บท 45: Legend of King Julian
After lunch, Navier and Dominic strolled through the grand hallway of the manor. The walls were adorned with fine tapestries and paintings, each depicting a piece of the family's storied history. Chandeliers hung from the high ceiling, casting soft glimmers of light across the polished marble floors. The air carried a faint scent of old wood and lavender.
Navier stopped before a set of heavy oak doors, flanked by two bodyguards who nodded at her in silent acknowledgment. With a gesture from her, they unlocked and opened the doors, revealing a secret room beyond.
Inside, the room expanded far more than it seemed from the outside, like stepping into a gallery of memories. The walls were covered with framed pictures of their family, capturing moments long gone. Marie, Dominic's mother, featured in many of them—laughing with friends, riding horses, and smiling through different stages of her life. Her childhood toys, personal belongings, and even a small porcelain doll were displayed on polished shelves. Ladders stood against the far walls, inviting closer inspection of the uppermost frames, just like the grand picture galleries found in palaces. The ceiling itself seemed impossibly high, with carved moldings that mimicked the stars.
Dominic walked into the center of the room, his left hand placed behind his back as he scanned the various portraits. His eyes settled on one in particular—a striking image of Marie on horseback, dressed in riding clothes, her face bright with a carefree smile.
In his mind, Dominic's thoughts darkened. "Mother... you lived such a free and joyful life, accomplishing so much. And now, you're gone, all because of that bastard. One day, I'll avenge you, I swear it." His fists clenched tightly at his sides, the tension barely contained.
Navier, leaning on her walking stick, slowly approached him. She followed his gaze, her expression softening as she looked at the portrait of her daughter. "Marie loved riding... horses were one of her greatest passions." She sighed deeply, her words heavy with nostalgia. The soft tapping of her walking stick echoed through the room as she began to move away.
Dominic tilted his head slightly, his voice thick with sorrow as he spoke. "Annette loved horses too... but her health wouldn't allow her to ride. She spent her days isolated in her bedroom, stripped of the life she deserved." His gaze drifted down to his own arm, still wrapped in bandages and supported by a sling. He then turned his attention to Navier, who stood in front of a large family portrait, her hand brushing lightly against the frame.
Navier turned toward him, a faint smile on her lips. "And you, Dominic?" she asked, her eyes glinting with curiosity. "What do you like?"
Dominic raised an eyebrow, surprised by the question. It was rare for anyone to inquire about his personal interests, let alone show genuine interest. A small chuckle escaped him as he lowered his head. "I don't really have any hobbies... I'm just a man, a husband. There's little time for anything else." He paused, his eyes flickering with a hint of humor. "Though... chess is not a problem."
Navier's eyes widened slightly, and she smiled, clearly intrigued by his response. "Chess, you say?" she mused. "I like chess quite a lot myself. You should play with me sometime, in your spare moments." Her tone was soft yet commanding, as if the request were not entirely optional. She turned her attention to a massive portrait of her late husband, dressed in the refined clothing of a nobleman, his stern expression seemingly watching over the room.
Dominic followed her gaze, his mind swirling with thoughts of family, duty, and the weight of his unspoken promises. The room around him, filled with fragments of their history, felt both comforting and suffocating—a shrine to the past, while the future remained uncertain.
With a quiet breath, Dominic whispered, "Perhaps I will
Dominic's eyes followed Navier as she approached the portrait, noticing the softened expression on her face. There was a rare tenderness in the way she gazed at the image. "That must be Grandfather," Dominic thought, his eyes moving to the figure in the painting. "His hair... it's somewhat like Evangeline's, though not quite silver this is platinum blonde." His thoughts wandered for a moment before an idea struck him, prompting him to finally ask a question that had been bothering him for some time.
"Lady Navier," he began, then quickly cleared his throat, catching himself. "I mean, Grandmother... I've been curious. Why does the family seem to get so... unsettled about our hair color?"
Navier's attention, which had been fixed on the portrait, shifted toward Dominic. She studied him for a moment, her gaze thoughtful before she let out a quiet sigh. "It's a long story," she murmured, almost as though she was debating whether to share it. "But I'll tell it anyway." She turned and began walking toward another large framed portrait, her walking stick tapping rhythmically on the floor.
The painting she approached was grand and imposing. It depicted a strikingly handsome man with flowing silver hair and it's beauty was unique unlike any one he has seen,Which wasn't his grandfather this one has a different face with no trace of resemblance to Navier's husband, the man is dressed in regal armor. A rich, crimson cape draped over his shoulders as he sat astride a magnificent white horse, sword in hand, and a gleaming shield resting by his side. His expression was fierce, almost warrior-like, with sharp eyes that seemed to gaze right through the viewer.
