Morning sunlight streamed through Raze's bedroom windows, pulling him from sleep that had been surprisingly restful despite everything weighing on his mind. He dressed in formal attire the servants had prepared—clothing appropriate for visiting the castle, dark blues and silvers that complemented his white hair while displaying the crest of his newly granted title.

Sophie was already awake when he went to collect her, practically vibrating with excitement in a dress that the royal tailors had somehow prepared overnight. The garment was elegant without being ostentatious, pale blue fabric embroidered with silver thread that caught the light when she moved.

Her white hair had been arranged carefully, pulled back from her face in a style that made her look older than her ten years while remaining age-appropriate. She'd clearly been fussed over extensively by the servants, who seemed to have taken the Count's little sister as a personal project.

"Do I look okay?" Sophie asked, spinning to show off the dress with childish enthusiasm that contrasted charmingly with the sophisticated clothing.

"You look perfect," Raze assured her. "Like a proper noble lady."

"I don't feel like a noble lady," Sophie admitted. "I feel like I'm playing dress-up in someone else's clothes. But the servants kept saying I needed to look appropriate for meeting the King and Queen."

"The King and Queen are actually quite nice," Raze said, kneeling to adjust a ribbon in her hair that had come slightly askew during her spinning. "Queen Eleanor especially will probably love you immediately. Just be yourself and everything will be fine."

They descended to find Oziel waiting in the entrance hall, the Master Peak swordsman dressed in formal attire that marked him clearly as a knight in service to Count Dragonheart. His new royal sword hung at his waist, the blade's enchantments glowing faintly even while sheathed.

"Ready?" Oziel asked, his scarred face showing slight amusement at Sophie's obvious excitement.

"As ready as we can be," Raze replied. "Let's not keep the royal family waiting."

The carriage that had been provided was considerably more luxurious than the one they'd used previously, clearly selected specifically for transporting nobility to castle audiences. The interior was spacious despite only needing to accommodate three passengers, cushioned seating that absorbed road imperfections, and windows positioned to provide optimal views.

Sophie pressed her face against the glass as they rolled through Castle Town, her blue eyes wide as she took in architecture that made their estate seem modest by comparison. Every building was a masterwork of design and magical enhancement, gardens bloomed impossibly despite the season, and nobles moved through streets with casual elegance that spoke to centuries of accumulated refinement.

"It's so beautiful," Sophie breathed. "Everything's so clean and perfect. How do they keep it all like this?"

"Cultivation techniques and significant resources," Raze explained. "Castle Town represents the absolute peak of what Westia can achieve when money and expertise are combined. Most of the kingdom doesn't look like this—this district is special specifically because it houses the most powerful and wealthy families."

"Can we come back and explore more?" Sophie asked, turning from the window to look at him with pleading expression. "After the meeting? I want to see everything properly, not just through carriage windows."

"I promise," Raze said, smiling at her enthusiasm. "We'll take a proper tour of Castle Town soon. Visit the shops, see the gardens, maybe find that school Anastasia mentioned so you know where you'll be attending."

Sophie's smile brightened, returning her attention to the window as they continued toward the castle. The massive white structure dominated the skyline, growing larger as they approached until it seemed to fill their entire field of vision.

The carriage passed through multiple security checkpoints, each one staffed by royal guards whose armor gleamed with enhancement enchantments. They were waved through at every stop, the guards recognizing the Count's carriage and offering respectful salutes as they passed.

Finally they pulled into the castle's main courtyard, the space vast enough to accommodate dozens of carriages simultaneously. Servants waited to assist their arrival, opening doors and offering hands to help them descend with appropriate courtesy.

Raze stepped down first, then turned to help Sophie who was trying very hard to move with the grace she'd seen noble ladies display. Oziel followed, positioning himself slightly behind and to Raze's right in classic bodyguard formation.

"Count Dragonheart," a servant greeted them with deep bow. "Their Majesties are expecting you in the Azure Sitting Room. If you'll follow me?"

They were led through corridors that Sophie stared at with wonder barely contained, her small hand gripping Raze's tightly as she tried to take in everything at once. The castle was even more impressive than the estate, every surface seeming to have been touched by master craftsmen and enhanced through cultivation techniques.

The Azure Sitting Room was smaller than the throne room but still substantial, decorated in blues and whites that created atmosphere both formal and welcoming. King Harold and Queen Eleanor were already present, Fedora standing between them with expression suggesting she'd been waiting with barely contained anticipation.

"Count Dragonheart," King Harold greeted formally, though his tone carried more warmth than their first meeting. "Welcome. And this must be your sister Sophie."

