That evening, as moonlight crept in through the curtains, William lay alone in his cradle, enveloped in soft shadows.

[WILL YOU REALLY GO TO THE CEREMONY?]

"Yes," William replied confidently, his voice calm and composed.

[BUT HOW? I TOLD YOU—YOUR PARENTS WON'T BRING YOU TO SUCH A BORING EVENT.]

"I know," he said, unfazed.

[SO HOW THEN?]

"My dear brother will take me."

[NO! YOU EVIL BASTARD! LEAVE THAT POOR CHILD ALONE!]

"I'm not using him, Wiz. I just want to be by his side."

Their debate was cut short by the sound of a door slowly creaking open. William shut his eyes immediately.

Baroness Mowbray entered, followed by several maids. Her footsteps were light but purposeful.

"Stay with the young master. Don't leave him alone until I return," she instructed.

The maids bowed silently.

[WAIT… SHE'S LEAVING TOO?!]

"Of course."

[WHY?!]

"Didn't I mention? All prominent nobles are required to attend. Baroness Mowbray, as the head of her barony, is no exception."

She kissed William gently on the forehead, then exited the room with her escort of maids.

[OKAY, BACK TO THE PLAN—WHY ARE YOU SO SURE JACK WILL COME TO SEE YOU?]

"Because he's my brother. And he cares."

As if summoned, the door opened once more. Jack stepped inside, dressed in a sleek black suit with a red-striped tie. His eyes fell on the sleeping form of his brother.

He tiptoed toward the cradle and leaned in. "Sweet dreams, William," he whispered softly.

William opened his sapphire-blue eyes.

Raising his little arms, he reached for Jack.

Jack sighed. "You're really something else," he muttered, lifting William gently into his arms.

[I TAKE IT BACK. HE NEVER LEARNS.]

Jack tried to lower William back into the cradle.

William began to cry.

He picked him back up.

Silence.

Jack groaned. "Why do you always do this? I'm going to get scolded again…" He hesitated, then nodded to himself. "Guess I'll take you with me."

He scribbled a note:

"I'm taking William with me to the ceremony — Jack de' Medici."

Then, with his brother tucked safely in his arms, he slipped from the room and made his way through the grand estate.

  The Ceremony Hall

The guards at the grand double doors bowed deeply and pushed them open.

The scene inside left even William momentarily stunned.

The hall was vast—chandeliers hanging like stars, walls glimmering with polished stone, and every corner filled with nobles in glittering attire.

"Hey, Jack! Over here!" a voice called.

Three young children waved him over—two boys and a girl, all around Jack's age.

Jack approached, still holding William.

One of the boys squinted at William. "Is that your brother?"

"Yes."

"Can I hold him?"

"You may not."

"Why not?!"

"He doesn't like strangers."

"I'm not a stranger!"

William studied him. Red hair, blue eyes... Arthur Drakemont, heir to Count Drakemont. A future powerhouse, but not important right now.

The girl leaned in and gently stroked William's hair. "He's so pretty. What's his name?"

"William."

Pink hair, soft green eyes… Ana Capet, daughter of Count Capet. One of the youngest prodigies to ever attend the Imperial Academy.

The last boy adjusted his oversized glasses and said, "He looks bored."

Luke Wintermere, William thought. Son of Count Wintermere—technically a viscount, but politically equal to the western nobility due to their scholars and statesmen.

"Why'd you bring him to a grown-up event?" Luke asked.

"Because he's my brother," Jack said simply. "And I bring him wherever I want."

Arthur rolled his eyes. "Don't get cocky just because you're the first one to break through."

Jack smirked. "They said I'm a genius. I'm just proving them right."

"Guys, stop," Ana said, trying to mediate.

Just then, William noticed his mother, Amanda, speaking to Countess Capet across the room. As the Countess left, Amanda turned, locking eyes with William.

He giggled instantly.

Jack froze.

