A noble's gathering is not merely a celebration. Beneath the glittering chandeliers and the clinking of fine crystal, a different kind of war is waged. Laughter rings hollow, pleasantries are exchanged with practiced ease, and every word spoken is a veiled inquiry. To the untrained eye, a noble gathering appears to be a display of wealth and civility, yet beneath the surface, it is a delicate dance of maneuvering, deception, and quiet ambition. Every toast is an invitation to loosen the tongue, every whisper carries the weight of intrigue, and every smile hides the glint of a dagger yet to be drawn.
Here, enemies share wine, allies feign ignorance, and a misplaced word can cost a house its standing.The greatest victories are secured through whispered promises in candlelit corners, where trust is a currency more valuable than gold. Over goblets of spiced wine, alliances are forged, destinies entwined, and the course of history is shaped.
To refuse an invitation is an insult, to attend unprepared is a death sentence. One must drink just enough to appear amiable but never enough to be careless. One must flatter without groveling, jest without offending, and listen more than they speak. Information is the most coveted currency within these halls, and even the smallest tidbit, when placed in the right hands, can shatter dynasties.
There is an old saying among the aristocracy:
"A noble wears two faces—one for the world, and one for the knife behind their back."
Siegfried stood at the edge of the grand hall, his gaze scanning the sea of nobles draped in opulence. Chandeliers bathed the room in warm, golden light, casting elongated shadows across the marble floor. The air was thick with the scent of spices and perfumes so potent they made his nose itch. Laughter and idle chatter filled the space, yet he could hear the subtle exchanges beneath it all—the hushed negotiations, honeyed words veiling darker intentions.
"Bunch of peacocks," Terry muttered beside him, adjusting the strap on his shoulder plate. "They don't even notice us."
"They concern themselves only if we stand in their path," Siegfried replied without looking at him.
Blanca let out a low chuckle. "That's a good thing, isn't it? We get a simple job and it means no one's trying to start a fight."
Terry grinned. "Unless they get drunk enough to think a warden uniform makes for a good target."
Siegfried ignored the remark, shifting his stance. His eyes flicked to Anna, who stood a little ways off, her fox mask pushed up onto her forehead. She was listening, though she rarely interjected. Over the last two months, she had grown more comfortable around them, speaking more often, though still softly. Blanca and Terry had taken to treating her like a younger sister, teasing her but always keeping her close. It was strange to see how much they had all changed in such a short time.
It was a curious thing, realizing that he, too, was different now. He had expected his time as a warden to be as suffocating as his years under his family's expectations. But instead, it was… freeing. Missions took them to all corners of the land, facing bandits, escorting merchants, delivering messages. Some days were dull, some were brutal, but none of it carried the weight of noblility or the looming shadow of a legacy he never wanted.
"Keep your wits about you," he interjected, swiftly silencing the conversation. "We may be disregarded, but that does not render us without purpose."
Terry smirked but nodded, nudging Blanca. "See? He's warming up to us."
Blanca laughed. "More like tolerating us."
Anna, to Siegfried's mild surprise, added in a mild voice, "That is still a step forward."
Siegfried didn't dignify it with a response, but he didn't shut them down either. The four of them stood watch over the ball for a few more moments before Siegfried motioned for them to head outside. They knew their assignments, though he reiterated them all the same, ensuring no room for doubt.
Siegfried crossed his arms, his gaze settling on each of them in turn. "Blanca, Anna, you shall patrol the streets surrounding the noble district. Remain vigilant for any signs of disturbance. Avoid needless confrontation—should anything appear amiss, report back at once."
Blanca gave a mock salute. "Aye, aye."
Anna nodded, but didn't speak.
"Terry, you shall accompany me. We will maintain our post at the Léveque keep," Siegfried continued, shifting his attention to the larger man beside him.
Terry groaned. "Guard duty, huh? Guess we can't all have fun strolling through the streets."
"You'd complain no matter what your assignment was," Blanca shot back, already stepping away with Anna at her side.
Terry laughed but didn't argue. Siegfried started towards the front gate where the guests were filtering in, and Terry fell into step beside him. The boisterous party within could be heard all the way to the courtyard.
