The doors opened with a low creak, and a pair of men stepped into the hall. Conversation dropped in silence. A few heads turned, then more. Silence followed like a ripple in water.
One had blonde hair, carefully combed, his bangs falling neatly over his forehead. A white suit with golden embroidery wrapped his thin figure, the collar barely hiding his long neck.
Beside him stood a man holding his arm. He wore a dark green suit embroidered with curving patterns, his dark blue hair slicked back on top of his head.
The crowd’s gazes shifted the moment they noticed the pair.
"The Emperor’s consort—Leon Aster?"
"What is he doing here?"
"With the Archduke, Yohan Sylvaris, no less?"
A lady hummed, her eyebrows raised.
"He used to be a painter, if I recall. He only took the title two centuries ago, didn’t he?"
"Dad?" Zayden whispered, eyes wide.
He had been searching for Ren in the crowd until he caught sight of the familiar figure. The murmurs of the nobles only confirmed his thoughts. It was the Emperor’s first wife. Though demoted to the position of consort after Soren’s birth, for the Empress was the one who provided the heir.
"My son!" the blond-haired man exclaimed.
Zayden instantly bowed.
"Greetings, Your Royal Highness."
Leon gently lifted the young man back up.
"I was not aware you would be coming. Why did the guards not announce your arrival—"
"Shh." Leon tapped Zayden’s shoulders softly, calming him. "I asked them not to."
"It seems I’m invisible now," Yohan muttered as he stepped closer, tugging Leon back by the arm.
"I apologize," Zayden chuckled, nervous. "It’s just... I haven’t seen Dad in so long."
"Come then, introduce me to your son." Leon’s hand clasped Zayden’s, eyes scanning the hall. He turned. Left. Right. However, he couldn’t spot any children that shared similarities with Zayden.
"Uh... he’s there." Zayden pointed toward Eiran, seated at the edge of the dance floor.
Leon blinked, tilting his head.
"Huh? But isn’t he too big? Even if he is your son—"
"Dad." Zayden forced a smile, lowering his voice. He prayed his father would take the hint. ʀᴇᴀᴅ ʟᴀᴛᴇsᴛ ᴄʜᴀᴘᴛᴇʀs ᴀᴛ novel·fire.net
All eyes were on them, curious, questioning. Why was he here instead of the Empress? Instead of the Emperor himself?
The Imperial Consort had no filter. He spoke his mind without care, even if his words sparked whispers and trouble. Zayden never understood why. And whenever he asked, Leon would only laugh it off, claiming he was born that way. Yet Zayden still remembered him differently—calm, quiet, unapproachable.
From the crowd appeared Duke Danman, his wrinkled face tugging a grin.
"Why is Your Royal Highness? Where are the General’s parents?" He asked, enjoying the dropping smiles of the three. Nothing could have satisfied him today.
He arrived to make sure no one would suspect him, at least prove that he was involved in any of the plans he prepared for Zayden. However, he didn’t expect to meet the Consort instead of the Empress.
Well, that works to my advantage.
"Why does it matter?" Zayden asked, his voice sharp. He didn’t expect to meet Duke Danman this early. He expected him to come, but already? From the first day?
Did he plan something for every single day, or what?
He glared at the old man.
"My! I was simply asking what everyone here was wondering."
Zayden didn’t answer, simply signalling the musicians to resume their task. At least then, these nobles would stop preying on his matters and just enjoy the banquet. Then, he headed towards Eiran, holding his Dad’s hand. The Archeduke followed closely, not leaving the two out of sight for a moment.
The child was slumped on the chair. And when he spotted Zayden’s boots, his head instantly lifted.
"Dad!" He exclaimed, but his bright smile disappeared as soon as he saw the strangers beside Zayden. "Who are they?"
"Celine hadn’t taught you who the Consort of the Empire is yet?" He asked, gently setting him on the floor. Even if he had grown, his weight was lighter than any arms he carried.
"Consort?" Eiran tilted his head.
"Queen," Leon smiled, gently patting the boy’s head.
Eiran instantly reached for his hand, stepping backwards.
"Don’t ruin my hairstyle," he said, cheeks puffed.
Leon burst into laughter, confusing the three.
"I..." his body trembled as he tried to calm himself. "I thought he was not your son. But after seeing this, I am certain," he inhaled, finally stopping to laugh. "He is indeed your son."
Zayden exhaled, shoulders relaxing as if a weight had been lifted.
"Of course," he said, glancing at Eiran, who smiled back at him with that same spark in his eyes. A spark he knew too well.
"Take a seat," Zayden extended his hand toward the chair beside Eiran. "I prepared them for Mother and Father, but it seems they will not arrive today."
Leon and Yohan exchanged a glance before sitting. Their attention never strayed from Eiran.
"Come sit beside me."
Eiran hesitated, his gaze flickering between Zayden and Leon before edging closer.
"Dad calls you Dad, but he has a mother and a father. How could that be? I only have two parents." His head tilted, confusion written across his small face.
Zayden’s lips parted, ready to explain, but Leon spoke first.
"Yes!" Eiran exclaimed, his eyes lighting up instantly.
"I will ask my servants to serve you some."
With a clap of his hands appeared a young woman with blond hair falling over her shoulders appeared, her black dress brushing her knees. She bowed before vanishing again.
Eiran blinked, startled. His hand reached for Zayden’s sleeve without him realizing, clinging as though to steady himself. Zayden glanced down, warmth flickering in his chest.
"It’s a technique from my motherland," Leon explained lightly, though his eyes lingered on the boy as if reading his thoughts.
"Sure, sure. I will teach you one day."
Zayden’s gaze sharpened.
"Father," his voice lowered just enough for Leon to hear. "Don’t make promises you can’t keep."
Leon arched an eyebrow, amused. "Still as serious as ever."
Zayden didn’t answer, only shifted Eiran closer to his side, one hand resting gently on the boy’s shoulder. He had no intention of letting his son be swept into Leon’s careless whims—not tonight, not here, before all these watching eyes.
He really needs to be more conscious of his surroundings... But where is my attendant?