Chapter 307

Chapter 307

The grand banquet hall of the city of Hazen was filled with opulence.

Princess Bellrose, the third in line to the throne, was adorned in a stunning gown that contrasted sharply with her usual academy uniform as she received the nobility.

“My humblest greetings, Your Highness.”

“Viscount Filk, it has been quite some time. I trust you have been in good health?”

“This old man has nothing remarkable to report. I have been living a peaceful life, all thanks to Your Highness’s benevolence. I am deeply grateful for this invitation.”

“Splendid. Please, enjoy the evening.”

The elderly nobleman politely kissed the back of Bellrose’s hand before stepping away.

However, Bellrose barely had a moment to catch her breath before another member of the aristocracy approached.

“Besub de Aronda offers his respects to Your Highness.”

“Baron Besub, I appreciate you making such a lengthy journey to be here.”

“When Your Highness commands, it is the duty of a loyal vassal to hasten to your side, no matter the distance. This lowly servant is genuinely speechless to be welcomed into such a prestigious gathering.”

“I trust this will prove to be a highly significant occasion.”

“Merely standing in the presence of Your Highness has already granted it profound meaning.”

The young nobleman bowed low and took his leave.

With his departure, Bellrose finally managed a brief respiration, a fleeting shadow of weariness washing over her features.

A total of thirty-two noble houses had been invited to this gala.

Among them, a mere seven were originally aligned with Bellrose’s faction, meaning that dozens of pairs of critical eyes were constantly assessing her every move. Even with her vast mental fortitude, enduring such calculating stares was incredibly draining, naturally chipping away at her energy. Keeping a pleasant expression fixed on her face was exhausting.

Nevertheless.

“…Hoo.”

Bellrose quickly stabilized her faltering expression, once again donning the flawless guise of the “ideal princess” that the public demanded. This was a battleground where she scrutinized the nobility just as intensely as they judged her.

For Bellrose, who currently held the fragile status of being merely “chosen,” a single misstep could prove fatal. Even if these guests were only low-ranking viscounts and barons, her unstable faction left her with no room to be selective. At this critical juncture, every single one of them was indispensable.

Of course, the higher echelons of nobility were not entirely absent.

Most prominent among them was…

“…Count Erzin.”

Bellrose kept her eyes on the elderly nobleman making his way toward her. His hair was a stark silver-white, his posture noticeably slouched, and his gaze seemed entirely gentle. Had it not been for the exquisite garments he wore, he might have been mistaken for an ordinary rustic elder, yet this seasoned noble was the true centerpiece of the entire banquet.

He was none other than Erzin de Jourmain.

An indomitable commander from past conflicts, he was legendary for decimating tens of thousands of enemy forces with only a few thousand men under his command. Though age had stolen his youthful vigor, his household had served as the empire’s ultimate shield, guarding the frontiers across generations. Even from the remote borders, their influence stretched deep into the capital as one of the great prominent houses. Furthermore, despite his unassuming stature, his martial prowess was said to rival that of a Master Knight.

“Erzin de Jourmain presents his respects to Your Highness.”

Count Erzin bowed with absolute etiquette before introducing the youth standing beside him.

“This is my unaccomplished grandson. Would it be acceptable for him to greet you?”

Bellrose offered a nod in lieu of a verbal reply, and the young man executed a disciplined bow, introducing himself.

“Mehod de Jourmain greets Your Highness.”

“Mehod… You must be the renowned ‘Tiger of the Borderlands.’ Word has reached me that you single-handedly drove back the specialized Ranger unit from the Kingdom of Noaksen.”

“It is merely an exaggerated rumor, nothing more.”

Though he attempted to downplay the achievement, the young noble’s face beamed with an undeniable sense of arrogance. And who could blame him? Rumor dictated that he possessed the raw talent to become a future Master Knight, though whether he would actually achieve such heights remained to be seen.

As Mehod finished his greeting and stepped back, Count Erzin let out a soft chuckle.

