“How does it look?”
“The place seems secured quite well. I don’t think anything is getting in, and we probably will not be getting out either.”
Roland whispered, careful to keep his voice low so that no one would catch on to their conversation. Even inside the carriage, from this point forward, no one could be trusted.
“I see.”
Arthur nodded as Roland scanned the environment around them. At first, the place seemed magical and tranquil, yet danger lingered everywhere. Several tier three class holders were nearby, many hidden in the forest and around the castle they were approaching.
‘I will not be able to use teleportation gates. We will need to reach the wall…’
Roland’s mind raced with possibilities. He needed to establish an escape plan that would allow them to return home safely if things turned turbulent. Although the Duke himself did not seem to harbor any ulterior motives, the kidnapping attempt had taken place only two days earlier. One of the heir candidates might have been responsible and could attempt it again here.
The bodies of the assassins he had recovered revealed nothing. At most, he could record their mana patterns in the hope of tracing an old mana signature that had been left behind somewhere. They were unrecognisable, and all their equipment and belongings had been melted by the strange magic they used. This made it difficult to pinpoint their true enemy, and if push came to shove, an escape might be necessary.
His helmet was gone now, yet the mask covering his face served a similar purpose. The display that usually spread across his visor was minimized, appearing in a smaller version within his covered eyes. The rune concealment skill was active, and no one had discovered that he was wearing a mostly magical suit of armor. Still, some of his items had been confiscated, most likely because of Arthur’s low prestige here. Either one of his brothers had instructed the guards to take them, or the soldiers were simply expressing their disdain for someone who was never going to become the Duke.
‘We are almost there…’
The carriage clattered across the final stretch of cobblestone, its wheels echoing through the surprising stillness of the seemingly tranquil place. Roland’s gaze shifted constantly between the central tower looming ahead and the walls surrounding them. If they needed to escape, he would first have to get out of the main castle. After that he would need to traverse the forest, which seemed to be filled with hidden forces as well as whoever controlled the mage tower. Then he would need to scale the wall and lead himself and the others to one of the teleportation gates. The task seemed impossible, yet he was already working on countermeasures to increase their chances of survival.
Arthur, on the other hand, was not concerned with escape. His attention remained fixed entirely on the central castle tower, for that was where his father resided. This would be his first true meeting with him since reaching adulthood.
“Haha, the Duke’s castle is magnificent, isn’t it!”
“True, I wish our family could afford something this grand!”
“So true!”
The silence soon ended as once they traveled across the singular drawbridge, they arrived at the final threshold. The portcullis rose to let them in, and the carriage entered a vast courtyard paved with dark stone. Here, hundreds of nobles, retainers, and servants already bustled about, their colors dazzling like a field of flowers. The murmur of voices echoed as everyone gathered together and chatted. For many, this was a moment they had been waiting for. It was the perfect time to create new deals and get into the good graces of the duke and his family.
The carriage slowed as it entered the main courtyard. An announcer’s staff struck the ground with a sharp crack that cut through the noise of the nobles’ chatter. Heads turned, eyes drawn to the new arrival. The Valerian banner was clearly displayed on the carriage, but once the man spoke the name, the interest in their gazes quickly faded.
“Lord Arthur Valerian.”
The name carried across the courtyard, yet the effect was not what one might expect. Heads turned and necks craned. There was curiosity and whispers, but none of the nobles moved toward the carriage. It was as though his very identity pushed them away. To them, a bastard was not worth their time.
Roland opened the door first and stepped down, his presence subdued and restrained. Arthur followed. His boots touched the stone softly without sound, and though his expression remained neutral, he felt the weight of every gaze upon him.
For a brief moment, silence held the courtyard, as though the crowd were still deciding how to judge him. Then, as if by unspoken agreement, dozens of nobles shifted their attention elsewhere. Their smiles brightened, their steps quickened, and their voices rang with delight as they flocked toward another arrival.
“Lord Julius Valerian.”
“Ah, Lord Theodore, how resplendent you look.”
“Lord Tybalt, allow me to offer my congratulations in advance.”
Within moments, the courtyard became a sea of silks and embroidered sleeves surging toward Arthur’s brothers. Greetings, compliments, and invitations poured forth, the air alive with laughter.
“Look at them, swarming like rats.”
Arthur whispered to Roland, who only nodded in reply. Arthur’s exclusion was obvious, though he was not the only one ignored. The third eldest brother, Ivan Valerian, did not fare much better. A small group surrounded him, but his circle was barely half the size of the one gathered around Tybalt.
