Thud.
A loud thud echoed across the marble steps of the palace.
The Flaheart carriage had barely co to a full stop when its door was thrown open with a dramatic flourish. Alexandrius Flaheart, bold and brash as ever, didn’t wait for his butlers. He jumped off the carriage like the palace owed him the ground beneath his feet.
Behind him followed two n.
One was imdiately recognizable to Florian—Andrew. Their last eting had been brief, but morable for all the wrong reasons. Andrew carried himself with a smugness that made the skin on Florian’s neck prickle. He had the sa arrogance etched into his bones as his father, Alexandrius.
Next to him was a younger man Florian hadn’t seen before.
’Most likely one of Lancelot’s brothers.’ he guessed, studying the stranger’s calm deanor. ’How many brothers does Lancelot even have?’
A butler, clearly panicked and sweating under the pressure of appearances, scrambled into position before hastily calling out:
"Presenting His Grace, Duke Alexandrius Flaheart, along with Lord Andrew and Lord Alucard Flaheart!"
’Alucard, huh.’ Florian noted, storing the na away.
King Heinz stepped forward with the practiced poise of royalty. "Duke Flaheart, Lord Andrew, Lord Alucard—it has been so ti. Welco back to Diamond Palace."
Florian was just about to step forward with his own greeting when soone gently tugged on his sleeve.
"Huh—?" He turned and blinked in surprise. "Alexandria?"
Her usually bright expression was now taut with discomfort. "Prince Florian," she whispered, "I—I have to use the bathroom. The other princesses already have their bouquets... could you give this one in my place?"
There was urgency in her eyes—real concern—and Florian could hardly refuse.
"...Of course," he whispered back.
Her face lit up with relief. "Thank you," she said softly, passing him the small bouquet of red and gold flowers ant for the duke. Then she quickly turned and tiptoed toward Delilah, whispering sothing in the head maid’s ear. Delilah’s eyes flicked to Florian briefly before she gave Alexandria a subtle nod, allowing the young princess to leave without consequence.
’Is she even allowed to just go like that? I hope she doesn’t get scolded...’ Florian worried inwardly.
He didn’t have long to dwell. Athena had moved beside him, clutching her own bouquet. As the one chosen to present a gift to the duke’s heir, she was supposed to hand it to Andrew.
As they stepped closer, Andrew’s eyes landed on them. His gaze drifted first to Florian, then to Athena, who was nervously fiddling with her sleeves and refusing to make eye contact.
"Your Highness," Andrew said stiffly before glancing at Athena with a leer. "And who is this little cutie?"
"She’s one of the princesses," Florian said sharply, voice edged with warning. "Just one out of the many princesses in the king’s harem."
Athena flinched slightly behind him, shrinking under Andrew’s stare.
"Ah." Andrew chuckled as he accepted her bouquet. "I forgot how feisty you were, Your Highness," he muttered under his breath.
’And I forgot how absolutely creepy you were.’ Florian gritted his teeth and turned toward Alexandrius, who was still chatting with Heinz, a smug grin plastered on his face like he owned the palace.
"...Then I look forward to—" Alexandrius cut himself off mid-sentence when he noticed Florian approaching with bouquet in hand. His brow lifted in condescension. "What is this?"
Florian stopped in front of him, posture straight. "Duke Flaheart, this is a gift from us to you. A small token of welco and appreciation for your presence."
His voice was flat, chanical. Every word forced.
Alexandrius gave a short, mocking scoff. "Flowers? You’re giving flowers?"
"It is custom," Florian said simply, extending the bouquet.
The duke’s lip curled. He clearly wanted to reject it, his hand hovering like it might get burned. But before he could say another word, the younger man beside him—Alucard—stepped forward and accepted the flowers instead.
"Thank you, Your Highness," Alucard said politely, with a short bow.
’Well... he seems nice?’ Florian thought, a bit disard, and offered him a faint smile in return.
Alexandrius clicked his tongue. "Why did you take that? It’s a bunch of girly nonsense. If you want to thank us, then actually—"
He didn’t get to finish.
Suddenly, from within the bouquet Alucard held, a soft buzz erupted.
Sothing crawled out from between the petals.
Florian’s eyes widened.
’A bee? No... not a bee?’
It was small—winged and black—but looked far more aggressive, like sothing crossbred between a wasp and a scorpion. Its sharp stinger glinted in the light. Another one followed. Then another.
Alucard recoiled slightly.
Alexandrius took one look and stumbled back, his face twisted in sheer horror. "What the fuck?!"
His voice bood across the entranceway as one of the creatures buzzed past his face, and for the first ti, Florian saw genuine fear in the duke’s eyes.
"Father!" Andrew exclaid, surging forward just as Alucard flung the bouquet away. The cursed flowers hit the ground with a dull thud, petals scattering as winged abominations unfurled from within—unnatural things with veined wings and stingers that pulsed like they were alive.
