Jack was shocked—then overjoyed.A new hope kindled within him. Maybe—just maybe—he could overcome the limitations that plagued other mages. Maybe he could pioneer a different school of thought, one that didn't rely on rigid incantations or drawn-out rituals. A new era for mages… forged by his hands.
It sounded far-fetched, even foolish.But then again, wasn't that how it all began?
Magic had once been unknown—until one gifted human reached beyond the veil, touched the natural order, and unraveled its secrets. He had been only one, but his gift became the foundation for all. Humanity followed in his footsteps, learning from the trail he carved into the unseen world.
Jack couldn't stop smiling. His mind spiraled deeper and deeper, consumed by thoughts of mana and magic, of flame and focus, of paths yet untrodden.
The days passed faster than Jack had hoped, and now he stood before the gates of Greenriver Manor. Lavish carriages slowly came to a halt along the shores of Greenriver Lake. The narrow land bridge clearly wasn't built to support such extravagant vehicles. An escort of nearly a hundred Red Blade knights accompanied the procession, along with the Princess's own Royal Guards—also nearly a hundred strong—not to mention the swarm of servants and maids.
It looked like a small army had gathered at the gates of his home.
A smaller group broke off and crossed the narrow bridge. Leading them was a woman who stood a full two inches taller than Jack, much to his dismay.
"Am I really that insecure about my height?" he thought.
She had short black hair and a beautiful face, marred only by a scar that ran from her left cheek down to her chin. If it had been any higher, she would've been a one-eyed scarface.
"Garren's been a bad influence on me," Jack sighed at his own lame joke.
But his humor evaporated when he noticed her eyes.
The scar-faced knight was staring directly at him—unblinking, unwavering. Her black eyes drilled into him like twin obsidian blades, honed to kill. Her aura surged outward, oppressive and aggressive, pressing against Jack's senses like a physical weight. There was nothing subtle in it—it was blatant hostility, deliberate disrespect. Her very presence screamed defiance, as though she were daring him to flinch. It was the kind of pressure only a seasoned knight could exude, a suffocating challenge thrown in the face of a noble inside his own gates.
It was a slap. Not to his cheek—but to his authority.
Garren and the other Red Blades reacted before Jack could. Their auras flared. Garren stepped forward, his hand gripping the hilt of his sword. He locked eyes with the scarred woman and growled in a low, rumbling voice:
"Lower your gaze."
His voice was so deep it made the air itself shudder.
The scar-faced woman didn't flinch. The tension only grew.
Back on the shore, the rest of the entourage noticed the standoff. The Royal Guards reacted first, marching toward the bridge. The Red Blades who had escorted the Princess were caught off guard for only a moment. One of their commanders quickly barked out orders:
"Block the bridge. No one crosses."
They knew the castle housed over thirty Red Blades, in addition to other troops. The Princess's entourage was relatively small—barely a dozen, with only six trained combatants. The rest were aides and the Princess herself. Blocking reinforcements was the priority.
Back at the manor gates, Garren grew more impatient. His grip on the sword tightened with each passing second. Other Red Blades joined him, shielding Jack from the scar-faced knight's gaze.
Just when it seemed the tension would snap, a feminine voice rang out. Not loud, but clear. Sweet enough to soothe a storm.
"Enough of your antics, Tracy."
A figure emerged from behind the scar-faced knight. She wore a flowing blue gown embroidered with golden thread in intricate floral patterns. The craftsmanship was so fine it gave the illusion that golden flowers bloomed across the silky fabric. Her brown hair cascaded like a waterfall, and her face was hidden behind a white silk veil. Only her red, amber-like eyes were visible—staring directly at the knight.
The scar-faced woman lowered her gaze at last. She turned to the source of the voice and bowed deeply.
"I apologize, Your Highness."
Then she looked toward Jack, still shielded behind Garren and his men. Garren scoffed in response but signaled the others to make way.
Tracy gave a curt bow.
"I apologize for my transgression, Your Grace."
Jack stepped forward, his red eyes locking with another pair just like them—though hers were a slightly lighter shade.
He smiled as he approached the scar-faced knight.
"You must be Tracy, I presume?"
"Yes, Your Grace," Tracy replied.
Jack's pace didn't slow. He kept walking until he was just inches from her face. Tilting his head up to meet her deep black eyes, he asked, in a voice barely above a whisper:
"Do you know who I am?"
"Yes, Your Grace. You are Jack Von Ignis, Count of Greenriver, and future Duke of the Ignis Duchy."
Jack finally stopped. He looked up into the scar-faced knight's eyes and whispered slowly:
"You don't."
He stepped back—just one step—but remained close enough to make Garren's spine tingle, half-expecting his lord's head to fly off at any second.
Jack paid no mind to his guards' subtle attempts to pull him back. Instead, he turned his gaze toward the veiled girl—the one whose eyes mirrored his own.
He pointed a finger at her.
"I am her husband."
He paused deliberately, enjoying the flicker of confusion and frowns that spread across both the Princess's and Tracy's faces. Even the Red Blades, including Garren, were stunned into silence.
"Future husband, technically. Still, you were looking at me so affectionately. Are you perhaps trying to win me over with those beautiful eyes of yours?" he said, tracing a finger gently along the scar on Tracy's face.
She jumped back, startled by his touch.
Everyone was stunned.
Even Garren couldn't help but think, Affectionate, my foot. She looked ready to tear you apart. What the hell is going on in your head?
"Or were you trying to threaten me? Which one is it?" Jack said, gesturing for Garren.
"Garren, what's the punishment for disrespecting and threatening the ruler of these lands?"
Garren's eyes scanned the Princess's group before replying.
"Death, my lord."
Jack's smile didn't fade.
"I see. Then what should I do, Your Highness?" Jack asked, giving a gracious bow toward Seraphine, whose eyes never left him.
"I wouldn't dare interfere in duchy affairs, Your Grace. If she has committed a sin on your lands, it's your right to judge her. But surely, she just looked at you—it wasn't a crime, just a simple mistake. If anything, your handsome and attractive face is to blame. She might have fallen for your charm and lost herself. Please forgive her," Seraphine said sweetly.
But Jack knew sarcasm when he heard it. He was an expert.
"Oh no, my lady, you've misunderstood. I wasn't talking about that. It's only natural to get lost in my handsome face. I was referring to how she disrespected you."
"Me?" Seraphine blinked.
"She looked at me—your future husband. That's highly disrespectful to you. Imagine your own knight thinking about your husband. That's just wrong, isn't it?"
He turned to Tracy, his voice mockingly theatrical.
"So tell me, were you enchanted by my charm? Or were you threatening me?"
Tracy panicked. "No, Your Grace, that's not what I—"
Jack's tone darkened.
"If that's not what you meant, then are you threatening me?"
Garren unsheathed his blade in perfect sync with Jack's tone.
Seraphine quickly raised a hand, signaling Tracy to stop.
"Your Grace, plea—"
Jack cut her off, his smile gone. His red eyes turned cold as they shifted back to Tracy.
"One hundred lashes. My knight captain will carry out the punishment."
No one voiced an objection.