CHAPTER 93: BEFORE THE START

The ballroom shimmered with candlelight caught in crystal. Strings hummed in the background, lilting through conversations that glittered with both charm and hidden knives. Banners of each Ducal house hung above like silent judges.

Thorneharts, the ever-sturdy shield of Norvaegard that protects from all threats. The Runescars, the sharp blade of Norvaegard, one that will cut down all enemies. The Judicars, the steady scale of Norvaegard, uphold order within the chaos. The Aeromonts, the mighty quill of Norvaegard, keep record of all its history and knowledge.

Right now, the four Dukes, along with their heirs, have gathered in a single area. Seraphina Aeromont approached Lucen.

"Nice to meet you, Lucen Thornehart. I’m the Duchess Serephina Aeromont."

Lucen greeted Serphina with a knight’s salute. "It is a pleasure meeting you, Duchess."

She let out a soft chuckle. "I’ve heard many things about you. My daughter and I have been quite taken by the board game you created."

Lucen smiled lightly as he replied. "I’m honored, Duchess. I’m glad that you found my game entertaining."

"My daughter wanted to ask you something."

Seraphina gestured at her doll-like daughter standing behind her, who then took a step forward. Mireya, with her rather emotionless stare, looked at Lucen and did a curtsy.

"Greetings, I’m Mireya Aeromont."

Lucen nodded politely, offering a refined bow in return, and replied.

"I truly love that board game you created. It was so simple, but at the same time had so much depth to it. Are you planning to make another game any time soon?"

"Unfortunately, I don’t have any plans of creating a new game at the moment."

"That is unfortunate... Then how about a game of Territory War?"

Her tone didn’t change, but her eyes gleamed faintly—like a predator that found something worth studying.

"I wish to see what level of skill the creator has."

Lucen had already expected this to happen at some point, especially from Mireya, who had an unquenchable thirst for knowledge. She was like that god slaying race from an anime he once watched, which liked to gather knowledge.

"I would gladly play with you, Lady Mireya, but we are at the Third Prince’s party at the moment. It would be rather rude to play at this moment."

"I don’t really care or mind about such things, but since you do mind, Sir Lucen, I will comply. Then, after the party, are you willing to come play with me?"

"Sure, I will come and play a game with you."

"Hey, I’m willing to play with you right now. Like you, I don’t really care about this party, and playing Territory War is a good way to pass the time. How about it? Do you want to play with me?" Robert suddenly chimed in.

"Robert Duskwell, the mad genius of the Yellow Tower," Mireya said without blinking. Her tone wasn’t mocking or impressed, just a flat acknowledgment, like she was reciting a known fact.

"What do you want from my daughter?" Before Mireya could respond, Seraphina spoke for her.

"Tsk, you ol-..." Robert was about to blurt out something he shouldn’t say and stopped himself from saying it.

Lucen, who was listening to the conversation on the side, noticed this and was quite surprised. Robert the madman, who only cared about gaining more knowledge and doing experiments actually hesitated.

"What were you about to say, Robert?" Seraphina asked with a gentle smile on her face.

"Tsk, nothing. I just wanted to play a game with the little lady. Is that a problem?"

"That’s just a ruse. What do you really want?"

"... I want to read the journal written by your ancestor Lunavere Aeromont."

"That’s it? Come to our place and I will let you borrow a copy of the journal."

"No, what I want to read is the original?"

The moment Robert said those words, the look Seraphina had became sharper as her smile grew wider.

"Oh my, it would seem that you have gotten a bit bolder. Unfortunately, there are some entries in the journal that cannot be shared with others. Aside from those entries, the copy journal is exactly the same as the original."

"Why can’t I see the original?! I-"

Before Robert could finish, a hand clamped over his mouth from behind.

The hand belonged to an old man, but there was nothing frail about him. His robes were simple, but the embroidery along the hems glowed faintly with layered enchantments. His presence seemed to press down on the space around him like gravity.

