CHAPTER 91: BANQUET [2]

After finishing his preparations, Alaric stepped out from his room and made his way through the manor’s familiar corridors.

The morning light streamed through tall windows, casting patterns across the polished floors.

As he rounded a corner, he spotted a familiar figure near one of the decorative alcoves.

Up ahead, Iris was once again busying herself with the vases, carefully dusting their curved surfaces. Her silver hair was neatly pinned back.

She didn’t seem to notice him at first, her focus entirely on her task.

Tap! Tap!

Then at the sound of his approaching footsteps, she paused the work and turned.

She froze for the briefest moment as her eyes took in his form, then turned her head away quickly, resuming her work as though nothing had happened.

"Good morning, my ever-diligent maid," Alaric said standing few arms’ length from her with faint smirk curling his lips as gave her a slow, exaggerated bow dripped with mockery.

Iris’s grip on the duster tightened slightly, but she didn’t rise to the bait.

Instead, she muttered just loud enough for him to hear.

"Morning... my ever-annoying young master."

Alaric chuckled under his breath as he walked past, the corner of his mouth still tugged upward.

"You didn’t bow, you know," he pointed out, straightening.

"I thought that was customary when addressing the heir of the house, no?"

To which she retorted quickly. "I was working."

"Ah, of course." He let his voice drop into a mock-serious tone.

"Wouldn’t want to interrupt the most vital duty. Though, should I be honored you even looked my way today?"

Finally, she gave him a look and spoke in sharp tone, feigning annoyance.

"If you have nothing important to say then go away, let me do my work."

But the faint red color on her cheeks betrayed her.

He stepped past her, leaning just close enough for his words to brush her ear.

"Don’t tell me, you’re being shy little girl."

He didn’t wait for her retort, just continued down the hall. But he didn’t have to look back to know she was glaring at his back.

Muttering some curses under her breath.

And made his way toward the dining hall. The faint aroma of freshly baked bread and spiced tea drifted through the corridor, growing stronger with each step.

When he entered, he saw Selene was already there, seated at the head of the long table.

Her posture perfect, expression unreadable.

She had chosen an elegant gown of deep burgundy for the day, her dark hair arranged in an intricate style that spoke of careful preparation. Her emerald eyes tracked his movement as he approached, though her face remained carefully neutral.

"Good morning," Alaric offered simply as he took his seat at her right side.

Selene acknowledged his greeting with a brief nod, polite but distant, maintaining the careful boundary she’d established since their last verbal sparring match.

Then, without a word, she raised her hand in a small gesture. The maids, who had been waiting along the walls, stepped forward to set down platters of bread, roasted meat, fresh fruit, and steaming tea.

They began eating in silence.

After finishing her meal, Selene delicately dabbed the corners of her mouth with her napkin before setting it aside.

Her eyes fixed on Alaric .

"Don’t make things unnecessarily complicated today," she said.

"We’re attending the banquet for Duke Rithvale’s daughter’s coming-of-age celebration."

Alaric raised an eyebrow and leaned back in his chair, his expression was one of mild curiosity mixed with amusement.

"What makes you think I would?"

Her gaze sharpened, and she gave him a look.

"Because someone has been getting rather bold lately doing things they shouldn’t. Consider this a friendly warning before we’re in public."

Then she rose from her seat with practiced grace, smoothing her gown before turning toward the door.

"Come. We leave now.".

Alaric pushed himself up with a faint smirk tugging at his lips, trailing after her.

The two stepped out into the crisp morning air, the manor’s facade standing tall behind them.

The wagon waiting there was polished to perfection, its black lacquer gleaming under the sunlight.

They climbed in without another word.

The coachman gave a low call, and the wheels began to turn.

After several hours of steady travel, the wagon slowed, the rhythmic clatter of hooves muffled by the fine gravel beneath.

And stopped in front of an estate.

When Alaric glanced out the window, the sight that met him spoke of wealth and old power.

The estate rose from the manicured land like a fortress draped in elegance.

The manor was sprawled in pale limestone walls gleaming in the afternoon sun like polished ivory.

Twin towers flanked the main structure, their conical roofs topped with pennants, while intricate Gothic windows traced elegant arcs across multiple stories.

The estate grounds stretched as far as the eye could see, manicured gardens arranged in perfect geometric patterns, their hedgerows trimmed with fine precision.

Fountains sent crystalline arcs of water dancing in the sunlight.

