Chapter 121: ¹²¹Astrea’s Festival Night
Without a single second of hesitation, Ethan Valen stepped forward into the radiant glow.
The transition from the biting chill outside to the grand hall of Veylor Castle felt like stepping from a winter night into a grand illusion of marble heaven. The colossal hall was the ultimate stage for the Astrean Kingdom’s arrogance.
𝘧𝓇ℯ𝑒𝓌𝑒𝑏𝓃𝘰𝘷𝘦𝘭.𝒸ℴ𝓂
Giant white marble pillars carved with ancient war reliefs supported the soaring vaulted ceiling. High above, constellations painted with genuine diamond dust shimmered, creating the illusion that the hall bled directly into the cosmos.
Thousands of crystal candles hung from massive golden chandeliers, refracting a warm golden glow onto marble floors polished like a mirror of water. The gentle strains of classical harps and violins filled the air, blending with the refined laughter of hundreds of nobles draped in silk and jewels.
Tap. Tap.
The moment Ethan’s black boots struck the marble floor, an invisible ripple spread across the room.
The youth walked with a calm, unhurried cadence. Yet his very presence felt like a dark anomaly amidst a sea of gold.
He wore a high-collared black tunic with a row of dark silver buttons, draped in a calf-length coat that fluttered softly against the floor. His dark brown hair was left artfully messy—a stark contrast to the slicked-back styles of the nobles around him.
On his left, Kaelia von Ashford walked with her back perfectly straight. Her slender fingers, clad in silk gloves, rested firmly against the sleeve of Ethan’s coat.
Her ruby-red evening gown exposed her graceful shoulders and long neck, standing out as though daring every eye in the room to look. Her fiery red hair was pinned high in an elegant updo, asserting her identity as the Southern Faction’s princess.
At first, a subtle tremor ran through Kaelia’s fingers where they touched Ethan. But within seconds, the girl tilted her chin high, slipping into a flawless aristocratic mask.
Meanwhile, half a step behind Ethan, Valera Voss glided like a shadow of death.
The exotic, dark-skinned female knight’s presence was a blatant insult to court protocol. While everyone else wore their finest formal wear, Valera remained clad in black leather armor that showcased her lean muscles, complete with her massive Zweihander slung across her back.
Valera’s golden eyes scanned every pillar and servant. A faint, feral grin curled her lips.
The trio’s arrival instantly slaughtered the laughter in their immediate radius.
Like a plague, silence crept swiftly from the entrance to the center of the hall. Hundreds of heads turned. Whispers behind silk fans and wine glasses began to hiss.
"Look at that... Tch, the nerve of him..."
"Somber black attire and a knight sporting a massive sword? What an utter barbarian from the east."
"Wait, isn’t that Kaelia von Ashford? Why is she holding that boy’s arm? Where is Prince Edward?"
Stings of contemptuous and disgusted glares flew like thousands of arrows. Ethan didn’t care in the slightest. He didn’t bow his head, nor did he quicken his pace.
He let them stare. He let his dense aura of dominance press against the air, forcing several nobles to reflexively retreat a step as he passed.
However, the host did not allow that calm to last long.
From the center of the hall, the crowd of nobles parted in an orderly fashion. Prince Edward von Valois stepped forward.
The Crown Prince of Astrea wore a crisp white military uniform accented with dazzling gold. His golden-blonde hair was impeccably groomed, while his sky-blue eyes burned with suppressed fury.
The fingers of his right hand gripped a crystal wine glass so tightly that his knuckles turned white. Two young nobles from the Central Faction trailed behind him.
Seeing Edward approach with open hostility, Kaelia’s body tensed. Her grip on Ethan’s arm tightened.
On the other hand, Valera’s grin widened further. Her left hand lazily brushed her belt as she stared at Edward’s neck like a starved hound offered fresh meat.
Edward came to a halt exactly three meters in front of Ethan.
"Hah, so the rumors were true," Edward’s voice boomed, deliberately raised to cut through the harp music. He sneered, sizing Ethan up from head to toe. "The new Baron from the east actually dares to show his filthy face in my hall. I thought you’d be hiding under a table at your inn after seeing the splendor of the Capital."
Ethan stopped. His dark brown eyes locked onto Edward’s blue eyes, completely unfazed by the cheap provocation.
Edward turned to Kaelia, then cast a glance at Valera. His laugh rang out dry and condescending.
"And look what you brought. An Ashford daughter who forgot her dignity, and..." Edward narrowed his eyes at Valera, "...a barbarian guard dog who doesn’t even know how to dress for civilized company. Is the eastern land so impoverished that its Baron has to bring a dog to the banquet table?"
Ugh...