The murmuring nobles went silent.

The man who silenced Robert was Thelwin Keldross, the current Tower Master of the Yellow Tower. He was the last pillar keeping it from crumbling completely. The current strongest mage in Norvaegard.

"Forgive my apprentice, Tower Master Serphina. As you know, this young one doesn’t know how to hold his words back."

"Oh, Tower Master Thelwin, it has been a long time. As for your apprentice, yes, I already know of his personality, so I’m truly not that offended by it."

"I appreciate your grace," Thelwin replied. He released Robert, who immediately turned his head away, arms crossed, mumbling under his breath.

The Tower Master then turned to Vardon, giving a slight nod.

"A pleasure to meet you, Duke Vardon. The Yellow Tower owes much to your continued support."

Vardon, stoic as ever, inclined his head.

"That is what you deserve since your apprentice has helped my son a lot, and in turn, they have created many things that have helped Ironhold."

"That is good to hear," Thelwin replied with a smile on his face.

"Hey, Tower Master Thelwin. You said that you would spar with me when you have the time. It’s already been two years since then. When are you going to have that spar with me?" Kaelvar spoke to Thelwin looked almost like he was pouting.

"I apologize, Duke Kaelvar. As you know, the state of the Yellow Tower isn’t ideal. I have been busy with many things in the past few years."

"Since you’re here, then that means you must have time now." Kaelvar was about ready to draw his sword. His hand was nowhere near the hilt, but those present could already feel his intent to draw it. That was when Elandor spoke almost like a growl.

"This is a party hosted by his majesty the King. You cannot start a fight here, Kaelvar." Elandor’s tone was so much more serious than usual, making Kaelvar sigh.

"Fine, I won’t start a fight... Then, how about I also give some support to the Yellow Tower? Just like my good friend Vardon. Maybe then you might gain a bit more time to spar with me."

"Oh my, is this how the Yellow Tower gets financial support nowadays?" A smooth, aged voice interjected with a chuckle.

An old man in slate-grey robes approached, his movements graceful despite his age. This old man was a mage who was at the fifth circle. His robes shimmered faintly, and a sleek pair of enchanted spectacles rested on the bridge of his nose. The tower master of the Grey Tower, Melvin Vohrin.

A few nobles nearby exchanged glances, whispering behind wine glasses. Some turned away, feigning disinterest, while others inched closer, drawn like moths to potential scandal.

"Melvin," Thelwin greeted with a polite nod. "I see you’re still fond of eavesdropping."

"I wasn’t eavesdropping. I was simply walking by when I noticed your group and happened to hear your conversation."

"Oh, how convenient."

The two Tower Masters were smiling at each other, but the tension seemed to have doubled the second they started talking.

The other nobles watching the group of Dukes and Tower Masters talking to each other made them feel a sort of pressure. Some of them even wanted to approach the group and talk to them.

Those people were of the highest positions in Norvaegard. Getting acquainted with them would help in many ways.

Several nobles nearby dared not breathe too loudly. One young baroness clutched her fan tighter, trying to hide the sweat on her brow.

The smart ones knew to stay silent. The ambitious ones started calculating how to insert themselves into the conversation without becoming a casualty.

Lucen watched and listened as more and more people were nearing their group. Despite the beautiful music surrounding the ballroom, the sounds of conversation felt louder.

’In this place, a false smile or laugh can start a fight. One wrong word could start a war.’

While everyone was talking and making plans, the master of ceremonies’ voice suddenly boomed.

"His majesty, King Ragnor Vaelgard, has arrived!"

All conversation stopped. Even the music halted mid-note.

The towering doors opened with reverence. Royal guards, the armor they were wearing, which were black and red, the colors of the royal house. They stepped forward in perfect formation, announcing a presence that needed no words.

The royal guard split their formation, making way for the person whom they swore to protect and serve, the one with the highest authority in Norvaegard, King Ragnor Vaelgard.