I AM A MAGE BUT WITH MILF SYSTEM

A nearby Ravenswood escort spoke. “Welcome to the Inner Layer, Your Grace. You now stand before the Heart of House Ravenswood.”

He pointed toward one of the smaller castles with a strange half-dome structure. “Your Grace, this is the House of Education,” he explained.

The building’s unique shape made it stand out among the others.

He then turned to another castle close by, just beside the House of Education.

“And this is the House of Health,” he continued, gesturing to a castle with white stone walls and red crosses carved into the gates.

“These smaller castles are all specialized houses, each dedicated to a different field—education, health, military training, research, governance, and more.”.

Julian took it all in, genuinely impressed by the vision laid before him. This was no ordinary noble estate. It was a glimpse of something truly remarkable. And it aligned perfectly with one of his ambitions: to transform the Easvil Duchy into a utopia.

But before he could lose himself in planning or admiration, the massive gates of the inner castle slowly creaked open. The sound echoed, drawing everyone’s attention. With the path now cleared, their carriages moved forward smoothly onto polished stone roads.

Just beyond the threshold a grand fountain came into view. It was so big that it resembled a miniature waterfall.

They passed it slowly, and beyond the fountain, massive gardens were laid on the both sides of the main path.

The knights of Ravenswood stood silently at the side, their face hidden by metal armor. As Julian’s procession approached, they all dropped to one knee in perfect sync, their heads bowed low.

Julian acknowledged them with a simple nod, his expression composed yet commanding. His gaze then shifted to the end of the path—where someone waited for him.

As they neared, the figure gradually came into clear view.

He stood tall—or at least gave the impression of it—his thick raven-colored hair was combed back, his deep, dark eyes scanning the approaching carriages.

Despite the fatness of his belly, he emanated a strange kind of authority. The badges lining his chest gleamed under the sunlight, each one marking his exploits and position unmistakably as the Marquis Ravenswood himself.

Julian raised a brow, a faint grin tugging at his lips. “He has got a fat fucking belly, but somehow… that makes him even more commanding,” he muttered under his breath, amused and intrigued all the same.

The carriage came to a halt just before the marquis.

Eliz, sitting beside Julian, leaned toward him and whispered, “My lord, it seems Lord Ravenswood has personally come to escort you.”

Julian nodded slightly, eyes still locked on the man ahead. “Yes… he sure is interesting.”

Behind the marquis stood his wife, Shayla and beside her, their elder daughter Aryl and young son Vigg, trying their best to look composed.

There were others present too: high-ranking officials, trusted guards, and nobles, all lined up in formation.

Eliz was the first to step out of the carriage. She walked out, her gaze sweeping over the assembled crowd before settling on the marquis. With a grace, she bowed deeply, then quietly moved aside.

Then Julian stepped out.

The moment his feet touched the ground, the atmosphere shifted. His eyes never left the marquis, locked in an unblinking stare.

The assembled nobles and guards reacted instantly. Some gasped softly, astonished by his arrival. Others looked at him with reverence, taken by his striking appearance, the sheer magnetic pull of his presence. And then there were those who lowered their eyes, their instincts screaming in fear.

Yet, amid the tension, the marquis simply smiled—calm, composed, and equally unyielding.

Behind him, Aryl and Vigg stood frozen. Aryl’s usually controlled expression cracked, her eyes slightly wide in shock. Vigg looked completely stunned, his mouth slightly open as he took in the man before him.

“Sister,” Vigg muttered, barely moving his lips, “is that not the one who joined us at that restaurant… claiming to be from a viscount’s family?”

Aryl’s eyes remained fixed on Julian as she whispered back, her voice shaky, “Yes… it’s him…”

Before they could say more, Shayla nudged both of their arms. “Shut up, you two,” she hissed, eyes still locked on Julian. Her own heart was racing.

The siblings quickly straightened up, their faces stiff as they tried to suppress the tremble in their hands.

And then, what happened next stunned everyone.

The Marquis—head of one of the most powerful estates in the Apollo kingdom—lowered himself onto one knee.

Not just a shallow nod of respect. He went fully down, head bowed deeply before Julian.

Gasps filled the air. Every pair of eyes widened in disbelief. Even Julian blinked, momentarily surprised.

For a breathless moment, no one moved.

Then, as if the world had snapped into motion again, all others followed—nobles, knights, attendants. One by one, they dropped to their knees. Even Shayla stood in stunned silence before slowly lowering herself.

Is that… really my husband? she thought, barely able to believe her eyes.

“Welcome to my small estate, Your Grace,” the Marquis said, his voice smooth, rich with confidence and charm.

Julian smiled, his expression calm but edged with amusement. “Oh, you flatter me, Marquis,” he replied.

“Stand. A man of your bearing does not suit kneeling.”

The Marquis returned the smile and stood elegantly, as though the act of kneeling had not wounded even a bit of his pride.

One by one, the others followed his lead, rising slowly.

“I hope the journey here was not… inconvenient,” the Marquis said lightly, as if the earlier bloodshed hadn’t stained the road that led to this very moment.

Both sides’ armies tensed subtly—Easvil’s men hardened their jaws while Ravenswood’s knights exchanged uneasy glances.

Julian chuckled softly, tilting his head. “Oh? What could possibly happen, Marquis?” he said.

“And besides… not everyone wants to live.”

The words cut through the air like a blade. The soldiers of Ravenswood flinched again, some casting their gaze down. The Marquis only nodded with a silent, knowing smile.

“Well said, Your Grace,” he replied, eyes flickering with respect. “Those who choose to stand in the way of fire must be prepared to be burned.”

They remained silent for a moment, a mutual respect passing between two powerful men—one who had ruled for decades and one who was rising with the force of a storm.

The Marquis then turned slightly. “This here is my wife, Shayla.”