"Hey!"
"Butler, have you lost your mind?!"
"They're invaders! Why are you giving them such a grand reception? Don't tell me you want to betray Father too?"
Candlelight flickered on pure gold candelabras, and the crystal glasses refracted fine glints of golden light.
The silverware was arranged neatly.
The Blood Race butler bowed, and with white-gloved hands, he served one exquisite, expensive dish after another. The entire table was soon filled with no less than a hundred different courses.
Even the Marquis's own banquets had never been this extravagant.
Sam complained to the Blood Race butler, his face a mask of displeasure.
The latter's expression grew complicated upon hearing this.
'I'd love to shove Sam's head into his plate!'
'This waste of space didn't inherit a single one of the Marquis's fine genes.'
'He can't even read the room. Can't he tell what my attitude implies?'
'It implies that even your father would have to entertain them cautiously!'