The veins on Valera’s temple bulged. Her eyes sharpened as her aura shifted into a dense, suffocating intent to kill. She took half a step forward.
But before the female knight could take another step, Ethan raised a single finger. An absolute command that froze Valera in her tracks.
Ethan slowly pulled his hand from his coat pocket. His voice wasn’t loud, but his tone was icy cold, slicing through the hall’s silence like a razor through silk.
"You have a bad habit that refuses to heal, Prince," Ethan said flatly. "You only know how to bark when standing behind your palace’s marble walls. The last time you talked that big back at Zenithar, you ended up kissing the dusty floor beneath my boots."
Slam!
Those words slammed into Edward’s ego like a warhammer blow. The silence around them froze instantly. Several nobles even held their breath, unable to believe a border Baron had just publicly exposed the Crown Prince’s humiliating defeat.
Edward’s handsome face flushed deep red in an instant. The red wine inside his glass sloshed violently.
"How dare you..." Edward hissed, his voice trembling with suppressed rage. "You think just because my Father gave you a scrap of recognition parchment, you are my equal?! Royal blood runs through my veins, Valen! You’re nothing more than lucky filth receiving charity!"
"I’ve never fed on anyone’s charity," Ethan retorted coldly.
He took a single, deliberate step forward, invading Edward’s personal space until barely a meter remained between them. The pressure radiating from Ethan’s dark brown eyes forced the two nobles behind Edward to reflexively step back.
"Your royal blood is nothing more than sugar water. If you think this room can protect you from me... try me right now."
The veins on Edward’s neck bulged outward. His left hand moved reflexively toward the hilt of the sword at his waist. His rage had blinded his sanity. Bloodshed was on the verge of erupting in the middle of the hall.
Ting... Ting... Ting...
The sharp chime of a silver bell cut through the volatile atmosphere.
A senior servant in a gray robe stood near the main podium, striking the silver bell in his hand. An absolute command that silenced all conversation and brought the music to a halt.
Edward froze. He swallowed his fury with a clenching jaw, pulling his hand away from his sword’s hilt.
He cast a murderous glare at Ethan. "Our business isn’t finished, eastern rat," he whispered deadlily, then turned sharply and stormed away.
Kaelia exhaled a sigh of relief she had been holding in, though her heart was still pounding wildly. Valera scoffed in disappointment, crossing her arms.
Ethan remained standing composedly, then turned his body to face the main podium.
Atop the marble podium adorned with blue-and-gold banners, two figures stepped forward.
The first was King Evander von Valois. The supreme ruler exuded immense majesty in a dark blue robe woven from magical silk, embroidered with golden threads forming crossed swords. A peaceful yet deeply calculating smile was etched upon his face.
To his right stood a High Prelate of the Holy Crown Church, clad in a spotless white robe and golden stole. His hand held a white wooden staff bearing the symbol of the sun.
"People of Astrea, and honored guests," King Evander’s warm baritone voice echoed through every corner of the hall via amplification runes. "Tonight, we gather under Veylor’s roof not merely to celebrate wealth, but our survival."
King Evander spread his arms. "The Frostbloom Festival symbolizes the victory of light over the frozen season. Tonight, we set aside our differences and remember that beneath the shade of the Crown, we are one family."
The sweet, flattering speech was met with reverent gazes from the nobles.
After the King finished speaking, the High Prelate stepped forward, raised his hands, and chanted a brief prayer in an ancient tongue.
"Amen," hundreds of nobles murmured in unison.
And as if pulled by an invisible string, every single person in the room—dukes, ministers, princes, and knights alike—bowed their bodies deeply.
Kaelia lowered her knees slightly and bowed gracefully. Valera gave a stiff nod so as not to stand out too conspicuously.
Only a single person did not shift a single millimeter.
Ethan Valen stood perfectly straight in the middle of a sea of bowing nobles. His dark coat hung rigidly. His head was raised high, and his dark brown eyes locked onto the King atop the podium.
That absolute refusal to bow was so glaring that the air itself seemed to freeze.
Yet atop the podium, King Evander showed no sign of anger. In fact, as his blue eyes met Ethan’s dark gaze, the ruler’s smile widened further.
"Now," King Evander declared, clapping his hands, "enjoy the evening!"
The classical waltz swelled once more. Servants glided smoothly, carrying trays of wine and delicacies. The room came alive again with the rustle of silk gowns.
Ethan turned away from the King. His eyes landed on Kaelia, who had just straightened her posture.
Without a word, Ethan took Kaelia’s silk-gloved hand and pulled her slender waist close with his right hand.
"E-Ethan?" Kaelia gasped. Her golden eyes widened as her body pressed against Ethan’s firm chest. "What are you—"
"Follow my lead," Ethan commanded, short and absolute.
