BURNING CROWN | A Dark Royal Romance

BURNING CROWN 07-Allies

The sun dipped low. A cool early autumn breeze swept across the palace grounds. She stepped out of the grand office hall after finishing the day's work. Every muscle in her body ached. But the frustration in her chest weighed heavier.

She walked along the gravel path leading to the small cottage, her shoes kicking pebbles with a clack off to the side, as though trying to vent her bottled-up feelings.

"Ugh... the great Duke of Fenhardt... ordering me around like I'm a robot," she muttered, her lips pouting slightly.

Clack! Another pebble rolled away.

"Finishes a meeting and can't even say thank you... then turns around and gives me a dead-eyed look like I'm dead weight."

Clack!

She shook her head, harder this time. Every word she hadn't said to his face spilled out, directed at the stones along the path.

"And then he had the nerve to tease me about last night... who would want to fall asleep and drool on your suit! Madman!"

The last word echoed in her throat, making her stop mid-step for a moment. Her face burned scarlet — from both anger and the embarrassment that kept washing over her in waves. Her heart pounded like a child caught misbehaving.

The evening breeze picked up. Leaves swirled across the walkway. She drew a sharp breath, looked down, and hurried on — wanting to reach the cottage as quickly as possible, so she could shut the door and keep all her grumbling locked safely inside, where no one else would hear.

The Duke of Fenhardt's private office was utterly still. The light from the crystal chandelier reflected down onto an oak desk carved with ancient patterns. Tall stacks of documents were neatly arranged, but even a cursory glance revealed there was enough to keep someone occupied for an entire night. Elliot leaned back against his chair, his eyes scanning the report folder that had just been placed before him.

"Pentagram..." he murmured in a deep, low voice, his sharp gaze lifting to the middle-aged man standing across from him. "What's the update, Nathan? On finding someone to oversee things in Japan."

Nathan... the tall, senior man who had served the Fenhardt family since his father's generation, bowed slightly before answering.

"I've already arranged a shortlist. Several senior executives with expertise in publishing and media are interested in the position.

We're currently vetting their backgrounds and credibility one by one to select the most trustworthy candidate to manage operations."

He nodded slightly, his sharp eyes scanning another stack of folders. "Good... Pentagram must not falter. Not in Japan, not here."

Nathan shifted slightly before continuing his report in a firm voice. "One more matter... The council of junior nobles and the Privy Guard have begun deliberating the formal investiture ceremony, to be held within the next one to two years."

Elliot raised an eyebrow slightly. His still composure carried an underlying tension. "Formal investiture..." he repeated slowly.

Nathan nodded. "Yes, sir. Not merely as Duke — but to prepare you for the role of true sovereign of the nation... Studies in international law, economics, diplomacy — everything a future king must understand and be responsible for. Though I know full well that you need no cause for concern in such matters."

Elliot leaned forward, elbows on the desk, slender fingers interlaced beneath his chin. His deep, sharp eyes reflected a solemn intensity. "And what do you think should be done right now?"

The trusted aide who had served the Fenhardt dynasty for generations stood still for a moment before answering with a resolute voice. "I believe we should begin by building goodwill. Host a banquet. Invite distinguished guests of high standing from the great families, as well as important figures from the worlds of politics and diplomacy. To forge connections and demonstrate that you are ready to be a leader who brings people together."

He chuckled softly in his throat. A half-smile slowly appeared. "A banquet, is it... Hmm... that's not a bad idea. This will let us see whether those who call themselves 'allies' truly stand with Fenhardt — or are merely waiting for the chance to exploit us."

Nathan bowed his head low. "In that case, I will begin notifying everyone and preparing the banquet at once."

Elliot merely nodded in acknowledgment before leaning back in his chair once more. Nathan bowed and left immediately to carry out his assignment. The sharp brown eyes turned to gaze out the window into the pitch-black night.

The chandelier still gleamed. He murmured under his breath. "One to two years... the entire world will be in my hands." The voice faded into the silence that crept in and consumed the office.

And in that silence... the image of the night everything collapsed thirteen years ago surfaced with vivid clarity.

That night, the sky above western Fenhardt was black as coal. The torches of the palace guards were snuffed out as the sound of iron doors being hammered upon thundered through the air. Rumors of "royal treasury corruption" and "abuse of power" had been inflated beyond all truth and used as a pretext by political factions to push the royal family off the board. Those who had once stood with the Fenhardt family turned their backs without remorse. The House of Nobles split in two — those who remained silent, waiting to reap the spoils, and those still loyal but too powerless to stand firm.

And in that chaos... his father and mother were killed.

That night, the rain poured heavily. Black clouds pressed down over the capital. The luxurious black horse-drawn carriage of Duke Cedric raced through the rain toward the palace. The sound of hooves striking wet cobblestones rang out in an urgent rhythm.

Inside the carriage, twelve-year-old Elliot sat beside his mother, Duchess Emilia. His large, round eyes were full of worry. His small hand gripped his mother's sleeve tightly.

