The stunning woman Kevin addressed as "Madam Mavis" was, in fact, the proprietor of the "Gold Crown Banquet Hall." Regular patrons often referred to her privately as "Madam Scarlet." Seeing Kevin and his companions spending lavishly, she had come specifically to offer a toast, showing her regard.
When Kevin Fergus and the others saw that even this proprietress, rumored to have deep connections, had personally come to toast them, they immediately felt honored. They rose one after another, draining their cups, and the atmosphere grew even more lively.
Holding a silver cup inlaid with tiny gemstones, Madam Scarlet made a round along the long table, offering toasts. However, she only took small sips of the deep red wine in her cup, all the while wearing a warm smile and speaking graciously. Before leaving, she specifically instructed the attending steward to bring another bottle of the fifteen-year vintage "Twilight's Blood" from a renowned southern wine-producing territory, with a market value of at least fifty gold coins.
In a northern city like Greystone, not as opulent and decadent as the royal capital, Kevin and his friends' gathering, including drinks and food, had already cost nearly a hundred gold coins. They could indeed be considered major patrons of the "Gold Crown Banquet Hall."
The young noble named Morris, his face flushed and slightly intoxicated, said with no small amount of pride:
"This time, we're really basking in Kevin's glory! You might not know, but this Madam Scarlet has deep connections. It's said she's the woman of that 'Ruthless Wolf' Lord Hawk in our Greystone City. Usually, when I come with friends, it's just the steward who attends to us. We never get the treatment of a personal toast!"
"'Ruthless Wolf' Hawk?" a rather attractive noble girl with daring attire chimed in beside him, curiosity and a hint of fear in her eyes. "I think I've heard my father mention him. The one who supposedly has connections in both legitimate merchant guilds and... well, some less-than-glorious trades? A tax official in the city seemed to have offended him before and was soon transferred to a border outpost on some pretext. I hear he has some connections in the royal capital too."
While these young people came from families with some assets or titles, they were mostly respectable local gentry. How could they compare to a figure like "Ruthless Wolf" Hawk, who moved freely in both the underworld and high society of Greystone City, a man with extensive influence? They usually felt a mix of fear and envy toward such figures, and mentioning him now stirred some excitement.
"Hmph, no matter how powerful he is, doesn't his woman still have to obediently come toast our Kevin?" Sibyl, nestled against Kevin, snorted coldly, her tone haughty.
A smug smile also appeared on Kevin's face, his vanity greatly satisfied. His gaze shifted, looking pointedly at Leon sitting alone in the corner. Seeing Leon's still calm and indifferent demeanor, the earlier annoyance of being slighted resurfaced. He raised his glass toward Leon from afar, his tone dripping with deliberate "concern":
"So, Brother Leon, are you satisfied with the 'Gold Crown Hall'? You look rather lonely sitting there all by yourself. How about... I ask Madam Scarlet to arrange for a couple of ladies from the 'Rose Hall' to keep you company, liven things up? My treat, of course." He emphasized "Rose Hall" intentionally—it was the section within the "Gold Crown Banquet Hall" that offered special companionship services, and it was far from cheap.
"He's from the borderlands. He's seen real 'grand scenes.' How could he possibly fancy our little amusements here in Greystone City?" Young Master Morris sneered from the side, adding fuel to the fire.
Leon's brow furrowed slightly. He placed his mug of ale lightly on the hardwood side table before him with a distinct tap. Lifting his eyes to meet Kevin's gaze, he said with a faint, almost mocking smile:
"Kevin Fergus, are you looking for trouble?"
His voice wasn't loud, yet it caused a lull in the noisy hall.
"Not at all!" Kevin spread his hands theatrically, his face full of sarcasm. "You're so... impressive, I should say. Sitting there, eating and drinking on our coin, barely acknowledging Madam Scarlet's toast. How would I dare provoke you? I'm just worried our hospitality isn't adequate!"
"Alright, that's enough from both of you." Aelia Green finally spoke up. She first shot Leon an annoyed glance, as if blaming him for stirring things up, then turned to Kevin, her tone softening. "It's Sibyl's birthday. Can't you just settle down?"