Ethan stepped forward, leading Kaelia straight onto the center of the dance floor.
In the world of noble politics, dancing was not merely enjoying music; it was a statement spoken louder than a thousand speeches.
Kaelia immediately allowed her aristocratic instincts to take over. She straightened her back, placed her hand on Ethan’s shoulder, and let him spin and guide her body.
Their dance instantly became the center of gravity in the grand hall.
Ethan’s movements were composed, oozing power and suffocating dominance. Kaelia followed every turn with the grace of a queen. The contrast between Ethan’s pitch-black shirt and Kaelia’s ruby-red dress created a visual that was both spellbinding and intimidating.
At the edge of the dance floor, hundreds of eyes watched with mixed emotions.
Edward nearly crushed his fresh glass of wine, his face flushed crimson at the sight of the Valois asset now in his arch-enemy’s grasp.
From a dimly lit corner of the hall, Duke Reinhard von Ashford stood holding a silver goblet. His golden-yellow eyes watched his daughter. There was no rage on the middle-aged man’s face, only a subtle, unreadable smile. His politician’s brain was calculating wildly.
On the other side near a giant window stood Isolde von Rosenberg.
Her dark blue silk gown was buttoned high up to her neck, yet it failed to conceal her elegance. Her icy-blue eyes stared at Ethan’s fingers resting on Kaelia’s waist. Beneath her dress, the black rose root tattoo on Isolde’s back pulsed faintly in response to her Master. A subtle emptiness filled her chest at the sight of another woman being embraced by Ethan so openly.
Beside Isolde, Duke Alaric von Rosenberg towered in his white bear-pelt coat. His jaw clenched tightly, radiating suppressed killing intent as his eyes locked with Ethan’s.
Ethan was fully aware of every gaze: Isolde’s jealousy, Alaric’s rage, Reinhard’s calculations, and Edward’s hatred. Every single one of them was a chess piece he was moving through this single dance.
He pulled Kaelia’s body tighter during a sharp turn. Her breath hitched.
"You’re holding your breath, Kaelia," Ethan whispered directly into her ear.
Kaelia’s cheeks flushed crimson. "You’re doing this on purpose, aren’t you?" she hissed softly, her voice trembling slightly. "You’re parading me around to incite their rage."
"I’m not inciting anyone," Ethan replied flatly, spinning Kaelia outward before pulling her right back into his chest. "I’m simply marking my property. So the dogs in this room know better than to touch what isn’t theirs."
Kaelia bit her lower lip, unable to retort. The humiliation of being called ’property’ was strangely buried beneath the absolute sense of security radiating from the man holding her.
The violin melody slowed and concluded on a single drawn-out note. Ethan released Kaelia’s waist flawlessly.
Whispers erupted once more. Kaelia smoothed her gown and stood half a step behind Ethan, while Valera smirked with satisfaction from the edge of the room.
However, that tranquility dissipated quickly.
As they stepped off the dance floor, Edward was already standing in their path. The prince was no longer holding a wine glass. His wild rage had been suppressed into cold arrogance.
"Enjoy your dance, Valen," Edward whispered venomously. "Because tomorrow morning, the tournament at the Astrea Colosseum officially begins. You know the Capital’s tradition, don’t you? A newly instated noble claiming territory must prove his worth upon the bloody sands."
Edward leaned in close, his eyes glinting wildly. "That will be your stage, Baron. I’ll make sure you receive a much warmer welcome."
Kaelia tensed. The Colosseum was an arena where political assassination was sanctioned under the guise of entertainment.
Ethan didn’t flinch. Instead, the corner of his lips curled upward into a thin, cold, and utterly disdainful smirk.
"Hmm, you seem awfully impatient, Edward," Ethan replied softly, like poison. "Awfully impatient to be humiliated in front of your father and your people all over again."
Edward’s face flushed crimson again, the veins on his forehead bulging. Yet he restrained himself from exploding in the middle of the hall. He scoffed harshly and turned around, walking away.
Watching Edward’s retreating back, Kaelia stepped closer to Ethan in worry.
"Ethan, you don’t understand," Kaelia whispered urgently. "Edward wouldn’t make a threat without preparations. The Colosseum is rigged in favor of the Palace Faction. He definitely has something dirty planned. Are you... still going to attend?"
Ethan didn’t answer right away. He looked up toward the upper balcony.
There, King Evander sat leaning back with a golden goblet in hand, gazing directly down at Ethan. The King’s peaceful smile remained, but tonight, it looked like the smirk of a grim reaper awaiting a harvest.
Ethan met the ruler’s gaze with eyes as dark as the bottom of an abyss.
"My attendance tomorrow," Ethan replied flatly, "depends entirely on how quickly the people in this room grow bored of watching me play."