The offer hung in the air. King Nivandor's hand remained outstretched—like a thread of fate waiting to be pulled in a new direction. Yet my chest was tight with hesitation.
"I'll come… but only if Your Majesty answers one thing."
I pulled out a worn piece of paper, slowly unfolding it before the king. The faded image that had stayed with me for years—a proud man stood at the center, flanked by two young women tending to children, one of them cradling a baby.
"Do you know this man?" I asked softly, almost in a whisper.
There was no answer. Only the king's gaze sharpened… then darkened.
—
The royal carriage rumbled over the stony road, jostling my body inside. I sat across from King Nivandor. Silence filled the ride—until he finally spoke.
"Is there something in that picture that holds you, Alexander?"
I looked at him. My voice came out slowly, but steadily.
"The woman to the right of the man… she's my mother. And the baby she holds—that's me. But I don't know who he is. I could never call him my father, because I never got a single answer from her."
I paused, breath caught in my throat.
"Do you know, Alexander?"
He let out a long sigh, turning his eyes toward the window as if his words might wound the world itself.
"This world does not belong to peace. It has been shattered by mankind's greed. War is no longer about honor—it's about domination. Land devours land. We are being pushed back. Village after village disappears into dust. This… is what they call Infinity chaos."
Then he looked deep into my eyes.
"Do you know which region was once the largest, the most respected across the realm?"
I shook my head. Silent.
"The king in that picture was the one who led it."
He pointed at the man in the photo—the face I had once considered a dream now felt like a shadowed mystery.
"He was not just a leader, Alexander. He was the key to a history erased by war."
I stared at the photo for a long time… and suddenly, something cracked inside my chest.
—
The carriage came to a stop before tall gates of black steel, etched with the emblem of a golden lion. Nivandor Palace loomed like a fortress from legend—majestic, yet humble in its stillness.
Soldiers lined both sides of the path. Gentle music played from the palace's stringed instruments, welcoming us. I stepped down, greeted like a hero. But my eyes only sought the stone pillars and ancient paintings that filled the entry hall.
"Welcome to your second home, Alexander," the king said, placing a gentle hand on my shoulder.
My steps felt heavy. Every inch of this palace pulled at a part of me long buried. There was something here—something more than honor or glory.
After some time adjusting, we sat in the grand reception hall. A fire crackled calmly in the hearth, and warm drinks were served.
I gathered my courage to ask, looking the king straight in the eye.
"Your Majesty… why did you bring me here?"
King Nivandor stared into the dancing flames. His smile was faint, almost bitter.
"I'll answer that… but not today. Some doors must be opened slowly. You… will see the answer yourself, in time."
I nodded slowly, though my heart remained restless.
If the man in that picture truly was a king… then who, truly, is my father?