"Fine, fine. For our Lady Aelia's sake." Seeing Aelia intervene, Kevin couldn't very well continue. He pretended magnanimity, raising his glass slightly, but the coldness in his eyes didn't fade.
Leon's expression remained unchanged, but inwardly, his patience was wearing thin. Dealing with these spoiled noble children was a waste of time and utterly meaningless.
…
A while later, Morris's maturely dressed, beautiful companion, "Alina," got up, saying she needed to go to the washroom at the end of the corridor to freshen up her makeup.
She had dressed meticulously today to accompany her boyfriend to this noble circle birthday party. She wore a low-cut, black velvet corseted gown with a shorter front hem and a longer back, a high slit on the side that occasionally revealed her slender calves clad in sheer stockings as she moved. Though only sixteen or seventeen, her figure was well-developed. Coupled with her skillfully applied makeup and deliberately mature demeanor, if one didn't look closely, she did possess a certain charm reminiscent of a mature woman.
Unexpectedly, as she was leaving the washroom, reapplying lip color in front of a silver-framed wall mirror, a thick, pudgy hand suddenly reached from behind and gave her pert backside a loud, sharp slap.
"Ah—!" Alina, caught off guard, screamed in fright, nearly dropping the small copper mirror in her hand.
She turned in panic to see a middle-aged man with a large, round head, dressed in a merchant's brocade robe, reeking of alcohol. He grinned, revealing tobacco-stained teeth, his smile malicious. Her scream seemed to anger him instead. He grabbed her carefully styled hair bun with one hand and slapped her twice across the face with the other, smack, smack!, cursing angrily:
"You little slut! Dressed like that, standing here—isn't it just to attract men? Playing the innocent, chaste maiden in front of me? Daring to scream? See if I don't beat you to death!"
Alina saw stars, her cheeks burning with pain. Tears instantly welled up. She struggled but couldn't break free.
Morris, noticing his girlfriend was taking too long, had come looking for her. Hearing the screams and angry shouts, he was alarmed and rushed over. The sight made his blood boil. Forget noble etiquette! With a roar, he charged forward, delivering a powerful kick to the fat merchant's side.
"Oof!" The merchant cried out in pain, releasing Alina. He staggered back a few steps, his bulky body thuddingagainst the wall before sliding to the floor.
"Damn fatty! Daring to touch my woman! I'll kill you!" Morris was usually a troublemaker himself. Enraged, he rushed forward and kicked the merchant on the ground several more times, making him howl and curl into a ball.
"You... you just wait! Boy, you dare give me your name! See if I don't finish you off!" The merchant, covering his head, glared viciously at Morris through his fingers.
"Sure! Your grandpa's name is Morris! I'm in the 'Baron's Hall' right ahead! Come if you have the guts! Let's see who finishes who!" Morris, having vented his anger for his girlfriend, felt pleased. He spat fiercely once more, then pulled the shaken, red-cheeked Alina, head held high, back to the "Baron's Hall."
His friends, seeing him return with his crying girlfriend, quickly asked what happened. Morris, inwardly proud, forced a nonchalant tone. "It's nothing. Just ran into some uncouth fatty in the corridor. Sounded like a local moneybags from the western province. Dared to get handsy with Alina. Taught him a lesson with a few kicks. He ran off with his tail between his legs."
Alina had now calmed down a bit. Nestled in Morris's arms, though her face still hurt, seeing her boyfriend act so "heroic," she felt a mix of fear and sweetness, her gaze towards him filled with dependence.
"Not bad, Morris! Didn't know you had it in you!" A friend beside him laughed, punching his shoulder playfully.
Morris felt even more proud, practically preening.
"Still... it's better to be careful." A youth whose father was a deputy district constable spoke up with concern. "This is the new district, after all. Our connections are mostly in the old city and the west district. If that guy really has some backing and calls for people, we might be in trouble."
Most of the people in this group had some family influence, but it was mainly concentrated in Greystone City's old district and the prosperous western district. The new district was recently developed, a mixed bag where many powers hadn't fully penetrated yet. If real trouble broke out, their families might not be able to smooth it over quickly.
"Maybe... we should leave first?" Aelia Green stood up. She feared getting into this kind of trouble the most. For a young woman, regardless of any revenge later, if a conflict broke out on the spot, she could easily come to harm.