Sophie executed a curtsy that was remarkably good considering she'd probably never performed one before today, her voice small but clear when she spoke.

"Your Majesty. Thank you for allowing me to come to Castle Town. My brother says I'll be very safe here."

The effect on the royal family was immediate and devastating.

Queen Eleanor's hand flew to her chest, her expression melting into something that could only be described as completely charmed. "Oh Harold, look at her! She's absolutely precious!"

King Harold's stern countenance cracked slightly, a smile tugging at his lips despite clear attempts to maintain regal composure. "Indeed. Welcome to our castle, young Sophie. I hope you'll find Castle Town to your liking."

Fedora had abandoned all pretense of royal dignity, kneeling down to Sophie's eye level with smile that made her even more beautiful than usual. "I'm Fedora. Your brother and I are going to be married, which means you and I will be sisters soon. I hope we can be good friends."

Sophie's nervousness evaporated at Fedora's warm approach, her response immediate. "Really? I've always wanted a sister! Raze is great but he's a boy so he doesn't understand girl things sometimes."

"Then we'll have to teach him together," Fedora said conspiratorially, as if sharing a secret plan. "Boys need extensive instruction if they're going to be properly trained."

Queen Eleanor moved forward, unable to resist any longer. "May I?" she asked, holding out her hands toward Sophie.

Sophie glanced at Raze, who nodded encouragingly. She stepped toward the Queen, who immediately scooped her up in a hug that was more motherly than formal.

"You're going to visit us often, yes?" Queen Eleanor said, carrying Sophie as she began leading the group toward where refreshments had been prepared. "I insist on it. Fedora needs younger company sometimes, and you're exactly the right age to remind us what genuine innocence looks like."

"I'd like that," Sophie said, clearly overwhelmed but adapting quickly to the attention. "Will there be other children I can play with?"

"Several noble families have children around your age," the Queen confirmed. "And you'll meet many more once you start attending the Castle Town school. You'll have more friends than you know what to do with."

They settled into comfortable seating, servants providing drinks and light refreshments that Sophie eyed with obvious interest despite trying to maintain proper manners. The atmosphere was remarkably relaxed given they were meeting with the kingdom's highest authority.

King Harold waited until everyone was situated before addressing what appeared to be something he'd just remembered.

"Before we discuss engagement ceremony details, there's an administrative matter I neglected yesterday during the reward ceremony." He pulled out official documentation, his expression becoming more business-like. "As a Count with territorial holdings, you're entitled to annual stipend from the crown to support your domain's administration and household maintenance."

Raze nodded, having expected something along these lines. Noble titles came with responsibilities, but they also came with resources to fulfill those responsibilities.

"The standard allocation for Count rank with the territory size you've been granted is thirty million gold annually," the King continued, watching Raze's face as he named the figure.

Thirty million gold.

Raze felt his brain short-circuit trying to process that number. Thirty million. Gold. Every year. That was... that was more money than he could properly conceptualize. His entire village probably saw less than a hundred thousand gold circulate in a year, and that was being generous.

But the King wasn't finished.

"However, there's precedent for increasing allocation when the recipient has demonstrated exceptional capability or faces unusual circumstances requiring additional resources." Harold's expression showed something between amusement and chagrin. "And I must confess, you have an effect on me that makes refusing such increases feel impossible."

He amended the documentation with several strokes of his pen.

"I'm authorizing fifty million gold annually, effective immediately. The first disbursement will be available within the week."

Fifty million gold.

Raze's body went completely rigid, his mind unable to process that figure at all. Fifty. Million. Gold. Every single year. That wasn't wealth, that was... he didn't even have words for what that was.

Fedora burst into laughter at his expression, the sound musical and genuinely delighted. Her hand covered her mouth in attempt to maintain some propriety, but her shoulders shook with continued amusement at his obvious shock.

Queen Eleanor joined in, her own laughter more refined but equally genuine. "Oh my, look at his face! Harold, I think you've broken him."

Even the King chuckled, his stern demeanor cracking completely at Raze's paralyzed state. "What exactly did you expect to run your domain and household with, Count Dragonheart? Good intentions and determination?"

Raze's mouth opened but no sound emerged, his ability to form coherent speech temporarily gone.

"You have an entire territory to administer," King Harold continued, clearly enjoying this more than was strictly appropriate. "Multiple towns and villages that look to their Count for governance and support. Infrastructure to maintain, improvements to fund, emergency reserves to establish. And that's before considering your household staff, security forces, diplomatic obligations, and general operating expenses."

The King leaned forward slightly, his blue eyes sharp despite the amusement still evident.

