Odette smiled wide, her eyes shimmering with curiosity.

  “Will you be my friend?”

  Artreus blinked, surprised by the sudden question.

  “Uh… sure, why not?”

  Odette beamed, clearly pleased with the answer.

  Then she turned to the other two boys.

  “Will you be my friend too?” she asked sweetly.

  Mikael gave her a thumbs-up, grinning.

  “Can’t say no to that! Hehe.”

  Odette’s gaze shifted to Aidan.

  She tilted her head.

  “…Hm?”

  Aidan frowned, arms crossed, and looked away.

  “Tch… Why are you staring?”

  Mikael leaned toward Odette with a chuckle.

  “Just ignore him. That’s his default face. He was born grumpy.”

  Odette giggled softly.

  “Oh… okay.”

  She glanced at Aidan once more, only for him to turn his back again. She pouted, just a little.

  Guinevere stepped in with a smile.

  “Come on, Odette. Artreus—let’s go. The feast awaits.”

  The grand feast hall gleamed like a vision from a storybook—its tall golden pillars arched into a dome of soft emerald light. Floating crystals hummed above, glowing gently, while music played from a corner where elven musicians plucked silver-stringed instruments.

  Artreus, Aidan, and Mikael walked behind the princesses, eyes wide as saucers.

  Mikael nudged Artreus.

  “Dude… this place is insane.”

  Artreus nodded slowly.

  “I feel like one wrong step and we owe someone a kingdom.”

  Whispers drifted through the crowd of elves and nobles.

  “The three of them…”

  “They’re humans…?”

  “…That’s the brother of Arthur Reigns?”

  Mikael leaned closer.

  “Yup. Definitely a lot of eyes on us.”

  But then—

  Artreus’ eyes locked on the banquet table.

  Mikael spotted it too.

  He and Mikael shouted in unison,

  "FOOD!!"

  They practically teleported forward, grabbing plates with the speed of starving wolves.

  Their plates piled high—roasted meats glazed in elven spices, glowing crystalfruit, moonblossom dumplings, soft starbread oozing with butter. They didn't hesitate.

  “NGAM NGAM NGAM!”

  Mikael stuffed his face like a gremlin on a sugar high. Artreus attacked a leg of mana-roast turkey like it owed him money.

  Guinevere and Queen Syltharia watched the chaos unfold from a few feet away. The queen smiled behind her wine glass.

  “They certainly have… healthy appetites.”

  Guinevere giggled.

  Meanwhile—

  Aidan sat at the edge of the table, trying to eat like a dignified knight.

  He stabbed a slab of roast meat with his fork… but it wouldn’t tear.

  He held the plate still, gritting his teeth… then gave up and used his mouth like a barbarian to rip off a bite.

  Odette peeked over the table, watching him curiously.

  “…Why don’t you just ask them for a knife?”

  Aidan glanced at her, meat still hanging from his mouth.

  “Tch. Don’t need one.”

  She giggled behind her hands.

  While Artreus and Mikael were devouring their mountain of food like ravenous wolves, loud chomping and exaggerated "NGAM NGAM NGAM" noises echoed near the banquet table. Aidan, though still eating begrudgingly like a moody soldier, occasionally glanced at the two with pure secondhand embarrassment.

  Suddenly, the air around them shifted.

  Three sharply dressed noble elves approached, their movements smooth and deliberate. In the center stood none other than Duke Albwin, his long emerald robe trailing behind him like a snake, and his expression twisted with disdain.

  He stopped just a few steps from the boys, folding his arms as he eyed Artreus.

  “So… this is the one who rescued our princess?” Albwin said loud enough for nearby nobles to hear. “A child—no, worse—a human boy who looks like he’s barely out of his crib.”

  Artreus paused mid-bite, a chicken leg hanging from his mouth.

  He slowly looked up, eyes narrowing.

  “…Hm?”

  Albwin turned his gaze to Mikael and Aidan. “And these are his comrades?” he sneered. “Three savage human boys. Look at them—eating like starving boars. Not a shred of table manners.”

  He scoffed with a dramatic flair and turned his back.

  If you come across this story on Amazon, be aware that it has been stolen from Royal Road. Please report it.

  “Truly disgraceful. This is why humans don’t belong in places of refinement. They bring only chaos… and filth.”

  The three nobles walked away, whispers trailing behind them like dust.

  Mikael, cheeks stuffed with food, leaned over and muttered, “What’s his problem?”

  Artreus clenched his jaw, watching the duke disappear into the crowd.

  Guinevere, who had overheard it from nearby, stepped beside Artreus with a sigh.

  “Don’t mind him,” she said gently. “That’s Duke Albwin. He’s one of the old blood. His kind still holds onto the scars from the race war… especially against humans.”

