The Lawrence Clan had, over the years, secretly cultivated soldiers and trained numerous household retainers.
But relying on those forces alone was nowhere near enough to defeat the Knights of Favonius.
Within the Knights were figures like Jean, Kaeya, Lisa, and Amber—all elite Vision bearers.
Without Fatui assistance, victory was impossible.
"I've already told you," Severin said calmly.
"The Fatui remain in the shadows. You act in the open. We will not directly participate in the seizure of power."
His answer was like a bucket of icy water, instantly dousing their burning ambition.
Schubert Lawrence rose to his feet, letting out a cold laugh.
"Then there's nothing left to discuss. The Fatui want to reap the harvest without lifting a finger—do you take us for fools?"
So—he intended to flip the table.
Before Severin could speak, the Mirror Maiden raised her hand.
Water mirrors bloomed into existence, circling her body.
The moment their light washed over Schubert, a layer of frost spread instantly—freezing him from head to neck, leaving only his head exposed.
"Clan Head!"
The remaining Lawrence elders cried out in panic.
"Your Highness, I was wrong! Please—show mercy!" Schubert screamed, terror-stricken.
"I don't want to die! I haven't lived enough yet!"
If the ice crept any higher, his life would end.
The Mirror Maiden's voice was cold and sharp.
"Schubert, do you understand what you did wrong? No one dares show such disrespect before His Highness. The Prince represents the Tsaritsa in foreign lands—he speaks for Snezhnaya itself. And you dared insult him."
Schubert was truly terrified now.
This Prince stood far above him—
to offend him was to court death.
"I was wrong, truly wrong!" Schubert begged.
"We'll accept all your terms! The Fatui won't send a single soldier—everything will be done by the Lawrence Clan! Please, spare me!"
"Maiden," Severin said calmly,
"you're frightening our allies."
At once, the Mirror Maiden withdrew her elemental art.
The ice shattered and melted.
Schubert collapsed onto the floor, gasping for air, eyes still filled with lingering fear.
For the first time in his life, death had brushed past him so closely.
The Lawrence Clan had always been despised by Mondstadt's people—
arrogant, treacherous remnants of a fallen age.
Yet only now did Schubert realize—
Before the Prince of Snezhnaya, they weren't even insects.
The true villain… was the man sitting before him.
"Your Highness, give the order!" Schubert blurted out.
"We'll gather our forces at once and attack the Knights' headquarters!"
Severin smiled faintly.
"Schubert, have you ever watched a stage play?"
"…Your Highness?"
"A truly great performance requires buildup," Severin said.
"Tension. Anticipation. Only then does the climax satisfy the audience."
"Tomorrow afternoon, a shipment of weapons will arrive in Mondstadt. Once you receive them, wait for my command. Then—act together."
Schubert's heart thundered.
Moments ago, despair.
Now—hope.
Weapons from Snezhnaya would be like wings to a tiger.
Rumor said Snezhnayan firearms had greater range and power—
power enough to kill even Vision bearers. On the black market, they sold for astronomical prices.
"Your Highness," Schubert said eagerly,
"since this is your first visit to Mondstadt, we've prepared a modest banquet. And… a special performance, just for you."
He spoke with confidence, clearly proud of what was to come.
"Let's see the performance first," Severin replied.
After nearly drinking himself senseless in Inazuma, his body hadn't fully recovered.
And besides—
it wasn't yet time to partake of the Lawrence Clan's hospitality.
Schubert clapped his hands.
Soft, flowing music filled the hall.
The curtain rose slowly.
At center stage appeared a graceful figure.
Short pale-blue hair like sea foam, adorned with a four-pointed star hairpiece.
Amber-gold eyes—rebellious, resilient, and far more composed than her peers.
She wore a high-slit bodysuit with a single-shoulder cape.
A necktie fluttered at her chest—embroidered unmistakably with the Lawrence Clan crest.
And then there were her legs—long, clad in black silk—drawing even the Mirror Maiden's gaze for a heartbeat longer than necessary.
"Your Highness," Schubert announced reverently,
"please enjoy the Lawrence Clan's finest descendant of this generation—the guerrilla captain of the Knights of Favonius, known as the Spindrift Knight."
"My niece—Eula Lawrence."
"She presents the Lawrence Clan's Rite Dance, Flickering Candlelight,
as an expression of our deepest reverence and devotion to you."
With that, Schubert and the remaining clan members withdrew from the hall.
The Mirror Maiden likewise guided the Fatui personnel outside.
After days of travel, the Prince deserved a moment of leisure.
At such a time, no one should intrude.
Soon, the vast hall of the Goethe Hotel held only two figures—
Severin and Eula.
The Rite Dance was an aristocratic ceremony, a symbol of noble lineage.
Among the Lawrence Clan, the dance was known as Flickering Candlelight, traditionally performed by the clan's eldest daughter.
Its history stretched back to the era when the old nobility ruled Mondstadt.
At the clan's height, the family head would invite the most renowned dancers in all of Teyvat to instruct his daughter.
Thus, the Rite Dance was a compulsory art for every Lawrence heiress.
Their toes hardened with calluses.
Their blood stained the practice floors.
Yet each dancer took pride in it—it was glory made flesh.
But by Eula's generation, the dance had lost its former sanctity.
Grace and elegance were no longer symbols of nobility, but tools to welcome—and please—the most powerful of guests.
In the past, such treatment was reserved for Mondstadt's highest officials.
Tonight—
Severin alone was the audience.
Perhaps the first time in Lawrence history that the Rite Dance had been performed as a solo offering.
Eula's movements were light and precise—
stillness and motion flowing seamlessly, like a startled swan taking flight.
And yet, the lone viewer knew exactly who she was.
In Severin's memory, Eula Lawrence had joined the Knights of Favonius precisely to sever ties with her family.
A woman of such fierce resolve—
How had Schubert convinced her to dance?
She knew full well her family was colluding with the infamous Fatui.
Why not report it to the Knights?
Why submit to being paraded as entertainment?
The contradiction was unsettling.
"Your Highness," Eula said as the music softened,
"I've heard that Snezhnayan ballet, under your patronage, swept across the Seven Nations, igniting a new artistic movement."
"I've trained in the Rite Dance since childhood. I believe myself qualified to invite you to dance with me."
"Not only as a gesture of our clan's welcome," she added calmly,
"but as an exchange between two solitary dancers—speaking through art."
"Do you accept?"
She extended her hand in an elegant invitation.
Dance, huh…
Aside from the days spent guiding ballet instructors in Snezhnaya, it had been a long time since Severin had stepped onto a stage.
"To merely observe spares the body," he replied with a faint smile,
"but it can never replace the joy of participation."
"Miss Eula has offered such sincerity—
to refuse would be unworthy of a gentleman."
He rose.
And stepped toward the flickering candlelight.
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