Florian stumbled back instinctively, heart slamming against his ribs. Behind him, gasps broke out—soft, fearful cries from the princesses echoing through the grand entrance.
’What is happening?!’
Before the swarm could reach Alexandrius’ face, Andrew’s hand snapped up, blazing with a sudden rush of crimson fire.
A wave of heat surged outward as flas roared from his fingertips, engulfing the creatures mid-air in a crackling inferno. The sharp stench of burning chitin filled the courtyard, acrid and stomach-turning.
Alucard reached out quickly, steadying their father. "Are you alright, Father?"
Florian stood frozen, wide-eyed, the sound of the flas still hissing in his ears.
’What—what even were those?’
He whispered, almost to himself, "What was that?"
"Stingwraiths," Heinz answered, voice quiet and grim from just behind him. His eyes were locked on the remains, his jaw tight. "They nest in wild-cut flora. Extrely dangerous. Especially to those with allergies."
Andrew took a breath, brushing soot off his sleeves, then turned to Alexandrius. "Did it get near you—?"
But before he could finish, Alexandrius shoved both sons aside with a furious, almost animal snarl.
"YOU!" he roared, pointing a trembling finger at Florian. His face was red, veins straining at his temples, rage pouring off him in waves.
Florian’s mouth parted slightly. "W-What?"
"You did this on purpose!" Alexandrius stord forward, each stomp of his boots heavy, thunderous. "You knew I was allergic to Stingwraiths! You tried to kill , you little—!"
"H-How would I even know that?!" Florian blurted, stumbling back, eyes darting for an escape.
"Father, that’s enough!" Lancelot’s voice cut through the chaos, angry and sharp.
His footsteps pounded against the stone floor—but before he could reach them, Heinz moved.
He stepped forward and raised one arm, placing himself directly between Florian and the enraged duke.
And the world shifted.
It wasn’t just his stance—it was his presence. Cold, commanding. Dangerous.
Alexandrius skidded to a halt, blinking, as if sothing unseen had grabbed him by the throat.
"Your Majesty," he rasped, trying to salvage his pride, "with all due respect, that prince—"
"...does not know what you are talking about," Heinz interrupted, voice low but razor-sharp. "And if you dare lay even a finger on him, I will personally punish you myself."
The words dropped like stones into a silent lake. Even the air seed to still.
Heinz’s gaze narrowed, his eyes dark and unreadable. "Florian could not possibly have known about your allergies. No one here could. Stingwraiths are common in Devil’s Thorn blossoms—common enough that a careless florist could overlook them. The fault lies with the arrangent, not him."
He turned his gaze toward the scorched petals and curling smoke. "Whoever handled the bouquet will be held responsible."
Alexandrius opened his mouth, then caught the look on Heinz’s face.
He closed it again.
Florian couldn’t see Heinz’s expression from where he stood—but whatever was in it, it had stopped a man like Alexandrius in his tracks.
"Lucius," Heinz called, voice as steady as steel, "escort Duke Flaheart and his sons inside. Ensure his condition is stable and that the Stingwraith venom has not affected him."
Florian blinked. He hadn’t even noticed Lucius had returned.
"Of course, Your Majesty." Lucius stepped forward, bowing slightly. "Duke Flaheart, Lords Flaheart—please follow ."
They obeyed. Begrudgingly. Alexandrius cast one last glance over his shoulder—narrowed eyes locking onto Florian with a smoldering glare.
’Great. He hates .’ Florian thought, stomach twisting slightly. ’I’m under his radar now.’
But even as dread prickled in his spine, another thought rose.
’If Alexandria had given the bouquet instead of ... she would’ve been the one blad. The one in danger.’
Florian took a deep breath, watching as the Flaheart carriage was led around the side toward the guest halls. The Frostblade carriage behind it had yet to open.
The tension was still heavy in the air.
"Are you alright?" Heinz asked quietly, not looking at him.
"I’m fine, Your Majesty... I—I’m sorry for what happened."
Heinz was silent for a mont. Then he sighed through his nose.
"You had no fault. Do not apologize." His tone was firm, almost gentle. "He overreacted for soone descended from a long line of knights."
Florian blinked. "To be honest... his reaction was kind of funny."
Heinz’s shoulder twitched.
Was that—?
It was. A short, quiet laugh.
"That’s correct," Heinz murmured. "It was."
Sothing in Florian eased. His heart still beat a little too fast, but the cold panic had lessened. He’d been anxious about eting the next duke—yet sohow, this mont, with Heinz beside him, made it all feel a little less terrifying.
"Thank you," Florian said softly, and ant it.
Heinz didn’t respond with words. He only glanced at him once, then turned his eyes forward—toward the next carriage, where the next duke was just beginning to step out.
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