Twelfth Birthday
I gazed at my reflection in the mirror as the maids fussed over my attire, preparing me for my twelfth birthday celebration. In the Killion Empire, this was a major milestone, celebrated with great fanfare. My heart raced with a mix of excitement and anticipation, reflecting the significance of this day.
Nearly two years had passed since the catastrophic rebel attack at the Festival. The chaos and danger had given way to a restored sense of normalcy. Life had improved greatly, returning to the familiar rhythms and routines of our estate. However, today held a special significance beyond the usual festivities.
Today, the Imperial Family would bestow upon me an adamite sword and spear in recognition of my achievements during that fateful Festival. I couldn't help but wonder how different things might be if they truly understood the extent of my abilities. Perhaps they would have granted me a national treasure or even the title of count, ensuring my allegiance to the Empire. But for now, my true strength remained a well-guarded secret. I needed to grow stronger before revealing all that I could do.
The twelfth birthday in the Killion Empire was more than just a celebration; it marked the onset of puberty, a significant milestone in a child's development. The Empire placed great importance on this transition, recognizing it with elaborate ceremonies and gifts.
For me, today held even greater significance. Beyond the lavish celebration, it was a personal triumph. I had reached the blue stage just this morning. It felt fitting that my birthday celebration would also honor this remarkable achievement.
I gazed at my reflection in the mirror, noting the changes that the past two years had wrought. My once soft, boyish features had begun to sharpen, hinting at the man I would one day become. My hair, a rich shade of golden blonde, was neatly combed, its slight waves framing my face and lending a touch of maturity to my appearance. The blood-red eyes staring back at me were steady and intense.
My skin was still smooth but had lost some of its childhood roundness, the angles of my jaw and cheekbones becoming more pronounced. I had grown taller, my frame more lean and athletic from rigorous training. The ceremonial attire I wore—a finely tailored tunic of deep blue velvet, embroidered with silver thread in intricate patterns—fit me perfectly, accentuating my newfound physique. The tunic was adorned with the insignia of our house, a symbol of pride and responsibility.
My hands, resting lightly on the edge of the dresser, bore the faint calluses from hours of sword and spear practice. The maids continued their work, adjusting the folds of my tunic and ensuring every detail was perfect.
"Are you ready, Lancelot?" my mother called as she opened the door, her voice warm and melodic. She stepped into the room, her presence radiating grace and elegance. Her white dress flowed around her like a waterfall, perfectly complementing her golden blonde hair and striking blue eyes. As soon as she saw me, her eyes sparkled with pride and affection. She quickly crossed the room and enveloped me in a tight hug.
"Oh my, my son has grown up so much! He's so handsome now!" she exclaimed, her voice tinged with both joy and nostalgia. I returned her embrace, feeling a warmth that only a mother's love could provide.
Soon enough, my father and Elara joined us. My father, with his commanding presence and stern expression softened by a rare smile, clapped a hand on my shoulder. "You look like a true nobleman, Lancelot. We're proud of you," he said, his voice carrying the weight of his approval.
Elara, wearing a dress of soft lavender that brought out the warmth in her hazel eyes, beamed at me. "You look amazing, Lancelot. Happy birthday!" she said, giving me a quick hug.
Despite the joyous occasion, a pang of disappointment settled in my heart. This year, despite being a major birthday, Lucas wasn't able to return home. He had to undertake a very important mission for his adventuring, and his absence was keenly felt. I knew he was following his own path, one that required dedication and sacrifice, but I still missed him.
"Come, it's time for the ceremony," my father said, leading us out of the room. We walked through the grand halls of our estate, the polished marble floors reflecting the light from the chandeliers above. The walls were adorned with portraits of our ancestors, their eyes watching over us as we made our way to the main hall.
As we entered the hall, the buzz of conversation ceased, and all eyes turned to us. The room was filled with nobles and dignitaries, their faces a mixture of curiosity and admiration. At the front of the room, a platform had been set up with a large, ornate chair for me. Beside it, a table held two items covered with a velvet cloth—the gifts from the Imperial Family.
I took my seat, feeling the weight of the moment. My father stood beside me, his hand resting on my shoulder. "Today, we celebrate not only Lancelot's twelfth birthday but also his achievements and the promise of his future," he announced, his voice resonating through the hall.
The guests clapped politely, and Sir Vestial, the envoy from the Imperial Family, stepped forward. He removed the velvet cloth, revealing a magnificent sword and spear made of gleaming adamite. They were works of art, their surfaces etched with intricate runes and symbols of power.
"Lancelot Orbel, in recognition of your bravery and exceptional talent, the Imperial Family bestows upon you these gifts," Sir Vestial said, his tone formal and respectful. "May they serve you well in your journey."
The sword, resting on a black velvet cushion, was a masterpiece of craftsmanship. Its blade was a shimmering silver-blue, the adamite polished to a mirror finish that reflected the ambient light in a dazzling display. The edge was razor-sharp, glinting menacingly. Along the flat of the blade, intricate runes were engraved, pulsing faintly with a soft blue light, hinting at the powerful enchantments embedded within. The guard was a blend of elegance and practicality, shaped like outspread wings, providing balance and protection for the wielder's hand. The grip was wrapped in dark blue leather, providing a comfortable yet firm hold, and ended in a pommel shaped like a dragon's head, its eyes set with tiny sapphires.
Beside the sword lay the spear, equally impressive in its design. The spearhead was a long, narrow blade, also made of polished adamite, tapering to a deadly point. The runes along its surface were more angular and geometric compared to those on the sword, glowing with a faint golden hue. The spearhead was mounted on a shaft of dark, reinforced wood, wrapped in the same blue leather as the sword's grip. The butt of the spear was capped with a smaller spike, making it a versatile weapon in close combat.
"Thank you, Sir Vestial. I am honored by the Imperial Family's generosity. I will strive to live up to their expectations and continue to protect our realm," I said, my voice steady and sincere.
As the ceremony continued, the hall was filled with toasts and well-wishes. My family and I mingled with the guests, accepting their congratulations.
After some time, I tore away from the crowd, a light exhale escaping my lips as I sought a moment of solitude. The weight of the celebration and the constant stream of well-wishers was starting to wear on me.
"Finally bored?" Lyra's voice broke through my thoughts as she approached, her brown eyes glinting with confidence and amusement.
"It can't be helped that there are basically no noble kids our age," I said, my tone tinged with resignation.
"A lot of nobles moved out of the city after the attack," Lyra commented, her voice softening as she recalled the events. I nodded in agreement, the memory still fresh and raw.
The attack had been devastating. Some noble families were completely wiped out, while others chose to leave, seeking safety elsewhere. The city had changed, the old guard replaced by older families, leaving me with no peers my age other than Lyra.
"Well, I'm glad you stayed, Lyra," I said, smiling warmly at her. Her cheeks reddened, and she looked away, flustered. It was moments like these that I found her endearing.
'It's fun to tease her,' I thought, a playful grin tugging at my lips.
She pouted, crossing her arms. "You are so annoying, Mr. Genius."
I chuckled, shaking my head. "Is that the best you can come up with? I expected more creativity from you."
Lyra's pout deepened, but a small smile played on her lips. "Just you wait. One day, I'll come up with something that will leave you speechless."
"Is that a challenge?" I raised an eyebrow, feigning surprise.
"Maybe it is," she said, her confidence returning. "But for now, let's enjoy the party. It's your special day, after all."
"That I will," I said as my lips curled into a smile.
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