“It has been since the funeral of the late emperor, hasn’t it?”

“Is that so…? A considerable amount of time has indeed passed.”

“This old man worried he might arrive far too late. My pace has grown so sluggish these days… I can only hope there is still an open place for me.”

Subtly reminding her of his deep-rooted connections to the deceased emperor, Count Erzin scanned the grand hall with a look of manufactured anxiety. Naturally, he wasn’t genuinely concerned about finding a physical seat; he hadn’t arrived that late.

So, what was his true angle?

Recalling the insight Aster had shared…

• “Ah, I was a dear friend of your grandfather. Do you happen to have a spot reserved for me?”

Bellrose offered a radiant, welcoming smile.

“Do not fret over the seating, Count. Though I do wonder if our culinary arrangements will satisfy your refined palate. I sincerely hope you find a position that pleases you, complete with excellent sustenance.”

The underlying message was clear: there were openings available, but earning a prime spot was entirely up to him.

Count Erzin chuckled softly and bowed his head.

“In that case, I ought to hurry and secure a prime position. I shall take my leave.”

Once Count Erzin departed, Bellrose raised her fan to obscure her lips, her eyes tracking his retreating form.

‘…An absolute enigma.’

To Bellrose, Count Erzin represented a prize she absolutely needed to claim, yet he was also someone she had to guard against with the utmost vigilance. He possessed the lineage and standing to be welcomed by any faction he chose.

“I must keep a close watch on him.”

She needed to discern his true desires and understand exactly why he had abandoned his neutral stance to plunge into the chaotic struggle for the imperial throne. If she could fully secure Count Erzin’s loyalty, the truth would eventually come to light. Of course, such trust would not be forged in a single evening; it would take time.

What truly mattered at this very moment was…

“Aster.”

Bellrose directed her gaze toward the masked young man positioned at the far edge of the ballroom.

This gathering was designed to alleviate the anxieties of her newly recruited nobles, solidify her foundation, and deliver a stern warning to the Second Prince. On the surface, the plan was working perfectly.

Were those elevated boots? He appeared notably taller, an effect emphasized by his impeccably tailored, fashionable white suit. And where on earth had he acquired that polished ebony staff? He perfectly projected the mysterious aura of a master sorcerer.

The issue, however…

“Hwaaaaaaah—”

…was his innate, unruly attitude, which remained impossible to conceal even behind a mask.

Bellrose cast a frigid glare toward Aster as he let out a massive yawn, before shifting her focus away from him.

“Just who… is that supposed to be?”

The mask adorned with the number “8” implied a rank of 8 among the 72.

…Wasn’t this supposed to be a fabricated organization?

Even with concealment sorcery obscuring their true identities, silver hair could not be completely hidden. Aster, an active academy student, claimed Rank 4, while some elderly sorcerer occupied Rank 8? It was far too careless for a genuine secret society, yet the numerical ranking was too bizarre to be a mere fabrication. Her thoughts grew increasingly tangled.

“Your Highness, the scheduled hour has arrived.”

Bellrose gave a firm nod at her attendant’s notification.

“Let us proceed.”

Flanked by her personal retinue, Bellrose walked toward the elevated dais at the front of the hall.

Clap.

The musical ensemble ceased playing, and a heavy stillness settled over the room. As if guided by an unspoken cue, the collective gaze of the aristocracy shifted entirely onto Bellrose. No one uttered a sound; they simply watched intently.

With every eye locked onto her, Bellrose cast one final glance toward Aster.

‘…Are you prepared?’

Aster’s drowsy eyes instantly sharpened as he met her gaze. That single look was all the confirmation she required.

Standing before the crowd on the platform, Bellrose began to speak, her voice resonating throughout the vast space.

“I offer my deepest thanks to all of you for traveling such vast distances to be here tonight.”

As Bellrose initiated her formal address, Aster casually surveyed the room with an expression of profound boredom.

“Man… what an exhausting gig.”

