We returned to the banquet hall together, the warm glow of chandeliers washing over us as the sounds of conversation and music filled the air once more. The Martial King's sword art was safely tucked away in my spatial ring, but I could still feel its weight—not physical, but something deeper. A responsibility. A promise.
Arthur moved with his usual composed grace as we rejoined the crowd, but I noticed the way Princess Rachel's eyes found his immediately, a soft smile playing at her lips. Princess Seraphina, standing near the orchestra, turned as well, her elegant posture straightening as she caught sight of him.
I knew what would happen next. I'd seen it before at other formal gatherings—the expected protocols, the political necessities wrapped in social grace. Arthur would dance with both of them. It was part of his role, part of the delicate balance he maintained in this world of nobility and power.
