Chapter 264 The King Of Felgura



"So you will either bet on it or put one of your wishes from the game on it?" Vespara asked.

"I haven't thought about that," he replied.

"Well, but I will need one more thing for the potion to be made."

"What is it?" he asked.

"I will let you know; for now, let's head back. The meeting with the king can happen at any time now."

*Tsk*

The sound of the group's departure resonated through the busy streets as they made their way back to the welcoming arms of the inn. 

While traveling through the city, however, Vespara's crystal, nestled within her ring, emitted a subtle vibration, catching her attention.

Vespara's eyes sparkled with curiosity as she removed the crystal from its hiding spot. The message it contained, albeit brief, was crucial: an invitation to attend a meeting at Felgura Castle alongside Aizel.

"It seems we have to go right away," Vespara said.

"Nowww... Man, I wanted some sleep," Aizel said in annoyance.

"Shelly you can head back. We will see you afterward,"

"Okay, have fun,"

Shelly bid farewell to her companions, setting off towards the inn. 

While everything was going on, Vespara and Aizel changed course and headed back toward the potion shop.

The unexpectedly quick schedule change required a minor detour but was essential to their meeting.

Aware that their current attire wouldn't suffice for the occasion that awaited them, Vespara and Aizel sought a semblance of refinement.

Inside Vespara's room, Aizel changed into a royal gown that Vespara had chosen especially for this occasion.

The all-black suit he wore emphasized his imposing stature and gave him an air of mysterious allure. The fabric clung to him with a touch of sophistication, its midnight tone reflecting the depths of his mysterious character.

Vespara, meantime, posed in front of a full-length mirror, her reflection belying the majesty of her new appearance.

She dressed as a War Goddess Royal Mage, donning a magnificent outfit made with painstaking attention to detail.

The white cloth, with its faint hints of gold, flowed around her body, emphasizing her poise and authority. 

Adorning the attire is a symbol of a soaring griffin, emblematic of her magical prowess and connection to ancient powers.

"Is there anything I need to be careful about?" He asked.

"Just control your anger there and don't do anything stupid. Whatever happened or whoever tries to make you angry, just ignore every single one of them."

"Okay,"

*****

Felgura Castle...

Aizel stood by Vespara in the castle's big ballroom, eyes closed in thoughtful silence. 

The room buzzed with excitement as their assembled crew, dazzling in royal garb, cast a spell over everyone. 

A mysterious figure stood among them with a scarf covering half of their face and exuding an air of intrigue. A group of mysterious magi wearing black clothing and hiding their faces to indicate that they belonged to the illustrious Kingsley family were accompanying this mysterious person. 

A wave of reverent silence washed over the gathering as the Water Saint entered the ballroom. Aizel's attention was riveted on the approaching person, and his countenance was a mix of astonishment and curiosity. 

The arrival of the king, however, was anything but conventional.

The king looked nothing like a grizzled monarch; rather, he had the air of a teenager just entering puberty. With otherworldly grace, his silver hair cascaded down his back and was neatly knotted at waist level.

The king's slim build and frail features gave him an air of youth that was at odds with the weight of his position as monarch.

Despite his outward appearance, the king commanded respect and attention as he floated through the floor. His silver hair shone like the chandeliers and intertwined with the sense of mystery that pervaded the ballroom.

This guy looks like a protagonist from a Chinese novel," Aizel thought.

[Is he really the king?]

The King went cheerfully across the ballroom, ignoring the usual greetings that would have been extended to him. It was as though fate had paved the way for him to arrive at Aizel's side. The king reached out as he got closer, placing his hands on Aizel's shoulders.

The monarch looked directly at Aizel, his eyes twinkling with the unbridled enthusiasm of a young man.

"Finally, I was able to meet you, young War God," the king said.

"It's a pleasure to meet you, King," Aizel replied. 

As Aizel replied to the king in a casual manner, a ripple of mixed emotions spread across the faces of those present. Some people's brows were furrowed in displeasure, while others seemed quite unconcerned.

Aizel's lack of a customary bow seemed to unsettle the room, disrupting the expected protocol and norms.

"No no no, you are not allowed to call me king. Just call me Lacaris from now on."

Everyone's eyes went wide after they heard that.

"Okay Lacaris, you have a great castle, by the way," Aizel replied with a smile.

"Isn't it? My ancestors have paid quite a lot to build this castle. 

"Come join us for the dinner."

Aizel nodded.

Following the king, the guests entered a magnificent room with lavish furnishings and a huge table that could accommodate all those in attendance. 

Everyone sat down in their assigned chairs, which represented their rank and power in the kingdom. King Lacaris made a shrewd move by arranging the seating arrangement so that Aizel and Vespara were seated on either side of him, further highlighting their role in the proceedings.

The room hummed with anticipation as the noble families, heads of prestigious lineages, settled into their respective positions. Among them was Alecra, whose eyes flickered with unmistakable loathing as they landed upon Aizel. 

A figure stood out among the assembled dignitaries; her calm exterior belied the emotional storm raging within. 

Seraphine, her features carefully neutral, cast glances towards the king. Behind her calm facade, a volcano of frustration, anger, and resentment threatened to erupt.

Zareena's palm tightened around Seraphine's, a wordless plea for Seraphine to exercise self-control and resist the temptation to act on impulse.

"My dear King, how was your trip?" Cedrid Crestfall broke the silence. (the headmaster of the institute)

"It was a very pleasant trip, Cedric. Now I can't wait for the tournament."