He possessed little understanding of aristocratic customs, but he could easily read the underlying tension in the air without it. Bellrose was currently navigating an incredibly hazardous tightrope. Virtually no one in this room was a genuine ally. They claimed to be noble, boasting of their pristine lineages, but to Aster, they looked like nothing more than a pack of well-dressed hyenas. Their predatory glares practically reeked, and their polite smiles barely concealed their sharp fangs. While nobles were frequently ridiculed as gluttonous swine, these ravenous hyenas were far more repulsive.

The rest of the crowd were mere scavengers waiting to pounce on whatever scraps remained.

“Disgusting.”

Mysern offered a silent nod, showing clear agreement.

“Indeed.”

Mysern then questioned him.

“Do you even comprehend what it is that I find so foul?”

Aster chose not to reply. He already knew the answer anyway. Mysern’s intent gaze was firmly locked onto their targets.

While Aster continued to listen to Bellrose’s speech with a detached expression, Mysern’s voice transmitted directly into his ear.

“Am I truly required to do absolutely nothing?”

“Yeah, pretty much. They told us we’re just here to enjoy the complimentary food.”

“Are you certain about that?”

“Come on, have you always been the one getting played?”

“That doesn’t carry much weight coming from a guy who does nothing but deceive people.”

“Ahem.”

“Fine, whatever. It’s been a while since I’ve been surrounded by such a foul atmosphere; it’s almost nostalgic. I’ll remain right here, so go do what you need to do.”

Mysern took a brief step back, and right at that moment, Bellrose’s eyes locked onto Aster. Her gaze, far more intense than her spoken words implied, caused a subtle smirk to form on Aster’s lips.

Simultaneously, Bellrose’s projecting voice began to reverberate through the hall.

“…Allow me, then, to introduce the extraordinary guest who graces us with his presence on this fine evening. Rank 4 of the 72…”

Aster began his deliberate stride toward the elevated stage. By the time Bellrose finally uttered his alias, he had reached the apex, looking down upon the entire assembly.

“…Wyvar.”

“A pleasure to make your acquaintance. I am Wyvar.”

The eyes of the surrounding nobles gleamed with intense interest, while a few tilted their heads in sheer curiosity.

‘Let’s see here…’

There were exactly thirteen uninvited pests lurking in the vicinity. Some were stationed up on the roof, seven were operating under the guise of staff, and four had managed to slip inside posing as personal attendants.

Excellent. Now, what would be the most spectacular way to obliterate them to ensure the message spreads far and wide?

As a side note, choosing the white attire had been entirely deliberate. To achieve the absolute highest dramatic effect, nothing made crimson blood stand out quite like a pure white canvas.

While he was busy calculating his methods of execution…

“Heh.”

A faint scoff echoed from somewhere in the crowd.

Aster tilted his head slightly.

It was Count Erzin, who was actively stepping forward to confront Bellrose directly.

“Your Highness, is this truly the legendary archmage of whom we have heard so many whispers?”

Bellrose directed a piercing, icy glare toward Count Erzin.

How incredibly impudent. To have the audacity to interrupt an imperial ceremony before its conclusion was an outright insult. A suffocating wave of tension instantly paralyzed the entire hall following the sudden disruption. Every single gaze locked onto Bellrose, everyone waiting with bated breath to see how she would handle the affront…

“Your Highness, what the fuck is this nonsense?”

The abrupt, vulgar profanity instantly dragged every pair of eyes to a single location.

Astonishingly, though perhaps entirely expectedly, the culprit behind the outburst was Wyvar. That is to say, Aster. He glared directly at Count Erzin and demanded once more.

“Her Highness looks far too irritated to bother giving you an answer, so why don’t you answer for her, you old piece of shit? What kind of absolute dumbass are you supposed to be?”

…An incredibly awkward, completely botched attempt at maintaining formal speech.

Mysern instinctively brought a hand to his forehead in sheer exasperation.

“Seriously…”