"Why are there so many soldiers today, Mother?" he asked softly.

Emilia leaned down and stroked her son's head gently. "It's nothing, Elliot. We'll be there soon, darling."

Across from them sat Duke Cedric Fenhardt. His face was grim, saying nothing. His sharp eyes darted toward the window. Instinct told him something was terribly wrong.

And then it came...

Click! Every lantern lining the courtyard was extinguished simultaneously. Total darkness engulfed everything.

Bang! Bang! Bang!

Gunfire tore through the dark air. The side window shattered. Shards of glass flew into the carriage.

"Elliot! Get down!" Duke Cedric's voice thundered before he shoved his son's body to the carriage floor.

Duchess Emilia threw her arms around her son. But before she could react, a bullet pierced her chest. Bright red blood sprayed outward. Her final smile blurred before Elliot's eyes.

"Mother!" he screamed, tears pouring as he tried to hold her body that was growing weaker by the second.

His father lunged forward to cradle her as well, but the next bullet tore through his back. Red blood spread across it. The large body of his father collapsed upon him. Warm blood soaked the boy's small hands. And in that moment... Duke Cedric and Duchess Emilia — his father and mother — were gone together.

Gunfire still raged. Nathan, his father's closest guard, wrenched the carriage door open and pulled Elliot out. "Young master, run!"

The boy cried, struggling to go back, but his small strength was no match. He was carried through the rain. The smell of gunpowder hung thick in the air. Every step was agony carving through his heart. In the end... he was brought to a secret passage beneath the palace. The chaos above still thundered on. Elliot trembled, his heart shattered when he realized the world that had once been safe had crumbled in a single night.

After the incident, the conspirators sealed the city immediately. News spread that the Duke and Duchess of Fenhardt had been assassinated. The royal house of Fenhardt was in mortal danger. Elliot was secretly smuggled out of Germany by Alexander Fenhardt — his grandfather, who had also survived the events of that night.

Alexander rushed him into exile in Japan, accompanied by the loyal Nathan, to protect the last bloodline of the dynasty — along with other loyalists who had escaped in secret.

He was taken to a manor house in Tokyo that Alexander had quietly purchased under a company name no one knew was backed by the Fenhardt family. The nameplate on the letterbox was no longer "Fenhardt" — replaced by an ordinary surname that forged the boy into an ordinary citizen. A public high school... simple uniforms... leather shoes he had to polish himself every day... a packed morning train where he had to balance with one hand. This was the life his grandfather had prescribed to conceal their bloodline.

Every day, Elliot went to school like any other child. He did group projects. He lost marks for late submissions like everyone else. He trained his heart to yield to the small details of commoner life, to learn patience.

After school, Alexander would teach him mathematics, finance, international law, and diplomacy — preparing him for the day he might one day reclaim the throne.

Time passed until he grew into a young man of twenty-two, having served as the executive of the publishing and media company "Pentagram" for several years. His life had proceeded quietly — until six months ago, when a distinguished envoy visited him and his grandfather at the manor in Japan, requesting that they both return to the throne. The political situation had changed, and the people had united in calling for the Fenhardt family to rule once more.

Not long after, Alexander passed away from old age. A simple funeral was held in Japan, and after the ceremony, Elliot sat in his grandfather's study for nearly the entire night. He opened Alexander's safe, which held many things within — lists of loyalists still in Europe, secret communication channels with the government, and documented evidence to clear the accusations of the past.

That morning, he looked into the mirror in silence. The medium-brown hair that had once fallen to his shoulders was cut short and neat, leaving only a style that suited his sharp features. He tightened his necktie and put on a tailored suit that embraced his broad shoulders perfectly.

The reflection before him was no longer "Elliot" — the twelve-year-old boy who had once cried before his parents' bodies. It was a young man who must carry on the legacy.

The commoner Elliot was folded away neatly, as if tucked into a small wooden box hidden in a dark room in Tokyo. That boy still existed, merely pushed to stand behind a new chair — a chair called "Duke of Fenhardt."

The image of the manor in Japan was still vivid in memory, but it had now been replaced by the grand marble halls of Fenhardt.

The sound of a familiar morning train had transformed into the echo of leather shoes striking stone floors, resonating throughout the palace.

The polite bow of a student in Tokyo had been replaced by the reception of obeisance befitting a nobleman of the highest rank.

And every time he put pen to paper to sign an important document, his grandfather's voice still rang clearly in his mind... a voice reminding him that the boy who had once lived in that manor... would never come back.

Bloodline... it was a shackle he had no right to choose. No matter how much he might wish to flee, there was no escape.

His friends at school had never known. Everyone had seen him as nothing more than an ordinary boy... Even "Pleng Pinn," his first love and only female friend, never discovered that in truth, he was the Duke of Fenhardt.

And it should remain that way... because his true identity was never meant to be revealed to anyone — not even to a friend.