"You'll need to visit every part of your domain regularly, keep tabs on your lands and the people living there. Ensure tax collection is fair and properly recorded, that disputes are resolved justly, that banditry and corruption don't take root while you're focused elsewhere. Being a Count isn't ceremonial, Raze—it's actual work requiring constant attention and significant resources."

Raze finally managed to find his voice, though it came out slightly strangled. "Fifty million gold seems like considerably more than necessary for those responsibilities."

"Perhaps," Harold acknowledged. "But you're also betrothed to my daughter, which means representing the crown in capacity that extends beyond your personal holdings. You'll be expected to maintain household and lifestyle that reflects that connection. The allocation accounts for both your territorial responsibilities and your future role as crown prince."

The King set down his pen and regarded Raze with expression mixing amusement and something more serious.

"Additionally, I understand you don't currently have a steward who specializes in financial management and territorial administration. Someone trained to handle the complex logistics of running a domain the size you've been granted."

Raze nodded, that concern having been lurking in the back of his mind since receiving the title. He had no idea how to actually administrate territory, how to manage finances at this scale, how to coordinate all the various responsibilities a Count was supposed to fulfill.

"I anticipated this," Harold said, gesturing toward a side door. "Which is why I've arranged for appropriate assistance."

The door opened to admit a man perhaps forty years old, his appearance striking in how it managed to blend contradictions. He wore glasses that gave him scholarly air, his black hair was neatly trimmed in style suggesting precision and attention to detail, and his brown eyes carried intelligence that was immediately apparent.

But his body was built for combat, muscle evident beneath the formal attire in ways that suggested extensive physical training. He moved with grace that spoke to cultivation advancement, though his entire demeanor screamed "advisor" rather than "warrior."

"Count Dragonheart," King Harold said formally. "Allow me to introduce Alfred Camherst, my personal steward and financial advisor for the past fifteen years. He's served the crown with exceptional competence, managing resources and coordinating administration for the entire kingdom."

Alfred bowed respectfully, his gesture precise and professional. "Count Dragonheart. An honor to meet you formally. Your accomplishments during the corruption investigation were extraordinary."

"Alfred has a son," the King continued. "Logan Camherst, who has been training under his father's instruction since childhood. Logan is twenty-two, a genius in financial management and territorial administration, and has shown remarkable promise in every assessment we've conducted."

Harold's expression became more significant.

"I had planned for Logan to eventually serve as steward to the next king, providing continuity between my administration and whoever succeeded me. But circumstances have changed—you are the next king, or will be once you marry Fedora and I eventually pass the crown. Which means Logan's planned role remains appropriate, just arriving earlier than anticipated."

The King gestured again, and the door admitted another figure.

Logan Camherst was clearly his father's son, sharing the same black hair, brown eyes, and scholarly appearance enhanced by glasses. He was younger and slightly less physically imposing, though still clearly maintained cultivation practice alongside his administrative training.

His demeanor carried the same blend of intellectual precision and underlying capability, someone who could calculate tax revenue with perfect accuracy while also handling himself in combat if circumstances demanded it.

"Count Dragonheart," Logan said, bowing with precision matching his father's. "I'm honored to be assigned to your service. I promise to manage your domain and household with the same excellence my father has brought to the crown's administration."

"Logan will be returning with you today," King Harold said, the statement leaving no room for discussion. "He'll need to familiarize himself with your estate, your territorial holdings, your current staff situation, and the various responsibilities requiring immediate attention. His quarters can be prepared quickly—I'm sure your servants can accommodate the addition."

Raze was still processing the fifty million gold revelation, but managed to respond coherently to the steward assignment. "Of course, Your Majesty. I'd be grateful for Logan's assistance. I'll admit that territorial administration is... not something I'm immediately qualified to handle."

"Honesty is refreshing," Harold said with approval. "Too many nobles pretend expertise they don't possess rather than accepting help. Logan will ensure everything runs smoothly while you focus on cultivation advancement, combat training with Oziel, and the various other demands on your time."

Alfred Camherst spoke up, his voice carrying the careful precision of someone who'd spent decades advising royalty.

"If I may, Your Majesty? I'd recommend Logan begin by conducting comprehensive assessment of Count Dragonheart's current situation. Territory survey, household inventory, staff evaluation, immediate financial obligations, and medium-term infrastructure needs. That will provide foundation for developing proper administrative systems."

"Agreed," Harold said. "Logan, you have two weeks to complete that assessment and present your findings to both myself and Count Dragonheart. After that you'll implement whatever structures are necessary to ensure smooth operation."