Guards in the armor, deep blue and silver.

Stood at measured intervals, their halberds gleaming and postures unyielding.

And the most impressive of all was the sheer scale of activity happening around.

Dozens of carriages bearing the crests of noble houses from across the eastern territories lined the circular drive, attended by the servants who moved with practiced efficiency.

Lords and ladies in their finest attire strolled the grounds in small groups.

As their own carriage joined the procession, Alaric could feel the weight of dozens of curious gazes already beginning to assess the newest arrivals.

Then both of them descended from their carriage with practiced grace. A steward approached them with measured steps, his weathered face bearing the kind of professional courtesy that spoke of decades managing high-profile events.

"Lady Glimor, Lord Glimor," he spoke with a respectful bow. "His Grace welcomes you to his estate. If you would be so kind as to follow me?"

With that, he guided them through the arched bronze doors into the heart of the manor.

The great hall beyond took Alaric’s breath away: soaring vaulted ceilings supported by massive stone pillars, stained glass windows casting jeweled light across polished floors.

The place buzzed with the murmur. Lords and ladies talked in little groups, their conversations a blend of genuine pleasantries and calculated political maneuvering.

Servants moved between them, offering wine and appetizers from silver trays.

Selene moved with unhurried grace through the throng, her presence drawing subtle nods of acknowledgment from others.

She reached an unclaimed table tucked near the edge of the hall and sat, her gown settling around her.

Alaric followed her lead, sliding into the seat beside her.

He leaned back slightly, letting his gaze wander over the chattering crowd, catching the snippets of their words and measuring the curious glances sent their way.

Selene didn’t speak. For now, she simply folded her hands in her lap, her expression calm yet unreadable.

Just as he let out a quiet sigh and allowed himself to settle back into his chair relaxing, he caught Selene’s pointed stare from beside him.

"What?" he asked, raising an eyebrow at her.

Her eyes narrowed, the tone in her voice leaving little room for argument.

"At least sit properly. We’re not in your private chambers."

Alaric clicked his tongue in mild irritation but straightened his posture, adjusting his position to meet the exacting standards of noble bearing that she wanted him to be.

Then his gaze drifted over the room again, taking in the intricate social theater playing out around them.

It was... tedious.

The banquet had yet to officially begin, which meant the other nobles were making full use of the opportunity.

The other nobles were trying to create connections, alliances through marriages, trade agreements being hinted at through seemingly casual remarks.

Merchants making subtle hand gestures to seal quiet deals, and a few younger heirs hovering awkwardly, looking for the right crowd to blend into.

As the minutes stretched on, Alaric’s expression gradually shifted from polite neutrality to faint disinterest to outright boredom.

His eyes half-lidded, jaw resting lightly in his hand.

Tap! Tap! Tap!

His fingers drummed against the table’s polished surface.

His gaze began to wander toward the tall windows that offered glimpses of freedom beyond the walls.

Finally, unable to tolerate another moment of enforced stillness, he stood up with fluid grace.

Selene’s eyes flicked to him, assessing for a brief moment, but she said nothing, only turning her attention back to the nobles across the room as he stepped away from the table.

Alaric slipped his hand into his pocket and began making his way toward the area where servants were gracefully dispensing wine from crystal decanters.

Before he could reach his destination, a middle-aged man with an overly eager smile intercepted his path.

His eyes had clearly caught sight of the insignia embroidered on Alaric’s doublet, and recognized immediately.

"Ah, young lord! You must be the new heir of House Glimor," the man said with practiced charm.

Alaric paused and turned toward him with visible reluctance.

"Yeah," he replied, his tone flat, making it clear he wasn’t in the mood for lengthy political discourse.

Despite undeterred by the less-than-warm reception, the man still pressed forward with the determination.

"Well, I heard about your remarkable performance for one so young! Actually, you see, I have a daughter. She’s extraordinarily beautiful and accomplished in all the refined arts. Perhaps we might discuss—"

But before the man could complete his sentence.

Alaric lifted his hand in a casual, almost lazy wave, as if brushing the words away.

"I’ll pass."

And turned away, continuing toward his original destination without even sparing a glance back to see the expression he left behind.

---

{A/N: I deeply apologize for the inconveniences I had caused you guys.}

I’ll try making up for it.

Though I couldn’t do Mass release yet.

I’ll try dropping the price of privilege tier of next month.