Chapter 88: Royal Estate

Chapter 88: Chapter 88: Royal Estate

The heavy runic doors hissed shut, sealing out the night air of the capital as the six-wheeled luxury transport glided forward with eerie smoothness. Deep within the vehicle’s chassis, a quiet, rhythmic thrum echoed—the sound of a high-grade armored mana engine generating a continuous kinetic dampening field.

"This is an Imperial Sovereign Class transport," the Royal Guard Captain began, adjusting his platinum gauntlets as he sat opposite Rowan. "It features six independent mana-driven drive shafts, triple-reinforced titan-steel doors, an explosion-protected floor array capable of absorbing a high-tier subterranean blast, and an armored mana engine that doubles as a localized emergency shield."

Rowan leaned back into the plush leather seating, resting the Hoe of the World-Tiller against his knee and tipping up the brim of his Enchanted Straw Hat. "Impressive work. Runs smoother than a freshly ploughed field."

"Indeed," the Captain replied, a flicker of approval passing over his stern face. "Now, Cadet Vance, as we approach the Inner Royal Pavilion, it is my duty to brief you on proper court etiquette. Coming from a humble agricultural background, navigating the social hierarchy of the Royal Estate requires precision."

The Captain leaned forward slightly, his posture immaculate.

"First, regarding the Imperial Family. Address Emperor Aurelius as ’His Imperial Majesty’, Crown Prince Julian as ’His Imperial Highness’, and Princess Lyra as ’Her Highness’. Do not speak unless spoken to, do not step within three paces unless summoned, and never offer a physical greeting unless a royal extends their hand first—though Her Highness Princess Lyra frequently disregards that last rule herself."

"Understood," Rowan replied calmly.

"Second, regarding the lesser nobles, high-court ministers, and scions of regional branches who frequent the estate grounds," the Captain continued, his tone dropping into a lower, advice-giving register. "Because of your commoner roots, some will undoubtedly attempt to test your patience or look down on you. However, you wear the Golden-Red Imperial Dragon Badge on your tunic. By imperial decree, that badge places you under the direct sanctuary of the throne. You do not bow to lesser lords, regional scions, or court barons. Maintain a quiet, unyielding dignity. Do not provoke conflict, but do not yield an inch of your posture either."

Rowan lightly touched the shimmering crest pinned to his chest, a subtle, unbothered smile touching his lips. "Treat them with respect as Awakeners, but let the crest and the results do the talking."

"Precisely," the Captain smiled faintly as the six-wheeled carriage slowed, sweeping through the monumental, crystal-lit gates of the Imperial Royal Estate. "You are going to do just fine, Cadet Vance."

***

The royal guards led Rowan into a private guest wing of the Inner Royal Pavilion, a secluded sanctuary reserved exclusively for sovereign dignitaries and imperial champions. The suite was a masterpiece of pure opulence—furnished with carved spirit-wood tables, self-regulating climate arrays, and rare spatial artifacts that no amount of gold could purchase on the open market.

Rowan set the Hoe of the World-Tiller against the wall and carefully placed his Enchanted Straw Hat on the polished nightstand, right alongside the Golden-Red Imperial Dragon Badge resting on his tunic. Running a hand across the bed, he felt the whisper-soft texture of pure silk sheets woven from high-tier mana-silkworms, layered over a plush mattress infused with a gentle, self-warming thermal rune.

Sinking into the luxurious bed, the cool, air-conditioned breeze in the room immediately washed away the residual heat of the day’s trials.

His thoughts naturally turned to his personal pocket plane. Normally, after a long day of competition, he would center his focus and activate his core skill, [Domain: The Virgin Soil], stepping into his domain to harvest ripe batches of spirit crops and check on the soil’s vitality.

However, Rowan immediately checked the impulse.

He was currently resting at the very center of the Imperial Royal Estate—a zone saturated with high-tier security wards, ancient spatial detection matrices, and sovereign diviners. Opening the gateway to The Virgin Soil would inevitably cause a localized tear in space and a subtle surge of unrefined cosmic mana. Even if the imperial arrays couldn’t pierce or inspect the domain itself, registering a sudden spatial fluctuation inside a guest suite would instantly trigger every alarm in the pavilion.

Not worth the risk, Rowan thought, leaning back against the warm, silk-draped pillows. Some secrets need to stay completely buried while under the Emperor’s roof.

Choosing caution over cultivation for the night, Rowan closed his eyes, letting the quiet luxury of the room wrap around him as he drifted off to sleep—fully rested and prepared for his private banquet with the Imperial Family and his selection from the Imperial Treasury tomorrow.

***

The first golden rays of dawn crested the soaring spires of the Royal Estate, painting the quiet morning sky in soft shades of amber and violet. Rowan, whose biological clock was naturally tuned to the early morning rhythm of a farmer, opened his eyes fully refreshed.

He dressed in his crisp Sol-Aethel Academy uniform, smoothing the dark fabric before carefully securing the Golden-Red Imperial Dragon Badge over his chest. The heavy, hand-carved crest gleamed under the soft ambient lighting, its polished dragon-fire enamel radiating a faint, comforting warmth that signaled his sovereign protection. Tipping his Enchanted Straw Hat onto his head, Rowan stepped out of the guest suite into the crisp morning air.

Guided by the subtle hum of soil vitality, Rowan took a leisurely stroll into the sprawling royal botanical gardens surrounding the guest pavilion. The grounds were a masterpiece of imperial landscape architecture—terraced marble pathways wound between shimmering koi ponds, crystalline fountain displays, and manicured groves of rare spirit flora that could only be grown within the capital’s densest mana leylines.

As his attuned cultivator senses absorbed the environment, Rowan observed the surrounding flora with quiet fascination. He passed vibrant beds of Luminous Starlight Lilies absorbing the fading morning mist, alongside centuries-old Iron-Bark Cherry Trees whose deep roots tapped directly into subterranean mana conduits. The topsoil had been meticulously enriched with high-tier alchemical catalysts, far beyond what any standard academy could ever afford.

Yet, to Rowan’s practiced eye, the grand garden felt almost too manicured. The earth had been forced into aesthetic perfection for visiting dignitaries, lacking the raw, uninhibited primordial vitality that surged through his own soil back at Sunny Vale. Still, the quiet serenity of the morning was undeniable.

Rays of dawn broke through the canopy of spirit leaves, illuminating the golden dragon pinned to his chest. Rowan took a deep, refreshing breath, enjoying the peaceful stillness before the Royal Estate fully awakened. Today held his private banquet with Emperor Aurelius IX, Crown Prince Julian, and Princess Lyra, followed by his selection from the deepest vaults of the Imperial Treasury—and Rowan was completely prepared.