As they approached the keep's entrance, Siegfried scanned the area. More guards than usual stood posted, their postures rigid, expressions unreadable behind their helms. Security for the coronation ball was already tight, with Léveque's private army practically lining the streets. Was a detachment of wardens really necessary as well?
"Looks like we'll be standing here all night," Terry muttered, leaning against a statue. He glanced at Siegfried. "So, you ever been to one of these noble balls? Bet it's all pomp and empty smiles."
Siegfried sighed, "Some."
"Didn't like it, huh?"
He didn't answer, but Terry just laughed, shaking his head. "Yeah, hard to imagine you dressing up. I don't think I have even seen you without your sword."
"Guess since we've got nothing better to do," Terry said. "How about a little game to pass the time?"
Siegfried didn't look at him, but he could hear the smirk in Terry's voice. "What manner of game?"
Terry gestured toward the procession of nobles arriving at the ball, some in carriages, others walking with their entourages. "Let's see how much you remember from your fancy upbringing. I'll point out a noble, and you tell me who they are, where they're from, and what they do. And—" he paused with a grin, "—maybe throw in your opinion of 'em, just for fun."
Siegfried didn't respond immediately, his gaze still fixed on the nobles filing past. A part of him wanted to ignore the request, but another part knew he'd only end up answering anyway. He was still well-versed in these faces, despite all the years spent away from that life. He had learned more than he'd ever wanted to know about Bellacia's aristocracy.
"Fine," he muttered, rolling his shoulders to adjust the weight of his sword. "Let us proceed and bring this to a swift conclusion."
Terry's eyes gleamed, "Wait, for real? I thought you would say no, for sure."
"There remains ample time for me to decline."
Terry immediately gestured toward a tall, thin man walking past them. His cloak was rich, embroidered with intricate golden patterns, his black hair slicked back in the most polished manner imaginable.
"That is Lord Hortell Varick," Siegfried said, without hesitation. "Hortell's lineage hails from the highlands, near the border with Volkem. For generations, they have held dominion over the mining operations in that region, making him one of the wealthiest men in the Northgate area. Yet, he remains but a shadow of the Stahlbergs in terms of influence. Moreover, he is a man of treacherous nature—one who deftly navigates both sides of any conflict, aligning himself with whichever house appears poised for power. He will not commit to any cause unless it promises substantial gain, and it is widely known among all that his loyalties are as fleeting as gold itself." Siegfried's lip curled into a thin smile. "As for my own opinion, I have never placed my trust in him. He is as deceitful as they come, and only a fool would choose to align with him."
Terry gave a low whistle. "I like the sound of that one. Keep going, then."
Another noble passed by, this time a woman, her presence as commanding as her gown, a deep crimson, its fabric shimmering as it caught the lamplight. Her long, raven-black hair cascaded over her shoulders, and her piercing green eyes prowled the crowd, icy and assessing.. She walked with regal grace, surrounded by a small entourage, her face a mask of disciplined indifference.
"That is Lady Seraphine Vallois," Siegfried said, his voice flat. "She hails from the southern swamps, near Caerlem. Her family controls several vital trade routes in Bellacia and even engages in the smuggling of cargo from the Badlands. Through this, she has accumulated a fortune by manipulating the flow of goods between Caerlem and the other northern provinces. However, Seraphine is not solely concerned with wealth. Her political influence runs deeper than most are aware. She plays the long game, always seeking a means to position herself advantageously in the next great power struggle. It would not surprise me in the least if she holds knowledge of the recent assassination."
Siegfried's tone grew more cynical. "She is cold, driven by ambition, her every move is a carefully crafted dance, hiding her true motives. She reveals nothing, not until her victory is certain. Rest assured, in her presence, you are always being analyzed—quietly and thoroughly—your every word memorized. As for my brother Markus, I am convinced he harbors affections for her, and that, in itself, is more than sufficient reason for me to hold her in disdain."
Terry raised an eyebrow at the mention of Siegfried's brother. "A little scary for my taste."
