I AM A MAGE BUT WITH MILF SYSTEM

Then, with the court still reeling from the shock, Julian stepped forward and knelt briefly before the king. It was respect, sure, but laced with something untouchable, a silent claim to the power just bestowed.

Rising, he turned and descended the staircase of the platform, each step echoing in the vast hall. All eyes were on him—nobles, royals, servants, every soul pinned to his every move. His deep blue gaze swept the room, calm and piercing, as he walked past his four guardians.

They fell in behind him without a word—Joseph’s broad shoulders rolling, Liam’s quick steps matching his, Lias scanning the crowd, Raphael steady as iron—following like shadows. Their presence was a wall, amplifying the weight of Julian’s exit.

Hallie stumbled back, her hand clutching the back of her chair for support. “Father, no—” she choked out, but her voice cracked. Her eyes darted from the King to Julian’s retreating figure then to Ivan, who stood frozen.

The King’s announcement hadn’t just dismissed her—it had mocked her, spat on her dreams for her son, and crowned Julian in their place. Tears of fury glistened in her eyes, but she held them back.

The Queen was beyond words now, her face twisting into something wild. Her hands clawed at the throne, and for a moment, it looked like she might lunge—at the King, at Julian, at anyone.

“Archduke,” she hissed under her breath. She glared at her husband, but he didn’t meet her eyes—just stared ahead, calm as a statue.

Ivan’s knees felt weak, and a faint shiver ran through him. Archduke Julian Easvil, a title that screamed the King’s favor in a way Ivan’s princely blood never could. His fists unclenched, then clenched again, but it was futile, just a weak effort.

He finally managed to glance at Julian, but all he could see was his back.

The nobles were even in a big mess. Either? He was a wreck. His head dropped again, shoulders hunched, as if the King’s words had piled another layer of dirt on his grave. Julian’s blue eyes flicked to him briefly, that same “not worthy” stare, and Ethwer shrank further.

The king waved a hand, casually, as if he had just named a new holiday. “The meeting is concluded,” he said, rising from his throne. “Return to your duties.”

Julian lingered a moment longer, his gaze sweeping the room one last time. “Long live the kingdom,” he said softly, almost to himself, before turning away and walking out.

The hall didn’t breathe until he was gone.

**

Hours passed by as the royal capital remained shadowed by earlier events. The day had slipped to night, and the soft moonlight bathed the castle in its warm, silvery glow. The appearance of the Archduke took everyone by storm, and soon, the entire kingdom would be taken aback, shaken to its core by the news of Regina’s return and her son’s ascent.

Outside, the city was buzzing with energy. Torches flickered along the streets, casting long shadows as whispers spread from noble estates to merchant stalls to even the lowliest taverns.

“Archduke Julian,” they murmured, the title undeniably heavy.

Some spoke it with awe; others, with fear. The common folk who had cheered his arrival that morning now swapped tales over mugs of ale, piecing together rumors of the King’s favor and the Queen’s fury.

Nobles locked themselves in their manors, scribbling letters, already plotting how to ride or survive this new wave of power.

Within the castle, the silence was louder. The grand halls, once alive with voices, now remained still with only the faint clink of armor as guards patrolled. The King had retreated to his chambers, and no one dared to question his silence.

The Queen, though—she was absent. Servants whispered that she had stormed off with Hallie, whispering to each other in hushed tones, plotting in some shadowed corner of the palace.

The main star of the event, Julian, stood alone on a balcony overlooking the capital. His black robe fluttered faintly in the night breeze, and he took a deep breath. The Four Guardians were nearby, but they stayed back, giving him space.

He leaned against the stone railing, a faint smile playing on his lips. The kingdom was his now, in ways it hadn’t been at dawn, and he could feel it shifting beneath him, bending to his will.

Far off, a bell rang out, slow and mournful, as if marking the end of one era and the uncertain birth of another. The news would reach the duchies by morning—Easvil, Hans, Norish, and Ethwer—all of them waking to a new reality.

Julian Easvil wasn’t just a duke anymore; he wasn’t just a prince. He was Archduke, a title carved from the King’s own hand.

**

In one of the shadowed corners of the castle, far from the court’s prying eyes, Hallie sat on the edge of a massive bed, her hands clenching the sheets tightly. The queen paced back and forth, her silk gown rustling with every furious step.

Ivan stood silently by the wall, arms crossed, and his eyes fixed on nothing.

“Ma, are you going to just keep pacing around?” Hallie snapped, standing to her feet, her voice splitting the silence like glass. “Stop it—stop! You’re making me sick, and it’s not changing a damn thing!”

Her hands flew to her head, pulling at her hair as tears streamed down her face.

The Queen stopped mid-step, and she turned to face Hallie. “What do you want me to do, Hallie?” She shot back, her voice cracking into a scream. “Sit here and rot while your father stabs us in the back? He has made Julian an archduke! My own husband, tossing us aside for that traitor’s spawn!”

She lunged forward, her hands slashing the air as if it could calm her anger. “I can’t stop—I’ll go mad if I do! He has betrayed me—betrayed us—and you’re snapping at me?”

Hallie laughed—more like broke down. “Betrayed us? Oh, Ma, he didn’t just betray us; he erased us! Ivan is nothing to him now—nothing! And you’re pacing like it’ll undo it?” She slammed her fists on the table, the loud thud echoing in the room. “He has handed Julian everything—everything we have bled for! We’re finished—done!”