Ghost was the most feared King in all the lands. He ruled with an iron fist, his name whispered with a mix of awe and dread. Known for his brutal battles and for overthrowing the last monarch his own father there was little he hadn’t done, and none who dared challenge him. Yet under his harsh reign, the kingdom had flourished. What was once a sickly, struggling land had become a powerful, thriving empire.

But even the darkest kings have expectations placed upon them.

He was still unmarried. And for a man of his power, that was starting to become a problem. Whispers about heirs, about the legacy of his throne, grew louder each day. So, Ghost decided to act.

Invitations were sent to every neighboring kingdom. Nobles of every house were summoned to his dark castle for a grand ball a celebration with one purpose: to find the King a spouse.

Ghost sat on his throne, black leather creaking beneath him, his masked gaze scanning the crowd. People moved through the grand hall like nervous butterflies, each one hoping to catch his eye. A few had dared to approach, but he’d dismissed them all with a simple wave of his hand, saying nothing.

Soap, his ever-loyal right hand, leaned in and murmured, “What about that one? By the food table, in the pink?”

Ghost’s eyes shifted lazily. Pretty, yes but not enough. He grunted, the sound low and displeased. “No.”

His gaze wandered to the top of the stairs just as the next noble family was announced. Some king from some land Ghost had no care for. The man entered, his five children in tow, each dressed in finery and trying their best to look important.

But it was the last one that caught Ghost’s attention.

They didn’t look like they belonged. Their clothing, though clean, was noticeably less lavish. Their hair wasn’t done up with jewels or elaborate styles. They lingered awkwardly behind their siblings, clearly out of place.

Ghost sat forward slightly.

“That one,” he said coldly. “The last one. Get them.”

Soap didn’t question him. With practiced ease, he weaved through the crowd, approaching the noble family with a charming smile that masked the steel in his tone. The father was shocked, sputtering, but Soap took the youngest child gently by the arm and led them away ignoring the confusion and whispers that followed.

They were brought before Ghost and bowed, unsure of what to expect. Ghost didn’t speak. He simply watched them, eyes unreadable behind his mask.

Then he lifted a hand and patted his thigh.

“Sit.”