"What's there to be afraid of? At worst, we can have Kevin get his father involved. Who in Greystone City doesn't give some face to the Fergus family's 'Greyrock and Wheat' Merchant Guild?" Sibyl, hugging Aelia's arm, said proudly.
Kevin smiled reservedly beside her, clearly confident in his family guild's reputation and his father's connections and methods. He raised his glass. "Aelia, don't worry. There are so many of us here. What's there to fear? Let's keep enjoying ourselves. Don't let a bug ruin the mood."
Hearing this, the others chimed in, raising their glasses and drinking heartily. Aelia, seeing no one else wanted to leave, felt it inappropriate to leave alone, so she reluctantly sat back down, but the worry between her brows didn't disperse.
They were a group of fearless, trouble-loving noble youths to begin with. Now, with alcohol in their veins and beauties present, they tossed any potential warnings to the wind.
Leon, however, frowned slightly. Hearing Morris's description of the merchant's appearance and accent, and the words "western province," a fragment of a sealed memory from his past life suddenly flashed.
He seemed... to vaguely recall such an incident. In his previous life at Silverlight Academy, he seemed to have heard about a group of noble youths who provoked someone they shouldn't have at a high-end establishment in the new district. It caused a big stir, and someone was even seriously injured... Could it be today?
At this thought, his heart tightened. His gaze swept over Aelia's slightly uneasy profile, then remembered Lady Susan's request. Regardless, he had accepted the task and should do his best to ensure her safety. This was a good opportunity to persuade her to leave this place of potential trouble.
He stood up, his voice calm. "Aelia, it is indeed getting late. Lady Susan asked me to accompany you and hoped you would return early. Perhaps we should take our leave first?"
As soon as he spoke, Sibyl's face instantly darkened.
"What do you mean? Take Aelia away? Not attending the birthday banquet later or going to the 'Kingfisher's Song'?" Her tone was sharp.
"Exactly, who are you? What right do you have to decide for Aelia?" a girl friendly with Sibyl chimed in sharply.
Kevin also turned his head, his face full of displeasure. "Brother, that's not very sporting. What, feeling wronged playing with us? Or scared out of your wits by that little incident earlier?"
He paused, deliberately raising his voice, throwing the choice to Aelia. "If you don't want to stay, you can leave first. But whether Lady Aelia leaves or not is up to her. Right, Aelia?"
His words immediately backed Aelia into a corner, forcing her to choose between Leon, an "outsider," and the childhood friends and familiar social circle she had grown up with. All eyes instantly focused on Aelia. Leon also watched her quietly.
Aelia was inwardly annoyed—annoyed at Leon for causing trouble, and annoyed at Kevin for deliberately making things explicit. But forced by the situation, she had to choose. On one side was a stranger she'd known for only a few days, forced on her by her mother. On the other were playmates of over a decade and her familiar social circle.
Her delicate brows furrowed slightly. After a moment of silence, she finally broke into a smile—a polite, distant one. "Since everyone still wants to have fun, of course I'll stay with you." Having said that, she turned her face away, no longer looking at Leon, and added in a flat tone, "You go back first. Tell my mother I'll be back later and not to worry."
Clearly, in Aelia's heart, Leon's weight was far less than that of her close friend and the friends in this circle.
Sibyl slapped her shoulder, pulling her close, and planted a loud kiss on her cheek. "That's my good sister!" Then, with undisguised disdain, she looked at Leon. "Aelia has spoken, Leon. Why are you still standing there? Hurry up and leave!"
As soon as her words fell, the entire "Baron's Hall" erupted in a wave of unconcealed mocking laughter. Everyone looked at the black-haired youth standing alone in the corner, isolated by all, as if watching a joke. The laughter was full of derision, as if saying: See, even the one who came with you has abandoned you. What face do you have to stay here?
Flora, on the side, anxiously tugged at Aelia's sleeve, but Aelia clearly had no intention of changing her mind. Though she felt a flicker of pity for Leon, she also knew that backing down now would offend Sibyl and Kevin deeply. Weighing the lesser of two evils, she had to be decisive.
Leon stood where he was, facing the hall full of laughter and varied gazes, his expression still calm. He couldn't help but shake his head inwardly.
