Following Albert, Ulrich, Ashara, and Camellia entered a small hall where a lively gathering was already underway.

Anyone entering a royal room would naturally expect an atmosphere of respect, a calm, regal, and noble setting befitting a monarch.

This room was nothing of the sort.

"Hahaha!"

A loud unbecoming bark of laughter erupted from the center of the room. It belonged to none other than the King of Skargardia himself. 𝓯𝙧𝓮𝓮𝒘𝓮𝙗𝙣𝒐𝒗𝒆𝓵.𝓬𝓸𝒎

He was slumped haphazardly across a long couch. He had curly blonde hair, muddy brown eyes, and a patchy, unkempt beard. His complexion was unnaturally flushed and feverish, which was entirely unsurprising given the number of empty bottles cluttering the small tables scattered before him.

The King was laughing so raucously because he was surrounded by a gaggle of fawning noblewomen, all of whom were bootlicking him for favor. One of these women was perched right beside him on the cushions, and he had one arm wrapped unceremoniously around her shoulders, pulling her tight against his side.

This was Antonias Van Skargardia, the Royal King.

"Father," Albert spoke up, just as the King was reaching for yet another bottle of wine.

"Hm?" Antonias sluggishly raised his head.

"Count Rubenhart and Lady Ashara Frost have arrived," Albert announced with a thin smile.

"Oh?"

Despite the announcement, Antonias did not sit up. Instead, he lazily uncorked the bottle, sloppily filling his glass as he finally shifted his bloodshot gaze toward Ulrich.

"Ulrich Van Rubenhart. Goodness... Eurich’s little boy has certainly grown into a man now, hasn’t he?" He said, drawing a chorus of tittering laughter from the crowd surrounding him.

The noblemen lounging about the room were a perfectly twisted, spineless entourage suited for a man like Antonias. The women, however, directed far more admiring, lingering gazes at Ulrich’s unique features.

Seeing Ulrich simply standing there and staring back at him in total silence, Antonias’s expression twitched with annoyance.

"Aren’t you going to greet your King, Count Rubenhart?" He asked.

"Your Majesty." Ulrich placed a hand over his chest and offered a perfectly minimal bow.

"Hm. At the very least, you seem more obedient than Eurich ever was," Antonias chuckled wetly, taking a long sip from his glass.

His gaze then slid slowly over to Ashara.

Ashara immediately dropped into a graceful curtsy.

"Your Majesty, it is an honor," she said softly.

"A Lady of House Frost. My, my, we certainly have quite a beauty here," Antonias purred, his eyes raking over Ashara slowly from head to toe. He turned back to Ulrich with a mocking gleam in his eye. "Ulrich, aren’t you quite bothered by what you might have missed out on?"

A sudden, suffocating silence fell over the room.

What had begun as a crude but formal audience had instantly spiraled. The King had completely dropped all pretense of royal decorum, choosing instead to ask something disrespectful, insensitive, and entirely beneath the dignity of both a noble and a monarch.

Slouched on the couch, he looked no better than a common tavern drunkard.

"Your Majesty, you have had too much to drink."

The man seated closest to the King offered a soft, slimy chuckle. This was Count Marten Van Bentheim. He was the King’s closest confidant and a deeply shrewd, subservient noble who thrived on palace scheming. Every line of his sharp face radiated cunning, and he wore a small, knowing smirk, clearly finding the King’s vile behavior highly amusing.

Antonias ignored Marten’s warning. He leaned forward, keeping his gaze locked on Ulrich.

"Hm. Well, who could blame the dissolution of the engagement anyway? What father would agree to marry his precious daughter to a man with a broken Core?" The King said loudly. He turned his attention back to Ashara, who was standing frozen drowning in awkwardness, and raised his wine glass to her in a sloppy toast. "Think of your father’s decision as a blessing, my dear. You are still young, and there are far better men to look for... certainly plenty who do not have a broken Core," he added, finishing with another wet chuckle.

This time, far fewer nobles laughed at the King’s cruel words. Even through their loyalty, they understood the gravity of what was happening. It was certainly not the first time Antonias had openly mocked someone to their face, he did it to other lords regularly but Ulrich was a different matter.

"If that is all, Your Majesty," Ulrich said, already pivoting on his heel to leave.

"No, wait." Antonias raised his glass, stopping him in his tracks.

Ulrich stopped mid-turn.

Antonias took another long, sloppy sip, hiccuping loudly into the silence.

