Aros reached into the inner pocket of his black coat. The movement alone made Amos instinctively tense because every object his father owned radiated absurd amounts of value through Amos’s new eyes.
Seriously.
Even the cufflinks looked like they could buy a small country.
Then,
His father placed something onto the table.
A ring. Simple silver ring with no gemstones and extravagant decorations. Plain enough that Amos eyes almost missed it entirely.
The moment his eyes focused on it. The ring seems rather blurred slightly. Mana folded inward around the ring unnaturally. As if something was pushing mana away. Amos couldn’t properly “see” the artifact no matter how hard he tried. His dragon eyes slid off its existence instinctively because it has no value, no it can't put a value on it.
“…Father.”
“Yes.”
“This is definitely an illegal artifact isn't it?”
“It is.”
“That was not a reassuring answer.”
Aros ignored him.
“The Veil Ring.”
Amos stared at it cautiously.
“It suppresses aura, mana leakage, bloodline pressure, and presence so perfect, it best used in an assassination.”
“Why do you even have that.”
“.....”
“Oh.”
Aros looked directly at Amos’s eyes again.
“You currently resemble a newborn dragon at this moment.”
“That feels about right.”
“It is right, Young Master”
Aros continued calmly.
“Without suppression, anyone will notice your changes.”
“That sounds problematic.”
“It is.”
Amos slowly picked up the ring.
The moment he touched it. Cold mana wrapped around his finger naturally before disappearing beneath his skin.
Instantly, the overwhelming sensation faded. The streams of mana he sees was gone. His own presence no longer spilled outward uncontrollably.
Amos blinked.
“Oh.”
Then blinked again.
“OH.”
Relief flooded his body so intensely he almost collapsed backward.
“I AM NORMAL AGAIN.”
“Yes.”
“I genuinely believed I was about to develop a gold addiction.”
“You already did,” Elena said.
“Details.”
Aros ignored the conversation entirely.
“Aside from controlling your aura, there is another reason you need this artifact.”
Amos immediately became wary. Whenever powerful fathers in fantasy stories said sentences like that = problems followed.
“What reason?”
“The Imperial Palace.”
Silence.
“I beg your pardon?”
“The imperial princess’s birthday banquet is in two weeks.”
Amos stared.
Then slowly turned toward Elena.
“Elena.”
“Yes.”
“Did I hear that clearly?”
“Yes.”
Aros continued mercilessly.
“You will attend this even if the world is ending in a month.”
Amos’s shoulders slumped instantly.
“Father.”
“Yes.”
“I recently survived ancient dragon blood.”
“Yes.”
“I believe I deserve rest.”
“No.”
“I hate noble society.”
“You are noble society.” Elena responded.
“That sounds like victim blaming.”
“Elena.” The Lord said.
“Yes.”
“Prepare formal attire for both children.”
Amos froze.
“Both?”
Aros nodded once.
“Ambrosia will accompany you.”
Silence.
Then Amos immediately straightened.
“Oh.”
A beat.
“Wait.”
Another beat.
“With me?”
“Yes.”
Amos processed this slowly. Very slowly.
Meanwhile,
Several floors away,
A tiny sneeze escaped Ambrosia completely out of nowhere.
Back in the room, Amos pointed at himself.
“Father.”
“Yes.”
“You want me to escort my extremely traumatized little sister into one of the most politically dangerous places in the Empire.”
“Yes.”
“Have you considered that this may worsen my survival chances?”
“What are you even saying.”
“Tch.”
Aros crossed his arms.
“You are the heir of House Kyros.”
“Sadly.”
“You will eventually stand among imperial nobles regardless.”
Amos immediately frowned.
“Wait.”
Something clicked.
“The imperial princess”
“Yes.”
“The future female lead type imperial princess?”
Aros stared at him silently.
“Elena.”
“Yes, Lord?”
“Did my son hit his head or something?”
“None that I know of.”
Aros’s gaze sharpened slightly.
“Evelyn W. Fredias.”
Even the name carried weight. The imperial family. The absolute center of the Empire.
“Ah.”
Aros misunderstood his reaction entirely.
“She is gifted.”
“That’s exactly what I’m afraid of.”
“You fear talented people?”
“I fear for my life.”
Silence.
“USELESS.” The lord stared at his pathetic now weirder son.
Aros reached toward the table again. This time placing down a folded black invitation sealed with golden wax. The imperial crest, whole shebang. Even through the envelope, Amos could feel layers of enchantments woven into it.
“This banquet will gather nearly every major noble house.”
Amos immediately looked horrified.
“That sounds like an awful time.”
“It is politics.”
“That is literally the same thing.”
“You will attend regardless of your opinions on it.”
Amos lowered his head dramatically.
“My peaceful life... ended so soon before I even try”
“You are a Kyros.”
“My peaceful life was doomed from the start.”
“Yes.”
At least his father was honest.
Aros’s expression remained calm.
“Ambrosia has remained isolated since arriving here.”
Amos blinked slightly.
His father continued.
“She fears nobles.” Aros glare at his son.
“It's understandable.”
“She fears this family.”
“More understandable.”
“She will eventually need to stand beside House Kyros publicly.”
Silence settled quietly.
Then Amos slowly understood.
This was not simply a birthday banquet. This was Aros pushing Ambrosia into noble society carefully.
And Amos was being used as her shield.
“Father.”
“Yes.”
“You trust me with this?”
Aros looked directly into his eyes.
“I trust that my son will be able to protect his sister.”
Amos froze slightly.
Aros’s voice remained calm.
“I just know that my son will be able to carry on our family pride.”
Amos genuinely did not know how to respond.
He panicked internally.
OH NO. FATHER IS HAVING AN EMOTIONAL MOMENT.
“Elena.”
“Yes.”
“Help.”
“No.”
Aros ignored him one final time before turning toward the door.
“Prepare yourself.”
Then he paused slightly.
Without looking back—
“And Amos.”
“…Yes?”
“Do not cause any troubles to the imperial family.”
Amos looked deeply offended.
“I will not.”
Both Aros and Elena looked at him silently.
You definitely will.