Siegfried gave a slight nod, his gaze narrowing as he watched her glide past. As she passed she shot a knowing look at Siegfried, it was as if she knew he was speaking ill of her and couldn't care less.
Terry looked at Seraphine and then back to Siegfried. "Sounds like a real piece of work. You sure you never wanted to follow in her footsteps? Maybe you'd make a good match."
Siegfried's expression didn't change, though his voice dropped with a hint of ice. "I have no interest in such matters. I would sooner meet my end than return to such a life."
Terry just smirked. "Sure, sure, no arguments here. I'd choose the Wardens any day of the week. Well…maybe once a month it would be nice to dress up and drink myself silly."
Siegfried didn't respond as his thoughts turned inward. He may have escaped the life of politics and scheming, but he couldn't forget the lessons learned.
As the noble guests continued to trickle into the keep, Siegfried's gaze was drawn to a familiar face among the crowd. Everett Erbach—he'd been one of the nobles they'd escorted on their very first monster hunting mission as aspirants. Siegfried hadn't seen him since his injury, but it appeared he had made a full recovery with no permanent damage noticeable.
Everett's eyes scanned the guards standing by the gates, and when they met Siegfried's, he instantly broke into a smile. He walked toward them, waving in a friendly manner.
"Isn't that…" Terry trailed off as Everett closed in swiftly.
"Well, well! If it isn't my old protectors," Everett said with an easy grin, clapping Siegfried on the shoulder as if they were old friends. "The two of you seem to be doing well," he remarked, his eyes scanning the insignia on their armor. "How exciting, third-class wardens. Looks like we're moving up in the world!"
Siegfried gave a curt nod, trying to hide his discomfort with his overly familiar approach. "Lord Erbach," he greeted, his voice flat but polite.
"Everett, please. No need for all that formal nonsense. Not like we're strangers, eh?" Everett said, his tone casual.
"I am pleased to see that you have made a complete recovery," Siegfried said.
"Oh, that's putting it mildly. I've been back on my feet for weeks now, though I'm sure you'd prefer I hadn't needed your... assistance back then. Quite the scandal, wasn't it?" Everett's smile didn't falter, yet there was a glint of satisfaction in his eyes, as if he was proud of himself for managing to avoid any real fallout from his brush with death.
Siegfried didn't respond immediately, but Terry didn't hold back. "You know, I'd almost forgotten about that mission," he said, leaning back against the wall with his arms crossed. "But I've gotta ask—what happened to the Rhyrax's den after we killed that thing? I heard they sent a whole monster hunting team after it after you were safe."
Everett's smile faltered slightly, but he recovered quickly, his expression going cool. "Yes, well, they had to put down the whole den, including the younglings. It was for the good of the region. You wouldn't want them to grow up and cause havoc, would you?"
Terry's eyebrows knitted together, a slight frown tugging at the corners of his mouth. "You're saying they killed the children, too?"
"It was necessary," Everett replied coolly. "A litter of Rhyrax young, left unchecked, would have become a new wave of predators. The last thing we need is more bloodshed down the line because someone couldn't shake their sentimentality. There's a reason monster hunters are trained to eliminate the entire den." He looked Terry in the eye, his voice hardening. "Monsters are unpredictable. If one had survived and turned into a maneater, well, the Wardens would be the first to shoulder the blame."
Terry looked away, his expression tight. "Yeah, but…" He paused, looking back at Siegfried. "It just doesn't sit right. Killing kids that is."
Siegfried had been silent up to this point, but his voice cut through the silence, low and steady. "It is necessary," he said, his gaze never leaving Everett. "Monsters are a threat, and we are not here to indulge in moral dilemmas, Terry. Our purpose is to safeguard the people of Bellacia." His tone was unyielding, his conviction clear.
"Exactly. I'm glad someone here gets it," Everett said, giving Siegfried a brief nod. Although, he somewhat sounded disappointed.
Terry's jaw clenched, but he didn't argue. Instead, he turned away, it was obvious he had no desire to engage further.
"Well, I'll leave you to your duty, then." Everett said, his smile returning. "I'm sure you've got more important things to do than chat with me. But it's good to see you again, Siegfried. And if you ever need a hand, you know where to find me."
