Chapter 7: The King's Court and Unspoken Bonds

The day had been long and filled with exploration, almost like a date—the quiet kind, where no words needed to be spoken to understand each other. Adric and Isabelle had visited several places in the city, reminiscing over old memories while creating new ones. As the sun began its descent behind the horizon, painting the sky in hues of orange and gold, Adric took Isabelle to the mansion where she had grown up.

As they arrived at the mansion, Adric turned to Isabelle with a look of quiet determination. "Where is your father?" he asked, glancing around the grand grounds.

Isabelle, looking up at the mansion with a soft expression, replied, "He's in the capital, managing some affairs."

Adric nodded, his voice steady. "Inform him I'm coming for dinner tomorrow."

She smiled, nodding in return. "I will."

Inside the mansion, dinner was served in a grand dining hall, but as the evening went on, Adric felt the weight of the battle still pressing on him. He could feel the exhaustion in his bones, the scars of his recent conflicts not just physically evident but emotionally too. As they finished their meal, Elisa, the ever-watchful maid, stood up from her seat, her eyes filled with concern.

"Sire," she said softly, "You must allow me to tend to your wounds."

Adric looked at Isabelle, who had been quietly watching him. She understood what Elisa meant without a word being exchanged. With a resigned sigh, Adric stood up and moved toward the corner of the room where Elisa had prepared a small table with a cloth and healing supplies.

Without hesitation, Adric began removing the pieces of his armor. Isabelle couldn't look away as he stripped off the layers of metal and leather. Each piece came off, revealing the raw and unhealed wounds beneath. The scars—some old, some new—lined his torso, his arms, his legs, each one telling a story of the impossible battles he had fought and survived. The man before her was no longer just the prince she once knew. He had become something else—a hardened warrior forged in the fire of countless wars.

Her throat tightened, and her eyes shimmered with unshed tears as she traced the lines of his scars with her gaze. Isabelle had always known Adric to be strong, but seeing the physical manifestation of his struggles was a jarring reminder of just how much he had endured.

He noticed her staring, but he didn't flinch. He was used to the look by now—the way people saw him not as a man, but as a symbol of war, someone who was broken in ways only battle could break you.

"Adric," Isabelle whispered, her voice filled with emotion. "How... how did you endure all this?"

Adric looked at her, his expression softening just for a moment. "You learn to," he said quietly. "And when you don't have a choice, you keep going."

Elisa finished patching him up, her steady hands moving skillfully. As the night wore on, Isabelle found herself unable to pull her eyes away from him. She could see how exhausted he was, his body physically drained from the constant strain of battle. Eventually, the warmth of the room and the steady rhythm of Adric's breathing lulled her to sleep. She rested her head against his chest, and soon, she was lost to the exhaustion of the day as well.

The next morning, Isabelle woke slowly, the light filtering in through the curtains. For a moment, she forgot where she was, but the warmth in her chest and the steady rise and fall of Adric's breathing reminded her. She was still in his arms, and for the first time in years, she felt safe—protected by a man who had been to the very edges of the world and back.

She shifted slightly, rubbing her eyes, and then looked up to find Adric still asleep. A small smile tugged at her lips. But soon, the sounds of the mansion waking up around her brought her back to reality.

Curious, she asked the maid who had entered the room, "Where has he gone?"

The maid answered gently, "Lord Adric has gone to meet the King."

Meanwhile, at the west entrance of the royal capital, an unusual scene was unfolding. This entrance was rarely used by anyone outside of the royal family. Adric had always avoided the main gates, preferring the privacy and secrecy that came with the west entrance, which was reserved for royals and those with very specific privileges. But today, as he arrived at the gate, he encountered something that immediately drew his attention—a carriage stationed by the gates, yet something was wrong. The guards were clearly not allowing anyone entry.

Adric, standing tall and unwavering, approached the guards. The man in the carriage was young—probably in his early twenties—and had the arrogance of someone unfamiliar with true authority. He argued with the guards, claiming that he was the nephew of the first concubine, and therefore, a member of the royal family.

However, the guards didn't budge. "Without the royal symbol," they said firmly, "You are not permitted entry."

The young man sneered. "Do you not know who I am? I am royalty by birth. The nephew of the first concubine, who now holds power in the court. I demand entry."

One of the guards shook his head. "If you have no royal symbol, you are no different from any other noble. The west gate is reserved for the true royals."

The young man huffed and tried to push through, but as he approached the gate, he made the mistake of mocking Adric, who was still some distance away.

"This gate is only for nobles," he sneered, his voice dripping with disdain. "Not for some dirty baron from the countryside."

Adric, unfazed by the insult, walked forward, his pace unhurried but deliberate. The guards at the gate saw him approaching, and immediately, their demeanor changed. They stood to attention, their faces showing a deep respect. Without a word, they opened the gates for him.

As Adric passed through, the young man froze in shock, his mouth agape. He had never seen the royal emblem of the White Pegasi—Adric's personal emblem of military might—on someone else, let alone someone who wasn't a part of the immediate royal family.

As the gates closed behind Adric, the young man stood there, stunned, unable to comprehend what had just transpired. He had tried to assert his importance, but in the face of true power, he had been exposed for the fraud he was.

Adric continued forward, his path clear as he made his way to the royal court. His mission was far from over, and in the halls of power, he knew that the real battle was about to begin. His presence in the court would change everything.