CHAPTER 128: CALL AND DECLARATION OF SUPPORT

On the west side of the palace lay a beautiful, spacious garden. It was filled with flowers from all over the world, creating a mesmerizing display of color and life.

Dating back to the reign of the Third Emperor, the garden had been carefully preserved and meticulously maintained to prevent any damage.

Interestingly, the garden was open to everyone—so long as they refrained from touching or harming the flowers.

Even princes and princesses were not exempt from this rule.

The moon shone brightly in the clear night sky. Stars glittered around it, and a few small comets passed silently in the distance, adding to the serene beauty of the evening.

At the heart of the garden, a man in a brown robe sat quietly on a wooden chair, surrounded by blooming flowers, his eyes closed in peaceful silence.

He was tall and broad-shouldered, with a well-built frame and faint lines of muscle visible beneath his robe.

His face couldn’t be called handsome, but its stern and serious expression was enough to make strangers feel uneasy—or even afraid.

He was Aston Valmire, head of the Marquis Valmire family from the eastern territories.

Just then, footsteps echoed from ahead. His eyes slowly opened, and a warm smile spread across his face.

He rose and greeted politely, "Welcome, Prince Nolan."

Nolan nodded slightly, a faint smile on his lips. "Thank you for the welcome, Marquis Valmire."

He took the chair opposite Aston, who resumed his seat with quiet composure.

With practiced ease, Aston poured hot tea from a white porcelain teapot into a cup that had been prepared earlier by a maid, then offered it to Nolan.

"I hope you don’t mind me calling you Prince," Aston said with a playful tone.

Nolan accepted the tea and took a slow sip. It was slightly sweet, yet it didn’t mask the natural bitterness of the tea leaves.

After savoring the taste, he set the cup back on its saucer and let out a soft chuckle.

"You must be joking, Marquis Valmire. How could I possibly take offense? In fact, I should thank you. After all, your invitation must have something to do with the succession to the throne, doesn’t it?"

A faint smile tugged at his lips, accompanied by a playful glance aimed at Aston.

Aston was silent for a moment, then burst into laughter.

His formerly stiff and formal demeanor began to fade, replaced by a warmer, more relaxed presence.

He took a sip of his tea before speaking. "Yes, I admit it—I called you here to discuss the succession."

But then his expression turned serious. His gaze locked onto Nolan’s.

"Your Highness, I wish to express my support for Princess Elina," he declared firmly.

As soon as the words left his lips, a deep silence settled over the garden.

Only the faint rustle of the evening breeze weaving through the flowers broke the stillness.

Nolan’s calm and seemingly disinterested response clearly caught Aston off guard.

It was important to remember—the Valmire family was a Marquis-level noble house.

Their rank was just one step below that of a Duke—and they were no ordinary Marquis.

Their immense wealth came from the armaments industry—armor, swords, spears, and a wide range of military equipment.

With such influence and resources, the Valmire name was always part of the political conversation.

Had it been any of the other candidates—Aldric, Cedric, Zarak, Adalen, or Cassian—sitting across from him, they would have gladly welcomed the endorsement, perhaps even putting on their most courteous display.

But the reality before him shattered Aston’s expectations.

Instead of showing joy, Nolan didn’t even offer the faintest smile. He looked as if he didn’t care in the slightest.

Aston felt a mix of embarrassment and irritation. And yet, his curiosity deepened.

This young man was truly enigmatic—clever and composed. It was clear he was hiding something Aston couldn’t yet decipher.

After a long moment of awkward silence, Nolan let out a quiet sigh and leaned back in his chair.

He fixed his gaze on Aston and asked calmly, "What is the cost of that support?"

The moment the words left his lips, Aston’s eyes widened.

He shot to his feet and slammed both palms onto the table.

Bang!

The slam echoed loudly, forceful enough to knock over his own teacup.

Surprisingly, Nolan’s cup remained perfectly upright, as if held in place by an invisible force.

Aston noticed it, startled—but his rising anger pushed the strange detail to the back of his mind.

His eyes locked onto Nolan, burning with intensity as he spoke in a cold, restrained voice, "Prince, I respect you because you are the son of His Majesty the Emperor. But your attitude has gone too far. Do you truly believe I offered my support simply because I want something? You—"

Before he could finish, Nolan cut in sharply, his icy gaze unwavering. "Isn’t that exactly it?"

The words caught in Aston’s throat, but before he could respond, Nolan continued.

"Rather than speaking directly to my sister Elina about your so-called support, you came to me. Doesn’t that seem a bit strange, Marquis Valmire?"

A faint smile tugged at the corners of Nolan’s lips.

"Let me break it down for you. The most likely reason is this: until now, or more precisely, until just before the party, the Valmire family hadn’t firmly decided whom to support."

"Then your spies reported that I healed Lady Syra and Alicia Caltheron. That caught your attention. Later, at the party, you approached Marquis Orlan to ask about it."

"As far as I know, Marquis Orlan isn’t someone who speaks at length. He probably gave you only vague responses—but even that was enough to spark your curiosity."

"And that curiosity only deepened after you saw me defeat Allen—followed by a string of other incidents. Then, the final push: you witnessed the subordinate of the Singularity of Chaos intervene and stop the Singularity of Light just as he was about to strike me and Elina."

"That’s when you made your decision—to seek me out and declare your support."

"As for why you came to me instead of Elina, the answer is simple: your family is facing a serious problem. After witnessing my abilities and hearing Marquis Orlan’s account of what I’m capable of, you must’ve thought, ’He can help me solve this.’ Isn’t that right, Marquis Valmire?"

Aston said nothing, but the look of horror and disbelief on his face revealed the storm of emotions raging inside him.

"Prince, you..." He tried to speak, but Nolan cut him off sharply.

"No, don’t praise me just yet." He crossed one leg over the other and regarded Aston with calm indifference. "Now, let me take a wild guess about the Valmire family’s problem."

Leaning the right side of his face against his palm, Nolan added with a faint, amused smile, "Don’t tell me... This is about your family’s armaments business. I’m right, aren’t I?"