Siegfried gave a curt nod, but offered no further words. As Everett walked away, Terry spoke up, his voice low. "Could you have put them down? If you were ordered?"
"Yes," Siegfried replied bluntly.
Terry's frown remained for a moment, his thoughts still lingering on the conversation with Everett. But it wasn't long before he shifted gears, his eyes scanning the crowd. He nudged Siegfried, nodding toward a pair of figures walking toward the entrance.
"Hey, look over there," Terry muttered, his gaze flicking between a white-haired man and a red-headed noble chatting together. "What about that guy? He seems to be a little out of place, doesn't he? And his hair—seriously stands out."
Siegfried's face darkened as he spotted the red-headed man. His eyes narrowed, his irritation palpable. Seeing Oro was enough to sour his mood completely. He could feel the annoyance bubbling up from the pit of his stomach, and for a second, his face showed nothing but pure disdain.
He let out a quiet, almost inaudible sigh, his emotions slipping away as he masked them once more. "I am unfamiliar with the man with the white hair. However, the redhead... that is Oro Arenberg, another noble from Aldinia. We grew up knowing one another."
Terry raised an eyebrow, clearly curious.
Siegfried stepped to the side, motioning for Terry to follow him. The last thing he needed was for Oro to spot him in the crowd. The nobleman was the sort to never leave anyone alone once he'd latched on, and Siegfried wasn't in the mood to deal with him tonight.
As they moved out of sight, Siegfried's voice dropped to a lower, more measured tone."Oro's family is among the most renowned smithing houses in Aldinia. They have even forged weaponry for my own family. I bear no ill will towards the family itself." His eyes flicked back toward the redhead, his expression hardening. "But Oro? He is... most insufferable."
Terry chuckled, half in amusement and half in confusion. "Aren't you annoyed by everyone? What makes him so special?"
Siegfried's jaw tightened as he crossed his arms. "He is the type of individual who refuses to accept 'no' as an answer, and is accustomed to having his desires fulfilled. He speaks grandly of how nobles owe a debt to the common folk, and how it is their duty to offer them aid."
Terry grinned, though there was a hint of consideration in his voice. "Well, as a commoner myself, I gotta admit, I kind of appreciate that sentiment. A noble who wants to help people can't be a bad thing."
Siegfried shook his head, his expression dismissive. "That is precisely the issue. Oro never truly takes action. He prattles incessantly, attempting to present himself as a hero to the common folk. Yet, in the end, he is nothing more than a pampered child, one who is never held accountable for his actions." His eyes lingered for a moment on the redhead, who was still chatting animatedly with the white-haired man. "A fool."
Terry nodded slowly but didn't comment further. He was more interested in the white-haired man, who now stood with Oro, leaning in as if listening to whatever nonsense Oro was spewing. "You ever seen that guy before?" Terry asked, gesturing toward the stranger.
Siegfried watched the man's movements for a moment, his gaze calculating. "No, I have never laid eyes upon him before. He lacks the bearing of a nobleman—his stride alone betrays him. As for his attire… it's identical to what Oro himself affects. I daresay he is no man of esteemed lineage." He studied the man more closely. "Were I to venture a guess, I would say he is some manner of commoner. And if he is allied with Oro…" He trailed off, his lips curling slightly in annoyance.
"Should we stop him?" Terry asked, his voice low and curious.
Siegfried's gaze never wavered from the two men. "No," he replied, shaking his head. "It is not our responsibility to prevent a commoner from entering. Our duty lies in ensuring that no assassination or sabotage disrupts the ball. If that man is indeed affiliated with Oro, he is most likely another of Oro's... 'strays.' It unfolds the same every time." He paused, an exasperated look crossing his face."Oro possesses a peculiar talent for attracting commoners, who, in time, grow weary of his antics. Nonetheless, they will undoubtedly continue to follow him for some time, though they always leave in the end."
Terry gave a snort of amusement, his arms crossed, glancing back at the pair.
Siegfried sighed, "Let us patrol the area. There are ample guards at the gate; we may as well fulfill our duties."