CHAPTER 515: ’OTHER KINGDOM’S ARRIVAL.’

Whispers erupted like wildfire the instant Heinz’s words settled in the air.

The crowd stirred, voices hushed but sharp, slipping between the cracks of applause.

Nobles exchanged wide-eyed glances, fans fluttered in restless hands, and even some of the dukes shifted, brows lifting at the king’s bold declaration.

Florian’s eyes stayed wide, his breath caught somewhere in his throat. His cheeks burned hot, crimson spreading fast as though the stares of the entire ballroom had set his skin aflame.

Yet Heinz... Heinz did not falter.

He stood tall, his hand still resting lightly against Florian’s arm, gaze never wavering. His lips curved into a soft, steady smile—warm, unshaken, utterly sincere.

There was no mockery, no teasing lilt in his expression.

He wasn’t playing with Florian. He wasn’t joking.

He meant it.

Which made Florian’s chest tighten all the more.

’What is he doing? Why would he say that—here of all places?’

Florian blinked up at him, searching, desperate for some hint in his eyes. But all he found was calm, unwavering affection, as if the king were immune to the storm of whispers surrounding them.

Heinz’s voice carried out again, smooth and commanding. "Because of you, a lot of good has come to this kingdom... and to me." His words rang out clearly, silencing some of the murmurs. His gaze never left Florian’s. "This celebration is for you. An appreciation for being blessed by your arrival to me."

Florian’s stomach twisted, confusion clawing at him.

’Really... what is he—’

He didn’t understand. Not the timing, not the reason, not the weight of the words.

What was Heinz’s goal? Why was he doing this in front of everyone?

But before he could process it, Heinz’s expression softened even further. His voice lowered, though still loud enough to reach every corner of the hall.

"Happy birthday, Florian."

The words struck Florian like a chord, so tender they nearly unraveled him.

And then—like a wave breaking—the hall followed.

"Happy birthday, Prince Florian!"

Voices rose together, the words echoing through the ballroom, carried on the swell of applause.

Hands clapped in unison, louder, stronger than before, filling the chamber with sound. Chandelier crystals trembled with the vibrations, golden light scattering across the marble as the nobles celebrated him.

Florian froze in place, overwhelmed. His heart raced erratically, the clapping pounding in his ears almost as loud as the frantic beat in his chest.

He should have smiled. Bowed. Something. Anything.

But all he could do was stand there, hand trembling faintly where it held Heinz’s arm, staring at the king who had just shifted the entire night into something he hadn’t expected at all.

’Heinz... what are you planning?’

Heinz leaned down slightly, the thunder of applause still rattling through the vast hall, his lips so close Florian could feel the faint heat of his breath against his ear.

"Say a few words," he whispered, his voice low, meant for Florian alone. "Thank them."

Florian’s chest tightened painfully. His fingers twitched where they clung to the fabric of Heinz’s sleeve, the gesture small but desperate. He gave the slightest shake of his head.

’No... no, no, I can’t. What do I even say after that? I’ll make a fool of myself in front of everyone—’

He tried to swallow down the panic, forcing the corners of his mouth into a trembling, brittle smile for the crowd. But the words wouldn’t come.

’Just thank them all, and be humble...I guess...’

His throat had locked itself, a barricade against sound, and every cheer that echoed back at him only made the weight of those countless eyes press harder, heavier, suffocating.

Heinz’s hand slid lower, giving his arm a subtle squeeze—gentle, steadying, coaxing.

Yet before Florian could muster even a broken syllable, salvation appeared.

From the sea of nobles below, Lucius cut through with characteristic grace, moving as though the crowd bent around him by its own will.

A herald followed at his side, robes sweeping, his presence commanding instant silence. Then a second herald strode forward, raising his staff and lifting his voice high above the fading applause.

"Announcing—the honored guests from beyond our borders! Envoys and royals of the neighboring kingdoms, bearing gifts for His Highness Prince Florian!"

The effect was electric. Gasps and whispers spilled through the hall, rippling outward like fire catching dry grass.

The cluster of young princesses near the front nearly burst with excitement—silken fans snapping open in a flurry of color, their cheeks blooming pink as their eyes widened in expectation.

Florian blinked rapidly, stunned. His lips parted in a faint, shaky whisper meant only for himself. "G–Guests from other kingdoms...?"

’They’re finally here.’

But beside him, Heinz had changed. The warmth that had lingered in his voice moments ago drained, replaced with something colder, darker.

His jaw ticked ever so slightly, and though his bearing remained as poised and kingly as always, Florian could feel the tension brimming beneath.

’Now he looks upset.’

Still, Heinz did not falter. Straightening to his full height, he projected his voice like a blade cutting clean through the excited murmurs.

"Let them in," he declared, tone smooth but carrying a sharp edge that made the nobles stiffen. "They have traveled far to honor this day. Make way."

The hall obeyed at once. Like a tide retreating from shore, the crowd shifted and parted.

Dresses of silk whispered against polished marble, boots scuffed softly as nobles stepped back, bowing their heads as a wide path formed down the center of the hall.

Every eye turned toward the grand entrance, anticipation thick enough to choke the air.

At the top of the staircase, Heinz and Florian stood, framed like figures carved into the heart of the palace itself, the world narrowing in on them.

Florian’s pulse hammered, his grip on Heinz’s arm tightening unconsciously until his knuckles whitened.

’It’s finally time to meet them.’

"Introducing, the royal family from the Tranquilis Kingdom—the esteemed Sereneson family!" the herald proclaimed, his voice echoing like a trumpet blast across the vast hall.

All heads turned as the great doors at the far end groaned open. The polished wood parted slowly, deliberately, as though the palace itself were unveiling the guests with ceremony.

Golden torchlight spilled across the entrance, framing the figures that began to emerge.

Florian’s breath caught. His chest tightened as recognition stirred within him.

’Athena’s family but...’

Oh.

"His Majesty, King Marius Sereneson!" the herald continued, his staff striking the marble with a sharp crack that made the nobles on either side flinch. "Accompanying the king, Princess Monica Sereneson and Prince Hendrix Sereneson Obsidian!"