Navier began, her voice steady but filled with weight, "That man in the armour was a man unlike any other. That silver hair of his... it marked him as part of an ancient lineage, one filled with power, prestige, and danger." She glanced at Dominic, who had narrowed his eyes, absorbing the significance of her words.
"In our family," she continued, her tone now more somber, "the hair color is not just an inheritance. It's a symbol, one that carries the legacy of our ancestors. A legacy of both great deeds... and darker times. There were many attempts to imitate it, to steal our name and the influence that came with it. That's why it's such a delicate matter. We guard it fiercely because it's more than just hair—it's an identity, one that others have tried to exploit."
Dominic remained silent, his eyes now studying the portrait of this person The man's striking resemblance to certain members of the family—stood out to him as he read the description on the frame"Julian Capulet, Crowned Prince of Heron, age 20," he read aloud in a low tone, Yet there was something else, something unspoken in the painting's presence, the image carried the weight of a deeper, hidden story.
"That's our ancestor, King Julian of Heron," Navier explained, her voice rich with pride and history. "The first human known to possess silver hair and golden eyes. It's a trait that has passed down through our bloodline for generations, a mark of our heritage."
"And what about him?" Dominic finally asked, gesturing toward the portrait with his arm in a graceful yet deliberate motion. His voice was calm, but his curiosity betrayed a deeper intrigue. "He seems... formidable."
Navier's faint smile wavered as she kept her eyes on the painting. "He was a warrior, a leader, and a man of great vision. But his descendant, Matthias, inherited more than just his strength—he inherited his obsession. That obsession with the family's legacy and reputation... it consumed us in the end."
Dominic narrowed his eyes, focusing on the name written at the base of the portrait's ornate frame.His gaze then drifted to the adjacent portrait of a woman with strawberry blonde hair, dressed in armor over her torso and shoulders, a long skirt flowing elegantly behind her. She stood beside the silver-haired man he had seen earlier—Julian. In this portrait, the man wore royal attire, complete with a crown resting on his head. The woman, too, held a sword, her stance commanding and powerful.
"Warrior Queen Melinda and her husband, King Julian," Dominic thought to himself, his mind piecing together the story behind the figures. But something tugged at his attention, a subtle inconsistency. "They might be ancestors", he mused. "Or just fictional figures… but I've noticed something. I haven't seen anyone else with these hair colors except for me, my siblings, and my mother."
He held his chin thoughtfully, his brow furrowed, trying to reconcile the details. Before he could ponder further, Navier's voice cut through his thoughts, drawing his attention.
Dominic nodded but remained curious, his eyes flickering back to the portraits. Something wasn't quite right. The hair color, though strikingly similar to his own, carried subtle differences. Julian's hair… it's more silver than platinum blonde. It's not the same as Evangeline's or my grandfather"he thought, narrowing his eyes once more. The distinction seemed important, almost as if there were more to the story than what was readily visible.
She tapped her fingers on the head of her walking stick as if trying to summon the right words. "Matthias fought battles, not just on the battlefield, but in politics, in court, and within our own bloodline. The silver hair marked him as something extraordinary, but it also became his curse. He saw threats everywhere—inside the family, even from his own kin. He clung to the notion that the purity of our heritage must be preserved at all costs, and that paranoia is what eventually brought the kingdom to ruin."
Dominic felt the weight of her words settling in his chest. The obsession with their hair wasn't merely a matter of vanity or a family quirk. It was a symbol, woven deep into their history, marked by power, pride, and the looming shadow of betrayal. He adjusted the sling that held his injured arm, his movements as composed as ever, yet inside, the story gnawed at him.
"You remind me of him sometimes, Dominic," Navier said, her gaze softening as it landed on her grandson. "That same intensity, that same determination. But don't let it become your undoing as it did for Matthias."
Dominic glanced back at the portrait, feeling a strange pull, as if the man in the painting was reaching through time to cast his shadow over him. Matthias, much like Julian, had the aura of someone who could lead kingdoms but also bring them to their knees. Dominic's sharp eyes narrowed in thought, his mind running through the parallels Navier had drawn. The past pressed around them like a dense fog, making him wonder just how much of that weight he was destined to carry.