While the nobles continued to give them the cold shoulder, Roland looked around. They were now standing in what resembled a square. The castle had appeared large from the outside, and the impression was just as true once they entered. There was enough space for thousands of people, although most of them were servants.
Even though the area was outdoors, it was filled with tables. Some were shaded by large umbrellas that blocked out the sunlight, while others stood fully exposed. Carts carrying food were scattered throughout the place, and servants moved between them with trays of drinks and cakes. Many of the men held glasses of expensive wine, and some were already tipsy from it.
‘We have not even gone inside the main building yet.’
Roland thought as he followed Arthur, who chose a seat at one of the empty tables. From there, they had a better view of the gathering and could assess the situation more clearly.
“Brother Julius seems to be the most popular, and Theodore is a close second. I can hardly see them in that crowd…”
Most of the nobles present had already aligned themselves with the two leading candidates for heir. Even as the minutes passed, no one approached them. It was easy to notice that some people cast glances in their direction, yet none dared to step closer. The reason was clear enough. Anyone who tried would be placing themselves at risk of retaliation. Arthur’s standing was still low, and he was not seen as someone capable of protecting his allies, at least not yet.
“Some do seem interested. The rumors about our victory over Theodore must have spread.”
Roland said as he leaned over to examine the wine that a servant had placed on their table.
“Yes, but most likely they do not believe them and will not take the risk.”
Arthur replied before taking a sip of the expensive wine. Roland noticed that his friend seemed distracted. Although Arthur tried to hide it, his eyes kept darting around the courtyard as if he were searching for someone who was not there. Time passed, yet the person he sought never appeared.
“May I have the attention of the lords and ladies?”
By then, everyone had gathered, and a man who looked like a butler finally stepped forward. He stood on a large balcony overlooking the massive courtyard where they had assembled. The place appeared to be intended for the duke himself to make announcements. Instead, it was the butler who emerged, an elderly man with a mustache and a monocle.
“Honored guests, by His Grace’s command, the castle doors are now open. You are invited to enter the great halls of House Valerian. Please, follow the attendants and make your way to the grand ballroom, where refreshments and music await you before the assembly begins.”
Roland exchanged a glance with Arthur, both silently acknowledging how odd those words sounded. A party before the assembly was strange indeed. The duke was famous for his tireless devotion to duty, and under normal circumstances, the assembly would take place first, with a celebration for the nobles only afterward. Only then could they converse and discuss matters concerning the island and the kingdom.
“Perhaps this isn’t such a serious gathering and Father just wants to observe.”
Arthur whispered. Roland nodded, and together they followed the rest of the nobles, who could hardly contain their excitement. As with everything else in the keep, the entrance doors were enormous, large enough for a giant to walk through without stooping. Beyond them stretched a hall so vast that Roland had to stop in his tracks.
The vaulted ceiling soared high above, supported by ribbed arches and lined with frescoes depicting the Valerian line’s triumphs. Crystal chandeliers hung like floating constellations and scattered light across polished marble floors. Enormous tapestries draped the walls, each woven with scenes from old history, mostly depicting battles and famous achievements.
Noble men and women paused as soon as they crossed the threshold, struck silent by the sheer grandeur before them. Attendants in immaculate black and silver apparel bowed and signaled for everyone to move deeper inside.
The nobles spilled forward and continued their conversations while their personal bodyguards remained at the sides. Roland was also forced to move away from Arthur and join the rest of the knight attendants along the wall. They were not allowed to interact directly with the nobility once inside and could not speak unless given an order.
He used the moment to study the knight commanders the other four brothers had arrived with. Theodore’s bodyguard stood out due to his sheer size. Although he had changed into more noble attire, the tunic failed to hide his powerful physique. The next noticeable one was the retainer accompanying Julius.
While Roland expected a Solarian paladin to appear, he had not imagined it would be a woman with straw-like hair. She wore an immaculate gold military coat marked with the sun motif of the Solarian Order. Even without her heavy armor, the weight of her presence was unmistakable. She carried no weapon at her hip, yet Roland could sense divine mana lingering around her body like a silent warning. Julius truly had the church’s support, for this person was clearly a powerful paladin trained for battle. The holy mana swirling around her was denser than any of the paladins he had encountered. With the grand inquisitor being the only exclusion.
If he was not mistaken, she was Lady Bernadette of the Dawn, a well-established member of the church. The church was clearly investing a great deal in this matter, as Bernadette was widely known for defeating many worshippers of evil gods throughout her life. Although she appeared to be in her twenties and was strikingly beautiful, she was in fact over forty years of age. Her presence alone showed how much effort the church was willing to put into the duke’s son.