"Yes, Your Majesty," Logan replied, then turned to Raze. "With your permission, Count Dragonheart, I'll begin preparations immediately. I'll need to collect my personal effects and relevant documents, then I can travel to your estate this evening."

"That's fine," Raze confirmed, still feeling slightly overwhelmed by how quickly everything was moving. "I'll have the servants prepare appropriate quarters for you."

"Excellent," King Harold said, satisfaction evident that he'd resolved multiple issues efficiently. "Now then, shall we discuss the actual purpose of this meeting? The engagement ceremony requires extensive planning, and my wife has been practically vibrating with excitement since yesterday."

Queen Eleanor laughed, not bothering to deny the accusation. "Of course I'm excited! My daughter is getting married to someone worthy of her, someone who's proven himself through action rather than just bloodline. This ceremony needs to be perfect."

She pulled out documentation that suggested she'd been planning extensively already, detailed lists covering everything from venue selection to guest invitations to ceremonial protocols.

"First decision is timing," Eleanor said, her organizational skills immediately apparent. "Engagement ceremonies traditionally occur within one to three months of the betrothal announcement. Too soon seems rushed, too late suggests uncertainty. I'm proposing six weeks from today, which gives us adequate preparation time without excessive delay."

"Six weeks," Fedora repeated, her blue eyes tracking to Raze to gauge his reaction. "That seems reasonable. Enough time to prepare properly but not so long that anticipation becomes tedious."

"I defer to your judgment," Raze said, recognizing he had no expertise whatsoever in planning royal ceremonies. "Six weeks is fine."

"Excellent," Eleanor said, making a note. "That sets our date as the fifteenth day of the second month. I'll have formal invitations prepared and distributed within the week."

She moved to the next item on her extensive list.

"Venue is the throne room, obviously. It can accommodate approximately two thousand guests comfortably, which should be sufficient for everyone who'll expect invitations. Foreign dignitaries, all Westian nobility above Baron rank, representatives from the Temple, military leadership, and various other officials."

"Two thousand people," Raze said faintly, trying to imagine that many individuals watching him get engaged.

"It's actually quite modest for a royal ceremony," Fedora said, misinterpreting his tone as concern about inadequate attendance. "Mother could easily justify inviting five thousand if she wanted to be excessive."

"The ceremony itself follows traditional structure," Eleanor continued. "Formal vows exchanged before witnesses, exchange of engagement tokens, blessing from Temple officials, followed by celebration dinner for the highest-ranking guests. The entire event will last approximately four hours from opening ceremony to final dismissal."

She looked up from her notes, her expression becoming more personal.

"You'll need formal attire commissioned specifically for the event. Royal tailors will take your measurements and design something appropriate to your new status. The clothing will be expensive but necessary—this ceremony establishes you publicly as crown prince, and appearance matters for that recognition."

"I understand," Raze said, accepting that his wardrobe was about to expand dramatically.

"There's also the matter of the engagement token," Eleanor said, her tone becoming more delicate. "Traditionally the groom presents an item of significant value and personal meaning to his betrothed during the ceremony. Jewelry is common but not required—what matters is that it represents genuine commitment and understanding of your partner."

She glanced at Fedora, who was trying very hard to appear like she had no opinion on this topic despite the slight blush suggesting otherwise.

"I'll need to think about that," Raze said, his mind already working through what would be appropriate. Something meaningful rather than just expensive, something that demonstrated actual thought rather than just throwing money at the requirement.

"Take your time," Eleanor said. "You have six weeks to decide. Just ensure whatever you choose is ready before the ceremony."

They continued through the planning for another hour, covering details ranging from seating arrangements to musical selections to the specific wording of vows that would be exchanged. Eleanor had clearly researched extensively, her preparation accounting for every aspect of the ceremony with precision that bordered on obsessive.

Sophie had fallen asleep in Queen Eleanor's lap halfway through the discussion, the technical details about protocol and ceremony structure apparently too boring for a ten-year-old to maintain interest. The Queen hadn't seemed to mind, continuing her planning while occasionally stroking Sophie's white hair with absent motherly affection.

"I think that covers the major decisions," Eleanor said finally, reviewing her notes with satisfaction. "Everything else can be delegated to the ceremony coordinators. They'll handle logistics while we focus on ensuring the important elements are perfect."

King Harold, who'd been listening with expression mixing patience and amusement at his wife's thoroughness, spoke up.

"There's one additional matter related to the engagement that requires discussion before you depart."

His tone had shifted slightly, becoming more formal in ways that suggested whatever came next was official business rather than ceremony planning.

"As crown prince—or as future crown prince, since that title becomes official after the engagement ceremony—you'll be expected to participate in certain governance functions. Not full responsibilities immediately, but increasing involvement as you prove yourself capable."

