Chapter 97: Baron Halden & Baroness Isolde

He took the handles of her chair. Pushed her through the gates.

The palace was massive.

Larger than the arena. Larger than anything Isolde had ever seen. White stone. Gold trim. Towers that scraped the sky. Guards in crimson and gold lined the entrance. Banners bearing the Magenta crest hung from every wall.

Emeric pushed her chair up the wide marble steps. Two servants flanked them. Their footsteps echoed in the vast entryway.

Isolde looked around. Her eyes were wide.

"It’s... incredible."

"It’s something."

She glanced at him. "I’m always in awe of this place"

"The last time we were here." He paused. "It didn’t go well."

"I remember. You ended up picking a fight for me."

They reached the great hall.

The doors opened.

The hall was beyond anything Isolde had imagined.

A vast chamber of marble and gold. Chandeliers dripping with crystal. A ceiling painted with scenes of the kingdom’s founding. Hundreds of nobles. Knights. Soldiers. All of them standing in perfect rows. All of them watching.

At the far end, a raised dais. Two thrones. The Magenta crest.

Isolde felt the weight of their gaze.

Whispers spread as they entered.

"The Unblessed one."

"And his wife. The cripple."

"The Storm Mage. I heard she can barely move."

"How did he win? He must have cheated."

"He didn’t cheat. I saw him fight. He’s... something else."

Isolde’s hands gripped the arms of her chair.

Emeric leaned down. His voice was soft.

"Ignore them."

She nodded. Just once.

The messenger stepped forward.

"Her Majesty Queen Sylvia Magenta! And His Majesty King Aldric Magenta!"

The room stilled.

The Queen entered first.

Sylvia Magenta. Radiant. Regal. Dressed in crimson and gold. Her dark hair was swept up. Her smile was perfect. She walked with the confidence of a woman who owned everything she surveyed.

Behind her—slowly, weakly—the King.

Aldric Magenta. Frail. Pale. His skin was grey. His hands trembled. He walked with a cane. His eyes were distant. Unfocused. He looked like a man who had not long for this world.

The Queen helped him to his throne. Settled him. Kissed his cheek. Then she took her own seat beside him.

The room waited.

The messenger unrolled a scroll.

---

"By order of Her Majesty Queen Sylvia Magenta, Regent of the Kingdom of Meganta, and His Majesty King Aldric Magenta, Sovereign of the Realm, the following is decreed."

The room was silent.

"Emeric Halden. For your valor in the Trials of Valor. For your skill in combat. For your victory in the final match. You are hereby granted the title of Baron of Ravensport."

Whispers rippled through the hall.

"Your lands shall encompass the village of Ravensport and the surrounding territories. Your income shall be provided by the Crown. Your rights and privileges shall be those of a noble of the realm."

The messenger paused.

"Rise, Baron Halden."

Emeric rose.

The Queen watched him. Her smile didn’t reach her eyes.

"Congratulations, Lord Halden."

He met her gaze.

"Thank you, Your Majesty."

The room was conflicted. Some clapped. Others whispered. The Halden family—standing in the front row—was stone-faced. The Rowan family—standing nearby—looked like they had swallowed something bitter.

Emeric didn’t look at them.

He looked at Isolde.

She was crying. Silent tears streaming down her face. But she was smiling.

He smiled back.

---

The ball began.

The great hall was transformed. Tables of food. Wine. Music. Nobles mingling and laughing and scheming.

Emeric stood near the edge of the room. Isolde beside him. Tatia had retired to their quarters—she was exhausted from the journey.

Nobles approached. One by one. They smiled. They congratulated him. They tried to curry favor.

"Lord Halden. A pleasure. I’m Lord Arte. My estates border yours. Perhaps we could discuss trade?"

"Baron Halden. Congratulations. I heard about your victory. Remarkable. Truly remarkable."

"Lord Halden. My daughter is unmarried. Perhaps a union could be—"

Emeric listened. Nodded. Said little.

Isolde watched. Amused.

"You’re popular," she murmured.

"I’m a novelty."

"You’re a baron."

"Same thing."

Then his father approached.

Duke Halden.

He was tall. Cold. His grey hair was swept back. His dark eyes were fixed on Emeric. Behind him—Kaelen. And Celeste.

The three of them stopped in front of him.

The room seemed to quiet.

"Emeric," the Duke said.

"Father."

A long silence.

"You’ve done well for yourself."

"Thank you."

"You’ve brought honor to the family name."

Emeric said nothing.

The Duke’s jaw tightened.

"Your brother is... displeased."

"I’m sure he is."

Kaelen stepped forward. His face was red. His hands were clenched.

"You cheated. You had to have cheated. There’s no way you—"

"Kaelen." The Duke’s voice was sharp.

Kaelen fell silent.

The Duke looked at Emeric.

"We will speak later. Privately."

"I’m sure we will."

The Duke turned and walked away. Kaelen followed. Celeste lingered a moment—her eyes on Isolde—then she followed too.

Isolde exhaled.

"That was..."

"Weird?"

"Yes."

Emeric nodded. "It always is."

The ball continued.

Emeric stood it for as long as he could.

---

The ball was still in full swing.

Emeric had been standing near the edge of the room for over an hour. His feet ached. His face hurt from smiling. His patience was wearing thin.

Isolde was talking to a noblewoman—the wife of some lord he didn’t remember. She was being polite. He could see the strain in her eyes.

He leaned down.

"I need to use the bathroom. I’ll be back."

She nodded. "Don’t get lost."

"I won’t."

He walked away.

The palace was a maze.

Emeric followed a corridor away from the great hall. Past servants carrying trays of wine. Past guards standing at attention. Past doors that led to rooms he didn’t recognize.

He found a bathroom. Used it. Washed his hands.

Then he stepped back into the corridor.

And realized he had no idea where he was.

He walked.

The corridor was quieter now. The music from the ball had faded to a distant hum. The lamps were fewer here. The shadows longer.

He turned a corner, then another.

The corridor narrowed. The walls grew darker. The air grew colder.

He stopped.

Where was he?

He looked around. No guards. No servants. No doors he recognized.

Just a long, dark hallway.

And then he heard it.