Roland then turned his attention to another figure, one who looked quite different from the rest. He was neither a noble knight, nor a holy paladin, nor even a muscular warrior, but an old man with a long blue beard. Mana gathered densely around him as well, which meant he was most likely a high-tier mage.
‘That must be Tybalt’s retainer, but what’s with that giant hat…’
The man was clearly a powerful mage, most likely already in his second tier three class. He wore a robe decorated with star constellations and a large wizard’s hat that covered his bald head.
‘That makes three. The last one would be…’
Only Ivan’s knight commander remained unaccounted for. As Roland searched for him, a presence suddenly appeared behind his back. He sensed a trace of hostility but chose not to react when someone deliberately bumped his shoulder.
“Watch where you are going!”
Roland did not flinch. The man who had run into him was none other than the knight commander of Ivan Valerian. He stood tall in shining armor that reflected Roland’s mask whenever he looked at it. Clearly no one had stripped him of his equipment even though it radiated mana and bore some enchantments.
This knight had not been among those who had guarded Ivan at the tea house. He was far stronger, and Roland could not afford to overlook him. His appearance, however, was strange. Most knights of this caliber looked noble or at least imposing, but this man seemed unpleasant. His face resembled that of a rodent, his nose was crooked, and a bowl cut completed his odd presence.
“...”
Roland did not respond to the man who looked as though he belonged in a bandit camp rather than in a duke’s castle, and this silence seemed to irritate him even more.
“Are you ignoring me? Who do you think you are to disregard a high knight commander of House Valerian?”
His voice was just as unpleasant as his appearance, but what made it worse was his attitude. Roland found it difficult to understand. The knight was not speaking loudly, yet it was enough to draw attention, and several guards turned to look in their direction. It seemed that Ivan had either failed to warn this man to be discreet or had deliberately sent him to cause trouble in order to tarnish Arthur’s reputation.
There were several ways Roland could handle the encounter. One option was to challenge the man to a duel, but he chose something less conspicuous. He simply held his gaze and remained silent.
“...”
Roland kept his gaze steady, the pale glow of the chandeliers glimmering against his mask. He stood rooted in place, unmoving, neither rising to the provocation nor granting even the courtesy of a reply. His silence was absolute, his posture unyielding, like a wall of iron that refused to shift.
The knight commander’s lips twisted with displeasure. His gauntleted hand flexed at his side, knuckles creaking against the plates of his armor as though eager to strike. Before he could act, however, the sound of soft footsteps cut through the tension.
“Sir Hadrian.”
The voice was that of a woman, firm despite its softness. At once, the knight commander stiffened. His posture changed as if he were a child caught misbehaving, and he quickly turned toward the figure who had spoken. Roland also shifted his gaze and saw an older woman with striking red hair. Her features bore a resemblance to someone he knew.
‘Could this be…?’
“I… I pay respect to Lady Scarlet.”
Hadrian bent his head quickly; all his hostility was instantly buried beneath a display of obedience. His tone wavered, but his eyes darted in Roland’s direction, still simmering with malice.
Roland studied the woman more closely. The resemblance to Ivan was undeniable: her sharp cheekbones, the proud set of her jaw, and the fiery hair streaked with threads of silver. This was Ivan’s mother, the Lady Scarlet Valerian. Her presence carried weight, not only because of her noble lineage but also because she radiated authority. The nobles nearby, who had been half-pretending not to watch the exchange, suddenly bowed their heads or averted their gazes.
To make matters worse, she was not alone. Three other women approached, each distinguished by her own hairstyle and color. Roland had no idea what he had done to deserve this, yet here he was facing all the noble mothers of the heirs. With all of them gathered, he could do nothing but bow and stare at the ground. They were the wives of the duke, and none seemed to like one another very much.
“Lady Scarlet, you have poor taste in servants if they lack manners.”
The woman at her right spoke first. Her words were smooth but mocking. She wore a gown of midnight blue threaded with tiny gems that sparkled like stars. Her azure hair was braided into something resembling a crown, and her smile was polite yet venomous. Roland guessed her to be Lady Celeste, Tybalt’s mother.
A ripple of muffled chuckles spread through the area as the other two women joined together to mock one of their rivals. Roland could not begin to understand how he had ended up in such a situation, but one thing was certain. It was safer not to move, for a single word from any of these ladies could end his whole existence in an instant.
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