Forget it. Good advice cannot reach ears destined for misfortune; compassion cannot save those who bring ruin upon themselves. Since she is unwilling to leave, why force it and invite more dislike?
He originally intended to turn and leave, ignoring these fools about to bring trouble upon themselves. However, the moment he stepped forward, his extraordinary keen perception caught the sound of unusually hurried footsteps and low, suppressed angry murmurs coming from outside the corridor.
He halted his step, a trace of faint mockery flashing through his heart.
Speak of the devil. Looks like leaving might not be so easy now either.
Fine. Let me see how these high-and-mighty young masters and ladies plan to handle what's coming.
He sat back down in the corner chair, even leisurely pouring himself another mug of ale, as if the earlier awkwardness had never happened. Only, deep within his calm eyes, a flicker of cold observation gleamed.
…
Meanwhile, the fat merchant who had been beaten black and blue by Morris, clutching his painful waist and abdomen, filled with shame and anger, limped through the opulent, thickly carpeted corridor to the deepest, most luxurious, and largest hall of the "Gold Crown Banquet Hall"—the door of the "Monarch's Hall."
The two heavy oak doors of the "Monarch's Hall," carved with lion and crown motifs, were tightly shut. On either side stood a burly, powerfully built man in black combat attire, a short sword at his waist, expressions stern, gazes sharp.
Seeing the merchant's disheveled state, both were startled. One quickly stepped forward and asked in a low voice, "Master Bartley, you are...?"
The fat merchant, called Bartley, was in no mood for explanations. He spat angrily, shoved away the guard's attempt to support him, and pushed open the heavy door of the "Monarch's Hall" with all his might, the door thudding open.
The "Monarch's Hall" was extremely spacious, decorated with extreme luxury. The floor was covered with thick, gold-woven carpets from the East. The walls were inlaid with polished dark wood panels, adorned with large landscape oil paintings. Movable screens painted with mythological scenes created relatively private spaces. The wide, soft leather sofas could easily accommodate dozens. At the moment, they were filled with scantily clad, beautiful young women, their voices sweet, the air fragrant. The looks and bearing of these women were clearly a cut above those serving in the main hall. Among them, two or three were said to have studied at a famous arts academy in the royal capital, lured here by Madam Scarlet with heavy sums and connections, specially reserved for the most distinguished guests.
At the very center of the sofa area, sitting like the moon surrounded by stars, was a man around forty, wearing a deep purple, gold-embroidered velvet robe. His face was thin, his eyes sharp as a hawk's, with a neatly trimmed short beard, several rings set with various gemstones on his fingers. Behind him, standing in a row, were five or six similarly dressed guards in black combat attire, exuding an aura of fierce competence. They stood silent as stones, yet emitted an intangible pressure.
This man was precisely the infamous figure in Greystone City's underworld and high society, nicknamed the "Ruthless Wolf"—Hawk.
At the moment, he sat imposingly, a charming woman nestled against him on each side. On his left was Madam Scarlet, Mavis, who had just toasted in the "Baron's Hall." She had removed her outer coat, wearing only a form-fitting wine-red silk dress that accentuated her alluring figure. On his right was a woman who looked younger, perhaps in her early twenties, wearing a well-tailored, moon-white cheongsam embroidered with silver thread, its slit reaching high up her thigh, revealing a stretch of long, slender leg clad in sheer stockings. Her features were coldly beautiful, with light makeup, her aura completely different from the chattering beauties around her, carrying an aloof pride. Yet, she was the most dazzling presence in the entire "Monarch's Hall." However, at this moment, her body was slightly stiff, allowing Hawk's gemstone-ringed hand to slowly stroke her stockinged thigh. A trace of barely detectable disgust flashed in her eyes, but she dared not move. She knew all too well how terrifying this man beside her could be to those who disobeyed.
Fat merchant Bartley's sudden intrusion shattered the hall's decadent, luxurious atmosphere.
Hawk looked up. Seeing Bartley's bruised, disheveled state, a flicker of surprise passed through his sharp eyes. He set down his crystal glass, sat up slightly straighter, and asked:
"Brother Bartley, what's this all about? How did you end up in such a state?"