  Artreus looked down at his food, his appetite slightly dulled.

  “They really hate us that much, huh?”

  Guinevere’s voice was soft but firm.

  “They fear what they don’t understand. And some wounds… haven’t healed in centuries.”

  Mikael stuffed one more dumpling into his mouth.

  “Well, I understand this food—and it’s amazing.”

  Guinevere smiled.

  “Then keep eating. You’ll need the energy. Elven wine hits harder than any demon’s fist.”

  Artreus blinked.

  “…Wait, there’s wine?”

  PLOK!

  Guinevere poked him on the forehead with a smirk.

  “You’re too young to drink alcohol, my knight.”

  Artreus rubbed his head, pouting.

  “Hey! I’m old enough to drink wine!!”

  From behind them, Aidan casually slid his empty cup behind a fruit tray, glancing away as if nothing happened.

  Mikael leaned over, whispering, “He’s on his fourth glass.”

  Artreus blinked. “What?!”

  Guinevere sighed with a small chuckle. “Boys…”

  Artreus’s eyes lit up as he spotted a familiar towering figure entering the hall.

  “Master!” he called out.

  Artreus, Mikael, and Aidan quickly made their way through the crowd toward Samson.

  The grizzled warrior turned, a rare smile tugging at his lips as he saw them.

  “Artreus,” Samson said, placing a hand on the boy’s shoulder. “You’ve done well. This feast—it’s in your honor. You brought the princess back to where she belongs. Safe and sound.”

  He gave a low chuckle. “I knew I could count on you. I trained my students to be strong—strong enough to handle things on their own… and here you are, just as I expected.”

  Artreus rubbed the back of his neck, a small grin creeping up.

  “It wasn’t just me… We had each other’s backs. And honestly, the princess? She can fight, too.”

  Samson’s hand ruffled Artreus’s hair.

  “Glad you’re safe, son.”

  Mikael smiled, watching quietly. Even Aidan, still wearing his usual frown, seemed less tense.

  Then Samson’s expression grew serious.

  “I heard… you fought a demon.”

  Mikael nearly choked on his drink. “Wait—what?!”

  Aidan’s eyes widened. “You what?!”

  Samson nodded slowly.

  “Not just any demon. An Archdemon. And you survived.”

  Mikael grabbed Artreus by the shoulders. “You fought an Archdemon?! Since when?!”

  Aidan clenched his fists. “That’s suicide!”

  Samson’s voice deepened, steady.

  “Archdemons are no ordinary enemies. Few knights—let alone humans—survive a direct encounter. Only the strongest of the Round Table ever managed that.”

  Artreus looked down, his hands curling into fists.

  “His name was Nero. He’s… strong. Too strong. I fought him once before—when I was eight. He was there… the night my hometown was destroyed. He tortured me. I thought I’d die back then…”

  He exhaled sharply.

  “And I nearly did again. If Guinevere hadn’t stepped in… I wouldn’t be standing here now. Twice I’ve faced him… twice I’ve run away.”

  His voice trembled slightly with frustration.

  “It pisses me off. I wasn’t strong enough to stop him.”

  Samson placed a hand on his shoulder again—firm, reassuring.

  “You lived. That’s what matters. You’ll face him again… when the time is right. And next time—you won’t be the same boy he met before.”

  Artreus looked up, his eyes burning with determination.

  “Right.”

  The Grand Feast – Royal Announcement

  The music dimmed slightly as King Thalorian stood from his table, accompanied by Queen Syltharia and their daughters. With graceful poise, he raised his glass and gently tapped it with a silver spoon.

  Ting! Ting! Ting!

  The chattering nobles turned their attention toward him, some standing respectfully, others pausing mid-toast. Even at the far ends of the banquet hall, whispers died down. The king’s brother and his fiancée looked up from their own table, as did Duke Albwin, who leaned back with a visible frown.

  Near the center, Artreus, Samson, Aidan, and Mikael looked toward the royal dais, alert and curious.

  King Thalorian’s voice rang out, calm yet powerful:

  “My friends, nobles of Elenora, and honored guests… tonight, we raise our glasses not just in celebration—but in gratitude. For the safe return of my daughter, the Princess Guinevere Elora Aragorn.”

  He paused, his gaze falling upon Artreus.

  “And for this, we thank her savior—Artreus Reigns, the younger brother of Arthur Reigns. Your courage and loyalty have brought her home. I believe… your brother would be proud of you.”

  The king lifted his glass.

  A soft wave of respectful clinks echoed through the hall as some nobles followed suit—though not all.

  Duke Albwin narrowed his eyes, muttering beneath his breath.

  “Tch…”

  The king continued.

