As Kael arrived at the entrance of the banquet hall, accompanied by his maid, the last rays of sunset were already fading in the distant sky.
"Sir, please remove your sword!"
Two towering guards in gleaming silver armor stood sentinel at the entrance, each a head taller than Kael. Their sharp eyes swept over him, and their hands instinctively gripped the hilts of their own swords when they noticed the weapon at his waist.
Hey, who are you trying to intimidate?
Kael met their gaze unflinchingly.
The air grew thick with tension as if a fight may break out with just a wrong movement.
Just as beads of sweat began to form on the guards' foreheads, a faint smile finally appeared on Kael's face. He tossed his sword to them. "Big guys, take good care of this. If you lose it, selling both of you wouldn't even cover the cost!"
The oppressive atmosphere vanished instantly.
One of the guards caught the sword smoothly, relief washing over his face as a smile crept onto his lips. "Sir, may you enjoy the banquet."
Unconsciously, his tone had become noticeably more respectful.
Kael's earlier gaze had made him feel as if his head might be separated from his shoulders at any moment, sending shivers down his spine. It was like being targeted by a ferocious jungle tiger, leaving him with no will to resist.
"Ah! This is a sword forged from mithril! Only the Elves can craft such a blade, worth at least five hundred gold coims!"
Gulp
"The Sir wasn't lying..."
The shocked voices behind him made Kael lips curl into a smirk.
He could have stored the sword in his System Space, but what would be the point of acquiring it then?
Showing off is irresistible...
Humming a little tune, Kael entered the banquet hall.
Pale light radiated from thousands of unknown gemstones, illuminating the hall as brightly as day.
The floor was covered in a thick layer of red wool carpet, making each step feel like walking on clouds.
Long wooden tables filled the spacious hall, draped with white tablecloths woven from the finest velvet and adorned with golden tulips down the center.
A faint, delicate fragrance drifted through the air, prompting Kael to rub his nose.
To be honest, after spending so long in the arena's sweat-soaked, foul-smelling environment, Kael felt somewhat out of place in such a lavish setting.
A meticulously dressed waiter led Kael to a table and seated him. With one hand behind his back and a slight bow, the waiter gracefully poured a red liquid into his glass.
"What kind of wine is this? It's pretty good," Kael said, smacking his lips after taking a sip.
Rather than wine, it tasted more like fruit wine, with a rich, fruity aroma that lingered after each sip.
"Sir, this is red wine from the Golden Garden," the waiter said, puffing out his chest with an air of superiority as he looked down at the clearly rustic newcomer.
Damn, he's showing off! Kael thought, feeling the waiter's disdainful gaze.
Ignoring the waiter's scornful look, Kael gulped down the wine like a peasant devouring a delicacy, then smirked triumphantly at the waiter.
I may not know much about wine, but I can drink it. You might understand it, but you're just standing here serving me, watching me enjoy it!
The waiter was stunned by Kael's actions. When he finally grasped the meaning, his face twisted into a look of shock and resentment, like a fine cabbage had been rooted up by a wild pig.
"Fill my glass, waiter!" Kael barked menacingly.
Watching the dejected waiter dutifully pour his wine, Kael grinned smugly.
It's like someone buying a new fancy horse and being too afraid to ride it. I'll not only ride it, I'll stand up and gallop it through dirtiest places!
You're still too green to mess with me!
The banquet was still some time away, but most of the guests had already arrived, gathering in small groups to whisper among themselves.
After eavesdropping for a while, Kael realized that most of the conversations revolved around the Duke's purpose in summoning his vassals for this banquet.
Kael noticed that some lords wore faint smiles, as if they knew something the others didn't.
Just then, somewhat good looking, powerfully built middle-aged man with golden hair strode into the hall, a magnificent sword hanging at his waist.
As a prominent figure, Kael instantly recognized him.
This was Damon Tulvarein, the Duke of Duskmere's younger brother, known as the "Golden Lion."
Though nearing fifty, time seemed to have left few marks on his face.
This is bad news, Kael thought grimly.
Two years ago, shortly after Kael's arrival in the Southern Territory, Damon had fallen out with his brother, the Duke of Duskmere. He was demoted from commander of the Duskmere Garrison and sent to the border to oversee the lizardfolk.
Why had he suddenly appeared here?
Had he reconciled with the Duke? Or was there another reason?
The key was that the Golden Lion had been exiled to the border precisely because he had openly coveted the ducal title.
As Kael lowered his head to drink, he noticed many in the hall warmly greeting the Golden Lion.
Even the servants nearby couldn't hide a hint of admiration in their eyes.
It seemed Damon Tulvarein, the Golden Lion, was widely beloved.
This certainly wasn't good news.
Before long, the host of the banquet finally made his grand entrance.
But Duke of Duskmere's arrival was unconventional. He was carried in by a towering, muscular man nearly three metres tall.
Kael even suspected this giant of a man might have some giant blood in his veins.
The old man in his arms was as thin as a skeleton, his face withered and gaunt. His once-golden Tulvarein hair now hung like dull, lifeless straw.
Kael feared the Duke of Duskmere might die at any moment.
The rumors were true: the Duke's days were numbered.
As the Duke of Duskmere settled into the head seat, the banquet officially began.
Young, beautiful maids flitted between the long tables like flock of butterflies, serving dish after dish of delectable delicacies.
Honey-glazed bear paws, silverfish salad, black truffle layer cake, charcoal-grilled venison, Duskmere's signature tulip pancakes, a bowl of fresh cherries, and even pine resin pork chops—a rare delicacy even on noble tables—made Kael's mouth water.
It seemed staying for this banquet had been a wise decision after all.
This gathering wasn't to celebrate Kael becoming a vassal of House Tulvarein; a mere Pioneer Knight hadn't earned such prestige.
Kael even doubted whether Duke of Duskmere, who had commanded his granddaughter to bestow the title upon him, even remembered his name.
Yet the moment that thought crossed his mind, he was called out by name and introduced to the assembled guests by the "ailing" Duke of Duskmere.
Though the introduction was brief, Kael felt both flattered and bewildered, immediately pondering the Duke's motives for this gesture.
What made the situation even more peculiar was Damon Tulvarein, seated to the Duke's right, who offered him a warm smile.
Something's definitely not right here!
Kael was just a down-on-his-luck baron who had earned the title of Pioneer Knight through his fame in the Arena as a fighter.
Any lord present at the banquet had a far more illustrious reputation than his.
He knew he was no young prodigy, nor did he possess anything worth scheming for.
What merit could he possibly have to warrant the attention of these two powerful figures?