Dragon King's Harem Chapter 546. The Dwarven King

Dragon King's Harem Chapter 546. The Dwarven King

Beside him stood Princess Seranaya of the Nymph Tribe.

This was my first time seeing her in person.

She was… composed.

Graceful in a quiet, obedient way. Long hair cascading like moonlit water down her back, her posture elegant and deferential as she stood half a step behind the king. Her expression was neutral, almost serene, as she poured wine into his goblet with practiced ease.

An obedient wife type.

I understood immediately why Durharn had chosen her.

He liked control.

He liked quiet admiration.

He liked devotion that never questioned him.

No wonder he had ordered the execution of Sela’s childhood friend, his own loyal noble, simply to silence opposition. Love, when twisted by pride, made men dangerously stupid.

And I knew the truth behind that decision.

Which made this entire gathering feel less like a celebration and more like a stage set for inevitable complications.

Durharn’s eyes lit up the moment he saw us enter.

First me.

Then Seraphel.

Ah.

There it was.

The smile widened, smugness melting into open delight. Hosting a wedding was already a display of power. But having both the Dragon King and the Phoenix Queen present? That was more than prestige, it was legend carved into memory.

A blessing from two of Igixar’s mightiest beings.

A flex no king could resist.

But then…

His gaze shifted.

Sela.

Marissa.

The smile faltered.

Just slightly.

Barely noticeable to anyone who didn’t know him.

But I saw it.

Recognition. Calculation. Irritation.

His eyes returned to mine, sharp and questioning, as if silently demanding an explanation for their presence.

I met his gaze without blinking.

Cold.

Unyielding.

Don’t.

Even.

Think.

About it.

Sela, Marissa, and Evelina stood behind me in composed silence, their travel garments bearing the unmistakable insignia of Draconis. Not armor. Not ceremonial attire. But enough.

They were under my protection.

My people.

My wives.

Touch them, and you touch me. Then don’t blame me if your corpse ends up between my teeth.

Durharn held my gaze for a long second.

Then he looked away.

Decision made.

He would ignore the complication, for now.

His smile returned, wide and diplomatic.

“Dragon King Argod,” he greeted warmly, rising from his throne. “It honors us greatly that you have come to witness this union.”

I inclined my head slightly. “King Durharn. Your invitation was received with gratitude. May your union bring strength and prosperity to your people.”

Formal.

Measured.

Exactly as expected.

He turned next to Seraphel, bowing respectfully. “Phoenix Queen Seraphel, your presence is a blessing upon this occasion.”

Seraphel inclined her head with elegant grace. “May your reign remain steady, King Durharn, and your alliance bear fruit.”

Durharn beamed, clearly savoring every word. “Yes, yes… a most auspicious gathering indeed.”

His gaze then shifted toward the fairy delegation, posture straightening another inch as Queen Lysira approached with her daughter at her side.

“Queen Lysira of the Fairy Realm,” Durharn greeted warmly, placing a fist over his chest in dwarven respect. “Your presence honors my house.”

Lysira inclined her head with poised grace. “King Durharn Stoneblood. May your union be harmonious and your halls filled with laughter.”

Durharn chuckled heartily. “Laughter, we have plenty of. Harmony… we shall see.”

Princess Eleniel offered a lighter bow, her voice clear and youthful. “We are grateful for the invitation, Your Majesty.”

“And I am grateful you accepted,” Durharn replied, clearly pleased at the gathered display of influence.

Only then did he gesture toward Princess Seranaya once more, reclaiming the center of attention.

“Allow me to introduce my future queen. Princess Seranaya of the Nymph Tribe.”

She stepped forward gracefully, offering a respectful bow. “It is an honor to meet you, Your Majesties.”

Her voice was soft, almost musical. Calm. Controlled.

I studied her quietly. No fear. No arrogance. Just quiet acceptance of her role.

“You carry yourself with dignity, Princess,” I said. “May your future be prosperous.”

“Thank you, Your Majesty,” she replied gently.

Behind me, I could feel Sela’s stillness like sharpened steel, and Marissa’s silent observation, calculating and wary. Evelina stood calm as always, her presence soothing the tension that lingered just beneath the surface.

Durharn’s eyes flickered once more toward them, curiosity restrained behind diplomacy.

“You have brought distinguished company,” he said carefully.

“Yes,” I replied. “They stand with me.”

A pause.

Then he nodded slowly. “Of course. The Draconis Empire’s presence is always… welcome.”

Translation “I will tolerate this because you are powerful enough that refusing would be unwise.”

Fair enough.

Durharn gestured broadly. “Tonight, we celebrate not only a union, but the gathering of allies and friends. Please, make yourselves comfortable. The feast shall begin shortly.”

As we moved toward the grand table, music swelled softly, dwarven instruments blending with fairy melodies drifting from the far side of the hall. Nobles resumed their murmurs, glancing between us with renewed interest.

I exhaled slowly.

Another political performance successfully navigated.

But inside?

My thoughts churned quietly.

This wasn’t just a welcome dinner.

It was a chessboard.

Durharn basked in his triumph, unaware, or perhaps unconcerned, about the tensions simmering beneath his own celebration. Seraphel walked beside me, her presence steady and watchful. Behind me, Evelina, Sela, and Marissa followed like constellations aligned under my command.

And somewhere in the palace, alliances shifted.

Old wounds stirred.

Secrets waited patiently in the shadows.

I allowed myself a small, private smirk.

Then the doors behind the throne opened again, and dwarven servants began carrying in the real centerpiece of the evening, the food.

And by the ancestors… dwarves did not believe in subtle portions.

The long stone tables were quickly covered in iron platters heavy enough to double as shields. There were slabs of ember-roasted cave boar glazed with blackfire honey, their skin crackling under torchlight. Stonecrust magma bread split open to reveal molten cheese made from deep-mountain goats. Ironroot stew simmered in thick bronze cauldrons, filled with chunks of braised rock elk and glowing earth-herbs that pulsed faintly with mana.

There were platters of crystal-salt river trout, smoked until the flesh shimmered silver. Barrels of aged basalt ale were rolled in, their scent dark and bitter. Even the vegetables looked intense, charred fire-peppers, roasted granite mushrooms, and something called thunder tubers that sparked faintly when pierced.