The King stood and moved to a cabinet, pulling out additional documentation.

"Specifically, you'll join the Royal Council meetings as observer initially, learning how kingdom-level decisions are made and implemented. You'll also be assigned to oversee specific initiatives that don't require decades of experience but benefit from fresh perspective and proven capability."

He handed Raze several documents outlining various responsibilities and expectations.

"Additionally, your betrothal to Fedora creates security implications that need addressing. You'll require expanded protection beyond just Oziel, proper guard force appropriate to your status. I'm authorizing recruitment of up to twenty personal guards, all to be vetted through royal security and trained to standards matching the castle's own forces."

Raze scanned the documents, his mind trying to process yet another layer of complexity being added to his life. Royal Council participation, governance responsibilities, security expansion—the weight of what he'd committed to was becoming increasingly real.

"I understand, Your Majesty," he said, keeping his voice steady despite the growing sense of being overwhelmed. "I'll fulfill whatever responsibilities the position requires."

"I know you will," Harold said, returning to his seat. "You've already proven yourself more capable than nobles who've had decades to demonstrate competence. The rest is just learning specific protocols and procedures."

Queen Eleanor had been watching the exchange while continuing to hold sleeping Sophie, her expression thoughtful.

"You're taking this all remarkably well," she observed. "Most people would be panicking at the scale of change being imposed on their lives. But you just keep adapting and moving forward."

"Panicking wouldn't help," Raze replied honestly. "I made my choice when I requested Fedora's hand. Everything that comes with that choice is consequence I accepted in advance. No point complaining about the reality of what I committed to."

"Practical," Harold said with approval. "That attitude will serve you well in the years ahead."

Fedora had been quiet during much of the discussion, letting her parents handle the detailed planning while she observed Raze's reactions. Now she spoke up, her voice carrying something between amusement and genuine affection.

"For what it's worth, I think you're handling everything admirably. Most people would have collapsed under the pressure by now, but you just keep surprising everyone with your capability."

"I'm terrified," Raze admitted, giving her a wry smile. "I'm just good at not showing it."

"That's half of being royalty," Fedora said with her own smile. "Looking confident even when you have no idea what you're doing. You're already mastering one of our most important skills."

The meeting concluded shortly after, the major planning decisions made and various administrative matters addressed. Logan Camherst departed to begin his preparations for the move, promising to arrive at Raze's estate before evening.

Sophie woke as they prepared to leave, rubbing her eyes sleepily. "Did I miss something important?"

"Just boring adult planning," Queen Eleanor assured her, helping the girl stand and straighten her dress. "Nothing you need to worry about. But you're welcome to visit again whenever you'd like—I've quite enjoyed having you here."

"Really?" Sophie asked, her face brightening. "I can come back?"

"Absolutely," the Queen confirmed. "In fact, I insist on it. We'll have tea and you can tell me all about how school is going once you start attending. I want to hear everything."

They made their farewells, Fedora walking them to the courtyard where their carriage waited. She caught Raze's hand briefly as they prepared to depart, her expression serious despite the public setting.

"Six weeks until the ceremony," she said quietly. "That's not very long to prepare for changing your entire life again. If you need anything, support or help or just someone to talk to about how overwhelming this all is, I'm here."

"Thank you," Raze replied, squeezing her hand gently. "That means more than you probably realize."

She released him and stepped back, returning to formal courtesy appropriate for public observation. "Travel safely, Count Dragonheart. I'll see you again soon."

The carriage ride back to the estate was quieter than the journey to the castle, Sophie's excitement having been exhausted by the long meeting and all the new people she'd met. She dozed against Raze's shoulder, leaving him alone with his thoughts while Oziel maintained watchful silence.

Fifty million gold annually. A steward to manage his domain. Royal Council participation. Twenty personal guards to recruit. An engagement ceremony in six weeks before two thousand witnesses.

His life had become something he barely recognized, transformed so completely from the village existence he'd known that connecting the two felt impossible.

But Sophie was safe. That remained true regardless of how complicated everything else became.

And really, wasn't that worth any price?

The estate came into view, its white stone gleaming in afternoon sun. Home now, or at least as much of a home as anywhere could be given how much kept changing.

They had six weeks before the engagement ceremony formalized everything publicly.

Six weeks to prepare for a future that grew more complex with each passing day.

But they'd handle it, somehow. They'd managed everything else thrown at them so far.

This would just be one more impossible challenge to overcome through determination and careful planning.

One more step forward into a future that looked nothing like anything he'd imagined, but was his nonetheless.

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