  “And now, for my second announcement. After speaking with the legendary warrior who once saved our kingdom—Master Samson—I have extended an offer for him and his disciples to remain in Elenora for a time. To assist us in strengthening our defenses… and protecting what matters most.”

  The hall stirred.

  Murmurs rose.

  “Four humans… staying in the sacred realm?”

  “What is the king thinking…?”

  “Outrageous…”

  Albwin slammed his goblet down, stepping forward.

  “Your Majesty, with all due respect—what are you thinking?! Allowing humans to remain in our hidden sanctuary? There is a reason we isolate ourselves from their world! They brought ruin once before! Why should we trust them again?”

  Gasps echoed through the hall.

  The king’s gaze darkened.

  “Duke Albwin… they are our honored guests. They have proven themselves, not only in battle, but through loyalty. My daughter lives because of them. That is all the reason I need.”

  “With all due respect,” Albwin pressed, teeth clenched, “we elves have the arcane knowledge and power to guard ourselves! We don’t need brutes—outsiders—walking freely among us.”

  The murmurs grew louder. Even the king’s brother raised an eyebrow.

  Samson stood from his table calmly, arms crossed.

  Artreus and the others watched tensely.

  King Thalorian raised a hand.

  “That’s enough. One more insult against our guests, Albwin, and you will answer for it. This is your final warning.”

  A long silence.

  Albwin’s jaw tightened.

  “...Forgive me, Your Majesty.”

  With a huff, he turned and stormed off, his robes swaying as he disappeared into the crowd.

  The king turned back to his guests.

  “Their presence here is final. No further objections. There are… matters at play that we cannot yet reveal. But know this—it is for the safety of Elenora that they remain.”

  He raised his glass once more.

  “Tonight, we feast. For the princess has returned, and hope remains in our future!”

  Cheers erupted.

  The music returned in full flourish, lively flutes and gentle harps blending with the chatter of nobles.

  Artreus leaned closer to Samson, raising a brow with suspicion.

  “So… are we really staying here for a while?”

  Samson took a slow sip of his wine, lips curling into a smirk.

  “Why? You sound bothered, kid. I thought you’d be thrilled. You’ll be seeing the princess every single day now.”

  “W-What?!” Artreus choked, his cheeks flushing crimson. “What are you talking about, Master?! Why would I be happy seeing her every day? She’s just... u-uh... she bothers me sometimes!”

  TSK!

  He stole a quick glance at Guinevere across the banquet hall—elegant in her silver and emerald gown, laughing gently among the nobles. As if sensing his gaze, she turned and smiled softly at him.

  “Geh—!” Artreus panicked and immediately turned his head away, face red as a tomato. “(She saw me!)”

  Mikael, chewing on a roast leg, grunted.

  “Tch. Don't enjoy yourself too much, lover boy. You're twelve. She's older, royalty, and way out of your league. Give it up. Your reaction disgusts me.”

  A vein popped on Artreus’s temple.

  “What the hell are you on about?! Shut up!”

  Mikael slammed his cup down.

  “You shut up! Did you have enough fun flirting with a hot princess while we were out there starving in the woods? How’s that fair?!”

  "You’re just jealous!" Artreus growled, pointing a fork at him.

  "Jealous? Of you? In your dreams!"

  WHACK! Mikael threw a roll at him. Artreus dodged—barely.

  BAM!!

  Their heads collided as they bickered across the table, drawing attention from some startled elves.

  Meanwhile, Aidan sat silently beside them, slowly chewing a piece of buttered bread. He glanced at the two with an unimpressed frown, eyes drooping like he’d seen this show too many times.

  “Idiots,” he muttered, then calmly returned to his meal.

  High Above the Hall…

  While laughter filled the grand chamber and elven music danced in the air, a lone figure stood on the high terrace overlooking the great feast.

  The Royal Seer, a wizened elf with silver brows, deep-set glowing eyes, and ceremonial robes lined in ancient runes, watched silently.

  From above, his gaze fell upon Artreus, laughing beside Mikael and Aidan, a hint of fatigue still on their faces—but brighter with reunion and purpose.

  The Seer’s hand rested on the edge of the balcony.

  “So young… yet already walking the path.”

  His eyes shimmered faintly, glowing ever so subtly with mana.

  He watched as Artreus smiled, unaware of the many eyes watching him—some filled with awe, others with suspicion… and a few with fear.

  The Seer narrowed his gaze.

  “The child of two bloods… born of valor and shadow.”

  The flames from the distant chandeliers flickered wildly—as if reacting to something unseen.

  A soft breeze stirred the Seer’s long white hair as he spoke one final line into the night:

  “Destiny has arrived. The path between good and evil… begins now, Son of Azrael.”

  He closed his eyes.

  And far below—the celebration continued.

  The screen fades to black.