I AM A MAGE BUT WITH MILF SYSTEM

The Marquis then turned slightly. “This here is my wife, Shayla.”

Shayla stepped forward with a grace and bowed deeply. “It’s a pleasure to be in your presence, my lord,” she said, her voice smooth and practiced.

The Marquis then extended his hand toward the two standing a little behind her. “And these two are my children. Vigg and Aryl.”

Both flinched ever so slightly as the attention turned to them. They shifted uncontrollably, the memory of that restaurant encounter burning fresh in their minds. They forced themselves into stiff, awkward bows, not quite meeting Julian’s gaze.

Julian smirked as he glanced at them.

“Lovely family you have,” he said.

The Marquis chuckled lightly. “Well, thank you, Your Grace,” he replied, nodding once.

Then, he gestured toward the inner castle doors. “Let’s go in. We have a lot to talk about.”

The large double doors slowly opened ahead of them as the group began moving. Behind them, the soldiers remained frozen in their formations, while whispers rippled—about the display, the power dynamics, and the strange duo of the two powerful men.

The interior of the castle was nothing short of breathtaking. Julian silently admired it, finding it quite similar to his own throne room in the Throne of Gods, though this one had a more traditional approach to it, lacking the divine edge of his.

They walked in silence, footsteps echoing lightly through the grand corridors. Finally, they arrived at a massive chamber. At the center was a grand circular table, polished to perfection and surrounded by chairs that looked more like a throne than a simple wooden furniture.

“Your Grace, please,” the Marquis said, gesturing respectfully toward one of the throne.

Julian gave a single nod and moved to sit. Eliz remained standing beside him, her hands calmly folded in front of her. She didn’t speak a word—there was no need. She understood her place. This chamber wasn’t for her voice. Her worth, while favorable to Julian in certain ways, wasn’t important enough to have a seat in this particular table.

With a faint smile the Marquis sat opposite to Julian. Shayla quietly took her place beside him, her posture composed but her eyes constantly flicking between Julian and her husband.

Julian leaned back slightly in his seat, his voice calm but firm. “I must say, I’m very pleased by your welcome.”

Then his tone lowered. “But now, I believe it’s time we address the real reason I’m here. What do you say, Marquis?”

The Marquis’s smile didn’t waver—in fact, it deepened.

“Your Grace,” he said smoothly, “there are only a handful of people in this world I would ever bother having a real conversation with… and you, Archduke, are one of them.”

Julian raised a brow, intrigued. “Ohh… that’s quite the compliment you’re offering me.”

But then the Marquis’s smile widened into a grin.

“Not to you, my lord…” he said calmly, “but to your position.”

Julian’s smile widened. He leaned an inch forward, fingers gently tapping the table. He liked men like this—bold, confident, and unapologetically straightforward. There was no need for masks or flowery words. Just power speaking to power.

The Marquis wasn’t blind to that grin. He chuckled softly, then said, “Though I must admit, Your Grace… you are quite ambitious as well. Not everyone could rise from the son of a duke to a force the entire kingdom watches. You’ve surpassed many, Julian Easvil. From what I hear, even the Crown now pays attention.”

Julian’s gaze sharpened but the amusement never left his eyes. “You seem quite interested in me, Marquis. Curious, even. Tell me… what does the King of Apollo want with me?”

The words landed like a thunder.

Shayla stiffened instantly, her eyes flicking quickly to her husband. How… how does he know? she thought, heart skipping. They had all been careful. There was no sign, no mention… and yet Julian had spoken the name as if he had read it straight from their hearts.

The Marquis, however, did not flinch. He remained silent, and a heavy silence stretched for a heartbeat too long.

Then he smiled.

Not the same polite grin as before—but a more cautious one, edged with a flicker of surprise and respect. “You truly are dangerous, Archduke,” he said slowly. “I wonder… how long have you known?”

Julian’s eyes narrowed with interest. “The moment I entered this land,” he said, “I had my suspicions. The new King of Apollo has always intrigued me. I haven’t met him, but the rumors… they’ve never failed to disappoint. Some say he’s a tyrant, others call him a visionary. Either way, I’ve always kept an ear open.”

The Marquis gave a faint nod. He didn’t deny it. His voice dropped, growing colder, more serious. “A deal,” he said. “His Majesty wants to recruit you.”

Julian’s brow lifted—not in shock, but in quiet curiosity. “A deal?” he repeated, folding his arms together. “That’s not quite what I expected.”

“Yes,” the Marquis said. “His Majesty has a vision. One that goes far beyond borders, titles, and empires. He sees the old world crumbling—and rather than simply rebuild it, he wishes to reshape it entirely. For that… he requires more than just loyal followers. He needs someone powerful. People who understand both power and how to bend it.”

Julian tilted his head, intrigued by this sudden twist of conversation.

But instead of leaning in with curiosity or interest, his expression shifted into one of unimpressed.

“If that’s the case,” he said flatly, “I won’t be part of this.”

The words hit the room like a humiliating slap. Shayla blinked in disbelief, while the Marquis’s usually composed face tensed ever so slightly. He and Shayla exchanged a glance.

“Your… grace… why?” the Marquis finally managed, doing his best to hide the faint twitch of frustration flashing in his face.

Julian raised his hand slowly. A small flame flickered into life in his palm, dancing gently but menacingly in the silence that followed.

“Why, you ask?” he whispered.