Three hundred guests watched Lady Blanche Fairmont lose everything because she stopped to save a dying stranger.

"Silence!" High Chancellor Vane shouted, though his own hands were trembling. "Guards, arrest her for disrupting the Royal Summit!"

"She will not be touched!" a voice thundered from the grand entrance doors.

The heavy oak doors of the ballroom burst open with a deafening crash.

Through the doorway marched fifty elite knights wearing black armor, carrying shields emblazoned with the silver sleeping dragon—the lost royal crest. Behind them rode Julian, dressed in full silver plate armor, his dark cloak billowing behind him, his dark hair falling over his forehead, looking every inch the legendary warrior king born to rule.

Gasps of absolute terror and awe echoed through the hall.

"The dragon crest!"

"The lost line of Edward!"

King Richard fell back in his wheelchair, coughing violently, pointing a trembling finger at Julian. "You... you were dead! My assassins killed you in the cradle!"

Julian walked down the center aisle, his steel boots echoing like thunder against the marble floor. He stopped beside Blanche, looking down at her with a gaze filled with fierce pride and profound adoration.

He turned toward the King and the gathered nobility.

From his belt, Julian drew the legendary sword of Oakhaven—Excalibur’s Edge—and held up the ancient royal decree bearing the golden seal of his father, King Edward IV.

"I am Julian royal-born," his voice resonated with absolute, unquestioned sovereignty. "Son of King Edward IV, rightful heir to the throne of Oakhaven! I have returned to claim my father’s crown and clean the rot from these walls!"

High Chancellor Vane dropped to his knees instantly, knocking over his scroll.

General Marcus, commander of the northern garrison, drew his sword and slammed his fist against his chest, bowing low. "Long live King Julian!"

One by one, like falling dominoes, the powerful lords, ministers, and dukes who had spent their lives bowing to corruption dropped to their knees before the true king.

Horus Winfield sank to his knees, shivering with terror, realizing his dreams of power were dead.

Duke Albert Fairmont dropped to his knees, his face pressed against the cold marble floor, completely crushed under the weight of his own monstrous disgrace.

Only Blanche remained standing beside Julian.

Julian turned toward the frail, dying King Richard. The old tyrant looked at his nephew, then looked at the noblemen cowering on the floor, knowing his reign of terror was officially over.

"Guards," Julian commanded smoothly. "Escort the former king to his chambers. Strip Horus Winfield and Albert Fairmont of their titles, seize their estates, and place them under arrest pending trial for high treason against the realm."

As the black-armored knights moved forward, seizing the screaming, weeping Horus and the completely broken Albert, Julian did something that would be written into the kingdom's history books for a thousand years.

The true King of Oakhaven turned to Blanche.