapping a golden spoon against his empty goblet to command attention. The sharp clinking sound echoed through the hall, immediately silencing the room.

"I believe it is time to commence the true purpose of our gathering on this fateful day. May the church guide us..."

He paused, setting down the goblet and spoon. Taking a deep breath, he clasped his hands as though receiving a blessing from the heavens and solemnly declared,

"In holiness, we walk. In truth, we fight. We live to eradicate evil... All hail the Divine Gods!"

At once, the entire assembly of nobles mirrored his gesture, clasping their hands together with closed eyes.

"All hail the Divine Gods!"

As Apostles, it was a sacred tradition—one passed down through generations—to begin all official gatherings with a prayer.

With the ceremony complete, the young man continued, his voice refined and authoritative.

"I introduce myself as the Second Prince of the Drakon Royal Family, the son of the Flame Saint and Lady Draviana, the second mistress. I am Vaylan Von Drakon."

His tone was sharp yet measured, exuding both confidence and grace. Every movement he made—each flick of his hand, each shift of his posture—was the result of years of disciplined practice.

The assembled patriarchs, nobles, and half-noblemen could not ignore the resemblance between Vaylan and the current emperor. Lady Draviana, seated among them, braced herself for the wave of admiration she expected to follow.

At the far end of the hall, separated from the lively nobility, sat Zal. Isolated, without a single friend or companion, he found himself alone. The only person who might have spoken to him, Ace, was unreachable—seated among the favored circle of nobles.

Zal, exhausted and unimpressed by his older brother's endless blabbering, slipped a small scroll from beneath his robes. If he was going to be ignored, he might as well use the time wisely.

'Just look at him... putting on a facade of nobility, while beneath the surface, each of my siblings desperately claws for power. Hypocrites, all of them.'

He thought, tuning out the noise, Zal unrolled the scroll, his eyes scanning the words—his focus drawn once more to the Arcane knowledge of the past he had spent fifteen years pursuing.

But his quiet defiance did not go unnoticed as Vaylan continued his speech with pride.

"Since my father is not present, and my elder siblings,First Prince Alexander Von Drakon, Second Princess Amara and first Princess Eshdol Von Drakon, are out of the Empire to fulfil their task given to them by the church, it falls to me to maintain order until my father arrives"

Vaylan declared, his voice carrying through the hall. Then, with a smirk, he added.

"Though I can already see the boredom on most of the prestine guest faces, I suggest a simple game among the princes would ease our boredom until the arrival of my father and his group. What do you all think?"

"That's a brilliant suggestion my neice!"

Another voice responded eagerly, soon joined by the enthusiastic approval of Lady Draviana and his uncle.

"Thank you all"

Vaylan said smoothly, a glint of something mocking flickering in his golden eyes as he turned his gaze toward one particular figure—Zal.

"Now then,... since we all agree on this idea...then, shall we begin with a friendly duel between the noble houses?. Since I wield an iron sword, I am exempt, meaning the duels will be for those below eighteen years skilled in wooden weapons. All six noble houses, from the Pen Dragons to the O'Crowns, the Mage Tower inn, Golden Feng House, Shadow tower Domain..."

He paused catching his breath before continuing.

"All noble pillar houses of the Empire, please select your participants."

The lively murmur of conversation abruptly halted, replaced by an eerie silence as Vaylan abruptly moved away from the audience.

Zal, deeply engrossed in his reading, was startled by the sudden silence in the room. Lifting his head, he was even more alarmed when he noticed the terrified gazes fixed on him.

'What's going on?'

His gaze flickered toward Ace, who looked both frustrated and concerned. But before he could seek clarity, a shadow loomed over him.

He turned his head swiftly.

"Second Brother... Vaylan?"

His stomach sank.

"Crap."

"Indeed"

Vaylan murmured, his tone unreadable.

"You haven't changed at all, Junior Brother. Your behavior is a disgrace to the royal family and an insult to the gathered nobles."

