Chapter 293 - 288: Greeting Gift
As the steward’s voice fell, a tiny band of six musicians in the corner struck up a tune.
A few lutes and flutes, accompanied by a small hand drum, played an ancient local folk song.
The melody was lilting, but the small size of the band made it sound thin, adding to the somber atmosphere.
Following that, several old servants filed in one by one, holding trays.
There were no exotic delicacies, only large racks of roasted lamb ribs, root vegetables sprinkled with coarse salt, and freshly baked rye bread.
The aroma of the food was hearty, but the earthenware plates and tin jugs they were served on had clearly seen better days, their edges chipped and dented.
On either side of the long table, Valerius and Philippe each led their own faction of vassals, the division between them clear. Nearly all the vassal nobles of the Dawn Territory were present—five Barons and over twenty Knights.
At the lower end of the table sat the noblewomen.
They hid the lower halves of their faces with feathered fans, whispering amongst themselves as their gazes—some open, some furtive—all converged on Velin.
"So that’s the Baron of Grey Marsh Territory? He looks more like a clerk," a young Knight, newly granted a fief, whispered to his companion.
"I heard he didn’t even bring a guard. Came alone on horseback."
"Alone? Does he think this is a stroll through the Royal Capital Garden?"
"Don’t speak carelessly. His surname is Klein, that great family from the Flower Province. He’s probably some cast-off youngest son trying his luck out here with us."
Among the ladies, a Baron’s wife hid her mouth with her fan and chuckled to her companion.
"He does have a pretty face, no wonder Countess Diana invited him. A pity a pretty face can’t fill a stomach."
"What could a Baron from a remote frontier territory possibly have to offer? I’d say he’s trying to latch onto the Count. After all, his face is at least decent to look at," another Knight’s wife chimed in, her eyes full of contempt.
The whispers at both ends of the long table merged into a low buzz.
Clerk, pretty boy, an opportunist trying to latch onto the Dawn Territory.
One by one, they pinned these labels on Velin.
Viscount Valerius abruptly shot to his feet.
He raised a silver cup brimming with wine.
"To our guest, Baron Klein!"
His voice echoed through the high-ceilinged hall, making the candle flames tremble violently.
His gaze, full of provocation, swept over Velin.
"I heard you’re the ’Baron’ who got rich selling goods up north?"
He deliberately stressed the word "Baron," his tone dripping with ridicule.
"Very well. But you’d best be careful, Baron. Some people are experts at hiding behind women and ledgers, using their tongues and Gold Coins to get what they want."
He straightened up, grinning to reveal a mouth full of white teeth.
"But here, in the Dawn Territory, we only recognize one thing—" He drew his longsword partway with a CLANG, then slammed it back into its sheath with a harsh metallic scrape. "—Strength! We earned our titles by taking the heads of monsters on the battlefield!"
"Not like you..." His tone shifted. "...the kind of sissy I despise, who writes his way to a title in a ledger!"
He tilted his head back, drained his cup of ale in one go, and then slammed it down on the table.
BANG!
With a loud crash, the plates and cutlery on the table jumped.
"Well said!" several knights who worshipped martial prowess immediately roared in agreement, pounding their fists on the table.
Count Philippe did not rise.
He elegantly twirled his wine glass with his fingertips, the deep red liquid swirling into ripples.
"Valerius, you are too crude," he said, his voice level, possessing an inborn composure. "We should respect every path to nobility, no matter how... unconventional."
He offered Velin a smile that held not a single shred of warmth.
"Of course, true noble status stems from bloodline. Centuries of heritage and glory cannot be bought with money, nor can they be compensated for by a few temporary military achievements. Some families are born with it, and some... are not."
He took a delicate sip of wine.
One of Valerius’s vassals, a young Knight, immediately picked up the thread.
"Our Viscount just annihilated the Red-Tusk Boarmen tribe last month, taking thirty heads. May I ask, Baron Klein, what was the trophy from your last hunt?"
A wave of suppressed snickers rippled around the table.
An old Baron beside Philippe also stroked his beard and spoke slowly.
"Perhaps the Baron is here to offer his excellent administrative talents to the Count. It is a virtue for a man to know his own limits."
The laughter grew a little louder.
Diana’s handsome, spirited face tensed.
She was just about to speak out and defend her guest’s dignity.
But just then, Velin reached out and tapped the tabletop twice.
The sound wasn’t loud, yet it caught the words in Diana’s throat.
She looked at him, and Velin shook his head.
He picked up his dinner knife and sliced off a small piece of roasted lamb.
Then he lifted the piece to his mouth with his fork and chewed it carefully, his expression focused, as if he were critiquing the chef’s skill to determine if it was worthy of the lamb’s sacrifice.
The surrounding ridicule and scrutiny seemed to be nothing more than irrelevant background noise to him.
Philippe’s smile froze.
