Daniel

The ballroom shimmered. Not just with light, but with meaning. Every polished step, every lifted glass, every perfectly spaced note of floating music was a calculation. The nobles hadn’t gathered here to dance. They’d come to measure.

Daniel stood just behind House Li’s appointed tier—an elevated crescent alcove flanked by two ceremonial lanterns. From this position, the main dance floor spread out like an open arena, gleaming under refracted starlight.

He hadn’t taken a step before the first cluster arrived. Three young nobles—well-dressed, mid-tier houses by the look of their crests. None of them carried swords, but their eyes were sharp.

The tallest among them gave a polite bow. “Young Master Zhou,” he said. “An honor.”

Daniel returned the nod. “Evening.”

“We’ve been hearing rumors,” said the second—female, younger, marked with the badge of the Arcane Cartography Guild. “Not scandalous ones, I promise. Just… academic.”

The third leaned in slightly. “Something about your work with logic-structured spell lattices. Those at the Academy have been talking.”

“I wasn’t aware I’d published anything concrete,” Daniel said dryly.

“You haven’t. That’s what makes it interesting.”

There was a pause—careful, but not unfriendly.

“We’ve heard,” the woman continued, “that you’re developing a machine-based apparatus—something modular. Structured enough to separate function from intent. It wouldn’t just be a new way to cast. It could become foundational.”

Daniel met her gaze. “I’m exploring a language. Whether it becomes a foundation depends on who learns to read it and what practical applications can be applied.”

The third noble—dark robes, thin silver band at the throat—exhaled thoughtfully. “If it works, it could rival the Magenet.”

Daniel didn’t blink. “That’s not the goal.”

“But it’s possible?”

He gave a small shrug. “Anything’s possible, given enough time and clarity.”

The woman smiled, moved in closer and ran a seductive finger across his chest. It was about as subtle as an eight-hundred-pound gorilla. “We’ll be watching your progress.”

They bowed and moved on, disappearing into the rotating hum of wine and power.

The second approach was subtler.

A diplomat’s daughter—older than the previous group, poised in a formal cloak of scholar’s white—drifted into his conversational orbit like a silk-threaded ghost. Her smile was practiced, her tone lilting.

“Young Master Zhou,” she said with just the right note of respect. “You caused quite a stir among the Imperial scholars with your appearance at the Imperial Academy's symposium last month. I believe one of my cousins claimed you were redefining the way we look at magic and the Magenet in modern times.”

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Daniel gave a soft chuckle. “I am not sure I could have said it more dramatically if I tried. Alas, nothing that grand. Right now, I’m simply asking questions.”

“Of course.” She tilted her head, gold beads woven through her braid catching the light. “But if someone were to build something that could outpace relay crystals—more secure, faster, immune to jamming and less reliant on individual casters—it might change more than communications.”

Daniel remained silent.

“It might change,” she said slowly, “who controls supply lines. Mobilization. Even succession claims.”

Ah. So this wasn’t just academic. It was political.

Daniel didn’t take the bait.

“If something better comes along,” he said evenly, “we’d be wise to study it—before someone else owns it.”

The girl’s smile deepened. “You speak like someone who’s already considered what happens when ownership changes hands.”

Daniel tried not to sigh. Damn, these people were tiresome.

Before he could respond, Lucas stepped into view just behind him—close enough that the conversation immediately ended. The diplomat’s daughter saw Lucas’s face and went a little pale. She gave a hurried bow and politely excused herself. She vanished into the silk-and-crystal crowd.

“Brother-in-law.” Daniel asked without turning. “Just put me out of my misery. Right now.”

Lucas gave a rare smile. “The probe was subtle. Everyone wants to know if you’re really going to implement the ideas you discussed at the Imperial Academy.”

The third came in with a smile too sharp to be real.

House Caerin. Daniel recognized the sigil. Whisper campaigns and veiled accusations were their bread and butter. The boy—slender, high-cheekboned, robed in frilly light blue—was probably no older than twenty-five. But his posture said he’d been raised on thrones and court threats since the cradle.

“Master Zhou,” he said, with just a touch too much warmth. “I was wondering when we’d meet.”

Daniel gave the minimum required bow. “And you are?”

“Caerin Yvrel. I study imperial infrastructure. It’s a… passionate subject. Especially now.”

“Then you’ll have plenty to analyze this year,” Daniel replied.

Yvrel smiled. “More than that. Some say there are theories circulating. Foundations being laid. Systems that might change the shape of mana and communication logistics. Most simply state that it's the droning of the uninformed. That such divination can be dangerous.”

Daniel didn’t answer. How could he? Ethan wasn't so inhibited. “The guy just used a mouth full of words to say nothing at all except, some people think your ideas are dangerous.”

“Of course,” Yvrel continued, “such things can be dangerous.”

Daniel snorted. “He should have started with that.”

Ethan snickered.

Yvrel was still talking. “These things can be…misunderstood. Especially if the wrong Houses start to believe in fantasy. Or worse—start investing.”

Daniel let the silence stretch a beat too long.

“Progress has always run into the narrow, the simple,” he paused. “The stupid.”

Daniel let the word hang.

“The important thing, Mr. Yatviel, Ratviel, Batfill—was it? Oh, I do apologize. I am horrible with names, being a lesser noble and all. Forgive me. Anyway, the important thing for the innovative among us is to remember not to listen to those who lack intelligence and vision.”

The heir to the Yvrel house’s jaw dropped.

Lucas and Ren snorted and suddenly looked very interested in looking around. Gavin disguised his laugh with a cough. Su Lin was less successful but covered her mouth with a fan.

Nathan just fully laughed. He slapped his knee. “Brother-in-law. You’re hilarious. You basically called the Yvrel Heir an idiot.”

The young noble’s expression twitched. He stepped back, turned on his heel, vanishing into the crowd like a knife into a sheath.

Daniel exhaled slowly.

“You didn’t even raise your voice,” Lucas said behind him. “Elegant. You’re going to give Vivian a run for her robes.”

Su Lin raised an eyebrow from nearby. “He’ll remember that for the next ten years.”

“Good,” Daniel said. “He dared insult our house. If I didn’t think it would cause a scene, I would have Nathan cut him. Just a little.”

Nathan grinned.

And then—

The bell sounded.

The music softened.

And the royal family began their entrance.