Before Zal could react, Vaylan snatched the scroll from his hands and held it up for all to see. Zal lunged to reclaim it, but he lacked the strength to put up a proper struggle. With effortless ease, Vaylan shoved him back into his seat.

"Reading a scroll during a formal assembly? How shameful."

He sighed dramatically.

"I almost pity you… Useless son of a concubine."

The words struck like a blade. Zal clenched his fists, frustration boiling beneath his skin.

"Don't talk about my mother like that!"

"Or what?"

Vaylan barked, his voice echoing through the silent halls with tension.

"What's wrong with speaking the truth? She's a bedridden woman, and you... you're nothing but a disgrace."

The room fell into an uneasy silence, save for Zal's uneven breathing. Ace furrowed his brows, clearly disapproving of the scene, but just as he moved to intervene, Selene stopped him with a whisper.

"A fight between the Drakons is no place for a Pen Dragon. I know he's your best friend, but don't bring trouble to the House of Knights."

Ace understood—painfully so. With a clenched jaw, he sat back down, forced to endure the humiliation of his friend. Vaylan, emboldened by Ace's restraint, turned his full attention back to Zal.

'Remember, Zal. Don't forget. '

'No matter what, do not let anger control you. They want to see you break—but remember Mother's teachings.'

Taking slow, deliberate breaths, Zal forced the tension from his body. His clenched fists loosened, his furrowed brow smoothed, and the fury in his eyes vanished. The shift was so sudden that even Vaylan hesitated, contemplating his next line of action.

'This brat... I wanted him to lose control, to make a fool of himself in front of the nobles. But he's just as pathetic as ever. '

With a sneer, Vaylan crushed the scroll in his hand before turning away. His polished boots echoed against the marble floor as he strode back to his seat.

"Apologies, everyone"

He said smoothly.

"My junior brother's disgraceful behavior does not reflect the honor of the royal family. But now, let us move past this minor disturbance and begin the friendly duel. Surely, everyone is eager for some entertainment."

He spread his arms with a graceful flourish as he continued.

"Wooden weapon users from any house may challenge whomever they wish. As Apostles, we fight with dignity—surrender is not an option."

Among the half-noble families, two familiar women sat side by side—Drakon consorts, mothers to royal offspring.

One of them, Lady Elira, observed Vaylan carefully with displeasure.

"What do you think of my son, Elira?"

Lady Draviana asked mockingly, fanning herself with deliberate elegance.

"Do you think your children can compete? In the eyes of the patriarchs and nobles, he's already gathering allies."

Lady Elira rolled her eyes, replying indifferently.

"Vaylan has certainly inherited your poisonous nature. Deception. But that's not my concern. As long as my son and daughter secures their places in the Royal family's power, that's all that matters. It's just…"

She trailed off, glancing toward Zal, who sat quietly, lost in thought.

"…That mountain girl's son—the so-called 'Child of Light'—is now being treated like a stray dog. I almost pity him."

She chuckled softly as discussions continued among the nobles—until a young noble stood up with a question.

"Greetings second Prince, I am the second heir of the Golden Feng family, Lloyd Golden Feng...if I may, is it possible to challenge any Drakon-born, Prince Vaylan?"

A knowing smile crept onto Vaylan's lips. He gave an approving nod.

"Indeed, you may. Who am I to deny such a request?"

The two looked at each other with perfect understanding.

"Then, as the second heir of the Golden Feng House—the House of Beastmasters—I challenge a Drakon-born… Prince Zal Von Drakon."

Gasps filled the hall.

Ace clenched his fist, slamming it against the table as he muttered under his breath.

"...it's all planned. They know Zal isn't like us. They just want to disgrace him. How can I sit here and do nothing while my best friend is humiliated?"

Rising to his feet, his golden hair cascading behind him like waves of sunlight, Ace's voice rang out.

"As the third heir of the House of Knights, I will fight in the Third Prince's stead. Do you accept my challenge, Lloyd Golden Feng?"

Lloyd's confidence wavered, his posture stiffening. Fear flickered in his eyes. Ace was a prodigy. Though his ranking journey had yet to begin, his swordsmanship and strength were anything but ordinary. A true descendant of the legendary Arthur Pen Dragon.

