Imperial Arrival

Cecilia sat gracefully in the plush interior of the Imperial car, her demeanor a perfect blend of elegance and mild irritation. The crimson dress she wore clung flawlessly to her form, its rich hue a striking match to her deep red eyes. Her blonde hair cascaded over her shoulders in soft waves, framing a face that radiated effortless confidence.

Around her neck rested a diamond necklace that glittered faintly in the dim light of the car. Her hands, encased in long black satin gloves, were conspicuously free of jewelry—a deliberate choice that lent her an air of understated sophistication.

The car moved with smooth efficiency through the bustling streets of Avalon, flanked by an escort that exuded Imperial authority. Ten Imperial Knights from the Second Division rode in the vehicles surrounding hers, their presence a testament to the protective zeal of Emperor Quinn. Leading the retinue was their Vice Captain, Nolan Wright, seated in the front of Cecilia's car.

Nolan's ice-blue eyes scanned the surroundings with practiced vigilance, though his posture seemed relaxed. His hair, meticulously combed back, reflected his polished demeanor. Yet beneath his outward calm lay a simmering ambition.

'His Majesty didn't send half this escort for Her Highness when she went to the Chase estate,' Nolan mused, his thoughts veering between duty and quiet frustration. The excessive display was undeniably Quinn's way of ensuring the world understood the value he placed on his daughter.

But for Nolan, this journey wasn't just about Cecilia. It was about Arthur.

Several months ago, Nolan had faced Arthur in a duel, back when Arthur had just scaled the Wall. The result had been nothing short of humiliating for Nolan. Despite his peak Ascendant-rank, Arthur had dismantled him with a casual ease that still haunted his pride.

Since that day, Nolan had worked tirelessly, pushing himself to new limits. He knew the gap between them remained vast—Arthur was no ordinary foe—but the prospect of facing him again stirred a fire in Nolan's chest.

"Did so many of you have to come?" Cecilia's voice broke through his thoughts, her tone tinged with mild exasperation as she rested her head against her arm.

"His Majesty's orders, Your Highness," Nolan replied, his tone carefully measured.

"Ugh." Cecilia clicked her tongue, letting her head fall back against the car's headrest. She reclined into her seat with a casual grace that only accentuated her regal air, though her irritation was palpable.

The journey was mercifully short. The Tower of Alchemy, a towering spire of shimmering stone and glass, rose into view as the convoy approached.

As the car slowed to a halt, an Imperial Knight stepped forward to open the door. Cecilia emerged with unhurried poise, her crimson heels clicking against the stone road as she stepped onto the ground.

The air around her seemed to shift, the weight of her presence drawing the attention of everyone nearby. Her gaze lifted to the towering structure before her, its sleek design and arcane embellishments glittering faintly in the sunlight.

"So this is the Tower of Alchemy," she said, her voice carrying the faintest note of curiosity. "It looks like the Tower of Magic's twin."

Nolan, stepping out behind her, remained silent, his sharp gaze sweeping the area. The Tower loomed high above, its intricate runic patterns glowing faintly as if alive with the hum of mana.

"Your Highness," he finally said, his voice steady, "we should proceed inside. The Tower Master is expecting you."

Cecilia cast him a sidelong glance, her expression unreadable. Then, with a flick of her hair, she began walking toward the entrance, her strides confident and unhurried.

Behind her, the Imperial Knights moved into formation, a silent wall of discipline and power. And as Nolan followed in her wake, a faint smile touched his lips.

Cecilia stepped into the Tower of Alchemy with the regal grace that came naturally to her. The interior was much as she had expected—grand, intricate, and thrumming faintly with the power of advanced alchemical craft. The resemblance to the Tower of Magic was unmistakable, and while its design might have inspired awe in others, Cecilia's expression remained composed, her crimson eyes betraying no more than a passing curiosity.

The air inside was crisp, faintly tinged with the sharp scent of mana reagents and the hum of enchanted machinery. Runes glowed softly along the walls, their intricate patterns forming both ornament and function in equal measure.

Waiting to greet her, standing in a posture of formal humility, was the Tower Master himself: Marquis Lucas Wrought. A high noble and the second most renowned alchemist in the world, Lucas carried himself with an air of practiced dignity.

"Greetings, Your Highness," Lucas said, bowing deeply. His voice was smooth, carefully measured to convey the utmost respect. In status and influence, he was leagues behind Archmage Charlotte, and he understood well the delicate balance required when addressing a princess of Cecilia's standing.

Cecilia returned his bow with a slight tilt of her head, the barest hint of a smile gracing her lips. "Greetings, Tower Master Lucas," she replied, her tone warm but deliberate. "I am here to receive a tour of the Tower and, in particular, to oversee my Arthur's activities as Elder Maximus's apprentice."

The mention of Arthur elicited a flicker of acknowledgment in Lucas's expression, though he quickly masked it with his usual poise.

At this point, the entire world knew of Arthur Nightingale's relationship with Cecilia Slatemark, Rachel Creighton, and Seraphina Zenith. It was a topic of both intrigue and speculation in courts and academies alike, a union of exceptional talents and political significance that had raised as many eyebrows as it had banners of admiration.

The justification Cecilia had given for her visit was perfect. As a princess, she was well within her rights to show an almost overbearing interest in her partner's progress. More than that, her status and formidable spellcasting talent afforded her an authority few could challenge. Unlike the Tower of Magic, which could resist even the Imperial Family to some extent, the Tower of Alchemy did not have the luxury of defiance.

Lucas straightened, his hands clasped neatly in front of him. "Of course, Your Highness," he said smoothly. "We are honored by your visit. Elder Maximus's apprentice is a subject of great interest to us all. It is only fitting that you should see his progress firsthand."

"Splendid," Cecilia said with a soft laugh, the glimmer of amusement dancing in her eyes. She could tell Lucas was choosing his words carefully, balancing his pride as a Marquis with the deference owed to a princess of the Slatemark Empire.

"This way, if you please," Lucas said, gesturing for her to follow.

Cecilia's heels clicked against the polished floor as she walked, her presence commanding attention without the need for any explicit declaration. The Tower staff they passed bowed deeply as she strode by, their gazes quickly averting. The Imperial Knights who flanked her moved in perfect sync, silent but imposing as they shadowed her every step.

As they made their way deeper into the Tower, Cecilia's gaze flitted to the glowing runes etched into the walls and floor. The craftsmanship was undeniably impressive, each rune a testament to the Tower's mastery of alchemical techniques. Still, it didn't escape her notice that Lucas seemed eager to impress, pointing out details that he thought might captivate her interest.

"This Tower has long been the cornerstone of alchemical innovation in the Empire," Lucas said, his voice carrying the practiced cadence of a diplomat. "The work Elder Maximus is conducting with his apprentices promises to push those boundaries even further."

"I'm sure," Cecilia replied with a polite smile, though her mind was elsewhere. The Tower's air of grandeur felt hollow to her, a façade of opulence that failed to conceal its vulnerabilities. She hadn't come here to admire alchemy; she had come to ensure Arthur's plans were progressing without hindrance.