I AM A MAGE BUT WITH MILF SYSTEM

Chapter 882: The King

Around Julian, the more powerful members of the Astran household began to tense as they sensed the same thing. Some exchanged brief, uneasy glances. Others remained silent, their faces betraying what their words could not.

Even the lesser officers seemed shaken.

For some of them, it was as if everything they understood about power had suddenly been torn apart.

**

Astran sat near the peak of the kingdom’s ducal powers.

In open ranking, only few houses stood above it, and the only authority it formally answered to was the crown itself. Even so, the duchy could only produce four or five arch mages under ordinary conditions, counting the Duke, Commander Aldric, and even Kraven.

That in itself was formidable. It was also one of the reasons that rival territories spoke carefully around Astran’s borders.

However.

The royal family showcased FIFTEEN arch mages in front of them before the King even stepped down from his carriage.

So one could only guess how much were they hiding.

That thought struck Julian harder than the gold, the banners, or even rows upon rows of royal knights stood before him.

He had already decided to involve himself in the kingdom’s politics, and House Astran was his playing ground. Every alliance and every fracture affected him directly.

A warning sent to the duchy was in turn, a warning sent to Julian’s own working field. And if the Servant of Death stood behind the deeper currents of Hermes, then this show of strength carried a second meaning as well. It was pressure from the kingdom and, perhaps, a signal from the shadow beneath it.

**

roll roll

clop clop

The golden carriage came to a stop at the center of the courtyard.

A commander-looking royal knight stepped forward, dropped to one knee, and lowered his head towards the door of the carriage.

The response throughout the courtyard was immediate.

The Duke. The Duchess. Liam. The knights. The servants. Every person gathered in the courtyard lowered themselves as one. Fabric whispered. Armor shifted. Breath was held. The sight was impressive in its own way: an entire household brought into their knees by the mere arrival of the crown.

Julian naturally knelt with them.

His eyes remained lowered as far as propriety demanded. All he could hear for a moment were the rustle of clothing and the suppressed grunts of older men who were not used to holding a deep kneel for a long time.

Instinct pulled at him to raise his head and see the King with his own eyes.

But he refused the urge.

Blending mattered more than curiosity.

With the black soul still occupying most of Kraven’s body, he was already walking a narrow line. One wrong impression could draw the kind of attention that he could not yet afford.

Time stretched.

Five minutes or ten, no one present could have marked it cleanly.

Meanwhile, movement continued near the carriage: the sound of someone descending, their whispers, their footsteps and so on.

Julian tracked what he could through sound alone and judged that four people had descended.

Two men. Two women.

Then a voice broke through the silence.

“Ahem… cough, cough.”

The sound was soft, aged, and unhurried.

“What a pleasant welcome this is.”

In the pin-drop stillness of the courtyard, the voice carried everywhere. No one needed an introduction. Every bowed figure understood at once who had spoken.

His Majesty.

The King of Hermes.

The gathered crowd deepened their bows even further, their shoulders lowering, heads dropping an extra measure in answer to the presence of the crown. The King made a low sound of genuine pleasure, as if the sight of such complete obedience satisfied something in him.

Another voice joined his soon after.

“Duke Astran has always been loyal to the crown.”

It was a woman’s voice. It sounded mature and controlled, shaped by years of authority and influence. There was warmth in the words, yet beneath that warmth was an undeniable sense of superiority.

Julian noted the voice immediately. Whoever she was, she stood close enough to the King to speak in the same breath as him.

Only then did the King continue.

“I am pleased,” he said, and though his tone remained gentle, it filled the courtyard without strain.

“Pleased to see House Astran gathered in full, and pleased to see that the old standards of loyalty still hold meaning in this duchy. In times such as these, when unrest gathers at the edges of the realm and ambition learns to wear polite faces, such loyalty is worth more than banners and gold.”

A pause.

“I did not come here merely to be received,” the King continued. “I came to see with my own eyes the strength of a house that has long stood as one of Hermes’ pillars. Let all present understand this clearly: the crown remembers those who kneel with sincerity, and it also remembers those who smile while measuring the throne’s shadow.”

No one moved.

“Duke Astran,” the King said, “your service is known. Your house’s contribution to the stability of the south is known. Today, let this gathering reaffirm what should never require reminder. The bond between crown and duchy is not a decoration for peaceful years. It is a chain of duty, and both ends of that chain must hold.”

Another softer cough.

Then, at last:

“Raise your heads. Stand.”

The courtyard obeyed as one.

Fabric shifted. Armor straightened. Hundreds of bodies rose from stone, and for the first time since the golden carriage entered, the people of House Astran were permitted to look upon the King of Hermes in full.

Julian followed suit.

He stood, and only then allowed his eyes to rise fully to the King.

The man before him was completely different from the figure in Kraven’s scattered memories.

This King was tall and upright. Long white hair fell neatly down his back, and only a few wrinkles marked the corners of his eyes and cheeks. His gaze was sharp. Even now, it had already finished roaming over the Duke’s family, measuring them one by one.

The hem of his long flowing cape was carried by two beautiful palace maids, each moving with so grace that the fabric never touched the stone and their movement looked perfectly natural while doing it.

His crown caught the morning sun and it glittered with authority. Even his expression looked peaceful.

But Julian did not trust that peace for a second.

He knew how deceiving appearances could be.