Chapter 43: The Imperial Court's Games Begin
The towering white marble pillars of the Imperial Palace loomed overhead, bathed in the golden light of the sun. The vast courtyard, paved with polished stone, stretched out before Leonhardt as he stepped from the Everhart carriage.
Despite his young age, his fiery red eyes held no awe as they scanned the assembled nobles, knights, and courtiers. Their gazes flickered toward him—curiosity, wariness, and, in some cases, thinly veiled hostility.
Let them stare.
At the center of the courtyard, waiting at the top of the grand staircase, stood Emperor Alistair Ravenhart—ruler of the empire, the man who held dominion over all noble houses.
He was a tall, imposing figure dressed in black and gold imperial robes, the emblem of the empire embroidered in silver thread across his chest. His golden eyes, identical to Leonhardt's maternal grandfather, the Imperial Magician, shone with amusement and something deeper—calculation.
"Welcome back, my dear nephew."
His voice carried across the courtyard, smooth and commanding.
A greeting wrapped in silk, but Leonhardt could hear the steel beneath it.
The Lion's Den
Leonhardt stepped forward, his posture perfectly composed. Behind him, Aldric Everhart and Selene Everhart followed, their presence commanding instant respect.
The emperor's gaze flickered toward Aldric. "Grand Duke, it has been too long."
Aldric gave a slight nod. "Your Majesty." His voice was even, betraying nothing.
Selene remained silent, her violet eyes cool and unreadable.
Leonhardt met the emperor's golden gaze without hesitation. "Your Majesty."
The emperor's smirk widened slightly, but he said nothing for a moment—just watching. Testing.
Then, with a wave of his hand, he gestured toward the palace doors.
"The court has been waiting for you."
A Hall of Vipers
The Imperial Court was a grand, circular chamber lined with towering white columns and gold-inlaid walls. At its center sat the emperor's throne, a massive structure carved from enchanted obsidian, its armrests adorned with the heads of two dragons.
Nobles of all ranks filled the chamber—dukes, marquises, counts, and barons—all of them dressed in their finest silks and embroidered tunics. Their whispers echoed through the hall like the hissing of snakes.
Leonhardt did not need to hear them to know what they were saying.
The Grand Duke's heir…
He's just a child…
But they say he's a genius…
The emperor seems interested in him… Why?
Leonhardt ignored them.
He was not here to entertain rumors.
As he stepped forward, the emperor's voice rang out.
"Grand Duke Everhart and his heir have returned to the capital after many years. Let the court bear witness to the one who will stand beside me in the future."
A murmur spread through the chamber.
Stand beside him?
Did the emperor mean as a sword, or as an enemy?
Leonhardt met the emperor's golden gaze once more, understanding the unspoken challenge beneath his words.
This was not just a welcome.
It was a test.
The Duke's Challenge
As expected, not all nobles were pleased with the emperor's words.
A tall man stepped forward, his embroidered robes displaying the crest of House Dargan, a powerful ducal family aligned with the imperial faction.
Duke Caius Dargan was a seasoned noble—one of the empire's wealthiest men, but a man who had always opposed the Everharts.
"Your Majesty," Duke Dargan spoke, his voice smooth, but his dark eyes gleaming with challenge. "It is an honor to welcome the heir of House Everhart to court. However…"
He turned to Leonhardt.
"A boy of ten years old… and already spoken of so highly?" The duke smiled, but there was no warmth in it. "Surely, such praise must be tested."
The room stilled.
A direct challenge.
Leonhardt did not move, but he could feel the expectation in the air. The nobles wanted to see how he would respond.
Would he back down? Would he lash out like a child?
Leonhardt tilted his head slightly, his red eyes glowing under the palace's golden chandeliers.
"Tested?" he repeated, his voice calm.
Duke Dargan smiled, pleased with his own trap. "A simple display of your skills, my lord. A duel, perhaps?"
The court murmured in excitement.
Leonhardt smirked.
"Very well."
The chamber fell silent.
Leonhardt stepped forward, his gaze piercing. "Who will be my opponent?"
Duke Dargan's expression stiffened slightly at how easily Leonhardt accepted the challenge. But before he could respond—
Another voice cut through the hall.
"Me."
The nobles turned as a tall young man stepped forward.
Dressed in silver and black, his long blond hair was tied back neatly, and his emerald-green eyes gleamed with sharp intelligence.
Prince Hadrian Ravenhart.
The Crown Prince of the Empire.
A Duel Between Nobility
Hadrian stepped forward, his steps measured, confident. He was seventeen years old—a prodigy of the imperial family, trained in both swordsmanship and magic.
Leonhardt remained still, but inwardly, he analyzed.
Hadrian was not an arrogant fool like some nobles. He was talented, a warrior in his own right.
More importantly, he was the emperor's son.
A match between them would not be an ordinary duel.
It would be a statement.
The emperor leaned forward on his throne, a knowing smile playing at his lips. "Very well."
He gestured to the guards.
"Prepare the dueling ground."
The Duel Begins
Minutes later, Leonhardt and Hadrian stood opposite each other in the palace's grand dueling arena, a vast open courtyard surrounded by golden balconies where the nobles gathered to watch.
Leonhardt held a practice sword, his grip relaxed, his stance effortless.
Hadrian stood in a formal duelist's posture, his emerald eyes locked onto Leonhardt with curiosity.
"The first to land three clean hits wins," a royal knight announced.
Hadrian smirked. "I will not go easy on you."
Leonhardt smiled—cold, unreadable. "Neither will I."
The knight raised his hand.
Then—
The duel began.
Hadrian moved first, his blade slicing through the air with precise speed. He aimed for Leonhardt's left side, testing his reflexes.
But Leonhardt was already gone.
With an effortless pivot, he avoided the strike, his movements faster than expected for a ten-year-old.
Hadrian's eyes widened slightly.
He's fast.
Leonhardt struck.
A clean hit to Hadrian's arm.
The nobles gasped.
Hadrian recovered quickly, countering with a rapid thrust.
Leonhardt sidestepped, his footwork flawless. He moved as though he had no wasted motion, every step calculated.
Then—another hit.
Hadrian gritted his teeth.
It was 2-0.
Silence filled the arena as the Crown Prince's expression hardened.
He adjusted his stance, mana surging around him.
Leonhardt's eyes gleamed.
Now, the real fight begins.