No one reacted strongly to Jack's announcement as the new count of Greenriver. It was as though they had all expected it. The title of count of Greenriver was a traditional honor passed down through generations of the Ignis family—an heirloom, handed from father to son, as naturally as a chick follows its successor. No formal ceremony was required.
Jack entered the hall with quiet confidence, his steps steady, his mind trained in matters of finance and governance. His eyes locked with those of various officials and noble lords—some amazed, others unreadable, yet none openly deferential. There was no flattery, no fear in their gazes. Jack noticed. He returned their stares calmly and took his predetermined seat—left of the Duke's elevated platform at the head of the hall.
To his left sat an old man with a crown of white hair and a parchment in hand. This man, the chamberlain, began announcing the day's agenda—ranging from finance to military concerns to social issues within the duchy. One by one, topics were raised, and one by one, the room came alive with discussion. Ministers, nobles, and officials debated, proposed, and contested solutions. The Duke listened, occasionally intervening with a final decision—his word law within these walls.
Jack sat silently, watching, listening. The room was alive with voices and intention, yet there was a practiced rhythm to it all—neat, orderly, deliberate. These were not mere arguments. These were the arteries of power, and Jack observed them with sharp, hungry eyes.
He was learning—each inflection, each pause, each gesture. Soon, he intended to speak among them. Soon, he would no longer be an observer.
Then, amidst the hum of the Royal Code being read aloud, a guard's voice cut through the air.
"The Royal Delegation from the Centre has arrived!"
The guard outside raised his voice once more, echoing through the grand hall:
"The Royal Delegation has arrived—led by none other than the Minister of the Kingdom, Viscount William Dillith!"
A hush fell over the chamber.
Moments later, Minister William entered with measured steps, flanked by a dozen officials, each dressed in formal court attire and wearing the traditional toque of the central government. Their presence brought a cold wind with them, and their formation alone spoke volumes about the weight they carried from the royal capital.
Upon entering the hall, Minister Dillith removed his toque with solemn dignity. He approached the center of the court, eyes calm, steps deliberate. From behind him, an attendant stepped forward and handed him a scroll—golden and sealed with the royal sigil.
He raised it before the assembly.
As the early morning sun filtered through the high stained-glass windows, the scroll gleamed with unnatural brightness. Everyone's gaze was drawn to it. The silence deepened.
Jack watched carefully. Around him, nobles exchanged looks—frowns and suspicion etched into every expression. No one bowed. No one moved.
The Ignis Duchy was part of the Kingdom of Valmore, a realm ruled from its central capital. It consisted of one major city and five counties surrounding it. Yet only one duchy existed—and it belonged to House Ignis, a family with a legacy older than the crown itself. As the only duke and the leader of the noble faction, Jack's position was not to be trifled with.
And yet, here stood the Prime Minister, walking into their court with a gilded scroll and a royal entourage—without invitation. It was a statement. A warning. A slap in the face to the assembled lords.
Minister Dillith stood tall, holding the golden scroll before him like a decree from heaven. He began to unravel it slowly, letting its weight be felt more than its words.
But before he could utter a single line, a sharp voice rang out from behind him.
"That's enough, Minister!"
All heads turned sharply.
"I presume this is the will of the royal family—entering another's hall uninvited, and without even greeting the host? Hmph… I suppose this is as far as their culture goes,"spoke a sharp voice from the crowd.
All eyes turned to the speaker—a red-haired man in military regalia, his arms crossed, his eyes burning with restrained contempt. General Morgan.
Minister William Dillith, however, showed no visible reaction. His smile remained undisturbed, elegant and practiced.
"Ha ha… General Morgan, you must have misunderstood me," he said smoothly, turning with the grace of a seasoned courtier. "This is the land of Valmore Kingdom, where all are treated equally. I need no invitation to visit lands that belong to the crown, do I, Your Highness—Duke Joshua?"
A sudden, deep voice thundered across the hall—"Enough with the theatrics."
The air shifted.
Everyone turned as Duke Joshua, seated high above on the platform, looked visibly impatient. His cold eyes settled on the scroll in William's hands.
"You brought His Majesty's message, didn't you? Read it—and go."
William gave a shallow, graceful bow in acknowledgment. Without losing composure, he raised the golden scroll slightly and began:
"This is a Royal Decree. All present shall—"
But before he could finish, a calm yet assertive young voice cut through the air.
"Greetings, Prime Minister," the youth said evenly. "As you mentioned, this is the land of our great kingdom—where all are treated equally. Wouldn't it be an insult to that very principle to ask the people to kneel before a piece of paper?"
Gasps rippled through the room, followed by stifled laughter. Nobles exchanged glances—shocked, amused, impressed.
The speaker stood confidently: a teenage boy with silver hair, his posture upright, eyes gleaming with sharp wit and challenge. Jack, the young Count of Greenriver.
He glanced at Minister William with a poised, polite smile—offering no malice, only clarity.
Before William could react, General Morgan burst into hearty laughter, his voice booming through the court.
"Well said, Young Count!" he bellowed. "Just as you said, Minister William—our great king treats all as equals. Surely he wouldn't ask us to kneel before a scroll, would he?"
More laughter followed—tense but real. The atmosphere had shifted.
William gave a small, practiced chuckle, the corners of his mouth twitching just slightly as he masked any hint of irritation.
"But of course," he said smoothly, giving another shallow bow. "His Majesty is indeed… generous. And very open-minded."
With that, he handed the scroll back to his aide, brushing off the dust of ceremony. He continued in a measured tone, loud enough for all present to hear:
"His Majesty holds the Duchy of Ignis in the highest regard—an essential pillar that strengthens the very foundation of our kingdom. In light of this, His Majesty wishes to form even deeper ties between the crown and the duchy."
A pause. He smiled.
"And thus, we have been sent to announce a marital proposal—for the Duke's heir."
Murmurs broke out instantly—shock, curiosity, anticipation.
William turned toward Jack with the full attention of the court now on him.
"Now that I have witnessed the keen mind of the Young Count of Greenriver... I must say, he would make a most suitable match for none other than Her Royal Highness, Princess Seraphina Valmor, the First Princess of the Kingdom."
Silence.
The weight of the announcement settled on the hall like a thundercloud.
All eyes turned to Jack.