Navier continued, her voice now softer, almost a whisper. "Matthias led the kingdom of Heron through its final days, but his fixation on keeping the family's power intact was its downfall. The economy collapsed under his reign, weakened by internal strife and the growing unrest in the world. When the wars came—much like the fall of the Heronian monarchy—Matthias refused to see reason. He sacrificed alliances, thinking that strength alone would hold the kingdom together. But it didn't. It fractured under his rule."
She turned away from the portrait, slowly pacing as if the act of movement might ease the burden of the story. "The kingdom of Heron fell not just to outside forces but to Matthias' own fears. He alienated those closest to him, mistrusted his allies, and in the end, left the kingdom vulnerable. The enemies didn't have to break down the walls—Matthias did that for them."
Dominic listened intently, his chin resting in his good hand as his gaze remained thoughtful. He realized now that the family's downfall wasn't just a result of external forces; it was internal rot—born of obsession, paranoia, and fear. He could almost see it now, the kingdom in ruins, the once-proud castles crumbling as Matthias, isolated in his paranoia, watched everything slip away from him.
Dominic, standing straight and composed despite the sling, felt the burden of this legacy. The past echoed in his ears, and he realized that this silver hair was not just a mark of distinction—it was a reminder of the fragility of power.He glanced at the portrait once more, feeling a strange connection to the figure in the painting, as if Julian's shadow stretched across the generations, casting its influence over him. For a moment the past pressing around them .
"After Heron fell," Navier added with a heavy sigh, "what remained of the royal family fled to Eardoznia. They carried with them their silver hair, their bloodline, but the kingdom itself was lost forever—reduced to a forgotten relic after their fall."
Dominic's fingers grazed the edge of the portrait frame as his gaze settled on the painting of King Julian. His posture remained composed, his elegant demeanor unaffected by the sling on his arm, which he moved with controlled precision as he listened intently to Navier's story.
"And how did the silver hair come into the family in the first place?" Dominic asked, his voice steady as his curiosity deepened. His arm in the sling gestured subtly toward the portrait of Julian, as though he could sense there was more to uncover.
"8 hundred and 12 years ago, in the kingdom of Heron, Julian was born with silver hair and golden eyes," Navier began, tapping her fingers lightly on her walking stick, her voice both steady and somber. "According to the prophecy, a child with silver hair would be born by the will of the gods, but Julian's golden eyes were never mentioned in that prophecy."
Dominic, ever attentive, shifted slightly, his brow furrowed in thought as Navier's words unfolded, rich with history.
"Julian was seen as a monster by some, inhuman because of his otherworldly beauty. Some thought he was an agent of the gods. His mother, overwhelmed by the sight of his golden eyes and albino skin when he was born, took her own life, stabbing herself with a knife in her delivery bed." Navier paused, a flicker of sadness crossing her face. "Because of this, Julian's father blamed him for her death. He stripped Julian of his title as the Crown Prince and handed it to his nephew, who was older and set to ascend the throne. Julian's father remarried, and his new wife secretly cared for Julian like her own, though she had to hide this from her husband."
Dominic's gaze never wavered, his eyes sharp as he processed the tragedy. He moved his injured arm slightly, the motion slow and deliberate as he adjusted the sling, drawing in the weight of Navier's words.
"Julian's father eventually found out about the stepmother's kindness," Navier continued, "and was about to punish her. But by then, Julian's achievements in the kingdom made his father reconsider. He regretted his earlier actions, hoping to rebuild his relationship with his son. However, his nephew, who had taken the throne through deceit, grew envious of Julian's beauty and the divine favor granted to him. Greed and jealousy drove the nephew to betray the family. He sent assassins after Julian, sacrificing his own family in his mad pursuit of power."
Dominic's expression hardened. His hand rested on the frame, his fingers flexing slightly. He could feel the weight of the betrayal echoing through centuries, as though the sins of the past reverberated into the present.
"Julian's stepmother, hearing of the betrayal, tried to warn his father, but she was assassinated by the nephew. Julian's father witnessed the betrayal firsthand and, with his dying breath, regretted his decisions, sacrificing his life to protect Julian. After his father's death, the nephew launched a campaign to exterminate everyone related to his uncle, including Julian."
Navier's voice softened as she continued. "Julian was sent away on a boat, his identity hidden, and he was raised by a group of women in a brothel who found him washed ashore. He grew up in secrecy, his hair cut short to avoid attracting attention. Despite the tragedy, Julian's strength endured. His beauty was both a curse and a tool for survival, and when the brothel women were murdered by those seeking to exploit him, Julian escaped. But not for long—he was caught and sold into slavery, becoming a mere object of possession for a wealthy merchant."