Arthur gave him a knowing smirk. "You didn't ask for permission, did you?"

"Nope," Jack admitted, already sweating.

"Well, he is your brother," Arthur said with a shrug. "Guess you're allowed."

"Shut up," Jack muttered, flustered.

Amanda approached them, her expression warm. "What is William doing here, Jack?"

"Mom, I went to see him, and he wouldn't let go! But I left a note this time."

Amanda chuckled. "It's alright."

She took William from Jack's arms, then turned to the others.

"Good evening. You look lovely, my lady," Arthur said, bowing with boyish gallantry.

"Oh my, thank you, Young Lord Drakemont," Amanda teased. "You've grown into a charming young man."

Arthur turned beet red.

Luke and Ana giggled.

After a few more pleasantries, Amanda looked down at William. "Let's go see your father."

William clung to her as they approached Edgar.

When Edgar saw his son, his stern face softened into a rare, warm smile. He wrapped an arm around Amanda, forming a picture-perfect family portrait.

But the moment was interrupted.

"Good evening, my lady. You're radiant as always." James, Edgar's personal secretary, bowed deeply and reached for Amanda's hand.

But he froze mid-motion.

Edgar's gaze pierced through him, cold and unmoving. His hand twitched toward the weapon at his waist.

James quickly retracted. "Oh! Lord Medici! I didn't notice you standing there!"

The pressure in the room thickened.

James swallowed hard. "I just remembered—I have urgent matters to attend to! My lord. My lady. Goodbye!"

He fled.

Amanda chuckled and leaned against Edgar's arm. "He's not that hostile boy you brought in eight years ago."

Edgar smiled faintly. "Shall we greet the guests, my lady?"

"Yes, my lord."

 

They made their way through the room.

First came three men: red-haired, black-haired, and brown-haired.

"Count Drakemont, Count Capet, and Viscount Wintermere of the West," William noted. Close-knit, politically aligned. None exceed level 50—unsurprising, as they don't specialize in combat.

His eyes shifted again.

Count Archy and Marquess Valois. One with blue hair and violet eyes, the other golden-haired with eyes like polished brass.

Power players in the capital. Along with the Medicis, they control most noble affairs. Only the Duchy of Milan stands equal to them.

[HEY, WILLIAM.]

"Yes?"

[THAT BLUE-HAIRED GUY LOOKS FAMILIAR.]

"He should. He's the father of the female lead—my future fiancée."

Wiz let out a dramatic gasp.

Across the hall, William spotted a broad-shouldered man with ginger hair and a thick beard.

Marquis Ironhart, he thought. One of the four rulers of the West. Not aligned with the others. Level 87. As expected of a war-hardened noble.

Then came a dignified man with gray hair and jet-black eyes.

"Duke of Bavaria," William whispered. Young, dangerous, and tactful. He's not just nobility—he's history wrapped in flesh.

"Good evening, my lord and lady," the Duke said, bowing lightly. "I'd greet the lady more formally, but I hear Lord Medici is... protective."

Edgar smiled thinly. "Don't worry, Duke. It's your presence that matters."

Just as they began to speak, a voice echoed through the hall.

"Ladies and gentlemen, welcome!" James stood atop a raised platform. "Tonight, we gather to honor the breakthrough of Young Master Jack de' Medici!"

The hall erupted in applause.

"As tradition dictates, we open with a sparring match between two lords—to show our young mystic the grandeur of essence!"

"Lord Medici versus Lord Archy?" someone shouted.

"Not a bad idea!" James grinned. "Their levels are equal."

He turned toward the crowd. "Lord Archy, will you accept?"

"With honor," Archy replied, bowing slightly.

Edgar stepped forward. "It will be my honor as well."

[HA HA! A FIGHT BETWEEN YOUR DAD AND YOUR FUTURE FATHER-IN-LAW?!]

[HMMMM… THIS WILL BE INTERESTING.]

William grinned.

Yes.

Very interesting indeed.