Chapter 500. Royal Son-in-Law, Open for Proper Negotiation

Chapter 500: 500. Royal Son-in-Law, Open for Proper Negotiation

A faint, familiar shimmer bloomed in the air between them as their lips met, and William felt it more than he saw it the system choosing, with its characteristic and infuriating lack of timing, to announce itself at the exact moment of genuine connection.

[Official Bond Confirmed: Kaela Aurelius.]

[Harem Boost Threshold Updated. Multiplier potential will continue to grow as each bond deepens in genuine sincerity.]

William registered the words at the very periphery of his consciousness, a ghostly blue glow flickering across his vision, and he dismissed the notification with the practiced indifference of a man who had grown weary of divine arithmetic. A year ago, he suspected he would have frozen mid kiss to analyze the syntax, to calculate precisely how this new threshold would affect his next spar, his mana regeneration, or his skill allocation. He would have dissected the word ’sincerity’ like a surgeon dissecting a cadaver.

But not today. Right now, the cold logic of numbers felt hollow compared to the heat of Kaela pressed against him. Her smile, her breath, the way her fingers curled into his shirt that mattered considerably more than any glowing status screen. The system could keep its multipliers; he had found something that didn’t need to be quantified.

The news of their official bond reached King Theron and Queen Isolde by that same evening. William suspected it had been carried by a palace servant who had happened to witness the moment from a nearby window someone who simply couldn’t resist the delicious gossip of a royal romance. He discovered exactly how the news had been received when he and Kaela arrived for dinner and found both monarchs already seated, practically vibrating with an excitement that bordered on alarming.

"Finally!" Queen Isolde burst out the moment they crossed the threshold of the dining hall. She didn’t wait for introductions or ceremony; she clapped her hands together with a joyous enthusiasm that William had never seen a reigning queen exhibit in all his months at court. "I’ve been waiting for this since that thunderstorm two months ago! Haven’t I told you, Theron? I told you it would happen eventually!"

"You did say that," Theron admitted, a broad, rare smile spreading across his usually composed and regal features. The king looked less like a monarch burdened by a kingdom and more like a man who had just won a long anticipated wager. He turned his gaze toward William, his expression shifting into something that was simultaneously hopeful and terrifyingly earnest. "Instructor Wade."

William straightened his posture, instinctively preparing for a serious diplomatic inquiry.

"I feel I must ask directly, as a matter of state interest," Theron continued, leaning forward. "Would you consider the position of royal son in law still formally open for proper negotiation?"

William, who had just taken a sip of water to steady his nerves, immediately choked. He coughed violently, his face flushing as he struggled to regain his composure while water dribbled down his chin.

Beside him, Kaela didn’t offer comfort. Instead, she buried her face in both hands with a long, pained groan that sounded like it came from the depths of her very soul. "Father," she muffled through her palms, her voice dripping with mortification. "Please. For the love of the gods, please."

Queen Isolde, entirely undeterred by William’s coughing fit or Kaela’s mortified groaning, had already produced what appeared to be a small leather-bound notebook from somewhere within the depths of her formal robes.

The rustle of pages filled the sudden silence as she began flipping through them with alarming speed, her eyes scanning notes that looked suspiciously like extensive sketches of floral arrangements and seating charts.

"I’ve always pictured a spring ceremony, personally," Isolde mused, tapping her chin thoughtfully with a quill. "The royal gardens are at their absolute finest during the first thaw, and the lighting in the East Hall around sunset is simply unmatched for that time of year."

"The way the amber glow catches the silver embroidery on the bridal veils..."

"Isolde," Theron interrupted, clearing his throat in an attempt to reassert some shred of monarchical dignity.

He tried and spectacularly failed to sound like a man who was in control of his court rather than a spectator at his own family’s chaos. "Perhaps we should allow them a little breathing room before we begin drafting the ceremonial decrees and selecting the peonies."

"Nonsense, Theron."

"A mother must plan ahead, or she risks disaster." Isolde glanced up from her notebook with the serene, unshakable confidence of a general who had already mapped out every possible victory. "I only want to be prepared, dear, for whenever they decide to make it official."

William looked helplessly at Kaela, but she remained frozen, her face still buried in her hands as if she could physically disappear into the palms of her hands. He then shifted his gaze toward the far end of the table, where Catherine sat in quiet observation.

Unlike the royal couple, Catherine showed no signs of panic or overeagerness; instead, she wore an expression of pure, undisguised delight at the spectacle unfolding before her.

"Don’t you dare look at me for help," Catherine said before William could even open his mouth, not bothering to hide her amusement behind her goblet. "This is easily the most entertaining dinner I’ve attended in three years."

"You could at least pretend to be on my side," William muttered, finally wiping the water from his chin, feeling the heat still burning in his cheeks. "This is... unprecedented."

"I could," Catherine agreed smoothly, leaning back in her chair with obvious satisfaction. "But watching you suffer through this social ambush is considerably more satisfying than any platitude I could offer."

She took a slow, deliberate sip of her wine, savoring the moment like a fine vintage. "Besides, I believe it’s only fair."

"You’ve grown far too comfortable being the calm, composed center of every storm."

"The unflappable Instructor Wade... Watching you get flustered by a wedding planner is refreshing."

William shot her a pointed look. "A queen asking for my hand in marriage on her daughter’s behalf is not a ’refreshing’ social situation, Catherine."

"It is a diplomatic minefield."

"No," Catherine admitted, her lips curling into a wicked grin as she caught his eye. "It’s a considerably funnier one."

Isolde, apparently interpreting William’s flustered silence and obvious discomfort as nothing short of quiet, reverent encouragement, had already flipped to a fresh, crisp page in her notebook.

The soft scritch scratch of her quill became the only sound in the room as she began sketching what appeared to be a meticulous floor plan of the East Hall. Her lips moved in a rapid, unconscious murmur as she calculated distances.

"The Duke of Valerius will need to be seated near the eastern alcove to avoid obstructing the procession," she whispered to herself, her brow furrowed in concentration. "And if we place the Aurelius family at the head table, we must ensure the floral arrangements don’t overwhelm the view of the dais..."

Theron watched his wife with the expression of a man who had survived countless political coups only to be defeated by the sheer force of maternal enthusiasm.

There was a deep, long-suffering affection in his eyes, the kind earned through decades of learning that attempting to redirect Isolde’s excitement was not a diplomatic negotiation but a battle against a force of nature.

He knew better than to argue; he had tried during the Great Frost, and he had tried during the Delmore Crisis, and both times she had simply smiled and continued her plans.

With a practiced, gentle motion, he reached across the table and placed his hand over the notebook, slowly closing it.

"Perhaps," Theron said, his voice carrying the soft authority of a king who was gently steering his kingdom and his wife back toward sanity, "we save the architectural blueprints and the seating arrangements for a slightly later dinner."

"One where the guests aren’t currently choking on their water."

The silence that followed was charged with the lingering tension of the moment. William felt the heat still prickling at the back of his neck, while Kaela finally lowered her hands, though her cheeks remained a shade of crimson that rivaled the royal wine.

"Spoilsport," Isolde said, though there was no real venom in it.

She allowed him to set the notebook aside without any meaningful resistance, though she didn’t actually stop planning. The way her eyes continued to dart toward the empty space where the imaginary wedding would stand suggested she had already moved on to fabric swatches in her mind.

She seemed perfectly satisfied, it seemed, simply having planted the seed of inevitability in the middle of the dining hall.