Dominic clenched his jaw. His movements remained composed, but there was an undercurrent of tension, as if he felt the injustice Julian had endured.
"Years passed," Navier continued. "Julian, ever resourceful, inherited the merchant's properties after the man's death and returned to Heron. By then, his silver hair had fully grown back. His nephew, now king, learned of his return and sought to kill him. But Julian, determined to uncover the truth of his parents' demise and reclaim his birthright, slowly dismantled his nephew's plans. When the time came for revenge, Julian struck decisively, avenging his family and stepmother. He was crowned king and never lost a single battle, his wisdom and strategic genius guided by the will of the gods."
Dominic straightened slightly, his eyes bright with curiosity. "And the strawberry blonde hair... how did it come into our family?" he asked, his tone respectful but insistent, the elegance in his posture never faltering.
Navier smiled faintly at his question. "We're getting there, my dear," she said, turning away from the portrait and walking slowly, her steps deliberate. "After Julian took the throne, his reign was marked by peace and wisdom. Other kings from neighboring lands came to visit him, bearing gifts in admiration of his intellect and fairness. But then, a rival kingdom rose, challenging Heron. Julian met his enemy on the battlefield, and to his surprise, the rival general was a woman—a woman with strawberry blonde hair, unlike any he had ever seen. Her hair had a unique smoothness, and she was as beautiful as the stories told."
Dominic raised an eyebrow, intrigued, his arm still resting gracefully in the sling.
"Julian had heard of this woman, a scholar and warrior known for her intellect and strength. She was the last survivor of her family, as people had hunted her for the color of her hair. Julian didn't expect her to be leading the army that stood against him. They fought, but neither side claimed victory that day. Julian was captivated by her skill and her beauty. After the battle, as she retreated, she was ambushed and captured by Julian's forces."
Navier paused, watching Dominic's reaction. He nodded slightly, encouraging her to continue.
"In time, they fell in love," Navier said softly. "Her name was Melinda, and after their marriage, they ruled together which angered Melinda's king that she once served and was defeated.Julian gave her the defeated enemy's palace as a gift for bearing him a son. But his reign didn't last long until he turned 50 —he fell ill and passed away, leaving behind Melinda and their children. It was from this union that the silver hair continued, passed down through their descendants. Melinda's strawberry blonde hair appeared more in each generation, but Julian's silver hair became the symbol of their lineage only few had silver hair"Navier's eyes gleamed with a knowing wisdom as she looked at Dominic.
"The silver hair of our line may have come from Julian, but it was Melinda's strawberry blonde that truly set the bloodline apart. Her hair, so rare and coveted, carried a strength that even Julian's silver couldn't match. Only a few in our family ever had the pure silver or a blend of the two, and those who did... they were marked by both brilliance and tragedy."she added and sighed
"Three hundred years after King Julian's reign, Heron's once-prosperous kingdom began to decline. The economy collapsed, and military defeats on all fronts weakened the nation. By the time of the world wars, Heron had all but ceased to exist. The proud kingdom that once flourished under Julian's wise rule was reduced to ruins, its people scattered and its legacy nearly forgotten.
The descendants of Heron's royal line fled, seeking refuge in distant lands. Many of them, including our ancestors, found sanctuary in Eardoznia. It was there, amidst their exile, that they preserved the stories of their glorious past, keeping alive the legend of King Julian and the greatness of Heron.
Heron, once a kingdom of towering influence, became nothing more than a forgotten outskirt of the country of Lumeria. The glory of its golden days faded, and its people were left to reflect on the swift and bitter fall of a monarchy that had once been unshakable—much like the tragic demise of the Empire, where the great Capulets were overthrown, exiled, and executed in a world that no longer valued their sovereignty.
Heron's royal lineage faced a terrible fate when Matthais reigned, as rulers that followed him were caught in the tumult of changing times. Corruption, greed, and political upheaval led to the slow decay of the kingdom. Matthais great grandchildren, though endowed with Julian's wisdom and strength, could not prevent the internal and external forces that conspired to dismantle the kingdom's former glory.
In the end, Heron was consumed by the fires of war and betrayal, just as the monarchy crumbled under the weight of revolution. The royal bloodline persisted, but only as exiles and whispers of a once-powerful kingdom. Our ancestors carried these stories with them to Eardoznia, where they sought to rebuild their lives while remembering the lessons of the past—the rise and fall of empires, the fleeting nature of power, and the legacy that still binds us to those long-gone days"
Dominic tilted his head slightly, deep in thought. "But Julian's golden eyes… no one else had them?"