"Count Rubenhart, you have come to meet your King, yet no present has been brought? Your lands produce the finest wines I have ever tasted—"

"All gifts have already been handled by your servants," Ulrich replied coldly. He had, in fact, brought a dozen crates of his estate’s finest and most prohibitively expensive vintages.

"Oh." Antonias smiled, a slow, lazy grin spreading across his flushed face. "Then please, have one brought here personally so my friends and these lovely ladies may have a taste of what your House does best."

Ulrich did not move. Instead, he leveled a freezing contemptuous stare directly at the King, that he didn’t bother to hide anymore.

Antonias’s smile vanished instantly.

The look in the young Count’s dark red eyes was far too similar to the disdainful glares Eurich used to give him.

"Your King orders you—"

"I believe that is quite enough."

A sharp, calm voice sliced cleanly through the King’s bluster.

Everyone in the room snapped their gazes toward the entrance. Instantly, the entire hall stiffened. Conversations died, laughter evaporated, and every noble scrambled to bow their heads. The young woman draped over Antonias’s side almost leaped off the couch in pure panic.

Ulrich turned toward the doors and found himself looking at a truly gorgeous woman. She possessed long, cascading pink hair and breathtaking heterochromatic eyes, her right eye shone a deep, oceanic blue, while her left was a brilliant light green.

She was the Queen of Skargardia, Kaliantha Van Skargardia.

Anyone looking at her would find themselves momentarily mesmerized. She hardly looked old enough to be the mother of two adult children. However, the royal bloodline of Skargardia was descended from elves, and that heritage played a role in her youthful features and perfectly smooth, milky-pale skin.

In terms of presence, she easily eclipsed her husband. The immediate, terrified silence that had fallen over the room was proof enough of who truly ruled this Kingdom.

Kaliantha swept a freezing gaze over Antonias, who simply scoffed and looked away, refusing to meet her eyes.

Without wasting another second on him, she turned her attention to Ulrich and Ashara.

"Your Majesty."

Both Ulrich and Ashara immediately offered a formal greeting, one that carried far more genuine respect and meaning than the empty bows they had given Antonias. Even Ulrich, who despised the Capital, held a measure of respect for this woman, though he still considered her dangerous.

Not because she was secretly evil but because he knew just how sharp, and intelligent she was.

"We have important matters to discuss," Kaliantha said, turning on her heel without waiting for a reply.

Ulrich and Ashara immediately fell into step and followed her out of the room.

"I apologize for my husband’s disobliging remarks," Kaliantha said, not breaking her pace as she led them down the corridor.

"No... I think..." Ashara glanced toward Ulrich. "It was rather Ulrich...I mean, Count Rubenhart who was..." She trailed off, unable to finish the thought.

There was no denying the disrespect Antonias had hurled at Ulrich, and defending the King’s vile behavior felt impossible.

"In his stead, I do apologize, Count Rubenhart," Kaliantha continued.

"There is nothing to apologize for, Your Majesty," Ulrich replied curtly, his voice devoid of emotion.

Ashara wanted to tell him to show more warmth but in the end she kept silence. The later was very upset. As someone who knew him well before and after his mother’s death, she could tell that much.

Kaliantha’s mismatched eyes flicked toward Ulrich for a brief moment before she turned her attention forward once more.

"Lady Frost, I do hope you will not be the only one answering my summons," she said.

She had expected to see the official Heads of the Arcadian Houses arrive at her call. Instead, only Ashara had come, and she was not yet the Head of her House. Perhaps she had been sent ahead out of respect? It was not really surprising that the great Houses had stalled their arrival. What was surprising, however, was how quickly both Ulrich and Ashara had responded to the summons, especially Ulrich, who openly despised the Capital with excellent reason.

"Of course not, Your Majesty," Ashara replied quickly.

"I appreciate your prompt response. However, the matters at hand are of grave importance, and we must discuss them in privacy," Kaliantha said as she approached a set of doors.

A royal maid walking briskly beside the Queen immediately hurried forward to pull the doors open. The room inside was a private parlor, expressly designed for intimate discussions with distinguished guests of the Crown.

Kaliantha walked gracefully to the center of the room and took a seat on a plush sofa.

"You may sit," she said.

Ulrich and Ashara immediately took their seats on the sofa directly across from her.

Kaliantha elegantly crossed her legs, resting her delicate hands lightly upon her raised knee. She leaned forward slightly, fixing both of them with a piercing stare.

"Demonic signatures have been detected in the eastern seas of Skargardia," she said quietly, her eyes locking onto Ulrich.