Chapter 22: The Legacy Left Behind
After the final echoes of battle faded, the land that once trembled from magic and screams now stood silent, as if mourning the blood and sacrifices spilled upon it. The ruined Palace of Phillipe had been cleaned as best as it could—but the people still stood, and hope had not yet died.
The royal council was summoned. Old chairs that had long sat empty were once again filled by loyal, battle-worn faces.
The Prince—now King—Xebec sat upon the throne once held by his father. Half his body remained wrapped in bandages, yet there was no more fear in his eyes. To his right stood Nanea, representing the kingdom. To his left stood Marquess D'Eagles—the hero of the eastern border, now hailed as the "Eastern Spear."
"When the world nearly sank into darkness," Xebec began in a firm voice, "some of you chose to stand your ground. Today, the Kingdom of Phillipe rises again… not through the strength of my sword, but through the loyalty of all of you."
Then, the honors were announced.
"Marquess D'Eagles, for your courage and sacrifice on the battlefield, I name you the Grand Duke of the East. Carry your warrior's spirit to guard our eastern borders."
The council chamber roared. The surviving nobles stood in salute. D'Eagles, head bowed, accepted the title in silence. His eyes met Xebec's—filled with trust and respect.
Next, Xebec elevated several young nobles who had once been dismissed before the war. Second and third sons of minor houses who had led volunteer forces were granted lands and titles. This was not merely a reward—it was a message: a new era had begun.
"And lastly," Xebec rose, lifting his sword high. "I bestow the title of Swordsman upon every soldier who stood again when all hope had fallen. There is no greater honor than standing at the edge of the world—and refusing to yield."
Tears fell—not of sorrow, but of dignity restored.
---
Meanwhile, in the palace gardens, Bastian sat in silence. His wounds had healed, but the seal in his blood still throbbed with pain. He stared at the sky as if searching for answers.
"Bastian," a soft voice called out.
Nanea approached. In her hand was a letter sealed with gold—the crest of the Holy Empire of Ari. "Archduke Tristan will arrive this afternoon."
Bastian nodded. "Your lover."
Nanea smiled faintly. "And your ally."
Bastian looked at his reflection in the pond. "If I am the legacy of darkness… then perhaps he is the light we now need."
---
That afternoon, the imperial delegation arrived. A column of knights bearing sacred weapons cleared the path for the royal carriage that stopped at the front steps of the Palace of Phillipe. From it stepped a young man with silver hair, dressed in white and gold robes—Archduke Tristan von Ari, nephew to the Emperor and heir to the Holy Empire.
He looked at Xebec and smiled.
"Greetings from the Last Light," he said. "The Holy Empire comes not only as an ally… but as family."
And beneath the softly blowing wind, it felt as though a new chapter had opened. The war may have ended—but the legacy of blood and light was just beginning.
---
As twilight painted the skies, the palace grew quieter—yet a moment of tension sparked atop one of the main tower balconies. Xebec stood with his back to his younger sister, Nanea, his hand resting on the stone railing as he stared into the red-hued heavens.
"I only just learned… from the imperial guards," he murmured coldly. "You've been involved with Archduke Tristan von Ari… and you kept it from me—even during the war."
Nanea lowered her gaze, her face tense. "I wanted to tell you, but the timing was never right. And… I was afraid."
Xebec shot her a sharp look, then turned away again. "Afraid of what? That I wouldn't approve? That I'd call you a traitor for seeking the Empire's aid?"
Nanea bit her lip and took a deep breath. "Listen… I met Tristan during a diplomatic visit to Ari two years ago. We spoke by chance in the monastery gardens—about history, about dreams… and he was different. Not like other nobles. He didn't see me as a princess, but as someone he could dream with."
Xebec remained silent.
Nanea's voice trembled, her eyes glistening. "When the war broke out, I knew… only he could be the one I asked for help, because he loves peace just like I do. I never meant to betray you, Brother."
The wind stirred their hair as silence hung between them. At last, Xebec slowly turned and looked at his sister in stillness.
"I'm your brother. And you're my only sister," he said softly. "If he makes you happy… then you have my blessing, Nanea."
Nanea wept and threw her arms around him. The prince only stroked her back with his remaining hand.
Not long after, word spread through the palace like wildfire.
"Is it true Archduke Tristan is Princess Nanea's lover?"
"Then Prince Xebec will be brother-in-law to the Holy Empire!"
"So… when will his coronation be? It's about time, isn't it?"
From servants to guards to nobles, all whispered about the possibility of Xebec's official coronation as King of Phillipe. The rumors grew louder—especially now that there was no reigning monarch, and the crown clearly rested on the prince's shoulders.
Yet beneath the warmth and gossip, shadows of danger had not yet fully vanished…
---
Days passed since the great war that shook the continent. Though wounds had not fully healed, the Kingdom of Phillipe began to rebuild. The council of nobles gathered once more—this time, not for war, but to shape the future.
In the main hall of the partially renovated palace, nobles sat in a circular formation, donning their ceremonial robes. Xebec sat on a silver throne temporarily provided for him. Though not yet officially crowned, everyone knew the power now rested in his hands.
Behind the marble pillars, murmurs began to echo. Servants and lesser nobles whispered busily.
> "The boy we thought couldn't even hold a sword now cleaves demons like tearing parchment…"
> "And think about it—he's only got one hand!"
> "Even Grand Duke Theral fell… who would've thought the continent's hero would rise from House Phillipe?"
Meanwhile, in the banquet hall, delegates from across the realm lined up to pay their respects. Many had once dismissed Xebec—as a crippled heir unfit for the palace, let alone the battlefield. Now, their tongues twisted when forced to address him by title.
Lord Marquess D'Eagles was summoned before Xebec. He was formally appointed Grand Duke of the Eastern Shields—a title not granted in two generations. The title of Swordmaster was also bestowed upon him, though all knew he did not surpass Xebec in strength—this was an act of honor.
Other loyal nobles were also promoted. Those who defended the palace during the demon invasion were deemed the kingdom's new pillars.
Amid all the grandeur, political eyes began to stir. New factions formed, each vying to influence those seated near the throne.
But one question lingered in the air:
> "When will Xebec be officially crowned?"
And the rumors ran wild.
> "Maybe they're waiting for diplomacy with the Holy Empire of Ari to stabilize."
> "Or maybe… it's because the prince isn't married yet?"
> "Hush! You know nothing. Wasn't that noblewoman who fought beside him—Lady Astrid—his secret wife?"
Gossip became the embers stoking palace tension, as if a new war loomed—not of blood and magic, but of ambition and title.
Xebec himself sat quietly in his private chamber, hearing the rumors from his trusted servant. He only smirked.
> "They once saw me as a burden. Now they bet on who will sit beside me," he muttered.
But one thought weighed heavier in his heart: when he would be ready to become king… not by blood, but by his own will.
---
To be continued