He found that these verbal attacks were completely ineffective against the man.
He changed his strategy.
"Why dwell on such heavy topics?" Philippe steered the conversation to the area he excelled in. "We should discuss more beautiful things. On my lands in the south, this year’s sugar-tea trade turned a profit of over two thousand Golden Suns. I have already commissioned the weavers in the Royal Capital to create a new tapestry for my castle, depicting the origin story of my family."
He was flaunting his wealth, trying to awe this outsider with material power.
"Speaking of the Royal Capital," Philippe said, retrieving an exquisite little velvet pouch from his coat, "I brought back a little something."
He untied the gold-threaded drawstring and slowly poured out a glittering object.
It was a gemstone the size of a pigeon’s egg, glowing a deep, fiery red in the candlelight.
"A Fire Marrow Stone from the Dragon’s Tooth Mountain Range. For our beautiful Countess."
A collective gasp immediately came from the ladies’ section.
"Heavens, it’s a Fire Marrow Stone!"
"One that large must be worth at least three hundred Golden Suns! My husband’s entire annual tax revenue isn’t even that much!"
"Count Philippe is so generous and romantic!"
The nobles present also let out a chorus of exclamations.
A Gemstone of this caliber was valuable enough to be a family heirloom for some Knightly families.
Philippe passed the Gemstone to a servant, who placed it in front of Diana.
But his gaze went past the Gemstone, looking straight at Velin.
Everyone in the banquet hall turned to look at Velin.
According to noble etiquette, Velin, as a first-time guest, should also have prepared a gift for his host.
Philippe had acted first, setting an embarrassing trap with such a precious Gemstone—no matter what Velin produced now, it would be overshadowed by the brilliance of the Fire Marrow Stone and pale in comparison.
Everyone understood this. Their eyes darted back and forth between the Fire Marrow Stone and Velin, eager to see how this young Baron from the Grey Marsh Territory would handle the humiliation.
Velin finally swallowed the food in his mouth and wiped his lips with a napkin.
He turned to Hubert, the steward standing by the wall.
"Bring up the gift I prepared for the Countess."
Hubert froze for a second, then bowed and withdrew.
The hall fell silent, the only sound the faint crackle of the tallow candles.
Philippe raised his wine glass, swirling it gently, that elegant smile returning to his face as he waited for the show to begin.
Soon, Hubert returned, carrying a cedar box.
The box was plain, with no carvings or decorations.
He placed the box gently in front of Diana.
Velin nodded at Diana.
"A humble gift of friendship."
Diana glanced at Velin, then, with a hint of doubt, reached out and opened the lid.
There was none of the dazzling light they had expected.
A soft, cool halo of light emanated from the box, spreading out like ripples in water.
The light was not harsh, yet it overpowered all the candlelight in the hall and the fiery red glow of the Fire Marrow Stone.
The entire color palette of the banquet hall changed.
The warm orange-yellow was replaced by a deep indigo.
The silver tableware on the table no longer reflected the candlelight, but instead gleamed with a faint, cold light.
The Fire Marrow Stone, bathed in this glow, looked as dull as a common red rock.
The nobles all froze in place.
The ladies’ section was deathly silent; fans dropped to the floor, unnoticed.
On the black velvet lining inside the box, a pearl lay quietly.
It was as large as an adult man’s fist.
A gentle light flowed slowly within the pearl, as if it held a captive ocean.
Deep blues and emerald greens intertwined and shifted within it, as if it were a living thing, breathing.
"That... That’s the ’Sea Tide Sage’!" a well-traveled old Baron shot to his feet, the wine cup in his hand falling to the floor with a CLANG.
"It can cast [Rejuvenating Living Water] and [Glowing Skill]... Just drinking water it has soaked in can slow aging... This thing is worth at least a thousand Golden Suns!"
Philippe’s smile was frozen on his face.
Valerius, too, leaned forward slightly in his seat, his eyes, for the first time, stunned by such wealth.
Velin spoke softly in the silent hall.
"One of my pets accidentally swallowed some unknown shellfish while foraging."
He paused, then added.
"It gave the creature indigestion. After some trouble, I found this little trinket in its cecum."
’Indigestion... a little trinket...’
Among the women, the Baron’s wife who had mocked Velin earlier turned deathly pale. She looked at the peerless pearl, then at the sword at her own husband’s hip, studded with a few tiny gem fragments, and suddenly it seemed incredibly gaudy.
He looked at Diana, the pearl’s ethereal glow reflected in his wine-red eyes.
"I think the color suits you."
Diana’s fingers hovered over the pearl, and she could feel the cool Ether Energy wafting from it.
She opened her mouth, but couldn’t utter a single word.
THUMP.
A dull thud sounded.
Everyone looked toward the sound to see one of the Knight’s wives in the ladies’ section roll her eyes back and slide right off her chair. She had fainted from sheer envy.