50: The Crown Prince of Emoria

The Crown Prince of Emoria

The Archduke's manor was an architectural gem amongst the beautiful landscapes of Emoria, and the garden that surrounded it was no less than a splendid piece of art.2

Handpicked by Grace de Lanark, every flower planted there was one to bloom all year round. Long marble columns were climbed by flexible vines with dangling branches, and the road that went through it was paved with rare white stones available only in Lanark, and exported only to Fevra where the Emorian capital was.

The garden was even livelier today.

The Archduke's family followed by his commander and the knights of the First Order, then every man, woman, and child living or working in the estate gathered there to welcome the esteemed guest. Adela stood in front of them all, right next to her father, dressed in a beautiful golden gown beneath its matching golden cape.

Her face was pale with apprehension, her thick hair was straightened to perfection beneath a golden crown that only royals were allowed to wear. Her olive green eyes twinkled under the thick layer of black eyeliner that was the only makeup she had on, and her artificial yet wide smile never left her lips as the Fevran carriages approached.

"Adela, do not forget what we talked about in your room,"

Adela gave her sister a small nod without looking her way. Larissa who looked spectacular in her casual clothes was especially beautiful in a silver gown that was almost the same classic design her younger sister wore.

The streets were crowded with excited Lanarkians who left their houses and workplaces preparing to greet the Crown Prince. Unlike their introverted King, Claude de Lanark would refrain from opening portals as means of commuting, expressing his desire to see Emoria and meet the citizens on the road. Nobles and commoners of all ages adored him, seeing a bright future for their Kingdom through his eyes.

When the cheers of the people marked the Crown Prince's arrival, Grace flushed red.

"Adelaide, we are not clear on His Highness's intentions, mind every word that comes out of your mouth,"

Kaiser gave his wife an exasperated glare. He had specifically asked her to stay out of the entire mess.

It was never an option for the Archduke to argue with the will of the King no matter who that King was.

He did not argue when his father ruled and sent him on endless quests for empty glory, nor did he object when the time for his older brother to govern came along and the kingdom was thrown into economic instabilities that remained neglected if not fostered by the imperial untimely and inadequate response.

Adela's gut experienced an increasing amount of pressure as the carriage approached.

"All hail the blessing of Emoria, Crown Prince Claude de Lanark!" one of the royal guards who stood by the gates shouted, and the bustling sound of trumpets accompanying the entrance of the imperial carriage rang out. Not too long after, the Crown Prince's carriage built with a combination of platinum and mana stones, glittered beneath the winter sun. 

Knights removed their helmets and held them to their hearts, noblemen bowed their heads while commoners bowed to the ground, and the remaining noblewomen curtsied. 

The carriage parked not too far away from Adela.

Claude opened the door and stepped out, his blonde hair was swept backward, and his light green eyes carefully scanned the garden, the laughter of three young children resonating in his head. 

It was right here in this estate where he came to know the warmth that he had always missed in the cold northern palace. His uncle's attitude toward his daughters was the striking opposite of the King's strictness with his firstborn who came after long years of fertility treatment the Emorian Queen had to endure. Having passed away a month after giving birth to a sick princess a year after. Claude's perfection seemed to have become the King's sole obsession. An enormous load his shoulders had to carry at such young age. He often wished he was born the Archduke's son, for no position of power could have filled the void his father left in his heart back then.

Things were extremely different now. 

Claude smiled broadly as he spotted Kaiser with ease, his uncle was the one person who stood proud and tall, looking him straight in the eye with the arrogance of a veteran royal. 

Claude took confident strides toward the Archduke, they shook hands and exchanged warm nods. 

"I have returned to Lanark at last, uncle,"

"Welcome back, Your Highness,"

As per Emorian customs, no one moved to greet the Crown Prince before he made the first contact. His eyes moved to the right looking at Grace de Lanark and his redheaded cousin.

"Grace, you look younger and more beautiful each time I see you, and Larissa, you are indeed, a flower in full bloom," 

Both women straightened up, smiling at the generous compliments, much like he did as a young boy, the Crown Prince had a way with words, he seemed to know just what to say in the exact right time to say it. 

Adela was the closest to him, nevertheless, he saved her for last, smiling crookedly as his eyes took in her elegant posture — her eyes glued to the mown of the garden beneath her transparent shoes, she looked as if she could stay like that for hours if he so wished. 

The first thing she noted was that he wore Fevra's unique golden armor beneath a white fur cape fit for the cold of the north, last she had seen him, he had just turned sixteen but looked a spring younger than her fourteen-year-old self back at the time.

A decade does change a man...

The Crown Prince's hand finally touched her elbow, an unspoken permission to end the curtsy. 

"I should not have missed your debutant celebration, Dela," 

As she straightened up, Adela smiled nostalgically hearing the name he spoke in a man's husky voice instead of the boyish one she recalled so well. The face in her memory lacked the sharply defined jawline of a mature man who was much taller than her now. The handsome Crown Prince who looked just like the late Queen had grown up into what she had always told him he would become one day... A heartthrob.

"You would have stolen my thunder, Your Highness," 

Chuckling, Claude de Lanark unnecessarily held her fingers and brought them closer to his face, ever so lightly brushing his lips against the back of her hand just like his father did not too long ago. He placed her hand on his folded arm with a secret smile after that.

"I have indeed missed this place and all of you, it is good to be back,"

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