The Akes Empire, ranked seventh in comprehensive national power among human realms, lies in the northeastern territories. Bordering the Moshando Empire, the two nations maintain friendly ties, sealed through generations of royal intermarriage.
Ruling the empire is the Frederick family—a centuries-old noble house with deep roots, numerous powerful members, and several Grand Sages anchoring its legacy. No wonder they’ve held the throne unshaken for over a century.
But this morning, Prince Bal of the Akes Empire was seething. The princess he’d pursued for years—Silva of the Severola Royal Family—had suddenly announced her marriage.
Had she chosen one of the renowned prodigies he knew, elites from mighty empires far beyond his standing, he might have accepted it. But *Roland*? A mere Bard? Not a single name Bal recognized among the younger generation’s strongest.
Rage boiled within him. He itched to storm the Severola palace, drag that Roland out, and give him a sound beating.
Inside the Frederick royal hall, nearly all court members had gathered. Upon the throne, Emperor Pedel reviewed a freshly delivered intelligence report. Its contents matched exactly what the Severola Royal Family had posted on the Arcanet—but this came from Frederick’s most elite agent. No room for error.
Silva’s wedding was real.
Pedel tossed the scroll onto the table, brow furrowed. “Strange… My niece never showed interest in anyone. How could she marry so suddenly? And this ceremony—announced at dawn, held by dusk?” He shook his head, utterly perplexed.
“And this Roland, the Bard… not a trace of him exists. As if he appeared from thin air,” Pedel murmured. He’d mobilized the entire royal intelligence network the moment news arrived—yet found nothing. What he couldn’t know: Silva had meticulously erased every record of Roland. Only families with profound influence, vast connections, and formidable power could uncover a hint.
Ministers and royals whispered nervously. Only one man stood silent—Bal, the emperor’s third son. Handsome, face pale with suppressed fury. The crown prince. The heir Pedel had long prepared to succeed him.
“Bal,” Pedel said gently, “I know your heart belongs to Silva. But she has chosen another. Let go. That house is beyond our reach. The Koshireli Empire recently proposed a political marriage—their Princess Mivie. Why not meet her?”
Seeing his son’s ashen expression, Pedel added softly, “The man who won Silva’s heart must be a prodigy surpassing even her. Someone we cannot afford to offend. I know your strength—and your limits.”
“Your Majesty…” Bal’s body trembled. He hadn’t expected his own father to urge surrender. Fists clenched, voice tight with fury: “I pursued Silva for *four years*! How can I abandon her now? I *will* see what this Roland is truly made of!”
“Nonsense!” Pedel slammed the table.
A wave of crushing magical pressure flooded the hall. Chatter died instantly. Ministers gasped, knees buckling under the terror. All knelt—those who could resist dared not.
This was the aura of a Grand Sage.
Only Bal remained standing. Teeth gritted, veins bulging on his temples, sweat beading his brow. Cracks spiderwebbed across the marble floor beneath his feet—a silent testament to his desperate resistance.
“Hm? You’ve ascended to Archmage?” Pedel’s shock melted into delighted awe. After testing the pressure a moment longer, he withdrew it.
Relief washed through the hall. Breaths returned.
“Three days ago, Your Majesty. I simply hadn’t announced it,” Bal replied calmly—though a hint of pride flickered across his face.
At twenty-four, reaching Archmage placed him among the continent’s top prodigies. A genius with clear potential to become a Grand Sage. Noble houses fought to recruit talents like him. With his striking looks and gentlemanly grace, beauties had thrown themselves at him for years. He scorned them all. Only Silva mattered.
“Excellent! Excellent! Excellent!” Pedel beamed, joy lighting his aged face. “Then go. But remember: do *not* cause a scene. Our empire’s prosperity owes much to the Severola Royal Family. Provoke them, and I will not shield you.”
“Yes, Your Majesty. I only wish to observe Silva’s fiancé. I know my limits.” Bal bowed deeply—but a shadow of resentment and malice flashed in his eyes.
Across human territories, identical scenes unfolded. Young prodigies from noble houses and imperial lines petitioned elders to attend Silva’s wedding. All shared one goal: witness Roland, the mysterious fiancé.
By noon, wedding invitations reached every major power. Crowds surged toward Oliverlam in the Moshando Empire.
The news even crossed borders. Rumors confirmed: Queen Melissa of the Elven Kingdom, King Thorin of the Dwarven Kingdom, Sea Goddess Heilois of the Oceanic Kingdom, and Beast King Hansas of the Beastman Kingdom—all stepped through spatial gates with trusted retainers, arriving on human soil and heading straight for Oliverlam.
The continent trembled.