Navier shook her head. "No. The golden eyes were unique to Julian alone, a mark of his divine favor. Even his children did not inherit them. It's why we guard our lineage so fiercely. No one else can mimic us—not truly. The hair, the eyes, they are sacred."
As Navier finished the tale, Dominic stood in silence, his mind whirling with the weight
Dominic's eyes remained on the portrait of Julian, but now he saw more than just a royal figure. He saw a man shaped by power, burdened by expectations, and marked by something far greater than lineage. The realization made him uneasy.
"And the woman," Dominic asked, pointing to the portrait of Queen Melinda. "Was she part of this... deal?"
Navier nodded solemnly. "She was Julian's equal in every way. A warrior from the northern realms, fierce and unyielding. Together, they ruled a kingdom built on power and fear. It is said that while Julian carried the divine appearance, Melinda was the one who ensured the legacy would endure, training their children in the arts of war, politics, and control."
Dominic's mind spun, processing the weight of these revelations. Ancestors, he thought again, his earlier skepticism fading. Not just legends, but the roots of our family. And yet, something still felt off—something elusive about the way the silver hair passed down, almost as if certain details had been lost or purposefully hidden.
Navier's expression grew somber as she turned to Dominic, her voice soft but resolute. "The truth, Dominic, is that the hair is more than just a symbol of our lineage—it's a reminder of everything we've gained and lost. The silver and strawberry blonde carry the weight of power, of promises made to our ancestors. But that power comes with envy, with those who want to possess or imitate it. We've seen pretenders, those who've tried to claim our legacy for their own advantage, leading to betrayal and ruin. It's not the hair itself that triggers us—it's the history of treachery tied to those who seek to wear it without earning the right. We guard it because it's the key to our survival, our honor. Lose control of that, and we lose everything."
"They were more than kings and queens," Dominic muttered to himself, his gaze now heavy with contemplation. He could feel it—the pressure of their legacy, the unrelenting weight of history, and the expectation that came with it.
Dominic stood still, processing everything he had just heard from Navier. His thoughts raced as her words echoed in his mind—the weight of the silver hair, the legacy, the burden of their ancestors. Slowly, a realization dawned on him.
"You mean... we're of royal blood," Dominic said, more to himself than to Navier. His voice was calm, but beneath it, there was a flicker of disbelief and a neutral expression "We're royalty."
Navier met his gaze, her eyes steady and without hesitation. "Yes, Dominic. We come from kings and queens, from a line that once ruled a kingdom, led armies, and shaped the fate of nations. We may no longer have a throne, but that bloodline still flows in us. The Capulets may have left Heron, but the power and the legacy live on in Eardoznia. That's why we guard our history so fiercely—because in this world, those who forget their roots are easily swept away."
Dominic felt the gravity of her words, a weight settling on his shoulders. Everything—the hair, the traditions, the secrecy—it all made sense now. They weren't just any family. They were descendants of royalty, and with that came not only pride but responsibility. A history of power, betrayal, and survival that still defined who they were.
Dominic stared at the portrait with a neutral expression. "He was a great king indeed," he sighed, before walking away from the painting.
"Dominic, would you stay here for a week before you go back to Verdaselles?" Navier asked, gently holding his hand.
"I have a lot of duties to attend to in Verdaselles. I'll come back sometime, but there are urgent matters I need to resolve. I can only stay for a few days before leaving the country," Dominic replied, feeling the weight of his responsibilities.
Navier released her grip and nodded. "I understand… you can go." With that, she turned away as Dominic exited the room.
As he walked out the door toward his bedroom, he remained unaware that he was being watched. From a hidden corner, Danae, the Capulet's sister-in-law, gazed at him with wide eyes, her heart racing. "Oooh… he's so handsome! Is this the son of Marie? Why can't I have him?" she whispered to herself, a dreamy look crossing her face.
She trailed behind Dominic, slowly admiring his features and the way he carried himself with a quiet confidence. Her desire grew stronger as she hid, ensuring he wouldn't notice her lingering gaze. When Dominic stepped into his bedroom, after few minutes he stepped out. Danae hesitated for a moment before slipping into the room shutting the door quietly behind her.
In the dim light of the room, she felt a surge of excitement and longing, her mind racing with possibilities. The thought of Dominic stirred something deep within her, igniting an obsession that she couldn't quite explain. As she hid in the shadows, she imagined what it would be like to be close to him, to share secrets and stolen moments.
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