Through all this, Zal remained still, quietly observing the power plays unfolding before him.

'Finally… Ace stepped in. I'd be finished if I fought Lloyd—Vaylan's lackey. This was all orchestrated to pin me down again.'

He exhaled slowly.

The hall fell into a tense silence. Even Vaylan found himself momentarily at a loss—he hadn't specified that no one could fight in another's place.

'This Ace… He'll be a problem in the future. Even I'm unsure if I could take him on if he intervenes. His father, Lancelot, is the Empire's head knight and a close friend of my father. I can't risk creating a rift between our families—especially if I plan to take the throne someday. Best to back down…'

Vaylan's thoughts were abruptly interrupted by a deep, thunderous voice that echoed through the hall, sending a wave of wind powerful enough to make him brace himself.

From the right side of the raised dais, where the House Patriarchs sat, Bane Golden Feng spoke.

A towering mass of muscle, his long blue hair spiked down to his waist, his thick beard wild. His burning blue eyes radiated primal intensity, exuding an aura of sheer dominance. He rested his head on his iron-adorned arm, his presence alone silencing the room.

His voice boomed once more, filled with unshakable authority.

"I have no interest in meddling in children's games… but…"

His gaze locked onto Ace with deadly precision, forcing the younger man to hesitate.

"It is only fair that each person fights for themselves—Drakon-born or not. Threatening my son is a line that must not be crossed by the Pendragons."

Ace and Selene clenched their teeth. A direct challenge from the Golden Fengs against the Pendragons was no small matter—especially when their House Patriarch was absent.

Once again, Selene pulled Ace back into his seat.

Lloyd smirked, emboldened by his father's declaration.

"I respectfully agree. Everyone should fight for themselves… Don't you think so, Prince Vaylan?"

Vaylan's lips curled into a smirk as he glanced at Ace.

"I believe the Patriarch of the Golden Feng Keep speaks wisely. It is only fair that each fighter stand on their own. And so, our first competitors: Lloyd Golden Feng, of the House of Beastmasters, against Zal Von Drakon, the Third Prince of Avalon."

The hall fell into a suffocating silence.

Zal, despite the grim situation, let out a faint smirk.

Selene and Ace watched in frustration as he rose weakly from his seat and stepped forward.

Lloyd's smirk widened. Across the room, Vaylan made a subtle gesture—a slow, deliberate motion across his throat. A silent command. A promise of brutality. Lloyd's eyes gleamed with anticipation.

The two stood face to face.

Lloyd stood poised and confident. Zal, in contrast, looked like a man searching for an escape route. The tension in the room thickened.

"Vaylan just wants to put him in his place again," a soft voice murmured.

A stunning young woman stood among the spectators—long, waist-length black hair cascading behind her, piercing golden eyes reflecting her lineage. Seraphina Von Drakon.

"I agree," another voice chimed in—Aelric Von Drakon, the fourth prince of the royal family. He shook his head, his dark curls bouncing slightly. "Why can't he just leave our third brother alone?"

Some noble children murmured their agreement. Others, however, secretly rooted for Vaylan. Not many were fond of the Third Prince.

Zal sighed.

Then, suddenly, he chuckled.

The air shifted.

The casual indifference on his face melted into something sharper—something dangerous. A golden glint flickered in his otherwise dull pupils, the mark of a Drakon igniting within him.

'Once again… I fight. Not just against an opponent, but against my own family. Against noble society. Against everyone.'

He exhaled slowly, his gaze lifting to meet the expectant, amused, or outright cruel expressions around him.

"As expected…"

His voice was barely a whisper.

"Everyone wants a piece of this prince. Some revel in my disgrace just to feel superior to the title I bear. Others see me as nothing more than a background character, a shadow of my father's greatness. Everyone has their reasons…"

He clenched his fists.

"But to me, it's just a bone in the dirt. Mother said all of them are hypocrites that's why..."

His golden eyes burned.

"I must survive."